(I apologize but due to technical difficulties, I was unable to post this until I was home. By the way, home is very noisy...)
So. When we signed up for this, I really worried that two weeks might be way too long. Turns out I should have worried it wouldn't be long enough. All I know is that India has become a part of me. I'm definitely leaving a huge piece of my heart here. And India will forever accompany me wherever I am in the world. Amazing.
Today was a crazy one. We got up and went first thing to one of the larger colonies. We weren't involved with any hands-on care this time. They had medical students and doctors there for consults. Our jobs were to go to the village pre-school and play with the kids, walk around the village, knocking, encouraging patients to come to the clinic, and then give the patients who needed help getting there, assistance. We all descended on the pre-school first, and I think we really overwhelmed the kids. They just stared at us with those beautiful dark eyes. I don't think they'd ever seen so many white people at once before. Most of them warmed up to us as we pulled out the crayons, paper and nail polish. Annie was magic with the kids. She danced with them, caught them as they came down the slide ending with a magnificent twirl! They all wanted a turn Their smiles brighten the world! I felt "extra", so I decided to walk up the road to see if there was something else I could do. I was praying for guidance. Out of the corner of my eye, a man started waving and calling to me. I stopped and went to him as he shuffled down the hill with his cane. He looked to me to be well into his 80s -- at least. But you never know. Life has been difficult for these people, and has weathered them in very specific ways. Many of his toes were missing, as well as part of his foot. Shortening tendons in his hands were pulled his fingers back. His eyes were white with cataracts -- but he saw me. He pointed his cane to the clinic. So we walked 30 or 40 yards down the road together. He was squeezing my hand hard, grunting and shuffling. I got him up the steps to the clinic (yes, steps -- I was longing for a ramp for these people), and took him to the first station where they took down his name and gave him a paper. He squeezed my hand tighter, and it was obvious he didn't want me to leave. So I stayed close. He handed me the paper, and I walked him to the next station, where we found a chair for him to sit down in. He still held tight to my hand. So I stood by his side until it was time for him to move on to the next step -- consultation. I smiled and waved good-bye. He put his hands in praying position (cane still in hand) and nodded his head in thanks. Such a tender mercy.
Everything was running smoothly in the clinic, so a few of us volunteers decided to go a ways down the road to a rest home for leprosy patients. It's next to the art school where we purchased some paintings, many of which were painted by these patients. Very cool. We entered the women's side first, where there were three women sitting on their beds. One woman at the far end of the room, was waving a fan made of woven leaves. Her wide eyes brightened as she waved us over, and, one by one, fanned us. She wanted to serve us. So kind. So sweet. A beautiful gift.
What next? Impromptu dance party! Erin, the volunteer coordinator, had brought a laptop and a set of speakers with her. Vicky, the Life Dance director (who is also working for a masters degree in dance therapy) started dancing with them. They began imitating her, as their smiles grew. Nothing like dance to bring a smile to your face :-) All of us volunteers joined in. We were all reaching for the ceiling and twisting our torsos, as did the patients from a seated position on their beds. It was so much fun! Their smiles were contagious. We took the party into the lobby in hopes we could coax some of the men out from their side of the facility. We got two takers, and it was beautiful! One man had great musicality. Loved it! Just such a unique and fun experience. We left them all still smiling, and perhaps a little exhausted.
When we made our way back to the clinic, it was time to pack everything into the van, and get ready to head back. It is quite a process. Everyone just jumps in and helps. Nobody ever just stands around waiting to be asked to do something. Annie has commented several times that though we are working hard, it just doesn't feel like work. Everything about it just amazes me. First of all, I can't believe we're here doing what we're doing. That there is a need for this in this day and age astounds me. That there is an organization so aware, organized, and involved gives me great hope. They provide medication, wound care, shoes for feet that can't walk, sunglasses for eyes that can't close. But perhaps most importantly, they provide personal and physical touch, that gives comfort and worth to these beautiful people who have suffered so much -- and hope that perhaps their families won't ever have to suffer in the same ways.
Well, finally it came time for our last playtime. I couldn't get my dancing friends to risk dancing in public. Maybe next time :-) There wasn't a lot of activity for me. They mostly wanted to talk with me on the green bench and I think connect one last time before I left. They are used to saying goodbye to the volunteers. It seemed easier for them than for me. I have grown to love these kids so very much. Thank you my beautiful friends!
After our final prayer time, we made our way to the dining hall where we lingered a little longer than usual. They sit in circles with their families to eat. But one by one, they popped up to say goodbye. One last hug. One last picture. One last kiss on the cheek. I blew kisses as we finally tore ourselves away, and smiled through my tears all the way back to our home away from home where our dinner was waiting for us. After dinner, we all took turns sharing what we had learned during our time there, and what we were taking home with us. Gratitude and hope were the common thread.
As we say goodbye to India (or hopefully -- see you later), I am filled with a profound gratitude. I'm grateful for Annie who, over a year ago, said she wanted to do something hard -- something that mattered. She wanted to be stretched. How grateful I am she wanted me along for the ride. From that day almost 20 years ago when I was privileged to hold her in my arms for the first time, there has been a peaceful strength about her. She came into the world to teach. And that she has. How I have loved watching her quietly reach out and find kindred spirits -- it was if they recognized and remembered each other. Thank you my beautiful girl.
I'm grateful for each of the volunteers I had the distinct privilege to serve with. They each taught me in their own unique way. They all contributed specific gifts tailor-made for those they came in contact with. They left a permanent imprint on the hearts of many -- from the children, to the patients in the colonies. Thank you for your beautiful examples of living outwardly.
I will forever remember the sparkle in the beautiful dark eyes of the children. Their openness inspired and touched me, and will continue to do so. These are children who have shouldered burdens on those tiny frames that few on the face of the earth have ever, or will ever have to bear. They carry with them a humility, clarity, and perspective that is truly remarkable. They have much to do. I know they will change their own piece of the world in ways that only they can. It doesn't seem fair that I was placed in a part of the world that is, in comparison, so safe and crazy stupid easy. But there is no doubt they are rising to the challenges they face. They are being given tools that will provide them with the independence and freedom to lay hold on those God-given gifts to accomplish the things they were sent here to do. They possess profound depth. They are strong. They are resilient. They inspire me. They bring me joy. They give me hope.
To have the gift and honor of reaching out and touching those considered to be untouchable -- a sacred gift. They touched my very soul with the gratitude in their often clouded and open eyes, their praying hands of heartfelt thanks, the remarkable gift of a grateful smile, their indomitable spirit and ability to press forward and persevere in the face of unspeakable loss -- they are the very definition of dignity and grace. I have never felt this kind of gratitude.
Not goodbye. See you later. I hope.
So. When we signed up for this, I really worried that two weeks might be way too long. Turns out I should have worried it wouldn't be long enough. All I know is that India has become a part of me. I'm definitely leaving a huge piece of my heart here. And India will forever accompany me wherever I am in the world. Amazing.
Today was a crazy one. We got up and went first thing to one of the larger colonies. We weren't involved with any hands-on care this time. They had medical students and doctors there for consults. Our jobs were to go to the village pre-school and play with the kids, walk around the village, knocking, encouraging patients to come to the clinic, and then give the patients who needed help getting there, assistance. We all descended on the pre-school first, and I think we really overwhelmed the kids. They just stared at us with those beautiful dark eyes. I don't think they'd ever seen so many white people at once before. Most of them warmed up to us as we pulled out the crayons, paper and nail polish. Annie was magic with the kids. She danced with them, caught them as they came down the slide ending with a magnificent twirl! They all wanted a turn Their smiles brighten the world! I felt "extra", so I decided to walk up the road to see if there was something else I could do. I was praying for guidance. Out of the corner of my eye, a man started waving and calling to me. I stopped and went to him as he shuffled down the hill with his cane. He looked to me to be well into his 80s -- at least. But you never know. Life has been difficult for these people, and has weathered them in very specific ways. Many of his toes were missing, as well as part of his foot. Shortening tendons in his hands were pulled his fingers back. His eyes were white with cataracts -- but he saw me. He pointed his cane to the clinic. So we walked 30 or 40 yards down the road together. He was squeezing my hand hard, grunting and shuffling. I got him up the steps to the clinic (yes, steps -- I was longing for a ramp for these people), and took him to the first station where they took down his name and gave him a paper. He squeezed my hand tighter, and it was obvious he didn't want me to leave. So I stayed close. He handed me the paper, and I walked him to the next station, where we found a chair for him to sit down in. He still held tight to my hand. So I stood by his side until it was time for him to move on to the next step -- consultation. I smiled and waved good-bye. He put his hands in praying position (cane still in hand) and nodded his head in thanks. Such a tender mercy.
Everything was running smoothly in the clinic, so a few of us volunteers decided to go a ways down the road to a rest home for leprosy patients. It's next to the art school where we purchased some paintings, many of which were painted by these patients. Very cool. We entered the women's side first, where there were three women sitting on their beds. One woman at the far end of the room, was waving a fan made of woven leaves. Her wide eyes brightened as she waved us over, and, one by one, fanned us. She wanted to serve us. So kind. So sweet. A beautiful gift.
What next? Impromptu dance party! Erin, the volunteer coordinator, had brought a laptop and a set of speakers with her. Vicky, the Life Dance director (who is also working for a masters degree in dance therapy) started dancing with them. They began imitating her, as their smiles grew. Nothing like dance to bring a smile to your face :-) All of us volunteers joined in. We were all reaching for the ceiling and twisting our torsos, as did the patients from a seated position on their beds. It was so much fun! Their smiles were contagious. We took the party into the lobby in hopes we could coax some of the men out from their side of the facility. We got two takers, and it was beautiful! One man had great musicality. Loved it! Just such a unique and fun experience. We left them all still smiling, and perhaps a little exhausted.
When we made our way back to the clinic, it was time to pack everything into the van, and get ready to head back. It is quite a process. Everyone just jumps in and helps. Nobody ever just stands around waiting to be asked to do something. Annie has commented several times that though we are working hard, it just doesn't feel like work. Everything about it just amazes me. First of all, I can't believe we're here doing what we're doing. That there is a need for this in this day and age astounds me. That there is an organization so aware, organized, and involved gives me great hope. They provide medication, wound care, shoes for feet that can't walk, sunglasses for eyes that can't close. But perhaps most importantly, they provide personal and physical touch, that gives comfort and worth to these beautiful people who have suffered so much -- and hope that perhaps their families won't ever have to suffer in the same ways.
Well, finally it came time for our last playtime. I couldn't get my dancing friends to risk dancing in public. Maybe next time :-) There wasn't a lot of activity for me. They mostly wanted to talk with me on the green bench and I think connect one last time before I left. They are used to saying goodbye to the volunteers. It seemed easier for them than for me. I have grown to love these kids so very much. Thank you my beautiful friends!
After our final prayer time, we made our way to the dining hall where we lingered a little longer than usual. They sit in circles with their families to eat. But one by one, they popped up to say goodbye. One last hug. One last picture. One last kiss on the cheek. I blew kisses as we finally tore ourselves away, and smiled through my tears all the way back to our home away from home where our dinner was waiting for us. After dinner, we all took turns sharing what we had learned during our time there, and what we were taking home with us. Gratitude and hope were the common thread.
As we say goodbye to India (or hopefully -- see you later), I am filled with a profound gratitude. I'm grateful for Annie who, over a year ago, said she wanted to do something hard -- something that mattered. She wanted to be stretched. How grateful I am she wanted me along for the ride. From that day almost 20 years ago when I was privileged to hold her in my arms for the first time, there has been a peaceful strength about her. She came into the world to teach. And that she has. How I have loved watching her quietly reach out and find kindred spirits -- it was if they recognized and remembered each other. Thank you my beautiful girl.
I'm grateful for each of the volunteers I had the distinct privilege to serve with. They each taught me in their own unique way. They all contributed specific gifts tailor-made for those they came in contact with. They left a permanent imprint on the hearts of many -- from the children, to the patients in the colonies. Thank you for your beautiful examples of living outwardly.
I will forever remember the sparkle in the beautiful dark eyes of the children. Their openness inspired and touched me, and will continue to do so. These are children who have shouldered burdens on those tiny frames that few on the face of the earth have ever, or will ever have to bear. They carry with them a humility, clarity, and perspective that is truly remarkable. They have much to do. I know they will change their own piece of the world in ways that only they can. It doesn't seem fair that I was placed in a part of the world that is, in comparison, so safe and crazy stupid easy. But there is no doubt they are rising to the challenges they face. They are being given tools that will provide them with the independence and freedom to lay hold on those God-given gifts to accomplish the things they were sent here to do. They possess profound depth. They are strong. They are resilient. They inspire me. They bring me joy. They give me hope.
To have the gift and honor of reaching out and touching those considered to be untouchable -- a sacred gift. They touched my very soul with the gratitude in their often clouded and open eyes, their praying hands of heartfelt thanks, the remarkable gift of a grateful smile, their indomitable spirit and ability to press forward and persevere in the face of unspeakable loss -- they are the very definition of dignity and grace. I have never felt this kind of gratitude.
Not goodbye. See you later. I hope.
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