Ah, eighth grade.
You were probably, what? That awkward…13 or 14?
He is nineteen.
You finished seventh grade, had a wonderful summer, and are moving up in the world.
It’s been years since he finished the seventh grade…a couple of hard summers before given this opportunity.
You probably tried your first job this summer – mowing neighbors’ lawns for ten bucks a pop.
He’s worked on the back of public transportation for a while now, making a pittance for 20 hour days and way more gunpoint robberies than he can count.
You’re the oldest of three, growing up way faster than your parents would like to admit.
He’s got two little ones of his own he’s already worrying about putting through school soon enough.
You probably went school shopping, and are looking ‘fresh’ for this school year.
He could barely afford his uniform, much less a haircut, but if he doesn’t look pristine he’ll be sent home…denied an education because he couldn’t afford their standards of self-presentation.
Your mom packed your lunch, probably left you a little note – embarrassing, yet endearing.
He gave up dinner last night so his mom could eat. He’s the man of the house, you know. The weight of a family on his shoulders.
You’re a math whiz, you’ve earned higher placement in those classes.
So is he. He loves math, but hasn’t been able to practice in years.
You’re starting Spanish One, super excited, a little nervous, but ready to jump in.
He’s taught himself English by simply spending time with those who speak it.
You’ve got goals, dreams, and people rooting for you.
He did. Until they seemed unrealistic and school wasn’t an option anymore.
That is, until people started rooting for him, too.
Someone saw his potential.
Someone recognized how hard he works, what good character he has, how smart he is.
And they wanted to help him dream again.
They wanted him to bring that math whiz back to the surface.
To perfect his English.
To have goals, and dreams, and maybe even opportunities.
To finish high school.
To proudly graduate one day.
You’re involved in extracurricular activities, right?
Now he’s surrounded with a church family and discipleship program.
Maybe you take some of those Flintstone vitamins, or at least your mom makes you eat vegetables?
Now he’s got Moringa, all the nutrients he needs…to eradicate malnutrition for him and his family.
You’ve got a group of friends, probably from a couple different towns even.
Now he’s got new friends, and people who love him from different countries even.
You’ve got a purpose. Dignity. Worth. Confidence.
You reinforced it for him in an environment where it seemed like nothing was saying those things.
Sponsorship makes a life-changing difference, y’all. Ask us how you can get involved.