Back when I was a kid, we visited one of my Aunts in the province. She lived in an elevated Nipa Hut with a fish pond below her house. The floors of her house were made of bamboo, and you could see the pond water through the spaces between the bamboo pieces used for her flooring.
That day, I brought along a toy which I probably got from a cereal box or chocolate drink as a prize. It was a tiny pay loader which had wheels that you could take apart, like LEGOs. I guess the manufacturer made it in this way so that the wheels could spin freely when you gave the pay loader a push while on the floor.
I don't remember why the wheels came off the toy. But I remember them dropping through one of the flooring spaces and into the pond below. I started crying. (I was probably less than 5 years old then).
To a kid, a toy was like gold. It is his or her most prized possession. So losing one or even just a piece was causing me great distress. Although the adults around me knew better, and probably offered to replace it, that didn't stop me from crying.
Enter my cousin Mike, who was only a few years older than me. (Perhaps about 4 years older). He volunteered to Wade in the muddy fish pond and search for the missing plastic wheels which were probably smaller in size than a button or bottle cap.
When I saw him wading through the pond, I think I stopped crying. Here was a person who cared enough to help me in my time of distress. Maybe he also knew the value of a toy since he was only a few years older than me, unlike the adults who were with us who have long forgotten about their childhood treasures.
After some time of wading and searching the pond floor, he was able to feel the piece of plastic and triumphantly accomplish it's rescue. But it would cost him. When he emerged from the pond, he asked for first aid assistance because there was a cut on his big toe.
I saw his toe as the adults examined him. Blood was gushing out. He probably suffered a cut from the stones in the murky pond. Looking back, I would never have allowed him to compromise his health and safety for a small piece of plastic that a kid would soon forget about.
I no longer have that toy. I don't even think it survived a few more weeks. And once a kid gets a shiny new toy, he usually forgets about the older ones.
But even to this day, I remember that act of kindness by my cousin Mike. I don't know if he still remembers that day, but I do. Life didn't turn out to well for cousin Mike. But I hope that the Lord helps him out, and gets his life on track.
