What do you do when you miss someone (or someones) so much that it becomes almost unbearable? I never anticipated this happening. I was just going to teach the three children, more or less - to get a needed job done and I was the one to do it. I was excited for the opportunity, and as I dotted all of my i's and crossed my t's before I got on the plane, I somehow miscalculated the emotional aspect of things - the human aspect.
I cannot get them out of my mind. Dheeraj...Ashish...Hemalatha. There is a permanent mark on my mind with their precious faces at the very front. I see their smiles; 
their hair; their sense of humor; their battered knees from when they lived and played in their villages. I hear their silly laughters; their voices; their dancing feet. I can almost feel them. I can remember how light-weight they were when I would pick them up and spin them around, or just love on them, with their head crooked on my shoulder.
their hair; their sense of humor; their battered knees from when they lived and played in their villages. I hear their silly laughters; their voices; their dancing feet. I can almost feel them. I can remember how light-weight they were when I would pick them up and spin them around, or just love on them, with their head crooked on my shoulder. I can never forget when we would play the "i love you" game, and they could not think of any higher number so they would say to me, slightly laughing from the joy of the game, with their teeth showing through their ear-to-ear smile, and their deep brown eyes bright with happiness, in their mixed English and village language, "I LOVE YOU BESSY!" (In Oriya, bessy means something like most. One day, Ashish, Hemalatha, and I were going back and forth, telling each other how much we loved each other. We went from "I love you 5" to "I love you 
10...11...16...20...33...back to 22", and finally, when, in the heat of our little game, Hemalatha could not think of any higher number to express how much she loved me, she yelled out with a huge smile, cheekbones just shining, "I - Love - You - BESSY!" That is something that goes deep into your heart.)
10...11...16...20...33...back to 22", and finally, when, in the heat of our little game, Hemalatha could not think of any higher number to express how much she loved me, she yelled out with a huge smile, cheekbones just shining, "I - Love - You - BESSY!" That is something that goes deep into your heart.)I have been back from India for nearly two months, now. I don't re
member being filled with as much joy since I have been back as when I got to talk with them for the first time on Skype last night! It probably looked ridiculous how much I was smiling. My heart was full. Hands to my mouth occasionally as they said precious things that made me nearly cry. Dheeraj, the oldest (7 years old), seemed to understand the most what a blessing it is that both of us can still talk to and see each other from different parts of the world. He tried so hard to stay in the camera so that I could see him! Their hair has grown out. Ashish and Hemalatha have lost more teeth. The blue button-down shirt with a few white and black stripes that Dheeraj wore frequently is beginning to look smaller.
member being filled with as much joy since I have been back as when I got to talk with them for the first time on Skype last night! It probably looked ridiculous how much I was smiling. My heart was full. Hands to my mouth occasionally as they said precious things that made me nearly cry. Dheeraj, the oldest (7 years old), seemed to understand the most what a blessing it is that both of us can still talk to and see each other from different parts of the world. He tried so hard to stay in the camera so that I could see him! Their hair has grown out. Ashish and Hemalatha have lost more teeth. The blue button-down shirt with a few white and black stripes that Dheeraj wore frequently is beginning to look smaller.I asked them about some of the things that I taught them...ABC's A to Zed (as they say in India); Philippians 4:13 (and they said 
it so fast!...faster than what I ever remember them saying); the "Five Little Monkeys" song...They sang a new Hindi song for me that they had learned...
it so fast!...faster than what I ever remember them saying); the "Five Little Monkeys" song...They sang a new Hindi song for me that they had learned...Probably the saddest thing about the whole 10 minute skype conversation with them is that I realized there were things that I was forgetting. My absence of being with them was showing - maybe not to them, but to me. It made me want to cry, but I had to hold it together for them. It was hard to fully understand what they were saying and I had to ask them to repeat themselves. No, it 
wasn't the reception on Skype. I was losing their language - their dialect of the English that I taught them. The best way I know how to describe this is when a parent has a small child who is just learning how to speak. As their vocabularly expands, and the child starts to put together rough sentences, it is only the parent or immediate family that can fully translate what the child is saying. Even though the child is speaking English, it is hard for anyone outside of that child's family to fully understand the way that the child forms the words and sentence structure.
wasn't the reception on Skype. I was losing their language - their dialect of the English that I taught them. The best way I know how to describe this is when a parent has a small child who is just learning how to speak. As their vocabularly expands, and the child starts to put together rough sentences, it is only the parent or immediate family that can fully translate what the child is saying. Even though the child is speaking English, it is hard for anyone outside of that child's family to fully understand the way that the child forms the words and sentence structure. That is how I felt last night and it broke my heart that it took me longer to understand what they were communicating to me.
When it came time for them to go "Shtudy! Shtudy, Aunty!", I heard the small voices of Dheeraj, Hemalatha, and Ashish yelling to me, "I love you bessy, Aunty! I love you bessy, Abigail Aunty! We love you bessy, Abigail Aunty!" They danced away, laughing. Dheeraj kept laughing, and slowly left the room, all the while watching the computer, waving at me, until he could see me no longer. So what do you do when your heart hurts beyond repair? Do I stay here, so far away from my loves? Or do I make my home where my heart finds joy?
