Contagious Joy

    On July 22nd, the mission trip of six adults left after being with us for nearly two weeks. The time we spent with them was very busy as well as very blessed. On the third day of the trip, Mallory, my dad, and I left with the mission trip and some of our host family to travel to a small village about 4 hours of mixed travel (plane and bus rides) away. Life there was simple but beautiful. 

When we arrived, we were greeted by a very boldly painted rental house---with the most poppy Easter colors you can imagine brightly decorating the front---and Asha "Didi" (see Mallory's post), the daughter of the landlord who kept the house clean and cooked every meal for us every day of our stay.

 

    The first day we arrived, we went to help out with the English class ministry of a Salesian priest who has been in the village for a year. The children were very excited to see us and welcomed us, eagerly showing us their notebooks where they practiced spelling new words. We met an older boy there who, despite having studied English with Father for only about two months, was nearly fluent and had been helping with the English class. As we walked from the school to Father's house to attend Mass there, he recited prayers with my dad. He knew the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory Be, and even the Fatima prayer by heart. He explained that he was Hindu, but he wanted to learn more about Jesus. We attended Mass celebrated by Father, and he joined us. Father made sure to let the boy know that he was not obligated to go to Mass, that the invitation was non-compulsory. My Dad told the boy that Jesus was always free, that he always waits for you to come to Him. The young man observed us all carefully, following along with the prayers and responses. 

    The next day, we celebrated Mass in the early morning, and started a work project. We moved rocks from the bed of a dried up river into piles to be used to make a foundation for the Salesian school as well as for terracing, a gardening method. After the second and third work days, we would play frisbee with older kids who had come to help. Although they had never seen a frisbee before, they caught on very quickly. The next day, after rock moving and frisbee, we visited Asha Didi's in-laws. They graciously welcomed us, and let us play with and feed their hundreds of chicks. Asha's father-in-law even climbed their mango tree to shake loose some mangos for my dad and some of the mission trippers to catch. Although we were almost complete strangers, they opened their home and property to us with no hesitation. 

 

    Later that day, we visited a woman named Rupa who had been having cramping and pain in her hands and arms while she worked. Our host dad asked about the duration and severity of her condition. He explained that although she is Hindu and we are Christian, although we are American and she is not, we are the same. We are the same because God made all of us. He told her that when she hurt, we hurt as well for her, and we believed that Jesus could heal her if we prayed and patiently waited with trust and faith. Then he asked if she was comfortable with us praying with her right then, for Jesus to heal her. Rupa consented, and we prayed a simple prayer that God would come and heal her, for His glory. When we finished praying, we asked some questions about their life and their country. Rupa and her father-in-law eagerly answered all our queries, and Rupa's father-in-law even ended up asking us for prayers for himself and his household to have peace. 

    The evening before we left the village, we went to Father's house and saw a crowd of probably 70 people, all waiting for us. Children and teachers from the English classes had prepared a farewell celebration for us. Most danced and some sang, in solos, duets, and trios. One even gave a speech about how English was a very valuable language to learn. About three-fourths of the way through the celebration, we were invited up to the stage and gave us each a silk scarf, along with a garland of (real!) flowers. The guys also got a traditional hat, which can only be given to a foreigner by a native. At the end, we were invited up to the stage again, this time to join a dance. It was very embarrassing (and very crowded and sweaty), but their evident joy was contagious. It was mind-blowing how excited these people were to celebrate with us. We had met them not even four days previously!

 Throughout our whole visit, there was joy overflowing, everywhere we visited, and its contagiousness infected all of us. Our last day, we traveled to a nearby village that had a small church for the community of Catholic families living there. Father celebrated Mass, and we left with our hearts full of contagious joy.