Let me tell you about the best birthday party I've ever attended.
From the average American perspective for parties, the setting was simple — a set of tin houses in the next to the orphanage we have been working in this month; and the food was fair — just some pizza from Domino's and a cake from the grocery store; the gift wasn't grand — a pink bow with a flower on it for the birthday girl.
But for this family — and for my team — the party was perfect.
I had been praying about how to bless this family, but I was worried that I might overstep my boundaries or try to oversimplify a solution by buying them something. When I finally arrived at the courage to walk over and ask if there was some way I could help, I found out that one of the 12 people living in these two tin houses was turning 12 on that very day. Her name is Delia.
Dan and I quickly commenced on a plan, which started with pizza and grew to include the cake, Pepsi and a present as well. We gave everything we had to the 12 people present, and they were so appreciative just for some pieces of pizza and cake. Delia ate four pieces. Her little brother, David, was covered in chocolate and drunk on Pepsi by the time we left.
This month, I have ziplined in the mountains near Lake Atitlan; I have eaten fettucini alfredo on a hill overlooking all of Antigua; and I have dug my feet into the soft sand of the Pacific to fight its undertoe.
But this party was the best thing I've bought since I've been here.
