Take Me Where Love Is Needed
As a teacher at NativityMiguel School of Scranton, I had the unique challenge that comes with starting a new school, as well as the joys that all teachers know. Every morning I have 15 beautiful children that walk into my classroom, ready and excited to learn. They are full of enthusiasm and energy, and there is never a dull day in my classroom. Of my 15 students, we have a representation of six countries and five languages, and three religions—a very global experience!
A few weeks ago, the principal and I decided to visit each of the children at their homes, to see where they live and to come to know them and their families a little better. While visiting the home of one of my girls, a native of Nepal who practices the Hindu religion, her little brother climbed up on the couch next to me and held my hand. He jumped and climbed all over, really! The mother told us that he is autistic, and yet, she is grateful to God for her three children—they are happy, obedient, and kind. The mother then asked if we would please return in a few weeks to pray that God would give her sweet little boy the gift of speech.
We returned on a Friday evening, and were fed with traditional Nepalese food, and given an honorable welcome, solely for the sake of being a teacher. The parents gave us a red silk scarf and the petals of a flower, as an act of gratitude for coming to their house. We watched as the guests wearing traditional attire, came and went, giving the boy a blessing and praying for him. One elderly guest had a yellow scarf around her head. She was hunched over, with a wrinkled face that bore a life of hard labor. Slowly she turned around to reveal that the colorful wrap around her middle was a baby sling! From behind her back peeked the head of a beautiful little baby, curiously observing her surroundings.
After eating a spicy platter of Nepalese food, we joined the rest of the guests in the living room, where everyone sat in a circle on the floor ready to sing, dance, and play music. There, family and friends prayed, sang, and danced—in some ways their culture and religion are indistinguishable. Theyasked the teachers to join in a dance, even just for a few minutes, to honor them and their culture. Feeling obliged by the two girls in my class who were pulling my hands to get up and dance with them, I attempted to mimic some of the dance moves that the girls were showing me. One said to me, “It’s okay Sister, just do this with your hands, and when you get tired you can sit down.” We also had the privilege of watching the parents dance—their joy was tangible.
Leaving the house that night, amidst feelings of gratitude, I had thoughts of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta,and how she lived her Catholic Christian life in the midst of a Hindu country. I wondered if she ever was placed in my position, although I can’t imagine her dancing! Never in a million years would I have imagined myself sitting in the living room of a Nepalese family, observing a traditional Hindu celebration. As we left, the children’s mother walked us to the car, continually thanking us and telling us, “I love you! I love you! My daughter is so happy and I love you!”
After one of the mission trips I made to Argentina, I found an image of worn shoes. On the soles of the shoes was written: “Take me where love is needed.” Since that missionary experience, these words have been a prayer of mine. God has never ceased to surprise and amaze me in the ways that He answers prayers. The love this family has for their children is palpable. In some ways God reversed my prayer. He allowed me to see a home where love exists in a beautiful way, even though we do not share the same religion. I was also permitted to be a witness to Jesus’ love and the Catholic faith, simply by being present to the life and culture of this family.
Deo Gratias.
