The Stories Jenny Held (8)

 Click here for the Previous Post - Jenny story (7)

Jenny

Even though I am Sarah's friend, she often thinks she doesn't have friends. That's why Chica - her dog - and I are so close to her. Because she can tell us anything. She can cry and be upset. She can tell me who she's mad at. She can even throw me against a wall (I don't really mind; I just flop down and then she feels really bad). Sarah has red hair, like mine, and people say that comes with a hot temper. Sometimes people tell her that and tease her, and I don't know if it's true, but in her case, it seems to be. I think it's more that she just feels so different and maybe because she's the youngest in the family and in the grade she's in at school, people tend to not take her seriously. Not all people, of course. There are wonderfully kind people who keep their eye out for her.

Sometimes Sarah goes on outings without me. She tells me about them afterwards. She showed me this picture of when she was younger, before I arrived:

She told me about going to refugee camps with her Dad. She got used to all the Vietnamese people coming around her. She didn't know their stories or why they were there in camps. All she knew is they needed help and someone to see them, notice them, listen to them. That's what her Dad was doing - he would visit and sometimes bring things that would bring a smile to their faces - occasionally some fruit, or some clothes from different charities. It seems Sarah brought many smiles to their faces - they really liked when she came along. 

Sarah doesn't understand why they aren't living in separate houses like most people. And she sees that the kids don't have toys or books or even enough clothes at times. Sometimes she sits with me and all her dollies, and prays for them. She's been seeing people who have hard lives since the earliest days of her life. I'm so glad I can be with her to listen to her tell me about them. It's a lot for a small heart to hold.

Sarah

I went to pre-school starting just shy of my 3rd birthday.  (At some point later in my life, near the end of my college years, I recognized that I had been in school for 18 of my 20 years of life.  Maybe that was just to help validate the reason for my academic exhaustion)!  There were glorious care-free days of swinging on the playground at my preschool and after-school outings where I was wheeled around Hong Kong in my buggy (what we called the umbrella stroller back in the 70’s in British Hong Kong).  Now that I live in a northern climate, I appreciate the concept of year ‘round decent weather.  Many of my early days were spent gallivanting around Hong Kong as my Mom’s tagalong.  I distinctly remember the bumps as we went down the gangplank on the Star Ferry, to cross the harbour, and seeing my knees jiggle with each one.  

One great pre-school memory – that I didn’t recall – but my mom later told me was when she packed me a lunch and accidentally sent me off to the Baptist preschool with a can of beer instead of a can of juice.  I always had a bit of pride knowing we weren’t that fundamentalist to never have beer in our fridge. Of course she was horrified and embarrassed! Thankfully, the teacher tucked it quietly back into my lunchbag so no questions would be asked.

Click here for Jenny Story 9