They stole her battery and it broke my heart.
For the last week and a half, I’ve had the privilege of teaching English Grammar at Trinity College Seminary. I have a class of 9 men who are studying to earn either their bachelor of theology or master of divinity degree. It has been such a wonderful opportunity. I’ve been trying to think of how I could write about my experience here in India.
What do I say??
There isn’t enough paper in the world to convey what is happening here in India and in my own heart as I live with the beautiful Hmar people of North East India.
What do I say to my supporters? Do I tell a funny story about my experiences so far? Do I retell some of the spiritual battles or triumphs of our team? Well, today, The Lord answered that question for me.
This past weekend I caught some sort of yucky bug. I thought I escaped my time in India without getting sick, but unfortunately that isn’t always the case when you live with 55 other people and are in constant close proximity with all they have to offer–including germs. Today (Tuesday) was my first day out of my room since Sunday and the only reason I got up was because I had to teach, and to be honest, I really missed my students.
After I taught a lesson on how and when to use the colon, semi-colon, dash, hyphen, and quotation marks, I wandered around downstairs in the seminary building and found my cooperating teacher.
Before I continue, you have to know a little bit about this woman. If you ever get to meet her, it would be your privilege. Her name is Muonpoi. She is a beautiful Hmar woman who maybe comes up to my shoulder. Maybe. She has beautiful dark hair, an ever present and infectious smile, and eyes that are saturated with joy, kindness, and compassion. She is wonderful. She is intelligent, well versed, and always open for conversation.
As I wandered over to her cubicle, she immediately stood up to greet me. We stood talking for a few minutes and then she stopped me in mid sentence to go get a chair so I could sit and chat with her awhile longer. As we sat, I asked her how she spent her holiday yesterday (as it was a national holiday of independence). She mentioned that she spent the day cleaning her tiny, old, one room house with her husband, as they had been gone on holiday in December and it needed to be touched up from their absence. The conversation slowly turned to a precious time where I got to peek in the door of this beautiful woman’s life.
She explained to me that a few months ago, her house had been broken into. She told me that the thieves took a few things but the emotional toll it took on her was a little more than she was admitting. She told me of her plans to rearrange and paint the house so that it was fresh, clean, and held no memory of the robbery. I asked her if they took anything of major value and she simply said they stole “the battery”. I was perplexed. I asked, “A battery? They stole a battery?” She simply looked at me with her beautifully compassionate smile and began to tear up. Suddenly, I knew I had missed something. I asked her if the battery was important in some way and she replied that it was.
She went on to explain to me that she and her husband got married a little later in life but were blessed with a baby boy when she was 38 (she is now 40). I had no idea she had kids. I meant to ask her about it before but I never got around to discussing family things with her. She continued on to tell me that she and her husband lost their precious baby boy 3 months ago at the age of 1 1/2 years. Tears slowly poured down her cheeks, all the while she smiled and apologized for crying.
Muonpoi told me that in their culture, when someone dies, it is a common custom that people donate small amounts of money to the family as they convey their condolences. She and her husband decided to use the money from their precious boy’s passing to buy an old battery that would help run lights and things in their tiny house. As she sat there in the faded blue plastic chair, dabbing at her beautiful, brown eyes, she made it clear that the battery wasn’t worth so much money, but it had much more sentimental value attached to it. They had bought the battery out of need, but had used it as sort of a tribute to Baby Corban’s memory and passing. (Corban is the name that Muonpoi and her husband gave the baby but his Hmar name is Khomlalsam which means “always calling on or remembering the name of The Lord as King in every situation). The thieves had taken the battery as they ransacked the house and tried to pry into locked drawers and things in the house. Muonpoi expressed the hurt and pain that the robbery had on her heart so close after her baby’s passing. But in the midst of the pain that was flashing across her face, she simply smiled and said “Would you like to see a picture of him?” I was so honored. As she pulled up a picture on her laptop, she said it was difficult to talk about him but that she so desperately needed to.
As soon as she turned her screen towards me, I fell in love. In the picture stood the most beautiful baby boy I had ever seen. A little boy in a striped shirt with inquisitive and bright eyes not unlike his mother’s, an infectious smile, and an innocence that was tangible even through the photo. Muonpoi sat there smiling at her baby with tears welling in her eyes again.
She later told me that her husband now serves as a chaplain at the same hospital where he passed away in hopes of touching the lives of others experiencing pain in the same place they did. They both accepted it as God’s calling on their lives and despite their lack of experience, they desire to serve in this ministry to relate to others experiencing loss and pain. After some time, some tears, and fond memories of Baby Corban, I had the privilege of praying over Muonpoi and her family. In this precious moment, I was reminded that God is absolutely in the big things in life; but more often than not, it is in the tender moments that come as a surprise which draw you closer to knowing the Father’s heart for his people. In these moments, vulnerability collides with purity and faith and suddenly, we taste the beauty that is the intimate love God has for each of us.
Being in India has been nothing like what I anticipated. It has been a world away from the Bollywood, gold jewelry, henna, punjabis, and Hindu religion that I had looked forward to. Instead, it has been sweetly better. It has been me living with the beautiful Hmar people who more closely resemble a southeast Asian people group. It has been appreciating the village that is 98% Christian, falling in love with the precious children and the passionate adults of this state.
It has been waking every morning to the crow of a rooster and Holy Spirit beckoning. It has been quiet morning mists, cows and chickens in the road, delicious food, traditional thatch huts, laundry in buckets, cold bucket showers, and joyous laughter at every moment of the day.
India has been a beautiful experience that I’m not ready to leave. The Hmar people have forever touched my life. But best of all, God has beckoned me into a deeper place of intimacy with him and planted yet another tiny piece of his heart for people into mine. In less than a week, my squad and I travel to Katmandu, Nepal for our next month of ministry. We are looking forward to another month where our whole squad is together. We haven’t had hardly any internet access here so be on the look out for some late updates and pictures from India 🙂
Love,
Rachel
