There is no better way to start my day than with God so I don't pass up the opportunity to go to mass with the Missionaries of Charity today, even if it is at 6 am. I wake up before my alarm, at 4 am, and wait for my driver to arrive. He picks me up and we make the drive in only twenty minutes since there is no one on the streets at this hour. It is a huge change from the normal traffic congestion.
I arrive at the small chapel at thirty minutes to the hour so I quietly step into the long narrow room and sit with the other foreigners on the floor mat. The sisters fill the left and center of the room in their white saris with blue stripes. This is my first mass and I am a little nervous. I spend my time alternating between prayer and observing the people around me. The room is silent and there is a crucifix on the wall in the center. Foreigners continue to trickle in, each one kneeling and making the sign of the cross before they enter. For a second I feel guilty that I have disrespected the sisters by not doing so but then I remember that God knows my heart and that is more important than what others may think of me.
I look around at the sisters waiting patiently for mass to begin. Some of them have probably been waiting for an hour. I admire their humble service and daily dedication to prayer and God's service. It could be tempting to feel unworthy or less than adequate but I find my heart lifted by the fact that while some sisters are in prayer others are sleeping. This makes me smile and remember that we are all simply human and that God is delighted by each of us, regardless of how we worship Him. I will meditate on this often throughout the mass.
I discuss this with Jose later that morning. It is a beautiful thing when you can admire aspects of each person's worship, even if it is different than your own. I love the exuberant worship at my own church – the loud passionate singing and the freedom to use my body freely through that worship experience by lifting my hands, moving to the music, or even dancing. At the same time, I appreciate the reverence that exists on the chapel this morning. Jose says that each of us connects to God so differently so it's great to observe other types of worship to find what helps you connect with Him best.
Mass begins and we go through the motions of the service- standing and sitting, reading scriptures, and singing. The women's voices are beautiful. I wish that they would sing more often but mostly they do recitations of Scriptures and prayers. The hour goes by quickly. I am trying so hard to keep up with the actions that by the end I don't even recall what they talked about. I know God understands my heart.
After mass I have breakfast with Elizabeth and her son Noah from Idaho, Judy from Australia and Jose from Spain. It's the first day of volunteering for me and Jose so the veteran volunteers give us helpful tips as we eat bread, bananas and drink "mill tea" (aka chai). They tell me not to take anything personally if the sisters yell at me. They have a harshness of tone when directing volunteers, I'm told, and I'm encouraged that I will inevitably do something wrong but that it will be okay. I am grateful for the warning. The girls also tell me where to go to connect with the party who will walk to the Shishu Bhavan home with me. We all part ways and I find a new ally, Gabby from Mexico City. She has been working in Shishu Bhavan for three weeks so she proves a valuable resource. She tells me what to expect and that people will guide me through the process. She tells me that every day is different. Working with disabled children requires a lot of time and patience. Since everything takes so long to do, time will go quickly and a schedule does not exist. Feeding can take up to an hour depending on which child you are working with. There is some physiotherapy and singing, as well as nap time. I will be involved in all of these things.
I ask her if the children are treated well and she provides a poignant answer. She says that I must remember that the Indians who are working with these children have been working with them for years. They are not as careful with the children as someone like myself might be. This does not mean that they care less, just that they are more comfortable and used to these children. They also know what each child is able to do and they may push them more than an outsider may deem acceptable, since they don't know what that child is capable of. I observe this firsthand shortly into my shift. It is one of the more awful things that I have seen until I hear why it is done. Two of the Indian women take a boy and tie him to a bearing column in the middle of the room so he is standing straight with his back and legs against the wall. They shove a desk in front of him so he will not move. He cries and cries and I feel sick. They walk away and I walk up to him and try to comfort him with touch. I don't understand why they're doing this to him but I think it must be a punishment of some kind. A sweet lovely Sister walks over to me and puts a chair in front of him. She tells me to sit and comfort him. She tells me that he recently had a stroke and his legs are weak so he must be forced to stand for at least 15 minutes. This strengthens his legs. She tells me to massage his hands and arms since those have also been affected. She says that sometimes this brings comfort. She again reminds me that it will only be 10 minutes more and then they can untie him. While I still don't entirely feel comfortable with this practice, I have a better understanding and pray that this therapy is effective. I am so grateful when the 10 minutes are over and he is free.
I am only there for four hours but is the longest and most difficult four hours of my life. When I first walk into the room of 30 children with disabilities I am a bit overwhelmed. I have no idea what I'm expected to do, let alone how to interact with the kids. I watch Gabby walk right into the middle of this circle of children, giving each of them affectionate squeezes on the arm or tickles. I am comforted to know that I can be free with touch and decide to just let my heart lead me. I follow Gabby in making the rounds, squeezing their arms and smiling. Some of the children respond immediately with smiles and I fight back tears. I don't cry all day, which surprises me. I'm so grateful for God's strength and joy. Mostly, I can't stop smiling.
All of the children are gathered in circles and the volunteers sing. As they sing, they move each child's arms up and down as part of their therapy. They motion for me to do so as well so I grab the arms of two girls and move then to the music.
Shortly after most of the children are moved to the middle of the room for physiotherapy. Some of the children are equipped with leg braces or eyeglasses. They put on a music tape that repeats for hours with songs like "Mary had a Little Lamb" and "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". We take the kids for walls around the room and exercise their extremities. I am impressed at the extent of the therapy that they actually do. I am grateful for the opportunities I have had to witness physical therapy and use the few exercises I remember to help some of the kids.
One little boy is adorable. He is about five but looks three. He is decked out with little eyeglasses that are tied to his head like eye goggles and fitted with two braces on his little legs. He stands alone, hanging on to the edge of the crib so I grab his arms and we walk a few slow steps at a time until he is tired.
Soon it is Snacktime and I am handed a cup of liquid that smells like animal crackers to feed the child that I am sitting next to. I find it very challenging to get all of the food in this child's mouth without spilling it all over the front of him. I'm sure that everyone is thinking, "Poor dear. Clearly a newbie." Little do I know that this is easy compared with the second child that I will try to feed. This is not my specialty. I'm much better at hugging! I look over at the German woman next to me who is feeding her child and I am amazed at the incredible love and connection that she has with her. I swear that every spoonful she gives that child is full of love. This girl looks her in the eye and trusts her completely. I can tell that it is a very challenging child to try to feed because of the lack of ability to open her mouth on her own. She just smiles and touches her head, feeding slowly and affectionately, as if she is the only girl in the room.
After we finish, the bell is rung for volunteers to take a break. We go upstairs for tea and biscuits. I sit next to Gabby and she tells me that this German woman has amazing stories to tell. She tells me that she knew Mother Teresa 25 years ago and that she comes here to volunteer two months out of every year. She has been doing this for the past 12 years. I am amazed at the heart of this woman. When she comes to sit down next to us I am eager to hear some of her stories.
She tells me that she has eight children, four of whom have been adopted from other countries. She says that she went to an orphanage in Peru with the plan to adopt a child, she found a six week old baby there that she decided to take home but stayed on at the orphanage as a volunteer for a bit longer. One day she decided to take each of the thirty orphaned children out into the sun for 15 minutes individually. One of the children was a one and a half-year-old girl who had been found severely beaten when she arrived at the orphanage. When the German woman brought the child back in from outside, she would not stop hugging her. This woman felt that she had chosen her. The little girl was unable to laugh, sit, or talk and was assumed to be handicapped. This woman's heart went out to her and she asked if she could adopt this child. They told her that she was not adoptable since she was handicapped. This woman pled with them and eventually adopted her. She said by the end of two weeks this little girl was laughing and sitting. By the end of six months, she walking and talking. All she needed was love. Now this young lady is 33 years old and a member of a true family.
As this German woman describes the story, her eyes fill with tears. I look around and I see everyone's eyes are wet. What I find the most beautiful is that she took the chance on one person and made a lifetime impact for that girl. I am reminded of just how important it is to focus on one child at a time. We can make a large impact that way.
The rest of the morning goes much more quickly as we feed the children lunch. I end up feeding a young girl whose body is so contorted that I have to hold her head and face it toward me each time I put in a mouthful of the split pea soup. Meanwhile I have to hold her legs and arms down so they don't interfere with the feeding.
My hand and arm are exhausted by the end and I feel terrible for this girl who is so uncomfortable.
After putting the kids to bed, we are done for the day and I'm ready for a shower and nap. I am so grateful for the gift of today, even though it was difficult. I learned a lot about myself and am grateful to see myself continue to grow.
I actually feel excited to go back and do it all again on Friday.
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