I am not a Saint
Today I woke up super stoked. This whole trip I knew we were going to visit Mother Teresa’s tomb, and since committing to the path of service and, God willing, unconditional love, I have been really drawn to her, wanting to know more.
We didn’t get to do Yoga in the morning because we had to leave at 8am in order to get to the MT orphanage ‘on time.’ Somewhat a funny thought considering I don’t think we have started, ended, or anything in between ‘on time’ because it kind of feels like time does not exist here. I haven’t worn a watch and the first few days forgot I could even check my ipod for the time, so just followed the lead or went with ‘the flow’ of what was going on around me. It also might feel that way because everything here looks old. The area we are staying in is beginning to develop, but everywhere else it is like time is standing still. Different then Delhi in that way, not as modern, but a benefit is more greenery. There are even palm trees J
I have noticed things like this in the hours we spend on our bus. With traffic and where we are staying it takes at least an hour, if not more, to get anywhere we are going. The entire drive to Mother Teresa’s I was not very present, instead focused on listening to some good music to drown out the sounds of honking horns. I felt like I needed a little ‘normalcy’ and some Rihanna, David Guetta, and Kanye did it for me. I felt excited and super happy once we reached our first stop of the day.
We arrived at the orphanage only to find out that there was a miscommunication of some sort, not unusual in India, and that well basically we were a bit of a burden. This right away didn’t really ‘jive’ with how I thought a nunnery would behave, but more than that it just kinda felt more like we were voyeurs than visitors.
It still had a big impact. When I was young, around grade 3, I had mono and was taken out of school for three months. During a day, when I guess my grandparents weren’t around, I was watching TV and stopped on a ‘documantary’, which was much more like an infomercial, that was focused on the children in state run orphanages in Russia. Many had AIDS, HIV, cerebral palsy, mental disturbed, or handicapped. Children nobody wanted and would never find a home, so remained lying in metal cribs untouched, desperate for touch and affection. That hour has stuck with me my entire life. I spent I don’t know how long begging my mom to adopt one. Being an only child I was desperate to have a close sibling who lived with me and that this was the answer and also I felt really I wanted to help. My mom obviously didn’t, knowing she couldn’t on many levels.
The first room we walked in to there were rows upon rows of metal cribs. No blankets, plastic ‘matresses’, and monotone walls. It stopped me dead in my tracks and a vivid memory of the Russian children entered my consciousness. We walked through quickly, waved at some small children who were behind some gated area, and moved on. I told the only guy on our trip, Josh, about the memory just because he happened to be standing there and felt compelled to share it with someone. I haven’t really bonded with anyone in particular, and Josh is super great and I really admire his courage to take on this challenge and what he has done to be here.
Together we all walked to another part of the orphanage and entering I knew right away where we were. This room housed the mentally and physically handicapped children. About 12-15 small kids with cerebral palsy, etc. were lying on a thick mat being stroked and massaged, or they were being held and rocked by volunteers. I was slow to take it all in, as I really should have known it was coming, after having the memory, but for some reason I just never thought I would actually ever see with my own eyes, the situation I saw on TV that day, in reality. Luckily these kids, to some degree, have help and are taken care of as best as they can be, although I was told that there is one attendant/volunteer to every 5-6 kids.
Everyone had a found a place on the mat and were stroking and massaging the children and, kinda metaphorically for this trip it seems, I didn’t know where my place was or really what to do. Josh was right at the edge and I sat down next to him, looked at me said “still want to adopt one.” I instantly said “no, I am not a Saint. I really wish I was, but know I am not.” It came out without even really thinking about it and before we knew it we were asked to leave and had to move on.
Once we got on the bus I had extreme guilt about what I said. I couldn’t believe I said it and it seemed so heartless, especially with the child right there. Even though they couldn’t understand just in language barrier alone, I believe in energy transmition and knew by just saying that that it must not have been very positive. I felt like I shouldn’t even go into Mother Teresa’s home or be near her tomb for most of the trip. I questioned what I was doing here, how I could be doing what I am doing, and even went so far as contemplating quitting everything I do altogether.
From the orphanage we went to her ‘home’ where she lived and died. Her remains are also housed there in a beautiful marble tomb. Very simple, yet regal. I walked straight in to the room, touched the marble then my third eye and heart. I was instantly compelled to get on my knees and bow to her. So I did, albeit quickly. I said thank you quietly in my mind. Once I left the room I walked around the ‘library’ that housed pictures with short biography writings. One said that even in the midst of acting out her dharma she was still questioning God and his ‘plans’ for her.
It instantly struck me. I am questioning like she did. She was effective, knew her role, followed it, and although sometimes I guess it felt questionable, her faith would keep her secure to her path. And look at what love and beauty she accomplished, how deeply she contributed to the world. And so I realized from what I said to Josh and how I felt called to bow at the foot of her tomb, that I am not a ‘front line’ worker. I am not a Saint. I am a regular woman with a passion and love for helping others, but I do this not through working with the sick or dying, stroking or massaging children who can’t move, or even colouring with an orphaned girl. It may sounds harsh, but I feel ok, because blessed be the Saints who do. I bow to each and every one of them and would kiss their feet. The work is not for the faint of heart but for the heart that knows no boundaries. I still have work to do
My work doesn’t look like this. It looks different. Different, but I still step into the world in service, in love and deep respect for all, and knowing my place a little bit better than I have before. A heart full of more compassion than ever before.Thanks to Mother Teresa I feel empowered and grateful to every person who shows up in service, whether to their families, in their jobs, with their time or money.
Aloka from Women’s Interlink Foundation said something that really spoke to me. She said ‘we all have an obligation to give at least as much as we have, if not more.’
I have given all I have to give here and more.
This is really, truly summarizes all I have felt, have left to say, and is where I am now as I begin my journey home tomorrow…..
"What I want to say to you, my dear, is this: Just for today, live the passionate truth of who you are. Stop looking at what is undone, what you haven't achieved, where you've fallen short. Look, instead, into your own full heart. If your journey brings you to a choice between love and fear, chose love. Vulnerability is its own grace and its own gift. Offer it. Be brave enough to be vulnerable. Allow yourself to be seen--dancing, and falling, and failing, and trying again. You are loved, and all that you have to offer is deeply needed. Your own presence is a force for healing. Be present. There is more going on than you know, more guidance and support surrounding you than you can even begin to imagine. Trust it. Your own strong roots are in place--in your own body, in the earth, in the ongoing story of your life, just as it is. Put your faith in these roots, and allow yourself to go with the flow. Let go and breathe into the goodness that you already are. Move with the current, not against it. Resist nothing. Let life carry you. You have work to do. Begin it." ~Katrina Kenison, Magical Journey
First published Mar. 1, 2013
We didn’t get to do Yoga in the morning because we had to leave at 8am in order to get to the MT orphanage ‘on time.’ Somewhat a funny thought considering I don’t think we have started, ended, or anything in between ‘on time’ because it kind of feels like time does not exist here. I haven’t worn a watch and the first few days forgot I could even check my ipod for the time, so just followed the lead or went with ‘the flow’ of what was going on around me. It also might feel that way because everything here looks old. The area we are staying in is beginning to develop, but everywhere else it is like time is standing still. Different then Delhi in that way, not as modern, but a benefit is more greenery. There are even palm trees J
I have noticed things like this in the hours we spend on our bus. With traffic and where we are staying it takes at least an hour, if not more, to get anywhere we are going. The entire drive to Mother Teresa’s I was not very present, instead focused on listening to some good music to drown out the sounds of honking horns. I felt like I needed a little ‘normalcy’ and some Rihanna, David Guetta, and Kanye did it for me. I felt excited and super happy once we reached our first stop of the day.
We arrived at the orphanage only to find out that there was a miscommunication of some sort, not unusual in India, and that well basically we were a bit of a burden. This right away didn’t really ‘jive’ with how I thought a nunnery would behave, but more than that it just kinda felt more like we were voyeurs than visitors.
It still had a big impact. When I was young, around grade 3, I had mono and was taken out of school for three months. During a day, when I guess my grandparents weren’t around, I was watching TV and stopped on a ‘documantary’, which was much more like an infomercial, that was focused on the children in state run orphanages in Russia. Many had AIDS, HIV, cerebral palsy, mental disturbed, or handicapped. Children nobody wanted and would never find a home, so remained lying in metal cribs untouched, desperate for touch and affection. That hour has stuck with me my entire life. I spent I don’t know how long begging my mom to adopt one. Being an only child I was desperate to have a close sibling who lived with me and that this was the answer and also I felt really I wanted to help. My mom obviously didn’t, knowing she couldn’t on many levels.
The first room we walked in to there were rows upon rows of metal cribs. No blankets, plastic ‘matresses’, and monotone walls. It stopped me dead in my tracks and a vivid memory of the Russian children entered my consciousness. We walked through quickly, waved at some small children who were behind some gated area, and moved on. I told the only guy on our trip, Josh, about the memory just because he happened to be standing there and felt compelled to share it with someone. I haven’t really bonded with anyone in particular, and Josh is super great and I really admire his courage to take on this challenge and what he has done to be here.
Together we all walked to another part of the orphanage and entering I knew right away where we were. This room housed the mentally and physically handicapped children. About 12-15 small kids with cerebral palsy, etc. were lying on a thick mat being stroked and massaged, or they were being held and rocked by volunteers. I was slow to take it all in, as I really should have known it was coming, after having the memory, but for some reason I just never thought I would actually ever see with my own eyes, the situation I saw on TV that day, in reality. Luckily these kids, to some degree, have help and are taken care of as best as they can be, although I was told that there is one attendant/volunteer to every 5-6 kids.
Everyone had a found a place on the mat and were stroking and massaging the children and, kinda metaphorically for this trip it seems, I didn’t know where my place was or really what to do. Josh was right at the edge and I sat down next to him, looked at me said “still want to adopt one.” I instantly said “no, I am not a Saint. I really wish I was, but know I am not.” It came out without even really thinking about it and before we knew it we were asked to leave and had to move on.
Once we got on the bus I had extreme guilt about what I said. I couldn’t believe I said it and it seemed so heartless, especially with the child right there. Even though they couldn’t understand just in language barrier alone, I believe in energy transmition and knew by just saying that that it must not have been very positive. I felt like I shouldn’t even go into Mother Teresa’s home or be near her tomb for most of the trip. I questioned what I was doing here, how I could be doing what I am doing, and even went so far as contemplating quitting everything I do altogether.
From the orphanage we went to her ‘home’ where she lived and died. Her remains are also housed there in a beautiful marble tomb. Very simple, yet regal. I walked straight in to the room, touched the marble then my third eye and heart. I was instantly compelled to get on my knees and bow to her. So I did, albeit quickly. I said thank you quietly in my mind. Once I left the room I walked around the ‘library’ that housed pictures with short biography writings. One said that even in the midst of acting out her dharma she was still questioning God and his ‘plans’ for her.
It instantly struck me. I am questioning like she did. She was effective, knew her role, followed it, and although sometimes I guess it felt questionable, her faith would keep her secure to her path. And look at what love and beauty she accomplished, how deeply she contributed to the world. And so I realized from what I said to Josh and how I felt called to bow at the foot of her tomb, that I am not a ‘front line’ worker. I am not a Saint. I am a regular woman with a passion and love for helping others, but I do this not through working with the sick or dying, stroking or massaging children who can’t move, or even colouring with an orphaned girl. It may sounds harsh, but I feel ok, because blessed be the Saints who do. I bow to each and every one of them and would kiss their feet. The work is not for the faint of heart but for the heart that knows no boundaries. I still have work to do
My work doesn’t look like this. It looks different. Different, but I still step into the world in service, in love and deep respect for all, and knowing my place a little bit better than I have before. A heart full of more compassion than ever before.Thanks to Mother Teresa I feel empowered and grateful to every person who shows up in service, whether to their families, in their jobs, with their time or money.
Aloka from Women’s Interlink Foundation said something that really spoke to me. She said ‘we all have an obligation to give at least as much as we have, if not more.’
I have given all I have to give here and more.
This is really, truly summarizes all I have felt, have left to say, and is where I am now as I begin my journey home tomorrow…..
"What I want to say to you, my dear, is this: Just for today, live the passionate truth of who you are. Stop looking at what is undone, what you haven't achieved, where you've fallen short. Look, instead, into your own full heart. If your journey brings you to a choice between love and fear, chose love. Vulnerability is its own grace and its own gift. Offer it. Be brave enough to be vulnerable. Allow yourself to be seen--dancing, and falling, and failing, and trying again. You are loved, and all that you have to offer is deeply needed. Your own presence is a force for healing. Be present. There is more going on than you know, more guidance and support surrounding you than you can even begin to imagine. Trust it. Your own strong roots are in place--in your own body, in the earth, in the ongoing story of your life, just as it is. Put your faith in these roots, and allow yourself to go with the flow. Let go and breathe into the goodness that you already are. Move with the current, not against it. Resist nothing. Let life carry you. You have work to do. Begin it." ~Katrina Kenison, Magical Journey
First published Mar. 1, 2013
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