Gratitude

            In India, there are so many people. You will almost never go more than 0.5 seconds without seeing or hearing someone. This is quite a challenge from a country girl who is used to going for hours without ever hearing a car pass or seeing another person. Last Sabbath, my friend and I went for a little picnic to try and get as far away as possible from all the noise and people. Consequently, we walked over a mile to get there. We finally settled on a small hill shaded by a small tree and overlooking a cow pasture. The only noise was the sound of the water pump carrying water to the rice paddies. The only people to be seen were on pathways far from us. I almost forgot that I was in India, but not quite.

            We were able to enjoy a simple lunch and a few minutes of relaxation. As we were getting packed up to leave, we noticed an older woman walking through the field. On her head she carried a large bowl. Inside the bowl one could see cow pies stacked up. Many of the women in this country will mix the dung with their hands then form patties to be left in the sun to dry. These dried patties can then be burned as fuel for the fire. She, obviously, was collecting her supplies to continue her work. As we saw her from afar, we motioned for her to come closer. She hesitantly came over to us. We took out the unused bread, left over tomatoes, and uneaten watermelon to share with her. She reached out her filth covered hands with such gratitude as tears streamed down her sun-aged face. No words could be shared with her, but in reality, I think that our hug was more than words could say.