Journal Reflections, Calcutta
Day 2: Angels appear suddenly
Walking home along our busy street, senses overwhelmed by thundering buses, the smell of trash and burning exhaust, people everywhere, darkness. My head is down, watching each step I take. The old man moved directly into my path and I looked up quickly. "Jesus bless you," he said with a thick accent, and stepped as quickly out of my path as he had stepped in. Glimpses of my shepherd, manna, pillar of fire. Such intrusions should no longer surprise me, but my faith is small, and I didn't know that my fear-full walk home included an appointment with an angel. But he met me all the same.
Day 6: He anoints me with oil
Kalighat Hospice. I sit down on the bed with the tiny Indian
lady. She is curled in a little ball with her knees to her chest underneath her red house dress. Her arms are wrapped around her knees and she is smiling and nodding her head from side to side. "Shami acche? (You have a husband?) " I ask her, fingering the red and white bracelets on each of her wrists which signify a married woman. Now, she shakes her head, "No" and tears come to her eyes immediately. Her husband has died.
I ask her if she would like a massage, and as I begin to rub oil into her bony arms, she dips her fingers into the bowl, reaches down, and rubs the oil onto my feet. I am wearing rubber walking sandals, and the oil runs down between my toes and onto the bottoms of my feet. It is hot and one hundred percent humidity. But he anoints me with oil through this woman, and my cup overflows.
Walking home along our busy street, senses overwhelmed by thundering buses, the smell of trash and burning exhaust, people everywhere, darkness. My head is down, watching each step I take. The old man moved directly into my path and I looked up quickly. "Jesus bless you," he said with a thick accent, and stepped as quickly out of my path as he had stepped in. Glimpses of my shepherd, manna, pillar of fire. Such intrusions should no longer surprise me, but my faith is small, and I didn't know that my fear-full walk home included an appointment with an angel. But he met me all the same.
Day 6: He anoints me with oil
Kalighat Hospice. I sit down on the bed with the tiny Indian
lady. She is curled in a little ball with her knees to her chest underneath her red house dress. Her arms are wrapped around her knees and she is smiling and nodding her head from side to side. "Shami acche? (You have a husband?) " I ask her, fingering the red and white bracelets on each of her wrists which signify a married woman. Now, she shakes her head, "No" and tears come to her eyes immediately. Her husband has died.
I ask her if she would like a massage, and as I begin to rub oil into her bony arms, she dips her fingers into the bowl, reaches down, and rubs the oil onto my feet. I am wearing rubber walking sandals, and the oil runs down between my toes and onto the bottoms of my feet. It is hot and one hundred percent humidity. But he anoints me with oil through this woman, and my cup overflows.
posted by angela at 9:55 PM
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