Cyclone

We are on a week break between 1^st and 2^nd semester. Some students have gone home, but most are still here. This afternoon, as I was cleaning the house, a storm started to build up. I went out on the veranda to try and enjoy the cool breeze. Suddenly, it became a super violent storm with high-speed winds, torrential rains, and hail. I noticed that some of the kids were out collecting fallen mangos, but they could not hear my screams to find shelter. I rushed downstairs to get them into safety. I told all the girls to go up to the hostel, but found that we could not walk along the veranda because of strong winds and hail. The water was rushing like a river down the stairs from the roof. Chilling, ankle-deep water covered our path to the hostel. When we finally got through, we found the bathroom was backing up and flooding the hostel. The girls instantly started working to move the water out of their home. I hurried to my house to discover a soaked bed, Bible and floor. I managed to close the windows against the strong winds. All the wet things were for sure ruined, especially my Bible. I put it on the dry couch and rushed back to aid in the girls’ bathroom disaster. With the help of the boys, they were able to get the water level down. However, the small girls’ dean’s apartment is under construction and, consequently, very open. With more help from the boys, we were able to remove most of the water. As I headed back to my house, I dreaded the thought of what my waterlogged Bible would look like. A feeling of relief and extreme thankfulness swept over me as I saw that not even one page was damp!

            Two of our big mango trees fell, but no one was hurt. A number of windows were shattered, but none hurt. The electricity is out and a water pipe burst, but all are safe in the arms of God. “Under His wings you shall take refuge.” Ps. 91:4

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.