Villages, dreams, and the Taj Mahal...

Here's another little story/life lesson I learned from my trip:

We had left the busyness of the city of millions. Kolkata was wonderful, an overload to the senses. Cars, people and cows scattered throughout the roads and pathways finding their way where ever they could squeeze. The honk of a car horn could be heard every 5 seconds amongst the sounds of people talking, babies crying, and music coming from the shops. Colour was everywhere; beautiful sari’s, blue, green and pink washed buildings, yellow taxi cabs. I felt my senses waking up.

But we had left this city of many people and ventured out into the rural areas of India. It felt like home. Flat land is flat land all over the world, and it is times like these when I realize I really am a prairie girl at heart. There was room to breath, room to run, room to see for miles. It was beautiful. It was still dry season and so the square plots where rice was grown were now dry and cracked. In the early evening it was no longer a rice field but a cricket field where the boys would come out to play.

We made our way down a series of bumpy back roads and arrived at a village. I don’t know the name of the village and to be honest I can’t remember the names of the people I met, but their faces and stories and the picture of the village is etched into my minds eye. It was dusty and many children scattered through the main street we drove in on. I wonder how many cars come through this village because people came out from all over to see the new visitors. We stopped close to the village well, where there were three little girls pumping as hard as they could to get the water they needed to survive that day. A mother came from down the road with a small baby on her hip. The baby, in a little teal dress, could barely lift her head, she was sick. The mother welcomed us to the village, looked behind her and told the children to behave, and then led a few of us to a home.

We sat in this small local home, made from mud and sticks and the women of the village shared with us the story of their lives. The people in the village lived off the land but rain was scarce and so many of their husbands left for months to find work. They had one small school that had just recently opened for the children. We later had a bit of a tour, and found no books, no desks, and not much room for the fifty children it supposedly held. Life did not seem easy for these women, and yet they laughed and smiled and showed us their children who they were so very proud of.

And the question was asked, “What are your hopes and dreams for you children?”. They looked at each other and kind of laughed as if to say, ‘Well, we don’t really think like this.’ Or ‘Why would we dream when we can’t feed our children?’. It took a second and then one of them piped in and said, “We want our children to have education.” That was it. And when I think of this I think wait a second that’s a right. That should be a given, you should be able to dream beyond that.

I started to think about that later that evening when thoughts and experiences flood your mind and heart and you have no other option but to ask yourself the tougher questions. And I realized that visions and dreams of what can be are a privilege that I take for granted. There are people who cannot afford to dream, they are too busy surviving, they are too busy thinking about what will be their children’s food when they run out of the corn from last years meager harvest. And here I sit feeding off my dreams, motivated by what could be. So much in fact that I get mixed up and think that is why we are here, to dream big.

But as I sat back and thought about this I thought I must be wrong. Because the people I sat with in the village have just as much purpose to their lives as I do. And when God looks down on us both he sees people who are the same, he has made us both for a purpose. So my question was, what is it that He has created us for?

I pondered this question for a few days, and it wasn’t until the week-end that I felt a bit of an answer creep into my thoughts. There I was standing at the Taj Mahal. The most beautiful man-made work of art I have ever seen. Worlds away from the village I had experienced a few days prior. I was now amongst tourists, people who had the resources and time to come and be awed by this wonder; a tomb for a women, a tribute to her life, a demonstration of love. It was stunning. And I thought about what binds that simple village I visited with the magnificent Taj Mahal… And what crept into my mind was: relationships, love and friendship and the value that is in the people around us. The rich can represent it with extravagant buildings and large demonstrations, while the poor can be seen holding the hand of a child or sitting and laughing together on a straw mat.

Relationships. That’s what we were created for. I saw this truth lived out time and time again while I was in India. It seems so simple and yet I so easily forget. I get wrapped up in the busyness of life and the mission I feel that I am on, and along the way I forget the people around me.

Philippians 1:9-10 says, “I pray that your love for each other will overflow more and more and that you will keep on growing in your knowledge and understanding. For I want you to understand what really matters, so that you may live pure and blameless lives until Christ returns.”

I think I had a glimpse of what really matters while I was in India. I admit that I am only 24 and the things that matter today may not be the things that matter 20 years from now. But I do know I was challenged by what I saw. I am challenged to take these examples I saw played out before my eyes and live them out here in the land of balancing dreams and visions and the people I love.

Stories...

Well, it's been a week. I've been meaning to put up some more pictures but just haven't gotten the chance yet. Life has just picked up really from where it left off (with a few more life lessons learned and things to think about of course). I have been trying to write out some of my stories though so here is one I just finished (sorry it's so long!).

Christ in You...

We arrived in Kolkata in the early morning of March 5th. It was humid and muggy and there was a sweet tropical smell to the air, quiete the change from cold, harsh snow I left back in Saskatoon. After long waits in line, and finding our packs we journeyed outside.

India is a land of intense extremes, an overload to the senses. And although it was early in the morning and you would expect the world to be sleeping it wasn’t. In fact there was a crowd of people just waiting for the newly arrived tourists. People offering tea and rides in their taxi’s, children asking for money and food. It is an overwhelming feeling after a day and a half of travel. We stood there looking less than fresh I’m sure waiting for our ride.

Soon we were driving to the MCC Center, through the quieter streets of Kolkata in the early hours of the morning. What I noticed was the people sleeping on the streets. I had heard that there was not enough room for the amount of people, but I didn’t fully understand. We passed down a street and realized these pile of blankets on the sidewalk had real people under them, people who laughed and cried, were hungry and full, who loved and hurt. One corner we passed was home to a couple. The man sat awake, while his wife curled up in a blanket slept. I wondered how he felt knowing that this was all he had for his wife, and if life allowed him dream beyond this.

We arrived to our clean, simple rooms in the MCC center and had a quick nap before heading out for the day. We scurried our tired bodies around this fascinating city. Learning the history, seeing the masses bathe in the river, busy themselves from place to place, live normal daily lives. We explored the sights and smells of the flower market and drank delicious, spicy chai from the street vendor. It was brilliant. At times I just wanted to stop and sit and take it all in.

Close to the end of our day of exploring this new city we ended up at the ‘Mother House’. Close to the MCC center there was a building on the corner of a busy street. Across the street was a whole line of squatters houses built with tarp and sticks. The shutters were a rusty orange colour and the building was a plane old white washed building. It housed a little sign in the corner proclaiming in a humble way that this was a Missionaries of Charity house. We got out of our cars and walked down the back alley to the side door where people come in and out. We stepped inside and a quiete peace was felt throughout our group. Here is was. The place she lived and worked. The place where the world learned what it meant to love. Here was the place of Mother Teresa.

I know the many of the words of Mother Teresa. I know her words on poverty and love and caring for the poor. I know she was a simple woman who lived on less. And yet in my mind I could never of imagined how this could be lived out when she was so internationally known, regarded, and loved. Fame was hers. She could have had it all.

We took off our shoes and entered a room where we reflected on the life and love of this servant. I then wandered over to the room that was a dedication to her life, a museum of sorts. It housed her worn, homemade sandals, her repaired white and blue sari, and a few of her dishes and writing utensils. Her words were written up and her life story told. And not on large plaques or fancy displays, no, they were written up on a simple computer, printed off, laminated, and pinned onto the wall. What a beautiful testament to all she believed in.

But what I realized as I was reading the story of her life and words of wisdom from her heart, was that Mother Teresa knew something that few of us have come to comprehend. Mother Teresa knew that Christ was in her. She knew that Christ was in us. She knew that where ever she went, whether across the street with the squatters, or across the world at a large gala, she knew that Jesus was in her, she was taking Him to the world, simply by being. It was that simple.

Colossions 1:27 says “Christ in you the hope of glory.” I have heard this verse many times in my life, but I saw it in a new way that evening. Christ is in me. Hard to believe at times, but unbelief doesn’t make it any less of a truth. So how do I live out this truth? How would my life be different if I understood, along with Mother Teresa, that the Christ living in me was the hope of glory. My life would change, it is changing, everyday I pray that this truth be revealed more and more in my life, because it is this truth that will change my life and the world around me.