But we also saw children with open wounds from fl esh-eating bacteria， children and adults dying of AIDS， and families living day to day in search of food and clean water to drink. To see that up close， to smell the sickness and death hovering over human beings in agony， and to know that all I could do was pray over them to comfort them， was such an eye-opening experience. I had never seen such poverty and suffering. It was so much worse than anything I’ve ever endured， and it made my life seem pampered by comparison. I was overwhelmed with conflicting feelings： compassion that made me want to leap into action and save everyone I could， and anger at the existence of such suffering and its seeming unchangeability.
Our father often spoke of his childhood in Serbia， having only a piece of bread and a little water and sugar for dinner at night. His father， my grandfather， had been a barber by trade. He had worked in a government salon， but when he refused to join the Communist Party， he was forced out. It was difficult for him to operate his own shop because of constant pressure from the Communists. The family had to move once or twice a year so that my grandfather， whose faith prohibited him from bearing arms， could avoid being drafted into the military. When he contracted tuberculosis and could no longer work at his trade， my grandmother had to support their six children with work as a seamstress.
My father‘s stories of his family’s struggles carried new meaning for me after I witnessed poverty and hunger up close in South Africa； now I‘d seen anguish in the eyes of dying mothers and heard their children screaming because of their aching， empty stomachs. We visited slums where families lived in tiny tin sheds no bigger than storage rooms， with newspapers for insulation and no running water. I spoke at a prison where the inmates filled the chapel and a courtyard outside it. We learned that many of the prisoners were still awaiting trial and that the only crime of many was to owe money to someone with the power to have them arrested. We met one prisoner who’d been sentenced to serve ten years because he owed $200. That day the prisoners sang for us， and their voices soared with amazing joy in such a desolate place.
MAKING A DIFFERENCE
I‘d gone to South Africa as a young man full of himself， sure that I could make a difference in this vast land. But it was South Africa that made a difference in me.
When you step outside of yourself and your own concerns to reach out for others， it will change you. You will be humbled. You will be inspired. More than anything and more than ever， you will be overwhelmed with the feeling that you are part of something much bigger than yourself. Not only that， you will also realize that you can make a contribution. Everything you do to make someone else’s life better makes your life more meaningful.
After our first few days in South Africa， I came to understand why John Pingo was so dedicated and driven to help me deliver my message of hope and faith around his country. He had seen more than I‘d ever seen. I’d led a very self-centered and selfi sh existence， I realized； the demanding boy with no arms or legs could not conceive that anyone suffered as much as he.
Since that trip I‘ve never felt the same in a grocery store. The abundance of food even in my neighborhood grocery is beyond the imagination of the orphans and slum dwellers I met in South Africa. Even today I reflect on that trip when I’m feeling pampered in an air-conditioned office， or when I‘m given a cool drink； such simple comforts are rarities in that part of the world.
Aaron， who is now a high school math and science teacher in Australia， still talks about what a reality check that trip was. We were saddened at some sights， but amazed by so much else. We agree that it was the best trip of our lives. We both came home wondering， What can we do to ease the suffering of others？ What is the best way to contribute？ How could I ever live the same way， knowing that people are suffering so much？
You don’t have to travel far to find someone in need of help. In fact， our trip to South Africa made us more aware of the needy people in our own community and our own country. You can easily find places to give of your time， your talents， or your money at your local churches， nursing homes， the American Red Cross， the Salvation Army， homeless shelters， food banks， and soup kitchens. Whatever you can share will make a difference； whether it is money， your time， your resources， or your network of friends and co-workers.
That first trip to South Africa made me so excited about kicking off my mission that I gave away a good portion of my savings， $20，000； while we were there we raised another $20，000 and gave that away too！ We spent entire days buying presents for orphans， feeding them， and stocking up on books and blankets and beds. We gave the orphanages television sets and DVD players， donating funds through a half-dozen charitable networks.
Twenty thousand dollars is still a considerable amount of money in my book， but looking back， I wish I‘d had more to give. Just being able to affect a few lives in a few places gave me a greater sense of fulfillment than I’d ever known. My mum wasn‘t too happy when I returned from South Africa with “nothing” in my savings account， but she saw that my life was enriched beyond measure on that journey.
MIRACLES IN THE MAKING
One of the most emotionally raw and unforgettable scenes from our South Africa trip came when I spoke at a certain church. Hundreds of sick， disabled， and dying people had lined up to seek a healing miracle there. Normally I make a few joking references to my lack of limbs， just to put people at ease. In this church， no one laughed！ They were not there for humor. They were there for healing. They wanted miracles.
