On giving thanks

I can guarantee you that I did not know the thankfulness one year ago that I know now. How do you truly give thanks? You go down to train tracks; you go right to the slums. You hand out food to tiny outreached hands. To children without clothing. To babies with bellies rounded from a mixture of starvation and parasites. You hold girls from the slums on your lap, you grasp their hand and hug them with big hugs. You donate one dollar, ten dollars, one hundred dollars. And with that touch, that smile, that donation, that meal, you are telling them how much they are loved. You, from places all over the world, are showing them how much you care. So when the man from the shop across the way tells me that what I am doing has no point, that the whole of India is poor and starving I can hear you with me in response "We have to start somewhere, and right here in this slum, with with these kids is that place." I think of how much support I have received, especially in the last two weeks and I am broken with gratefulness. To those of you who helped me pass out food last Thursday, those on the mission team and those of you who have donated over the last week in response to Danielle, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. The relationship you are enabling me to build with these children and this community is real. The potential for this project is immense. Honestly, at times I feel intimidated or inadequate but your support pushes me forward. For some reason you have chosen to believe in this, to love these children as they deserve to be loved. There is nothing that I could be more thankful for than that. 

Down to the tracks

I have been really wanting to share with you what happened last weekend when I went out to feed the children! This week has been insane and awesome. Monday was the best day as my niece was born back in the states AND the mission team heard about my feeding project (which I have been calling Asha Guwahati) and they decided to donate for the meals. There is so much to write about but I will save this week for later and talk about last Saturday. 

As you know, two weekends ago I couldn't find the kids whom I had been feeding regularly. So last weekend I got some people started with the cooking and then I went on a scouting trip to the corner. Much to my dismay, the kids were still missing. I decided to walk further in hopes of finding them and quickly found myself making a beeline for the train tracks. I walked and walked, and ended right at the rails. I walked parallel to them through the slums. I peered into the shanty homes and saw many faces smiling back at me. This was where I needed to go. No one approached me as I wandered through, so out of place. There were kids without clothes, dirty and wounded. Children bending over the the tracks, picking up trash that has been tossed out of passing trains and homes that looked as if the would collapse on themselves in the slightest of breezes. I walked and soon ended where I began all those weeks ago on my very first feeding adventure and I just knew. If I couldn't find the children on the corner I had to come here. So I walked back home and was a nervous wreck. The tracks are hard, the people of the slums they need so much help and I knew it would be yet another push forward to continue growing this project. 

We packed up the food, I hopped on the back of a coworkers bike, Louise and Kelly got in a tuk-tuk and we headed off to the tracks. The next 10 minutes were a blur. We just set up on a corner, right at the rail just at the entrance of the slum village. The people came in swarms! Thankfully my friend Kelly has way more of a backbone than me and she managed to make it an organized chaos. We were yelling out "Queue!!" "Children" and "babies" in Assamese and for the most part, the crowd got it. We placed the warm boxes of food in tiny dirty hands and even though it was madness, many managed to connect their eyes with mine in a thank you. As usual, it felt like it was over before it began and it was time to walk away. For me, walking away is the hardest part because I know what lies behind me. I know how much more I can do, I know how much more I want to do. The support I have been receiving in this adventure keeps me up at night in excitement. I can not wait to share with the week I have had, the weeks that will come as this project grows. Thank you all for your support thus far <3

"Where are all the kids?!?!"

Sunday. Oh Sunday. Passing out food this weekend was a complete 180 from the previous three weekends. I am finally perfecting exactly how much of each food item to purchase/make for 50 servings and the cooking went extra smooth with the help of two co-workers. We had it all ready to go just in time for two others to come and help pass it out, so we headed to the street corner maybe around 1230. The usual time! We got in two tuk tuks and as we reached the corner, there was not a soul in sight! (Okay not a soul that was in need of the food) So I had the driver continue down the road to the second spot and much to my dismay, they were not there either. My heart sank!! Where had they gone? We (eventually) turned around to the train station because there are ALWAYS children there, but after searching for another hour we still were left in disappointment. At one point I walked with one friend back to the usual corner and we attracted attention from the police (who were patrolling the area) we were surrounded by six or seven of them all with their rifles and batons! This may have happened because I yelled "Where's the children?!?!?" up and down the street! They said they didn't know where the kids had gone, but I am sure it had something to do with the police presence.

Finally we decided to go to another part of the city by the river where many adults and some children live. As we piled in, a few street kids surfaced and ran up to us. They were not the ones I usually feed but of course we were ecstatic to feed them nonetheless! We passed out some meals then headed to the river.

Once there we walked up to a family and guess what?! The little boy and girl were two of the 17 kids who had attended the slum girls day a few weeks prior!! The sister came to me first, her face beaming. I immediately remembered her and she gave me the biggest hug then couldn't stop holding my hand. Both she and her brother just looked at me, smiling seeming to say "I can't believe it's you AGAIN!" It was so awesome! Their mom and dad live with them on the streets and so I saw their piece of cement which is their home. After we passed out all the food we got on the bus to go eat lunch ourselves. As I was sitting their my coworker looked at me and asked if I was thinking of the group of kids we normally feed. The answer, of course, was yes. I worried. Where were they? Where do 50 kids without homes go when the police tell them to move? Were they hungry? Will they eat today? I had to hold back the tears. I genuinely hope that they re-surface and that I find them again really soon. (Side note: The people we fed live near a temple that provides food, which is why I hadn't gone there previously.)

Then the thoughts moved on to the brother and sister and their family. They were there on the broken sidewalk, smiling and seemingly whole with nothing but the clothes strung over a banister, the meals we had just provided and each other. I keep looking at the picture of them sitting on the sidewalk, a candid photo, in which you can see them all smiling. So I ask you this today, what makes a home, a home?

Life on my feet

Lately I have found that life is best lived on my feet.

Every morning I walk from hospital bed to hospital bed, making silly faces and telling all of our patients how beautiful they are. I blow bubbles and dance up and down the aisles, hoping to help them crack a smile, taking some worry out of their morning. Hours later I sway back and forth, calming babies in my arms as they recover from life changing surgery. I bend over to clean my patient's face, feed them juice, pat their backs as they throw up, and give them medicine to help ease their pain. I stand next to dummies on stretchers and guide local nurses through skills labs, teaching them everything I know about bedside care so that one day my feet can feel different ground. In the evening I walk home. I take the time to breathe deep, and enjoy the sights and sounds of this city which I call home, because I know it can not be home forever. 

Every free chance I have, I go to the orphanage and visit some very special kids. They squeal and run towards me as I enter, it is so infectious that I can't help but to squeal and run too. I scoop them up two by two and give them each a hug. They chase me around and for as long as I can we play games, pray and eat snacks. After my Sunday evening visits, I head across the grounds to a temple. There we sing, dance, and jump up and down on hard marble floor for at least one hours time. Oh how my feet love to be used to praise Him! 

At home you might find me stooped down low to scrub my clothes then stretched up high to clip them on the drying line. Standing over the sink to wash the dishes, or over the stove to make a meal. I bend over to my bucket, scoop after scoop to pour water over my head in the shower. You may even find me on the balcony, dancing around and singing for all to hear. 

On the weekends I wander through the market, bargaining for produce. I carry it home on my back and slung over my shoulder. I stand for hours, cooking meals for children who desperately need to know the face of Love. I get hot and sweaty and my feet, how they throb. But if I could do it every day, I would. With the help of whoever is willing, we walk down the street to where the kids have no homes. As they see us coming towards them they rise to their feet. They jump with an excitement and hysteria that simultaneously makes me the most happy and sad that I have ever felt. We pass out the meals and when I can, I bend down low and clean the wounds that living on the streets creates. 

Hour after hour, day by day this is my life lived upright. My aching back and tired legs beg me to slow down, but my heart, it moves at full speed and it demands that I live life on my feet.