In a story recounted by Ernest Herndon, the 150 or so people in a Burma camp had no doubt seen atrocities—torture, rape, slaughter, arson. Now they sheltered in simple huts with tiny garden plots, far from home.
“We performed on a rickety bamboo stage while the refugees sat in the shade of thatched lean-tos. While we were playing the hymn I’ll Have a New Life, they suddenly started applauding as people ran on-stage to drape us with colorful handmade cloth bags.
The gesture brought tears to our eyes. These were people who had virtually nothing and had been through hell, yet they were heaping gifts on us. It was like the widow’s mite — the Biblical woman who won Jesus’ admiration by giving two cents, all she owned.”