| Sunny Side Up June 9, 2004 � 2004 Kathleen Gibson I have something to say� Before I left for India, my mother said, "Kathleen, keep your mouth shut there. Don't criticize the government. Don't talk about politics. And don't go for walks by yourself." I had no intention of disobeying. I knew things would be different over there. Even before the plane landed, I sensed it. In the darkness below I saw a thousand irregularly shaped patches of light, each an island in a black sea. Nothing connected them. Like a reverse dalmation, I thought curiously. I wondered if we were flying over water, and the lights, clusters of fishing boats anchored for the night. No, too many boats. Suddenly I knew. Those were India's villages. The villages where I and the mission group who had invited me to tag along for a short time would be working. Bringing news of a different sort of light. Christ's light. I shivered - in excitement or fear, I can't say. This announcement interrupted my thoughts: "Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be landing shortly in Hyderabad. Please keep in mind that there are severe penalties for civil infractions in India. Have a pleasant stay." The irony stuck. Welcome to the country where making road kill of a cow is suicide, but incinerating your wife may be overlooked. I was about to say that to my seatmate, but remembered my mother's caution and kept silent. I don't think Mom believed for a second that I'd follow her advice. On my return, she was thrilled to hear that I'd followed most of it to the letter. But it's hard to keep your mouth shut and talk at the same time. My mission was a talking mission. Day after day our team talked at the doorways and in the mud streets of those villages. And listened closely, to a beautiful, but deeply hungry people. Hungry not only for rice, but for Divine connection with truth and light. And after my travel partner and I left the team to fulfill our own agenda eastward I was asked to speak to various groups a dozen times or more. No, I definitely didn't keep my mouth shut in India. Nor have I since my return. How could I not talk about babies begging? Old people dying in bare concrete rooms? Multitudes sleeping on city streets? Desperately poor farmers thrashing their grain by spreading it on the road for the vehicles to drive over? Or the women I spoke to: victims of bride-burning, destitute widows, illiterate teenage brides, abused wives? Mostly, how could I not talk about the richness I found there? It showed up as joy on faces of those who had nothing. It cloaked itself as gratitude in the smiles of the many who received our small gifts as though we'd given them everything. It proved itself in the cheerful way the people served each other. And it was clinched in my repeated encounters with a vibrant Christian faith that demands no proof. Keep quiet? Just try and shut me up. You can respond to this column at [email protected] Some of the women in Esther's Women's work |
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