The Doorman (by Faith)

On a very busy Saturday a few weeks ago, I decided to skip part of my soccer tournament to attend an event where I was invited to sell bracelets. It was a hard choice for me, but I have really been trying hard to reach my donation goals for India, and I knew this would be a great opportunity. 

My excitement started to turn to discouragement when person after person would pass me by as I stood there and held my little sign and tried to talk to them about what I was doing. I had one lady make eye contact with me so I decided to just start talking to her. I told her my name and explained that I was selling bracelets to help children in India and asked if she would like to buy one. She gave me a strange look and said, "I'd like to help the children in India but I don't want to buy one of your bracelets!" And she just kept on walking. 

My back hurt, my stomach was growling, and I looked at the time and realized I had been standing there for 2 1/2 hours. And I had sold one bracelet.

We got in the car to drive to my soccer tournament so I could at least play in some of the games, but my mind wasn't on soccer. I complained to my mom that it was a wasted morning and that it was hard. As she always does, she began to tell me a story.

She has a friend who visits India often. He told the story of a time he visited there in a big city and he was fascinated by all the doormen in town so he asked a doorman some questions about his job. Their only job is to open doors for people going in or out of shopping centers or hotels. The doorman works from open to close, 7 days a week, no matter what (his legs probably ache more than mine did!). If he ever calls in sick, he will be fired because there are lines of other people just waiting for his job. That's not even the bad part. He makes $100.00 per month and he has a family of 7 that he has to feed and care for with that money.

After I heard this story, I figured out that for the 2 1/2 hours I stood there, I made $5 for the kids in India. In the same amount of time, the doorman only made 80 cents for his family of 7. My discouragement made me feel bad. I can't believe what some people have to do just to make pennies. And they consider it a blessing, because in their world, truly every penny counts. I think my bracelets are even more meaningful now. The small penny will always remind me of the doorman, and help me remember to be grateful for all I have.