She smiles because she cannot contain it. She sings because her heart is pure. She laughs because she is content. She dances because she is free. She loves because she knows how.
As we pulled away from the Home I did not have the heart to look in the rear view mirror. Tears were streaming down everyones' faces. Latha's innocence was more evident. Kousalia contagious smile could not overcome her saddened heart. Helen Mercy's dance was motionless as she did not want to tell this story. Ajeeva's mischievous spirit was now quiet. Solomi's boldness was overshadowed by the reality of farewells. I could go on and on...."it's not goodbye, it's just see you later". Even though my statement was truthful it didn't make the weight of the moment any lighter. A hug just wasn't enough. The girls would hug and then hold your hand. They didn't want to let go. I remember their eyes. They looked up intently with their beautiful brown eyes asking us not to go.
I am one who prides himself on the ability to paint with words. I do not presume to be eloquent nor do I pretend to be ambitious in writing, but rather I am just trying to make you see their faces and hear their laughs. But to be honest...I do not know how to tell their stories. I do not know how to tell you that they are content with a rag torn school uniform. I do not know how to make you understand that theirs is a faith that you and I do not understand. Their faith is printed in their own handwriting in a note some of the girls handed to me.
"I love you.
I will miss you.
I love Jesus.
He is my Father.
I love you.
I love Jesus.
Jesus loves you. "
Theirs is a story that must be told. Theirs is a story they need you to know. You need to know that her father left her and her sister and her mother can't watch them, but yet she sings. And though her voice is small her melody is strong. You need to know that her mother brought her to the Home because she was born to a prostitute; that her mother's last request was for her daughter to be told that she tried to take care of her but she died. She did not want her daughter to know that her mother was a prostitute. She needs you to know that nothing can separate her from the love of Christ even though her father suffered at the hands of fanatics who murdered him because he spoke of Christ boldly. She needs you to know that she doesn't want your presents or gifts, she just wants you to come and hold her as she cries when she is sick.
Our time in India was too short. Although we knew how short our time would be going into the trip it did not hinder us from sharing a true bond with each and everyone of the children. If I stress this point constantly it is because I want you to understand; we went to India....I went to India thinking about all the love I was going to pour out, but I am continually in awe and overwhelmed at the love they have and are so willing to give. They guard their hearts by pouring out every ounce of love they have because that is the only way they know to guard it. If they hold any in it may damage them.
How do we respond to such love?
We receive and then we love back. We look into their eyes and learn their stories, and though I do not know if I can ever share them with the poetry they deserve I am going to try to tell you. Our trip has come to and end, but the journey is just beginning. Our God is good and his story is epic. I will continue to write here. Pray for me that I may be used to tell you what you must know...
I am going to try to make you see....
Nirup
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