It was one of the first days of the special school, where 11-year-old Vasilica had begun attending to make up for the years he missed. As we walked to catch the bus, he grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. While we sat hand-in-hand on the bus, Vasca (as he's called) explained to me how he liked this school so much better than his old one because the other students don't beat him up there. It wasn't until we parted in the hallway of the school building that Vasca let go of my hand.

A street kid usually cannot afford to place his trust in another person, but in those short moments on the way to school, Vasilica let down his guard and trusted me. In that moment, I saw a picture of true friendship. Many would say that a street child doesn't even know what friendship is – he comes from a broken or abusive home, the society in which he lives shoves him aside, and even the ones that he considers his friends often betray his trust. How can a street kid know how to love if he never has experienced love? But Vasca shocks all his critics by becoming an example of love, loyalty and friendship…

Since spring has come to Romania , the trees have begun to bloom and bear fruit. Among the favorites is the apricot tree, whose branches are usually picked bare by those who simply cannot wait for the fruit to ripen. Vasca is one of the impatient ones. One day as we were walking with the children to the soccer field, he spied an apricot tree and darted off before I could at least warn him to take care as he climbed the tree. When I approached the arbor, I found Vasca as high as the branches would allow, hastily filling his pockets with unripe fruit. Suddenly, he stopped and, with a half-surprised look on his face, told me that he couldn't find any more apricots on the tree. So, Vasca shimmied back down and, assuming that I loved unripe apricots just as much as he did, filled my hands with the small, green gems – even before having a taste himself. His excitement for me to share his pickings was contagious. Vasilica not only shared the apricots with me but also allowed me once again to share sweet friendship with him.

Vasca is teaching me that friendship is not something you merely receive or hold onto but that it is serving, loving and giving. Though we do have our hard times, Vasca continues to hold tight to my hand. His friendship is a constant gift, like a tree of life that never ceases to yield its fruit. Vasilica shows me where to find “on either side of the river the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month and the leaves of the tree [which are] the healing of the nations.”