Everyone Has a Story

I recently read a wonderful book called Magnolias for Breakfast. The words of the wise grandmother in the story, to her granddaughter, have stayed with me. She said something like this, " Everyone has a story. If you listen to their stories, your story will find you." Since returning to Bangladesh, I have thought a lot about this and found it helpful to look at those around me as having "a story". I came across a quote by Harry Thompson that also inspired me - "Be kind. Remember that everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." Sometimes I get so caught up in my own battle that I can't really hear the stories of others, much less realize that they, too, are fighting hard things. After a couple of days of utter lonliness, I was given the opportunity to hear a story, which made me both deeply sad and glad.

Our helper, Shila, is a lovely widow, probably in her 40s. She has 4 children, 2 are students and the other 2, well, here is where it starts getting sad. Her son, just soon after her husband died, began having seizures. Because she is a single parent, she has no choice but to work so her family can eat, yet she cannot leave him alone for fear he would hurt himself if he had a seizure while she was gone. So it was left to one of the daughters to give up her education, so that she could stay home and take care of her brother. This has gone on for a number of years now. Her son cannot go to school or lead a normal life. If he takes the medicine daily, which is a fair amount of money for here, he has siezures several times a month. If he does not take the medicine, he gets them every day. To top it off, he has refused to eat or talk for the last 3 days and hasn't slept at night. Not only is she worried about him, she is so saddened that her daughter has had to give up her education. It means she will never get a good job and will have a harder time getting married. I could sense, as she talked, both a deep love for her children and the enormity of the burden she is carrying. I want to change it, make it all go away. But I can't. Yet, I struggle. Is there something that could be done? I pondered this as I walked my laps on the roof while the boys played tag and built in the sand. My lonliness was smaller and less important. There must be a hundred houses/aparments that can be seen from the roof, which means there are a lot of people around me. I saw day laborers carrying baskets of crushed bricks on their heads, people walking down the street, a lone kite flying in the sky, another woman hanging her laundry on her roof. I was struck by how many stories are surrounding me. How many chapters of tradgedy, how many chapters of triumph - I will never know. Yet I heard one chapter today and hope to hear many more in the future. I thought about Shilla again, how right she is for our family and how glad I am that we can be here to give her a job so that she can care for her family. I am thankful for the good health of my own children. And I am glad for a heavenly Father who has a plan through it all. There will always be questions and hard things, but they are not the end to our stories. Perhaps they are only the beginning.