without getting tired.

After last Saturday's humbling and wonderful experience at Prem Dan, I knew exactly where I'd be at 5:45 a.m. today: sipping chai with the Missionaries of Charity while Sister Mercy-Maria decides which home needs extra sets of hands.

This weekend she sent me to Shanti Dan, which literally means "gift of peace." When I arrived at the gates with the other volunteers, and we walked down a tree-lined path, a light breeze blowing, I couldn't help but agree that Mother Teresa had somehow established a gift of peace in the middle of this chaotic, noisy city. I took a deep breath. Aaah.

And then we opened the inner gate.

Yall, Shanti Dan is a home for mentally handicapped women. Upon entering the inner gate, I was taken aback by the laughter, and the music, and the dancing! A woman ran - well, sort of hobbled and scooted - straight into my arms, greeting me with a tight hug and "auntie-hello-hello-auntie." Prem Dan had been a sober sort of atmosphere - the dying women tended to sit quietly to interact. Here? Spent the first part of the morning throwing a red ball back and forth with a circle of women, and we all shouted "Bhalo!" and clapped every time someone would caught the ball (I got, ahem, very few claps and shouts). Then we danced! I twirled with this little old granny who just smiled and smiled. I held hands and danced with a woman who seemed quite intrigued by both the color and curliness of my hair. I used all the Bengali I know...asking "how are you" and "what's your name" ... the ladies function at varying levels, but I could usually get a response...and a hug.

Ok, so I don't want to play favorites, BUT...there was one very old woman who was in a wheelchair. I wish I could have taken a photo of her pink flowered housedress and toothless grin. I said hello to her, and - plain as day - she spoke in English! We talked about the heat, and she asked about America, and she corrected my Bengali pronunciation, and...SHE ASKED IF I LIKE THE MOVIE TITANIC. Honestly, I don't have strong feelings in any direction about Titanic. But here I am, in one of Mother Teresa's homes for the destitute, speaking with a wrinkled little lady, agreeing that Leonardi DiCaprio is quite the hottie. I may have taught her the term "hottie." Like I mentioned last time, if not for Mother Teresa's ministries and the tireless work of the Missionaries of Charity nuns, this hilarious and precious woman would still be on the street somewhere. Oh I am just so thrilled to have met her!

I painted fingernails, drew and colored flowers and stars, and kept tossing that red ball. I massaged feet (don't get any ideas), braided hair, and smiled and laughed the day away. There were, however, some women who had a more difficult time interacting. One woman was sharp as a tack when I played memory with her - she picked up straight away that one of the "bicycle" cards had a tear in it, easy match! But she has suffered severe burns to her face and body - no lips or eyelids, only a few fingers - and I think her appearance frightens some of the other women. We enjoyed memory, and rolled that red ball back and forth, for quite some time though. There are others too, who are hostile and angry, or who use too much force in their actions, or who yell and scream. These women have suffered and been outcast all of their lives - learning love takes time.

Another thing I love about this volunteer work: today I worked with women from: Italy, Ireland, Argentina, Mexico, China, South India, and France. The only other American I met was Sister Mercy-Maria, whose midwestern accent surprises me every time!

Lots of work to be done, and as Mother Teresa said, "Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo