| A Time to Give As we celebrate this time of the year, giving presents (and taking in return), I tend to think back to one afternoon just a few years ago when my wife Helen, and I met people far less fortunate than ourselves. It was Romania then, but it could be so many places in the world. May we all pray that as we enter the new millennium, more help is given to those less fortunate than ourselves. Through the Window  As I looked back through the window, they were mostly quiet now, the children. The main exception was the small boy with match stick legs who had screamed as I put him down. He was still crying and I felt sick at not being able to give him the attention he craved for. The little girl who had hidden under the tables lining the wall was now emerging, back to her known security. These were the orphans of Romania. I shall never forget that day, when a group of us, British, Australian and Romanian, descended unannounced on the orphanage. I could say we were greeted by the children. I really mean that we were overwhelmed by a seething mass of undersized, highly excited eight year olds who wanted to look at, touch and climb all over us and where possible, look in our pockets and bags grabbing anything that could possibly be grabbed. But most of all they wanted to be loved. The only exception to this melee of arms and legs was one little girl who fled under the row of tables completely bewildered and overcome by all the noise and commotion. There must have been at least forty of them in that near barren room. The only playthings were two nondescript pieces of plastic broken from some long forgotten toy, a few soft toys, high out of reach, and a television set tuned into a ministerial type broadcast. I looked at Mikhaila she had two children in her arms and tears in her eyes, proving that the Romanians do care about their disgrace. Both the supervisors who hadn't been paid for two months, wore worried looks. The Director hadn't been informed of our visit and though not on duty that day, had spread an influence of fear into her subordinates. We barely seemed to have had time to hold all of the children when the supervisors deemed it time for us to go, and, no we couldn't give the children the lollipops that we had brought with us. The Director must give permission first. We gave them the balls instead, we didn't ask, and.. give our regards to the Director. Again - Praise the Lord
Supplied for Our Devotions by Roger Stapenhill - NorthStaffordshire - England
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