TRUST SURRENDER.

WOMEN DOING LAUNDRY FROM A LEAK IN THE PIPE ALONG THE HIGHWAY

A PARENT TENDING TO HIS CHILDREN BY THEIR HOME.

MOTHER TERESA'S TOMB IN THE MOTHERHOUSE

RICE FIELDS ON THE WAY TO DARJEELING

A WOMAN SWEEPING THE GROUND IN DARJEERLING

WATCH OUT FOR THE MONKEY ON TOP OF THE SIGN

A DEVOUT HINDU AT THE TEMPLE PRAYING

IN FRONT OF TEA GARDENS IN DARJEERLING , THE TEA CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!

ME IN THE HIMALAYAS...COVERED BY CLOUDS- I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO SEE MOUNT EVEREST!

NO MORE COMPLAINING ABOUT BRINGING IN THE GROCERIES

SR MARGARET

SR MERCY MARIA (FROM TEXAS...SHE IS AWESOME!)

HE LET ME DRIVE HIS AUTO RICKSAW...AND WANTED A PICTURE...

CHILDREN ON THE STREET. THEY LOVE HAVING THEIR PICTURE TAKEN.

HIS SHOP WAS 2 FT BY 5 FT, AND LOOKA T ALL THE GOOD HE IS DOING! SO HAPPY...HE ASKED ME TO COME IN AND TAKE A PICTURE.

Indian Culture...a Commentary:

Look at the colors...and see the people selling items on the train tracks (in use) and the man with the chickens attached to his bike on the far left- I almost got run over by one of them!

Disorganized Chaos- Everyone does their own thing in the street and no one things it is a big deal (example- kids setting off fire-crackers in the street and people walk by as if nothing happened)

Look at the trash- no one cares...

- Black dot on babies foreheads, a symbol of imperfection, so that people don't want to steal them

Look how dilapidated this is.

- Red dot on women's foreheads which is a symbol that they are married, as is the red in the part in their hair


- Women are so gorgeous- in Saris of all colors. Women wearing western clothing do not look as pretty by comparison. Men walk around in all types of clothing, many just in a loincloth.


- For women it is taboo if your knees or shoulders show, but the sari often shows their stomachs, even their belly buttons or protruding belly, for the elderly women. So different from in the USA!

Haircut on the Street. Literally.

- So few women walk the streets- men stare at women as they pass by...ugh.


- Poor are always active, even the children in the families have their jobs. I never heard a poor child cry or complain. 


- Dirt accumulates everywhere, and people don't seem to care much. 


- No hot water.

A herd of Goats. In the Street.

- Wash clothes by hand with cold water


- Drink 3-4 liters of water a day as if it is your job. Be careful that the store owner did not unseal the cap, and replace it with tap water because you may be sick for days as a result.

Living on the streets.

Dog Asleep in the street- Doesn't he look dead?

- Children as young as newborns ride on motorcycles (without seat belts or helmets of course) with their parents. I once saw about 5 children under 10 on a motorcycle with a young man, zooming away.


- Indians love things we think are gaudy. Example- Statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus with blinking 'Christmas' lights around his heart

These tarps became homes at night.

- Men are very friendly. Women have their guard up- are seen as objects at times


- Sense of right and wrong is absolute with regard to stealing. In huge crowds of people, some of whom were starving, I never heard of people reporting anything ever being stolen

The whole process, live chickens, dead chickens, dinner

The sisters are walking ministers of Compassion and Mercy. They comfort, take in the poor and helpless, and love them tenderly.

- Smell of Tandoor Chicken, Exhaust, Smoke, Urine fill the streets, along with rotting trash


- BEAUTY. TRUTH. GOODNESS.

Exhaustion...and Exhilaration...Indian Culture at its finest!

Each day in India was filled to the brim. From awaking early, to running from one assignment to the next, trying out new 'safe' restaurants for dinner (only costing about $2) and going to the chapel to pray for adoration at night or having roof parties (the only place where everything cools down) at the hostels of other volunteers, we were constantly moving, constantly serving!

The Busses are extremely crowded, and not in good condition

As for myself, one of my favorite experiences was going to the home of Susima, a teacher at the Missionaries of Charity school where I tutored street children in English. Susima is 26, and she was so generous, and inviting. A teacher who went to college to learn to teach Hindi, she taught me many phrases while the children were taking their naps, and I would teach her English. She lived a difficult life- in India 99% of all marriages  are arranged and hers was no exclusion to this rule. Married at 16, her husband was abusive, and so she divorced him. She has two children, 9 and 8, whom she gave birth to when she was 16 and 17. They are both in boarding school and she struggles to find the money each week to keep them there. Her wage is under $25 a month in US dollars, and 1/2 of that is spent on traveling the bus to and from work (which is about an hour long commute each way). 


I went home with her one evening, and she taught me many Hindi phrases. Her home was in a small village outside of Kolkata- it was very beautiful and quiet there. EVERYONE stared at me, because I was a non-Indian in a place where there were no foreigners at all. Susima told me to walk on the side of the road, as if to protect me, as she was on the outside, closer to the street. She bought me some pastries at an Indian Goodies Shop (I later realized that this was a huge deal for her, and she never bought these usually). At her home, a 3 room building with a bathroom (aka hole in the ground) outside, we went into her room, layed down a mat on the ground, and began to go over Hindi and English phrases. Soon her neigbor, a 9 year old girl, came over for tutoring which she did every day. This girl was hilarious! She had so much spunk, and corrected my sayings constantly. Soon, we were all laughing, and turned on the radio (yes, even despite the poverty they have that radio, and cell phones...) and the girls began to dance. It was beautiful! Their motions looked almost like hula dancing, and they would draw parts of the song with their hands, almost as if it was sign language! I showed them my Irish Dancing, but they were not too impressed.

 (my camera was dying and the little girl next door was taking video but she did not press the button down- therefore the short duration!)

Susima gave me chai tea (a normal thing- everyone has it 3 times a day with biscuits), and made me a dinner of omelete with Chili peppers in it, along with fried bread. It was delicious, and she wanted me to eat it all before she ate. The bread is used to hold the egg- no one uses forks or knives here. Actually, Susima taught me how to eat properly with your hands. Indians eat only with their right hand and clean themselves with their left hand, and I learned how to eat rice (alebit a bit clumsily!) with my right hand. She then walked me back to where the taxis were and made sure that I would get a ride with someone who would not rip me off. I was a bit nervous, because I knew that it took me an hour to get there on the bus, but the return trip was merely 20 minutes, though the taxi driver did not know where he was going and would roll down his window at lights to ask others where he should be going. He did not understand English, so that was interesting.

Map of Kolkata...

Her Baby was so tiny and malnourished.

Poverty even more striking than Susima's

In the end, what was perhaps the most daring thing I did while I was in India, that is, going to the home of someone whom I barely knew, without a cell phone or an idea of where I was going, turned out to be one of the greatest experiences I had abroad. Susima taught me the value of faith. At her home, she sang her favorite songs about Jesus in English and in Hindi, adn told me how Jesus keeps her going. She did not complain about her life, but collected clothing from people that needed mending so that she could fix them and then give the clothes out to the poor. She loved the children under her care, and did not let bitterness take ahold of her. She taught me the meaning of love in a truly profound way.

BEAUTY

These are some of the prayers of the Missionaries of Charity, that we prayed each day. My last week in India, I moved in with my friend Monika from Germany into the Hotel Galaxy across from Modern Lodge. I told her how much I loved the prayers and would miss them, and she gave me a little book in which she wrote down all the prayers we would pray each morning. It was one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received, especially because in the USA my life is so technological...using cell phones, texting, emailing, and now teaching with Ipads. Everything is virtual. And yet, in the simplicity of India with few resources, a friend I had just met took over an hour to copy down prayers in her handwriting in a small book for me, out of love. It truly touched my heart and I will cherish it, and the prayers within, forever!

Make us Worthy Lord, to serve our fellow men throughout the world who live and die in poverty and hunger. Give them trhoguh our hands this day their daily bread, and by our understanding love give peace and joy.

Physician's Prayer

Dear Lord, the great healer, I kneel before you since every perfect gift must come from you. I pray, give skill to my hands, clear vision to my mind, kindness and meekness to my heart and a true realization of the priviledge that is mine. Give me singleness of purpose, strength to lift up a part of the burden of my suffering fellow man. Take from my heart all guile and worldliness, that with the simple faith of a child I may rely on you. Amen.

"Let us be only ALL for Jesus!"

Radiating Christ

Dear Jesus, help me to spread your fragrance everywhere we go. Flood our souls with your spirit and life. Penetrate and possess our whole being, so utterly, that our lives may only be a radiance of yours. Shine through us and be so in us that every soul we come into contact with may feel your presence in our souls. Let them look up and see no longer us, but only Jesus. Stay with us and then we shall begin to shine as you shine, so to shine as to be a light to other. The Light, oh Jesus, will be all from you. None of it will be ours. It will be you, shining on others through us. Let us thus praise you in the way you love best, by shining on those around us. Let us preach you, without preaching, not by words, but the catching force, the sympathetic influence of what we do, the evident fullness of the love our hearts bear to you. Amen.

I Thirst is written next to every crucifix of the Missionaries of Charity. Their mission is to quench the thirst of Jesus for souls, for Love.

I Offer My Life 

I offer my life in this small fragile host to be clothed with your flesh, to be fed with your blood. I surrender my all to be broken and blest, to be shared and outpoured in You, my God. 

I have given you all: all my dreams, all my tears, all my life! My God, you have called me by name., I belong now to you, only you for all time.

Take now my time, my mind and my heart, my liberty Lord,  I return it to you. And within all these gifts that you've given to me, I return with great joy to you my Lord.

I come Lord this day to answer your call, to follow your steps, to do your will. Your thirst now has filled the depths of my soul- in freedom I cry to you my God.

My life now is yours, to care for the poor, to feed with your word, to quench with your peace, to clothe with your presence, to shelter in love so that you Lord may touch them, You my God.

Getting Sick...

Preparing to go to India, I had been told that everyone who goes gets sick to some extent. It kind of scared me, but I knew that I was supposed to go and that God would take care of me. Before I left I took oral medication to prevent malaria and typhoid, as well as shots to protect me from Hepatidis B, and polio. Yet, within 3 days of being in India, and after eating relatively conservative food (no spicy food or street food), I was already sick with a fever and stomach issues. Every time I walked in the streets I would feel nauseaus because of the smell of the urine, sweat, trash, raw meat being sold, and smoke from cooking food. 

Trash in the streets...this was everywhere.

 This scared me because I was just getting acclimated but in retrospect it happened to most people I know and was not too big of a deal. My scariest moment in India was being up in the middle of the night, with a fever nearing 103 F, knowing that if I were to collapse in my room that night that no one would necessarily know where I was, or be able to burst into my room because of the massive padlock that locked the door from the inside. I had forgotten to bring my insurance information, and had no idea how to get to a hospital. I did not have a phone with me, and the internet cafe was closed. I took my temperature every hour, and a cold shower (all showers are cold, or lukewarm there...)  and that seemed to help. 

This was our Bathroom in Modern Lodge.
The shower water drained into the toilet, on the ground.
Ants were continuously on all the walls.
Yet, there was privacy, a priveledge compared to the poor on the street.

All night I prayed and sang to myself- something that alone could calm my racing thoughts. The sisters sing a song every day which I grew to love, and sang to myself throughout the night. Each day before we went out to serve we would sing, "We have our hope in Jesus, that all things will be well, that all things will be well, that all things will be well in the Lord."

Sick, but smiling...or trying to!

Throughout the night I was clinging to this song, this reality, hoping that even in my fever reduced stupor that God would guide me and I would not loose track of what I practically ought to be doing. In the morning I was too weak to walk to the Motherhouse so I took a taxi and some Missionary of Charity sisters told me to get a blood test, which my friend Kristan took me to. After throwing up on the street en route to the health clinic, I made it, after 1 hour of walking in circles....

In the end, I was fine, but the doctor put me on antibiotics for 10 days to protect against the possibility of typhoid. Two weeks later I also got sick, and had more blood tests. Usually the sicknesses that I and the other volunteers succombed to were solved by lots of sleep and water intake (as dehydration is a constant concern), and being careful with the food we ate. Travelers Dhiarrea was extremely common and annoying- yet it became a normal topic to discuss (strange how traveling changes what you are comfortable sharing with others). 

This is my hotel...as you can see it was very Modern :)

Looking back, I am grateful for being sick in Kolkata. It pushed me to be grateful to God for everything, and I knew that God had called me there and was looking out for me. Therefore, if He allowed me to be sick, there must have been something that He planned to teach me through being sick. I didn't want to avoid sacrifices or pain, or sickness, because that meant not being open to learning what He wants to teach me. That one night in Kolkata when I had the fever was a night of beauty for me- I was weak, and I knew it, and yet I knew that the God who called me by name would not abandon me, but wanted, through my sickness, to speak to me of his infinite love and tenderness....something I forget when I feel self-sufficient, and everything is going my way. 

Arrival to Kolkata ~ Morning Routine

En Route to Kolkata, my flight was delayed in London and I was able to tour the city for a few hours. Despite the rain it was beautiful, and I got to see all the sights: Big Ben,     Buckingham Palace, Parliament, as well as many of the parks. I even got to pray/sleep for an hour in Westminster Abbey, which was beautiful. What a contrast from India! From the first step out of the plane in Kolkata I was hit by the intense humidity, and the disorganization of everything. Going through customs there were no guidelines. I had no idea what I was doing but just followed everyone else. On the taxi ride to my hotel I saw men climbing on top of trucks packed high with boxes, homes made of cardboard and bamboo on the sidewalks, and I realized that there are no traffic rules in this city I would call home. Even stoplights are disregarded unless police officers are legislating. Instead, there is the constant, incessant screeching of horns, bells from the Ricksaws, and whistles from the trains.  For this reason Kolkata is never, ever silent.

The next morning I woke up at 5am for mass at the Motherhouse at 6am. I was serving with the Missionaries of Charity, and they welcomed all the Volunteers to mass in the morning. Each morning I would walk the 20 minutes to the Motherhouse at 5:30am, watching people burn trash on the street, men sleep on rags on the side of the road, the rush by the water spickets as drivers clean their taxis, and take baths, and my personal favorite, the bikers with 80 live chickens hanging upside down on either side of the front and back of the bike. Once I almost got hit by the chickens, who are on their way to the butchers lining the streets. I screamed. The roads of Kolkata, I would find, are full of men and few women, who in their society stay mostly at home. This being the case the men stare at you constantly, which was very uncomfortable at first, but to which I eventually disregarded as ‘normal’ the longer I was there. 

The Motherhouse is a haven in the city. It is cleaned several times a day, with bleach! The mass, adoration, and the prayers are a constant in a city which provides few similarities to my life at home. The sisters are so welcoming, and are dedicated to serving and living like the poor. Each day ascending to the chapel we would take off our shoes, and see the crucifix with a map of the world beneath it. Mother instructed the postulants to recognize the Thirst for Jesus on the Cross and satisfy it by spreading the good news to the whole world (thus the map). On the side of the cross was a chalkboard  containing a quote of Mother Teresa which changed each day. My favorite was “Love to be genuine, must hurt. It must rid us of self.”  The mass each morning was so beautiful. The Volunteers from countries all over the world including Italy, Spain, Argentina, France, Malta, United States, Japan, South Korea, China, Taiwan, and Austria would sit on the far right and the sisters would sit on the floor in the middle and left of the large room surrounding the altar. The sisters provided fans for us (we were wet with sweat by the time we reached the Motherhouse), but they themselves had no fans facing them. At the consecration (when we as Catholics believe that the bread and wine become Jesus’ body and blood) all of us would bow down so that our head reached the floor. It was so simple, so beautiful, and so profound. Mother’s words that she could not serve unless she received her God in the mass became all the more relevant. 

My Friend and I holding a sign for Prem Dam, the home
for disabled and dying women where we worked in
the mornings.

After mass we would go down to the volunteer room, where we were served 2 slices of white bread, bananas, and chai tea, which you find wherever you go in Kolkata from clothes shops to restaurants and street stalls. After eating we would pray together and sing a song called: We have our hope in Jesus. When I was sick a few days later, I fell asleep singing this song. It really calmed me down! Then we sing another song to thank the volunteers for whom it is their last day. Then we were off! Some of us went to work in Homes for the dying, others taught disabled children, others took care of the handicapped, or fed poor in the city and bandaged their wounds in a dispensary. Later in the day most of us  meet back for lunch around Sudder street, the section of the city where most of us lived. 

Introduction

Hello. Thank you to everyone who reads this blog about my Mission Trip to Kolkata. I just returned from India on Saturday, and will record some of the highlights of my trip on this website, which I was unable to do while I was away. It was the most incredible, exhausting, overwhelming, intense, and beautiful time of my life. Not to mention humid!
Why me? 
Back in May, one week after competing in my first half-marathon (so I should have been content), I was complaining to God at mass. Distracted, I was asking Him why He kept closing all the doors to opportunities I was pursuing for my summer plans. As a teacher, I get the summer off, and so I had many potential plans, but all of them fell through. I asked God to tell me what He wanted of me, because I felt as if He just wanted to spoil everything.  One moment later, the word 'Kolkata' popped into my head. I immediately began to laugh, thinking this was too good to be true, but probably ridiculous and impossible. However, the next day at my soccer game I told a friend about this idea, and she informed me that her brother was serving the poor in Kolkata with the Missionaries of Charity for 2 months. I got in touch with him, and everything fell into place for my month long service trip. 
Why was this something I was excited about? Well, for years I have wanted to do a mission trip, but I often felt like I wanted to do it of my own accord, not because God called me to do it. This time it was different. Also, when I was young my parents met Mother Teresa of Calcutta (the city's name was changed recently to Kolkata so that it would be more Indian than English). She had a profound impact on my family, and I wrote letters to her as a child, all of which she responded to. In college, some friends and I planned to take a trip post-graduation to serve the poor in Kolkata, India. However, plans never materialized, and we didn't make concrete plans for it to happen.