A crimson hue melted across the western sky as the cool, crisp evening breeze grazed the back of my neck. Graciously, I moved a little closer to the fire. Martha, the school cook, was preparing the evening meal for the students of the Upper Matasia School. A young girl approached me and asked if I and another volunteer would join her and her friends in a singing session. Despite the fact that my singing is quite displeasing to anyone who can hear, I joined the group.

Sitting in a patch of soft grass, we sang various songs as the sun dipped below the horizon. As the other volunteer strummed the guitar, an ease enveloped me. That ease was quickly stripped away when the young girl who had so kindly asked me to join the group, requested that I sing a solo. My first reaction was, of course, to decline. But as I looked around at the group their eyes reflected confusion; they did not understand why I did not want to sing. My fear of embarrassment was foreign to them. The idea that they would judge me based upon how I sing never entered their minds. I will never forget that moment, a moment in which three young Kenyans reminded me of the type of person I want to be, and in doing so, inspired me to sing. So I sang. It was not a beautiful sound, yet it was most definitely a beautiful experience. As I finished, everyone clapped, and then it was the next persons turn.

Ultimately, life is too short and too precious to be encumbered by regret and fear. In each fleeting moment an opportunity is present; a chance to see the bright side, to seize upon the hope that dwells in every instance of despair or fear; but, more than anything, an opportunity to have faith - faith in God, faith in people, and faith in yourself. There is no security on earth, only opportunity; and, in the end, the only ones who fail are those who do not try. A young Kenyan girl with a kind heart and her three friends taught me that wonderful lesson.