Hunger of Life | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Hunger of Life | Previous Challenge Entry
By Tammy Curtis
05/11/05
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Hunger of Life

She stands on the corner of 95th and 2nd Avenue styling a black mini-dress fringed with feathers. Her silver thigh boots kiss the edge of her dress as she paces back and forth the dark streets. Her eyes are lined in black and her bangs cover half of her symmetrically sculpted face. As she begins to speak, I can hear the quiver in her voice. She cannot be older than 14 because there is a lack of depth and emotion in her words. I stand there and speak to her about God and offer her a sandwich. But just as I begin to hand her the wrapped bread, a truck slams on his breaks right beside of us and the man inside is yelling: "Tammy, get in the car! What are you doing? Does your mother know where you are? Get in the car!" The young girl turns to me, thanks me for the offer, and gets in the vehicle. Brushing her hair away from her face, Tammy stares through the rear window of the truck and with an uncertain smile, waves goodbye.

This is not a story that I have read somewhere. It is not even a story that I have managed to fabricate in some way. It is a real story about a real girl, with a real need and a desire to make it on her own. Although it has been about 6 years since I met this young girl, her story is still vivid in my mind. Through many nights walking the streets with my ministry team in the bitter-cold, my heart would change it's pace; for I would see before me the constant struggle of survival, the desperate cry for help, the bleeding, the poor, the hungry, and the lost. I would feel young men gripping my hand as they wonder where their next meal would come from.

I write this message on this, my birthday, on my own computer in my own warm apartment where the candles burn bright all around me, and yet I have a hunger too. When the blinds are closed, I seem to be the first to turn out the lights. For some reason, I baricade myself from ever really seeing my own hunger and my own need. Why is it so easy for me to feed others and yet so difficult for me to feed myself?

As I allow my own eyes to be opened, I pray that this will be a year of nourishment. I pray that two young ladies named Tammy will be fed by the Holy Spirit. I pray that as children of God, we will see that there is one who always heals our hunger. Christ remembers to feed us even when sometimes we forget.

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