I was born as the seventh child in a family with seven daughters and one son. I had nothing special and drew no attention of people. Not only the villagers but also my relatives would even ask my name whenever they gathered on the national holidays.
However, there were times when adults would pay attention to me. It was when they talked about my younger brother, the eighth child in my family. Since he was a precious son, I was an indispensable figure when they tried to find out after whom he was born. Accordingly, the most important mission for me in my childhood was taking care of my younger brother. When I think about it now, since I was only two years older than him, the request of adults to take care of my brother was probably from their hope that I would get along with him without fighting, but I felt a great sense of responsibility. All I could do for my little brother was little things like letting him sit on my mom’s lap, because I was still young, but I did my best to carry out my duty, keeping an eye on every small thing my brother did.
One day, an incident of a lifetime happened while my brother and I were walking by a well at the center of the village.
The well where people came to draw water or do laundry turned into a playground for the kids when there were no adults around. Bigger kids in the village did pretty dangerous things such as jumping from one end of the round well to the other. Whoever did it successfully felt flattered and showed off their courage.
I was so scared that I had never even thought about trying it, but that wasn’t the case for my brother. That day, my little brother noticed that there was no one there, and he stood on top of the well. Even though I was worried, I just watched him because I did not realize how serious it was.
My brother jumped across the well with all his energy, but he fell into the well in an instant. The well was not deep for adults, but it was deep enough to engulf my four-year-old brother. My brother floundered in the water, repeating coming in and out of the water. Since there was nothing I could do, I kept calling his name and crying, feeling scared that something was going to happen to him and feeling guilty that I didn’t take good care of him.
At that moment, some adults ran out and saved him like a miracle. They knew something was wrong because the sound of my cry was extraordinary. Ever since that happened, the adults in the village complimented me, “Your cry saved your brother,” whenever they saw me.
I’m carrying out the spiritual mission to lead the souls in danger to the way of salvation. I remember what happened that day whenever the result is not as good as I want, and come to think, ‘I’m not yet eager enough.’
Just as the sound of my cry coming from the fear and guilt that my brother might die because of my lack of care saved him, if I shout the truth of life with earnestness to find and save my brothers and sisters, the way to live will open for them, because Heavenly Father and Mother will hear my shout and help me.