The Twirling Girl

You couldn't tell from her smile
Couldn't see it in her twirl
But this tiny little child
Carried the weight of the world

I'll never forget the little twirling girl. She came to the centre everyday and found her place of identity, her taste of joy. When she picked up her hoop and began spinning, she wouldn't stop. On and on the hoop would twirl until some one called for her attention elsewhere.

We arrived home from the Philippines 4 days ago and that image has been playing on my mind. Poverty doesn't smack us in the face here as much in Australia but trauma and distress linger under the surface in all kinds of places. I used to work for the Salvation Army helping troubled people with their day to day lives. Sometimes people would take our offers of a place to live and sometimes the streets felt more familiar to them, safer somehow. I learnt that everyone had a story and never to assume a cause or solution to poverty.

The twirling girl had a 'home' - it was a covered space not even large enough to fit the sleeping family at night. She would sleep on the footpath beside her step-dad. He had issues with his temper. I didn't ask what other issues he had. I've heard so many stories over the past few months in Manila and I could feel overwhelmed if I dwelt on them too much. But I've decided that when I fall back into life in the developed world, I don't want to look at people without wondering about their story, without giving them a chance to reveal more than just their smile if they'll offer it. And I don't ever want to forget the twirling girl.