Less than a week into the new millennium one of our small boys returned after being home in his village for ten days. His uncle had brought him as far as my door, turned around without saying goodbye and left. The little boy was crying so I took him into my arms and cuddled him. After a short while he fell asleep so I laid him down on my bed. All he was wearing was a dirty T-shirt which was full of holes and a pair of shorts which had no bottom in them. In his hand was a plastic carrier bag which I emptied onto the floor, in it were two very smelly T-shirts and an equally smelly pair of shorts. I burnt the shorts and washed the two T-shirts. At the bottom of the bag was another smaller bag. Inside this were all the things that he had in the world - none of which were in one piece. There was a car with no wheels, a whistle with no pea, an empty roll of sticky tape, a broken brooch, a piece of electric wire, a broken pen, a piece of string, a marble, a screw and an old hymn book. I wept as I thought how fortunate I had been to be brought up by parents who loved me and, although they were never very wealthy, made sure that I never went without. I put his things back into his bag along with two new pairs of shorts and a shirt and laid the bag beside him. When he woke up he was much happier. I took him over to the home to meet the other children and it wasn’t long before he was running and laughing and playing with them.