October Newsletter - Laura in India

"Till We Meet Again"

Two months have passed and I have found myself with good friends.
They provide a sense of acceptance I have been longing for. I have
depended heavily on their companionship as they have explained Indian
culture, answered countless questions I am puzzled with, and have been
my loyal translators and tutors. Their patience and understanding is
overwhelming, and although I came with a mission to serve, I am
humbled daily by these friends' willingness to befriend and assist me.
Like any friends, I have grown attached to our daily routines, our
bantering, our conversations.

Now, a few of these dear ones have found their time at Mandiram has
come to a close. They must go. I am not good at goodbyes. Even
here.

ICCA
One resident appachen, Icca, was always one to include me on
adventures. Whether to the hospital where I would watch as he
spoon-fed his fellow man dinner, as I held the patient upright. Or
we'd head to the banana plants above Mandiram to gather the fruit for
the next meals' dish. Icca taught me the juice from the plant stains
clothes. Something was lost in translation, as I learned the hard
way. Or he'd gather tapioca and help me prepare the popular dish in
Mandiram's kitchen. Icca was ready to arrange my marriage to a Kerala
man. "You stay here. In Kerala," he'd often say. But, as Icca sat
on the bus the other morning, I waved goodbye, wondering if I'd see
him again.

LIJI
Most of my friends are three, four times my age, so it wasn't a
surprise that I latched onto Liji quickly. She is the girls' resident
tutor, and as a recent college graduate, too, we'd often joke about
our indecisiveness regarding future plans. We would spend hours
talking, laughing and sitting on the front steps of the girls' home.
Liji showed me the ways around town, the bus system, and how to
eradicate my head of lice. She has been sure to include me on the
programs of the girls, allowing me to a part of their energy and love.
And, naturally, she taught me the ways of the mobile phone: how to
send a missed call, how to recharge the minutes, and the wonders of
texting. But, the final plans have been made, and we were informed
this past week of Liji's wedding on November 15. She will be moving
to live with her new family.

BINU & ALEX
There were four wardens when I arrived. Jijo and Soji are here for a
year, as a pre-requisite for seminary. Binu and Alex were here for
two months, as a part of their theological study. I, again, latched
myself onto these four and their friendship, depending on them to help
translate jokes made at the breakfast table, to inform me of recent
political matters, and to include me on events that made me feel
useful and needed. And, although a girl, I always felt a part of the
warden posse, the man clan. I wrote Binu and Alex each a card the day
their service was completed. On it, I included the lyrics from a hymn
my sister gave me as I left home, "God be with you till we meet
Again." We had a prayer service for Alex and Binu when they departed.
When it came time for Jijo to pray, he began singing in Malayalam.
After a few measures, my eyes began to water. I recognized the tune.
Jijo was singing the same hymn I had copied.

Though many good friends still remain, the reality of the finitude of
our time at Mandiram, in Kerala, in India, has hit. Though I am
growing attached to this home, these people, a time will come where
goodbye will be inevitable.

KATHERINE
Yet, nothing prepared me for the phone call this last week. My dear
roommate called with the news of Katherine Olson. She was gone. But,
how can that be? KO is one of a kind, with a spirit of boundless
energy. Her red, bouncy hair attributed that. Our summer at Flathead
together is one I cherish for many reasons. One: KO and her
styrophoam tube. Mornings in the program office were sure to have KO
doing her physical therapy, rolling and tumbling all over the floor on
that cylinder. Oh, how we'd laugh. And, now, she is gone. I am
confused and shocked, frustrated and bewildered to be mourning here,
and not with fellow friends and family. Why this? Why KO?
Now, the reality of our finitude on Earth is beginning to hit.
Goodbyes seem inevitable.

"God be with you till we meet again.
By good counsels guide, uphold you,
With a shepherd's care enfold you,
God be with you till we meet again.

Till we meet, till we meet.
Till we meet, at Jesus' feet.
Till we meet, till we meet.
God be with you till we meet again."

I am hoping that the promise of reunion is stronger than the sorrow of goodbye.