It’s common for people to want what others own and easily overlook the things they are given. Because it’s normal to be jealous sometimes. But it’s important to remember that there are people around the world who will get to experience what some of us have right now. I learned that six years ago on my way to visit a refugee home.

I was in 4th grade that year, and my Sunday School teacher told us she wanted some of us to accompany her to a refugee home nearby. I was shy, and I didn’t know if I wanted to go or not. Before I knew it, I had already agreed and was in my teacher’s car along with two others, off a blank mind. My teacher told us that it would be a good experience and not to worry. We just had to play with kids there and spread the Word of God. It didn’t really help ease my anxiousness and worry at all. How was I supposed to talk about God when I didn’t know much about him myself? Of course, I grew up in church, but I wasn’t prepared to explain it, much less to children younger than me. One boy who decided to come was the son of a pastor and the other an outgoing girl, strong in her faith. Along with our church leader, I felt burdened to do well enough or accidently teach the wrong things. As a fourth grader, what could I do to make God happy and the refugee kids happy?

When we arrived, I got out of the car with a heavy heart. I glanced at where we parked, and my eyes widened at where we were. We stood in front of an aged, old building which I recognized as an apartment complex. The area was desolate and somehow grey. Our teacher led us to the structure and came to one of the red doors. The door creaked as she pushed it open, and we followed her inside. If I thought the exterior was uninviting, the interior was much worse. Shivers went up my spine as I walked down the corridor. The hallways were dimly lit, and paint had come off the walls. I even spotted a few holes and uneven floorboards here and there. I let out an ugly sneeze coming from the dust littering the corners.

A woman of brown curls and smiling crescent eyes met us and brought us to what I perceived was the living room. There was an old table, couple rugged couches, and warm sunlight peering in through the large window as if saying, “I’m here! I’m here!”. And there, crowded across the room were a group of children in mismatched clothes, looking at us with round, curious eyes. My throat went dry, and my hands got clammy. But I followed my teacher’s lead and sat down with a section of them. I mustered all my courage and squeaked a “hello”, greeting them one by one. Immediately, I was surprised by how lively and friendly, each of them was, giving me wide smiles. Despite being refugees, their positivity astounded me. But I pushed that thought away and began talking about Jesus Christ, our savior, like I was told. I felt like my heart would almost leap out of my chest. I tried my upmost not to stutter or let the trembles in my voice show. Talking in front of people was always a big weakness of mine. Nevertheless, the children were fully focused on me and my words seemed to get through them. I did my best to answer their questions to the biggest of my ability and after, I started to read them books, play games with them, and I even drew one girl a quick drawing of Spongebob. At the time, I didn’t think much of what I did. Because to me, it wasn’t anything special. But each activity meant more than I ever thought.
It hit me with a bang why these kids could smile like they did. It was because no matter their situations, they were thankful. From the clothes on their backs to places to sleep and stay, food to eat and people like us who let them know people care. And it made me question my home life. I was given a loving family with two parents, a cozy, stable home, books to read, a bed to sleep on, an outfit every day and food on the table for every meal. I even had access to technology. All of these were blessings. It made me realize I took these things for granted. Not only refugees but there were people out there who had less. People with divorced parents, or no parents at all. People whose homes have been wrecked in a natural disaster. People who are bankrupt. Kids who can’t have an education. Not only me but there are thousands who just want more and more of what other people possess rather than being grateful for what they do have.

Society who has everything, maybe even just something small, have pity on those with nothing. In reality, those with nothing should be the ones to have pity on society because they know how to be thankful for their blessings while we take things for granted. The moment I saw those kids, the first thing in my heart was pity. My conscience tug at my heart the whole ride home. However, the kids there didn’t need my sympathies. They were already good humans with God-filled hearts. It was strange that I felt sad when our time was over. I never thought I would enjoy like I did and appreciate it to this level. It was almost hard to believe how I doubted myself before our time together.

I came with the mindset that it was a duty, not a choice, and left with a wider view on the world. This experience changed me because I realized I was living a privileged life. God provides, and he never forgets us no matter how small we may we seem. We shouldn’t think God doesn’t know we’re here anymore because he has gifted us, but we just overlooked it. It may not be big or grand but it’s the little things that count. Of course, I still get envious. It’s easy to forget sometimes. But I always remember to count three things I’m thankful for every day including how I got to visit that refugee home.