By Jenna Finney
I sit in the Portland Library now. I am writing a paper due soon. There is a man next to me. He has red hair that is long and unkept. He talks in slurs and is wearing a camouflage coat. He sits with two books by his side - "Reducing Suicide" and another, similar in title and subject.
I cannot see the title of the book he clutches in his worn hands, but I see the names of the chapters he looks at, while holding it very close to his face (perhaps he needs glasses). They read: "The Bible doesn't tolerate suicide" and "What are the causes of suicide?"
I pause as I see this; it makes me sad. It makes this paper I am writing not seem so bad. How am I so lucky; why do I have so many opportunities? Why was I born into a family that had plenty of food to eat and love to share?
After fasting for one day my body was so tired I could barely concentrate in class. A life without food, that is something I have never felt except for one day, and when it was through I sat and watched a video, and it told me about oppression and lack of hope and how one person dies of starvation every 17 seconds.
It is all this that I am being exposed too, and it is all this that I am struggling with on the inside. What is it that I can do? The words of Fr. Claude fill my head from a time when I went and asked him, "What can I do?"
"You've got to try not to become overwhelmed; you have to do what you can from your current situation in life. You are a student now, and must tend to your studies, and you cannot forget your personal needs, your social side. But you can perhaps join some larger organizations. Maybe even some time soon you can devote a year or two or even your life to just this question."
Then he smiled at me, and finished with a few words, "And know, Jenna, you will not change the world, but in the end, in the final analysis, you will be able to know that you did this much." As he said this, he raised his hand and his fingers were held apart but an inch, to indicate that we can do a little bit, and it is okay, and it is enough, and it is perfect.
So as I sit here in the Portland Library my heart is sad, yes, but it is calm. This man next to me is my brother, and I am his sister and I say a prayer for him, and for those who are hungry and those who are cold, because that is something I can do and I give thanks that I am able to write this paper.
