JFM
Benjo, a 7-year-old boy, sits quietly under a sprawling tree, his bare feet dusty and cracked from the unkind paths he treads daily. His tiny frame, clothed in nothing but a pair of tattered shorts, speaks volumes about his struggles. The midday sun beats down relentlessly, causing beads of sweat to trickle down his small, determined face. His eyes, though young, carry the weight of someone who has seen far too much of life’s hardships. He watches from afar as other children, clad in clean clothes and shoes, run and play. They are a world apart, yet so close, a painful reminder of the life he dreams of but has never known.
Benjo’s reality mirrors the childhood of many, including my own. Like him, I once sat barefoot and shirtless, my stomach empty until the evening meal—if there was one. The gnawing hunger and longing for what others had were constant companions. Unlike Benjo, though, there was no JesusFedMe (JFM) to show up during my moments of despair. My childhood years were marked by solitude in struggle, a silent battle against the unfairness of life. But Benjo’s story takes a different turn, one that I can only imagine for my younger self.
As Benjo sits under the tree, his thoughts muddled by hunger and exhaustion, a gentle commotion stirs the air. JFM arrives, carrying food and warm smiles. The sight is almost surreal to the boy, who has grown accustomed to being overlooked. I kneel before him, MY hands offering not just sustenance but a moment of dignity and care. Confused yet grateful, Benjo accepts the SNACKS, his trembling hands struggling to hold the a pack steady. For the first time in what feels like forever, he eats without the weight of worry pressing on his chest.
This act of kindness, though simple, is transformative. It is a moment that Benjo will carry with him, a memory that will remind him that he is seen and valued. As he eats, the harshness of his reality fades, if only for a moment, replaced by the warmth of compassion. In Benjo, I see the child I once was, and in JFM, I see the hand that could have changed everything. Though my past remains unchanged, the hope is that through JFM, countless others like Benjo will know a different story—one where kindness interrupts the cycle of despair.
This is Benjo
About Author
