Friday, May 08, 2009

in front of our Carmel, Indiana home

A week ago, when I walked into the home of a Bhutanese family, I was met with several culutural differences (Bhutan separates China and India). First, the aroma of curry hung thick in the air. Second, the living area was lined, wall to wall with single beds and futons, as this family is large, and many live there. Third, and perhaps the most striking, is that the mother in this home, sat aloft a bed with her legs "Indian style" and her hands pressed together at her chest...very much resembling buddha.

It took me several seconds to recover, and greet her..."Namaste."

The men in this home were away at work and school. At home on this day, were two daughters, mother and a friend. The two daughters were late teens to early twenties. They spoke English reasonably well, and were full of questions.

As Larry and Terry did their best to answer each question, I took in my surroundings. Blank walls and filthy carpet seemed to adorn every apartment we visited. Not very homey or inviting.

However, each family overcame the septic nature of their surroundings by going to significant lengths to make sure we did feel welcome. After a few moments of listening and asking for interpretation, the mother left the room, and returned some time later with fruit slices and a drink for each of us.

She was a good mother who interacted lovingly if not powerfully, with her daughters.
Her Bindi was smeared on her forhead...something she would have rectified had she been aware. Her daughters did not wear one.

In the course of conversation, it became apparent that one daughter (who came in briefly while we visited) had lost her job earlier that day. She was fired for being to slow of a worker at the local Mexican restaurant. The irony of this strummed at my emotional heartstrings.

The other two daughters were underemployed and hoping for something better. This was a proud family who was willing to work very hard to make a living and the transition into living in the US.

The contrast between the beauty of Bhutan, and the flat, near desert like nature of south Texas, must have required adjustment.

Still, in overcoming the obstacles, this family was advanced beyond the others we saw, in terms of their command of our language, ability to get around the city, and the family working together to live.

They were a very warm people, who seemed to bristle more than the others, at the mention of prayer or God, through fairly casual conversation.

The love this mother instilled in her children was being extended to us. The lostness of this family broke my heart. To be lost and completely unaware is a poverty.

Since my return, Deanna and I have been doing some research to try to find a similar place to plug into in Tulsa. We are very interested in working to meet the needs of the nations.

I am very thankful for a loving mother, who instilled in me, the values I carry, the love for others she taught me to have, and the strong sense of family we maintain.

The greatest gift she gave me, was in showing me Jesus. The same gift her mother gave her. Where would we be without that one signficant relationship? Perhaps, bitter and broken.

One of the best ways for me to love my Mother, is to love others as she taught me. Many mothers teach their children to love, too few teach them to do so with the heart of the Savior.

Thank you Mom, for loving me enough, for sacrificing even now, to reflect the love of Christ into my life.

While some mothers physically take on the posture of false gods, you have taken on the attributes of Jesus, and taught me to love without condition.

Thank you! I love you!!!



At 11:47 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

This is a great tribute to your Mom today. I come to this at the beginning of each day to read what you write. It keeps me closer to you than the miles that separate us.
I took a picture of your family in that exact same position. I really like it.
Love you. Aunt Maralyn


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