It is deathly cold. Everett sees his own breath as he steps outside, and the chill burrows into his bones. Ignoring his discomfort, he returns to the alley with food and hot tea. As he draws near, a South Korean army truck pulls in front of him and squeals to a stop. Soldiers hop down and poke at a heap of rags. When nothing moves, they scoop up the pile and toss it into the back of the vehicle. They pull up to the next alley and repeat the process. This time, Everett’s attention is drawn to a thin, lifeless arm jutting from the rags. Children have frozen to death overnight.
Dear God, no!
Everett vows then and there to do something. His options are limited, though, and he has only two days before his return to the States. He returns to the alley, and also shares his concerns with local aid workers, but he feels helpless. On the date of Everett’s departure, a fellow minister of the gospel, a Korean pastor, stops him at the airport. The man looks him straight in the eye and issues a challenge: “Mr. Swanson, you have seen these tremendous needs and opportunities. You have seen all these children. So tell me . . . What are you going to do?”
Suddenly, this is the most pressing question in the world.