Xie Xiaoyuan

Her voice came to me,
Through noisy static waves,
Across a medium of selfishness,
Pride,
Forgetfulness,
And straight into the receptors
Of this radio heart.

Down dark, mountain passages
Cold in the morning,
Xie treads the path to school,
Longing for education,
An escape,
From life without breakfasts,
Life of a fifteen cent lunch:
Two measly slices of bread and a drink
Intended to satisfy her body until dinner.
This malnutrition,
These physical needs mercilessly control her.

Five in the morning,
Frostbitten ears,
A ten mile bus ride
Through mountainous country,
Home again to $120 a month.

She is not alone;
Millions of children suffer,
Hungry,
Hopeless,
Everyday in China.
Studies say they are shorter,
Two to six inches,
Than the city kids,
With their fancy foods
And digital lives.

Who am I
To complain,
To cry out,
To feel slighted,
Underprivileged
With warm cheeks and Wal-Mart?
I have everything,
EVERYTHING
I could ever need.
Never have I wondered,
Cold hands,
Growling stomach,
Where food would come from.
My only concern,
Belly full and prideful,
"Will I eat too much?"

Thankfulness,
This eucharisteo,
Is given wings
When I see my life
Through the lens of little Chinese girls.
Blessed beyond expression,
I am sickened:
This way I have robbed Him
Of thanks all these years,
Believing my life,
With my Saturn and iPod,
To be difficult.
How foolish I am!

It seems unfair,
Unjust,
But I rest assured
Knowing His ways are far better
Than Janae's ways.
His Gospel
Boldly tells me that even without
All these fleeting physical things,
He is more than enough.
I want to pray for Xie,
For the millions of children
In China and across the world,
Who live in destitution,
Physical and spiritual, 
Who desperately need manna,
Christ's broken body and blood out poured,
And bread for weak bodies,
The same way I do.

His grace is sufficient.