Mom and Dad were fighting again. I heard the dreaded word, “Divorce.” Hearing my name as they argued, I realized they weren’t deciding who got to keep me, but who had to take me. Their rejection sent me to the orphanage, then the streets, and eventually the dump. Amid the piles of stinking rubbish, I became just another piece of garbage that had been thrown away.

A garbage man told me I couldn’t play there, took me to get cleaned up. That was nice, right? But I felt uneasy. Another man handed him a pile of bills and roughly told me to get in his truck. Scared, I obeyed, waiting until the first petrol stop to run away. I ran for days. Hunger gnawed at my stomach until at last, desperate, I approached a lone man eating and asked him if I could go with him. Tenderly he asked me, “What happened to you, dear child?” Sobbing out my story felt so good! I saw love in his eyes. He cared more than any father I had known. 

After that, my life changed forever. The kind man took me to his school and into Project 365. I felt safe, welcomed, like I belonged. I wasn’t garbage anymore, but treasured and cherished. My rubbish life had been redeemed.