Children, Cookies, and Frank in Uganda

I was sweeping the front sidewalk when three boys approached me.

“Hi! Would you like to buy a cookie to support Frank?”

Who??

They presented their “Support Frank” flyer. No misspelled words. Good grammar. Neat handwriting. And the boys were so polite and well versed as they told me about Frank and his dire circumstances. They even had a bowl of cookie bites for me to sample before buying. Genius!

“How much?” I asked.

“Well, the price is pretty steep. Two dollars each.”

“That is steep. But I’m not only paying for a cookie, right?”

“Right!”

“I’m paying to support …”

“Frank! Yeah!”

“What are your names?” They told me. “I’m Mrs. McDavid. I live right here, so be sure to stop by and let me know how Frank’s support is going.”

One of the boy was looking at me quizzically. “Hey! I think I know you! From Laguna Blanca!”

He told me his name. Sure enough, I recognized him as a former student. How could I forgot the little redhead? He was visiting his friend who lives in the neighborhood.

We chatted about how things were going for him at his new school. Then, I got an idea.

“I’ll be right back.” I went inside, grabbed some money and my cellphone, and returned to the boys, who were still smiling and waiting patiently for this old lady.

“Can I take a photo of Frank? I want to remember who I’m supporting.”

They thought that was pretty cool.

“Okay, now. Here’s two dollars for my expensive cookie.”

“Thank you” after “Thank you” came freely from the boys. Genuine and appreciative.

“Oh, wait,” I said, and with much drama I pulled a five dollar bill from my pocket. “More for Frank because you boys are so nice!”

That floored them. “Wow!” and “Thank you!” and “Really?”

I was having a thoroughly great time with this, and the boys didn’t seem to mind my silliness as we talked about my money trick. However, it was time to get back to my yard work.

“Goodbye, friends! I’m proud of you! I hope you get a lot of support for Frank!”

They started to leave, but my redhead friend stopped and said, with a hint of concern, “Would you like another cookie for that?”

This time it was I who was floored.

“No, no, no. Keep it all for Frank.”

They waved and left, and I thought about the innocence of youth. Thank God for it.

When I saw the trio headed for a neighbor’s door, I yelled, “Tell them Darla sent you!”


Thumbs up to the parents of these gems! The homemade cookie was delicious, too!

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