"Do you have a bowl?"

I sponsor a child through Compassion International, a little girl. Her name is Erika.

Last summer, I went on a missions trip to Ecuador with Susie Magazine and Big World Ventures and I had the opportunity to meet Erika. First, let me say that meeting her was one of the best things ever. It was such a special opportunity and I loved it. Second, since having met Erika, I think about her much more often than I did before. That's not to say that I didn't think about her at all during the time I sponsored her at first... it's just to say that at first, she was just a little kid in another country that I was helping. Unfortunately, it wasn't really like it was that big of a deal to me. I wrote her letters and I loved her little pictures she drew for me, but I just didn't really think about it all that much.

After I met her last summer, that changed. I think about her every day. She's not just a random little girl anymore. She has a face, and a laugh, and a personality and a smile, and a hug. She's real.

I was doing the dishes a few days ago, which isn't that uncommon. I mean, its not really something we think about, right? The dishes are there, we use them, we wash them, we dirty them again, and so on. Just a part of life. But as I was standing there in our kitchen, looking at the pile of dishes I was currently washing, I started thinking, "Man. We have so many dishes. What's up with that? How do we dirty these so quickly? I mean, really. It's such a chore. Things would be easier if we had less dishes. Or just used paper plates." And so on. But in the middle of that random chain of complaining thoughts running through my head, I remembered something. A story.

Last summer, when I met Erika, I brought a couple of gifts for her. A coloring book, some crayons, a stuffed bunny... just little things I thought she would like. And she did like them. But after we had played with them for awhile, and played on the swings and such on the little playground, she stopped, suddenly, seriously, and asked me a question. Some of you know that I do not speak Spanish well. Actually, I barely speak Spanish at all. I just smiled at her at first, and motioned to the slide again, thinking that's what she wanted, but she just repeated her question, her big, brown eyes staring up at me.

So I brought her over to a translator, and said, "I can't understand what she's asking. Can you help us?" Erika asked the translator, and the translator just smiled. "Oh." said the translator. "She wants to know if you have a bowl for her brother."

A bowl. A bowl?

"A bowl?" I asked.

"Yeah. For her brother."

"A bowl. Like... a cereal bowl?"

The translator just smiled again, and nodded. "Yes. Just like that - I'm guessing you don't have one with you, do you?"

I was a little taken aback by it. I slowly shook my head no. "No, I ... I .. no. I don't have one." The translator nodded and said something to Erika, who in turn nodded, and then grabbed my hand and ran back to the slide. I didn't think much about it the rest of the time I was with her, but later that night, as I was going to bed, it came back to me. She had asked for a bowl for her brother. A bowl. Why? Did they not have any dishes? Or maybe just not enough for everyone to have their own. Maybe she and her brother share a bowl. Maybe they all share just one bowl. I don't know. I'll probably never know.

How often do we take what we have for granted? I mean, she's just a little girl. When I was her age, if I could have asked someone for one gift, just one thing, it would never have crossed my mind to ask for a bowl, or anything of the sort. I probably would have asked for a dollhouse, or a new book, or something like that. And she had asked for a bowl. On top of that, not even a bowl for herself! A bowl for her brother.

And as I stood there in the kitchen, staring at the dishes, my perspective shifted. So many bowls. Cups. Plates. Forks, knives, spoons. Measuring cups. Mixing bowls. Plastic containers. Water bottles. All of these dishes piled up on the counter. And you know what? If I hadn't done the dishes that night, would we have had dishes to use the next morning? Yes, we would have. And probably even the morning after that. We probably have enough dishes to last us days without washing any, and they don't even have enough dishes for each person in the house to have their own.

We have so much excess, so much more than we need. And we view it as a hassle, just another chore to be done. We may grumble, complain, or we might just do the dishes and not even give it a second thought. But as I was standing there, washing these dishes, I changed my mind. Shouldn't we stop looking at them as a chore, and start viewing them as a blessing? All of this excess, this overflow, aren't they all blessings? The cups and plates and forks and spoons and the bowls.

Erika thanks me in her letters for sponsoring her, and she thanks me and tells me she is grateful for my help and that she is doing well in her lessons, and thank you for sending me letters, and thank you for the picture, and thank you, thank you, thank you. But sometimes I wonder - shouldn't I be the one doing the thanking?