"As a child, I think, you just want someone to delight in you."
-hannah, fellow teammate
Hannah said this yesterday as we sat in a circle in Beth's flat, processing our days together. The boys had a rough time at Kalighat; volunteers brought a man in yesterday from the train station who was, in Josh's words, "pretty much on his way to heaven." They saw him die with slow ragged breaths, and death, no matter how much this city might produce it, is like a punch in the gut. Hannah also had a hard day at the children's home. She is in a room with one other volunteer and 25-30 children, and yesterday, what hurt her tender heart was the great need and her inability to meet it all. "These kids really just want someone to stop, to hold them, to look them in the eye and tell them what they have done is beautiful, that they are beautiful." I think of my own classroom, and I agree. These children ache for someone to delight in them. Isn't that the secret cry of all our hearts? Even a few months past, at my college graduation, how important it was to have the presence of my parents, to feel their hugs and hear their words, "well done." And then I think of our Father in heaven. I want to cry like a little girl when I stop and wonder over His love, because I am Protima, I am Shuily, I am Sangeeta. I am the little child holding out my scribbled picture, wanting Someone to scoop me up in strong arms and tell me I am loved, I have always been loved, and I will forever be loved.
"The Lord your God is in your midst...
He will exult over you with loud singing."