When I volunteered to teach at the Anuradhapura School for the Deaf and Blind in Sri Lanka, I knew it was going to be challenging. But to my surprise, the challenge wasn't so much how to communicate with the children, it was the reality of their daily lives that challenged my belief system to the core.

Through my Western eyes, I saw first only what they didn’t have. Basic things like pillows, clean sheets and mosquito nets, as well as books and toys were basically non-existent. Most parents couldn’t afford the boarding school’s monthly fees. And since the majority of the government’s funds were allocated to fuel the almost 20-year civil war, very little was left for social services. Consequently, this school relied on donations for most of its food.

At first I was shocked and angry that children could live like this. I was overwhelmed with frustration wondering what difference I could possibly make. This frustration was inhibiting my ability to interact with the children. Then one day during my second week at the school, one of the young girls saw me crying near the back of the building. She motioned for me to follow her, and led me beyond the heaping piles of garbage to a bush with beautiful pink flowers. Smiling nervously, she picked one and gave it to me. I began to realize that in spite of their living conditions, these children appreciated beauty and kindness in a way I hadn't yet experienced.

Every day, they greeted me with big smiles and an enthusiasm to learn that taught me about the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity. These children may have lost their sight or hearing, but more importantly, they still had the ability to learn, laugh and love. I soon learned the gift I had to offer was my time and energy to make each child feel special. Sometimes it was as simple as playing cards or just watching them dance or jump rope to validate their talent. These children were not disabled, they were differently abled. As my perceptions changed, so did the work I was able to do.