David writes:
I remember spending hours as a teenager paging through stacks of National Geographic magazines, butterflies in my stomach as I gazed at the photos of packed cities of India. Heat, noise, skinny rickshaw drivers glistening with sweat, children playing barefoot in garbage-strewn alleys, cows lumbering along in the middle of traffic, chickens scattering, sari-clad women thronging the dusty vegetable markets amidst a riot of color, people bathing on the banks of the huge Ganges river against a backdrop of buildings a thousand years old. I knew I was destined to be there. I knew.
As a college student I learned about international relief, and realized it was possible to make a career out of helping people in other countries. I dropped out of college so I could devote more time to my interest in Hinduism and Buddhism, living for part of a year in a Buddhist monastery in California and chanting mantras in shoulder-length hair. At that point I wanted enlightenment, not a career.
I remember standing at the base of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor, reading through tearful eyes the famous poem by Emma Lazarus calling out to the world “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore…” The poem found a home in my heart, and for years I silently recited those lines to myself. I knew I was destined to go to those distant teeming shores. I knew someday I would go.
My life journey led me to a new life as a Christian believer. A stint as a substitute ESL teacher in a large public high school brought me into contact with immigrants from Asia, Africa, Latin America, and the Middle East. My next job as an employment counselor in a public employment office allowed me to help refugees find apartments, land jobs, get their kids in school, and fill their fridge with groceries.
Outside the office these African, Asian, and Eastern European friends showed me their photo albums, shared stories about their homelands, and taught me about hospitality. Our church had a large contingent of international students, and each Sunday morning found us surrounded by a beautiful blend of skin colors and accents. I knew someday I would leave the USA to live overseas. Someday.
Last week Shari and I purchased one-way plane tickets to India. We have spent the last two years planning for this move. We will be full-time workers with a Christian organization serving some of the poorest people in the world.
Someday is today.
I remember spending hours as a teenager paging through stacks of National Geographic magazines, butterflies in my stomach as I gazed at the photos of packed cities of India. Heat, noise, skinny rickshaw drivers glistening with sweat, children playing barefoot in garbage-strewn alleys, cows lumbering along in the middle of traffic, chickens scattering, sari-clad women thronging the dusty vegetable markets amidst a riot of color, people bathing on the banks of the huge Ganges river against a backdrop of buildings a thousand years old. I knew I was destined to be there. I knew.
As a college student I learned about international relief, and realized it was possible to make a career out of helping people in other countries. I dropped out of college so I could devote more time to my interest in Hinduism and Buddhism, living for part of a year in a Buddhist monastery in California and chanting mantras in shoulder-length hair. At that point I wanted enlightenment, not a career.
I remember standing at the base of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor, reading through tearful eyes the famous poem by Emma Lazarus calling out to the world “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore…” The poem found a home in my heart, and for years I silently recited those lines to myself. I knew I was destined to go to those distant teeming shores. I knew someday I would go.
My life journey led me to a new life as a Christian believer. A stint as a substitute ESL teacher in a large public high school brought me into contact with immigrants from Asia, Africa, Latin America, and the Middle East. My next job as an employment counselor in a public employment office allowed me to help refugees find apartments, land jobs, get their kids in school, and fill their fridge with groceries.
Outside the office these African, Asian, and Eastern European friends showed me their photo albums, shared stories about their homelands, and taught me about hospitality. Our church had a large contingent of international students, and each Sunday morning found us surrounded by a beautiful blend of skin colors and accents. I knew someday I would leave the USA to live overseas. Someday.
Last week Shari and I purchased one-way plane tickets to India. We have spent the last two years planning for this move. We will be full-time workers with a Christian organization serving some of the poorest people in the world.
Someday is today.
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