Below is a poem written by Lynne Woodman to her sponsored child, Galiya in India. Through her words, Lynne shares the personal journey of sponsorship, both the struggles and triumphs.
Each month Lynne receives a progress report on Galiya from the field. As pen pals, Lynne is kept up to date on Galiya’s progress in school and on the well-being of his family.
“I received a new letter from Galiya from May 2009,” Lynne said. ‘His translator wrote that he passed the first grade and will progress into second grade. The last time I heard from Galiya, he was in danger of failing.”
Galiya also includes a drawing with his reports, which Lynne continues to cherish in her home. Through letters, pictures and the hope of one day meeting Galiya, which is so evident in her poem, the true meaning of sponsorship is brought to life.
One less check I thoughtAs I wrote a letterCanceling my sponsorshipWhy, I could purchase somethingFor myself with the money I am spendingOn this tiny, brown-eyed Raven-haired boy.
One less checkEach and every monthMy life would beThat much simplerI thought about youIn your white shirt, pantsAnd no shoesWildly rationalizingThat some other sponsorWould spring into actionSo you would not haveTo leave schoolIn your first year.
One less check for meI pondered aboutThe letters I receiveEach and every monthComposed with care and devotion By your English translatorI recalled the drawingsYou create especially for meFlowers, butterflies, fishYour hand tracingsSo steadily growingAnd the Indian flagDrawn in vivid colorsWith the markersI have provided.
This morning I could envision youMy charming barefootBrown-eyed boyLooking so solemnlyInto the cameraI recalled that at ChristmasYour father purchasedNew pants and a shirtRice, ghee, oils,Beans and dried fruitWith the tiny monetary giftI sent to youEspecially for the holidaySo much for so littleI thought at the timeIn pure wonderment.
I envision you as a manHandsome, tallDark of skin butThis time with a flashing smileComing toward meAt the airportOn your first trip to AmericaI raced to the mail boxSnatching the envelopeFrom its offensive fateTearing it into fragmentsI thought to myselfOne more checkOne more love.
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