This is a departure from my usual columns because this month I am going to share my space with one of our Orphan Care children. The essay included in my column was written by a young sixteen year-old lady who I had stumbled upon by accident.

Several sponsors asked me to take additional money to their children, and it is in this way I found Jurgita Kundrotaite from Mankunelio village in the area of Lazdijai. Her sponsor is a friend of mine, and even though he never corresponded with Jurgita, he asked me if I could take an envelope to her. We decided I would look the home situation over, and if all seemed well, I would leave the envelope. If I had any doubts about how the money would be spent I would return it to him.

Jurgita was brought to us by Countryside Children's Fund. So, I phoned the director of the fund, Regina Svoba, and explained the situation. I knew she would offer to make the trip with me, and I was not surprised when she said, "When do you want to go?" As far as I was concerned, the sooner the better. I'm not too comfortable walking around with other people's money. We started out early the next morning. It was a rather long trip with the usual rain.

Our first stop was to pick up the local social worker in the area; there is no way we could find these villages. The social worker was a very caring young woman, and she told us about many problems the area faced Ö the land was not good for farming and there was a lack of jobs.

As we continued our trip, the paved roads gave way to dirt roads which could accommodate only one car. While I prayed that another car would not come from the opposite direction, rocks kept hitting the bottom of the car, while stones hit the windshield. We didn't need a car, we needed a tank.

As we approached the farm house, Jurgita's grandmother met us. She didn't know we were coming, but she greeted us like long-lost relatives. She kept kissing me and asking me to thank Jurgita's sponsor. She still didn't know I had an additional gift with me. The grandmother immediately started issuing orders to her daughter to set the table. The daughter is a widow and also lived on the farm.

As we entered the house, Jurgita appeared. She is a beautiful young woman whose manners and gentility fit the word 'lady'. We found it very easy to talk to Jurgita and her grandmother. They were very forthcoming with the answers to our questions. For many reasons, Jurgita was raised by her grandmother from the age of two weeks. For short intervals, Jurgita would return home to live with her parents. When her father was 32 years old, he died and Jurgita went back to her grandmother.

Eventually, Jurgita's mother remarried and once again Jurgita was sent to live with her mother. But it was a very unhappy time for Jurgita and her grandmother. Jurgita cried and cried, until it was decided it was best for everyone to let her return to her grandmother's house. By this time, the photo album was brought out and we were shown pictures of Jurgita's family during happier days.

We were summoned to the table for a delicious lunch. Everything was home grown, even the juice was made from their berries. Jurgita's grandmother refused to take "no" for an answer when she offered second and third helpings. In the course of our conversation, Jurgita told us how much she enjoyed school. During the school year, she lived with an uncle in Prienai and on weekends, she returned to the farm. She was about to start twelfth grade and was looking forward to September. She shared her fond memories of her village primary school, where she had to walk eight kilometers to get a bus each day.

When we asked her what she would like to do after graduation, she became silent. I guess it was to gather the courage for her next statement. She told us her dream was to become a journalist, but she hadn't the slightest idea of how to get started. This sent immediate bells ringing in both Regina's head and mine. One of the goals of Lithuanian Orphan Care is to help our children lead a meaningful life when they reach adulthood. To do this, we encourage them to pursue higher education or to acquire a trade.

Jurgita asked us if she could read an assignment she was given last year which won first prize in her class. The theme was to write about the person the students most admired. While most wrote about well-known people, Jurgita wrote about her grandmother. She didn't really "read" it to us because she worked so long and so hard writing it that she practically had it memorized. Instead, she looked at her grandmother while she recited, occasionally glancing down at a word. There wasn't a dry eye at the table. Her grandmother was sitting next to me, and she grabbed my hand while tears were streaming down her cheeks. I glanced at her work worn hand. This was a woman who didn't need a microwave, a dishwasher, or a car. The words being conveyed by her beloved granddaughter brought her all the pleasure and joy that no amount of money could even buy. When Jurgita finished, it seemed a long time before anyone was able to speak.

Regina gained her composure first by promising her that Countryside Children would continue to help her reach her dream. Regina's husband, Jonas, is the editor-in-chief of Valstieciu Laikrastis (newspaper), and she encouraged Jurgita to enter contests which the paper frequently sponsors for young writers. These contests bring prizes along with the thrill of seeing their work in print. She also promised to publish her winning essay.

After I came to my senses, I told Jurgita that I had no doubt the BRIDGES readers would be both excited and inspired by reading her words. I promised her I would share my space with her and send her a copy of BRIDGES Ö so that she could see her work published in English. I also promised her that her sponsor would continue to support her beyond her 18th birthday. I know him well enough to speak for him and make this commitment on his part. Now it was the flustered Jurgita's turn to speak. Once she was able to find her voice, she started to thank us over and over, as her eyes were brimming with tears.

Then it was time to take our leave and start back to Vilnius. We thanked Jurgita's aunt for the delicious lunch which she put together on the spur of the moment. Both the aunt and the grandmother tried to persuade us to stay for supper. Given the quality of lunch, it was a tempting offer, but we had to get started. I asked Jurgita to show me where she did most of her writing, and she led me to a tiny room where she slept. There was a small desk, but most of the time, she wrote while sitting on the bed and balancing her notebook on her knee. I guess that shoots down the theory that if students do not have a perfect place to study, they will not succeed.

Outside we met her grandfather and cousins who were busy cleaning mushrooms which they had picked that morning. A short distance away two more cousins were trying to get a horse moving. Apparently the horse was on vacation because he simply refused to budge. As we were leaving, I asked Jurgita to write about Lithuania. She agreed, but I figured I would have to send her three or four reminders.

We put off saying goodbye as long as we could, but the moment to leave finally came. We hugged and kissed each other. I hated to leave this family, especially Jurgita. I wanted to stay and be a part of her school year. But I also wanted to get home so that you, BRIDGES readers, could see the kinds of young people we are helping.

When I returned to America, I found an envelope with Jurgita's thoughts about Lithuania. This is how serious this 16 year-old is about writing. You will read her views about Lithuania in a future issue of BRIDGES. After reading her essay, you certainly won't want to miss her next composition.

Jurgita also wrote to thank her sponsor for the extra help. Before I had a chance to ask him if he would continue to help her, the sponsor told me he was in for the long haul. He intends to see her through until her dreams are realized. No, I must amend that sentence. Not her dreams, but our dreams.

Thank you to Jurgita's sponsor who wishes to remain anonymous and to Countryside Children's Fund who take a personal interest in each and every child. A word of gratitude to Violeta and Kazys Razgaitis of Rosemont, Pennsylvania for translating the essay into English. Credit must be given to Jurgita's grandparents for encouraging her to stay in school and to always do her best. But our heartfelt gratitude goes to Jurgita herself. In spite of adverse conditions, she followed her dream.

The cost to sponsor a child is $150 a year. ANY donation is gratefully appreciated. Please send your tax-deductible check to:

Lithuanian Orphan Care
2711 W. 71st St.
Chicago, IL 60629
(Please mention that you read the article in BRIDGES.)

My Ideal

The possibilities of perfecting oneself and becoming a better person increases when you have ideals or someone to look up to, someone you want to be like. For that reason even your ideals gain strength and hope from people who match them.

I also have an ideal, actually a person, thanks to whom I am who I am and what I am. This is a person whom I trust. Of course this person has made mistakes, has suffered, has fallen and then risen Ö this person is my Grandmother.

From the day I was born, I lived with my Grandmother. My first word was "Grandma", not "Mama"; even though I have a mother who gave birth to me and is my good friend. I grew up surrounded by endless love and caring. I had many toys and friends, as well as neighbors who loved me. I was surrounded by the wonderful beauty of the Dzukija countryside and its goodhearted people, and the refreshing land, actually everything that's good.

My Grandmother taught me to know God, goodness, sincerity, sensitivity, and industriousness. She taught me to feel for others, to forgive, to understand others, and most importantly, to be myself. A person whose soul shines a strong will, deep thoughts, and even deeper feelings is a person who appears once in a lifetime. Because friends and acquaintances may be rare and priceless like diamonds, they may also be untrustworthy.

I now often look at her with immense gratitude and love: at her tired eyes reflecting the world's worries; at her face wrinkled by eroding perspiration; and at her hair white as an apple tree in bloom. I cannot comprehend this person's strong will and goodness.

She often would tuck me in at night; she would comfort me when I would awake from a bad dream. In the evening, she would tell me stories which I have now hear thousands of times, but they are still dear to me. Grandmother helped me not to judges my mother. Although one cannot help but judge her; she is a person who makes mistakes, fails, gives in. I learned to accept and respect people for who they are, to love them without requiring anything in return.

When I am sad or things aren't going well, she always knows how to comfort me. To have a loving person and to feel their support is the most wonderful feeling, and I am happy that I can experience it. Time marches on, and it again brings colorful daily varieties; let it also bring to our hearts at least a small part of that joy and hope.

A Child's Dreams can be Fulfilled

My Ideal

Jurgita Kundrotaite