In the cradle of my elbow, a roll of fresh toilet paper is lodged. A source of absolute luxury to foreign travelers in a country of squat toilets and water buckets. On special occasions, a lantern is a necessary companion in the dark of the night. I am thankful for the rain today, in the midst of laziness, I simply settled on the idea that… ‘Of course its just a splash from the rain puddles.
This city becomes a playful wonderland in the rain. It is a renewal and welcomed furlough from the incessant scent of fire and exhaust, cooked Samos’s and the aroma of unyielding fresh chai. But today it is not simply the rain that has washed me clean of the dirt and grime of the streets, but it is an escape to the villages and a backseat view of a tropical jungle.
In a community that lives by the land, the rain is a welcomed companion; a source of life. It is the rain that eases the tension of a mother’s anxious heart. There is no resting peace for those who must provide for the nourishment of their child. The only relief is the presence of rain, and its certainty of life.
The view from my window is marvelous…whole communities lace the two-lane highway on bikes and peddled carts. Bicycles anchored with harvested grains and ripened produce. The rich fabrics and bright colors of those working the fields enrich my backseat view, and I watch in wonder as bamboo baskets lay uninterrupted upon the heads of men and women, holding upon their heads their ration for the day.
We walked the streets of this small village, cradling the highway and nestled in a strikingly lush valley of vegetation. A small team of hospital personnel converge on this village twice a week as healers and miracle workers. But it is not a miracle of the dead rising, the blind seeing. No, it is the miracle of those who hunger and thirst for goodness. I sat among the 30 patients that would seek our wisdom, presence and provisions. A two bedroom clinic serves as a medical facility, but more importantly it is a symbol of compassion. To be cared for simply because you are thought of as having value, and the worth to live and to live well. That is what our clinics do, they satisfy the need to be known.
I have seen this played out throughout my time in India and when I think of it, it is a truth throughout my life. Those who are thought of beyond their lot in life, beyond the predestined future that the world designates upon them… it is these people who will soar, who will build mountains and part the sea’s.
Today we visit a school, a ‘slumdog millionaire’ sort of place. Where young boys, for 8 hours a day, no longer worry about pedaling cash, or being chased from trains – their only source of shelter in the blistering heat of summer and the bone chilling cold of winter. They are free to be young once again, to discover for the first time what it is to be cared for, to be nurtured… to be disciplined. They are unpacking the myth of family and the legend of ‘home’. They are known, they are accounted for, they are expected and they are missed.
As a teenager, I simply wanted to be forgotten, to fly under the radar when I was breaking curfew or got “lost” on the way to school… In Bakersfield, you could blame it on the fog and so we did. But for these boys and for the first time, they are not forgotten, but expected. Their place is set at a breakfast table each morning, this is a table of great honor and today I sit with these honored guests. Today I will enroll them in school, place a nametag around their neck for tomorrow they will be adopted, adopted for $1/day. This is the miracle of our learning centers, for the first time a child will be welcomed into a family, whether it is simply through written letters, an exchange of photo’s and a birthday gift. And once again, these boys will be known and their story told and their stocking hung. Thank you to those who have adopted the children from our learning centers, today I get to tell them of your great kindness. Here are the photo’s of a few from our last visit…
No comments:
Post a Comment