Blog 2 from Christine

What is the secret behind this chai tea?

Will monsoon season begin before we leave Kolkata?

How do Indian people eat only with their right hands?

Is the garbage on the streets ever going to be officially cleaned up?

Did I just explain my thoughts correctly?

How many naked babies have I seen so far on this journey?

Do the residents at the Mother Houses ever have their teeth brushed? 

How can I get my hands on Lay's Spanish Tomato Tango in the states?

How changed will I be upon returning home?

Am I going to get sick?

Can I try some of that?

Can that man stop making kissy faces at us already?

Do the mawshees appreciate it when I try to speak Bangla?

Where is the love?

Why do the blind children have no eyes?

Is this their first time seeing a white person?

Is my love over these three weeks enough to give?

Can I tell Ellen Degeneres about these homeless canines?

Where should I put this poopy diaper?

Is Mary safely home?

Can I take a picture of this?

Have I lost or gained weight?

Is it okay to feel my own sorrows while in the midst of this experience?

Why do my pants keep ripping where the sun shouldn't shine?

Who can we trust?

Just how dirty are my feet?

Whose poop is that?

Can we drink the water here?

How much is too much?

Does my family sense how much I love them from afar?

Why is that goat indefinitely tied to a post?

Where are all of the women?

What is wrong and what is right?

Pensive,

Christine Bean Peloquin

Home and Kolkata: Things We (Will) Miss

At this point, we have one week left of service in Kolkata. This time next Sunday, six of us will be packing to head home to the states while three will be preparing to board a night train to Darjeeling, getting a glimpse of India outside of West Bengal.

Though our destinations at that time will differ, we each in our own way are thinking about two things right now: what we miss from back home, and what we know we will struggle to leave behind in Kolkata.

Anyone in my immediate family can attest to the fact that I have had a turkey sandwich for lunch almost every day since I could chew. These sandwiches range from the simple to the complex: sometimes I don't even need condiments, while other times I'll have the folks at Subway whip up a turkey-bacon-American on Italian herbs and cheese with the works.

Here in Kolkata, one grain in particular has become commonplace in our daily diets: rice. Usually served at both lunch and dinner, it goes well with whatever spicy concoctions India has to offer, making for a filling meal.

However, whether we have one or two weeks left in India, some of us just want sandwiches - nothing special, just two slices of bread with a little something in the middle.

But the things we long for do not lie only in the realm of food. We miss our families and friends. We miss our beds. We miss our sense of security, even if we are alone. We miss being able to safely interact with animals. Essentially, to some degree, we all miss our lives, and look forward to the day we return to them.

Still, as with anything, there are some things, feelings and sensations we will be reluctant to sacrifice as we leave this chaotic and wonderful place. The smile that splits across a child's face when you make her laugh. A young man's gratitude, though he may not be able to express it, as you help to feed him. The (at times frustrated) joy of the Mashis as they watch you trying to help in any way you can within their world. The taste of fresh mango at dinner, and the pleasant surprise when the BMS workers bring out slices of ice cream. The wonderful, ethereal and holy sound of the call to prayer, reminding Kolkata's Muslims to take a moment to profess their faith. All of the opportunities to learn about a culture so unique and so different from our own.

And, in a special way, we will all miss each other. This group was brought together at this moment in time for a specific purpose. It is unlikely that we will all ever end up in the same place at the same time again. When I look back on this trip, I know I will remember our service as we strove to emulate Mother Teresa, the intense sights and smells we encountered in the streets of Kolkata, and all the wonderful organizations we learned about fighting against the injustices they see here. 

But, in a place just as deep in my heart, I will remember food runs at More, the grocery store around the corner from BMS; figuring out Kolkata as we discovered new places; nightly reflections where we learned about ourselves and each other in this shared experience; and being together wherever we went, ducklings walking in a line behind Sunny as she guided us through this strange city.

Making the most of the time we have left here is more than worth its weight in sandwich-less rice.

Namaskar,

-Cara

Trying to see the Beauty

Since we've arrived in Kolkata, I have been overwelmed and experienced much culture shock. I knew this was a poor area as we were coming to serve the poorest of the poor, but I was not ready for what I saw. Seeing so much poverty in one place without much hope of any change really discouraged me at first. My definition of poverty is rooted in my owe experiences and therefore very relative and had much bias. Yes, these people are poor, but just becasue they live on the streets and do have much to eat or clothing to wear doesn't make them unhappy or inadequate. I have really challenged myself to see the beauty that is Kolkata. This can be seen in many ways. 

Each morning we are all assigned to one of the Missionaries of Charity homes. I go to Daya Dan and serve on the ground floor. This is an all boys floor and there are about 20 boys ranging in age. They are all orphans and have  no where else to go. Mother Theresa's organization provides a safe place to live, meals, clothes, and interaction with other boys. These boys also all have both mental and physical handicaps that they much overcome each and everyday. I see beauty in their faces when we walk in the door each morning. Some want to give us high fives and they seem genuinely happy that we are there to interact with them. Not many can speak english, but a few know a couple words and can sort of communicate with us. Last Saturday we took the boys the park. That was quite an adventure. Some need to be in wheel chairs, while others needed much support as they walked. We somehow managed to walk the block to the park, crossing a major city street to get there. Each of the volunteers had at least one boy by the hand and in some cases two. I was really struck by the park. I was not expecting a park that I am used to with swings, and open spaces and grass to be in Kolkata. The boys ran around and played cricket, well they like to hit the ball with the cricket bat. They went on the swings and played in dirt. It was beautiful to see them playing and having fun. It was very unexpected, but I really positive experience. The sisters who work at Daya Dan also bring a tremendous amount of beauty to their jobs. It is clear that they love the boys they are serving. Yes, the are strict with them when necessary, but you can see how much they care about those boys. They know all their names, they joke around with them and take care of them. 

We visited an NGO called Freeset on one of our first few days in Kolkata. Freeset is an organization that takes women off of the street in the red light district and provides them with a job. They made bags and shirts. They women do not need any experience, they will be shown what to do and all of the women are paid they same, so there is no competition or pressure to be better than someone else. I saw beauty at Freeset at the beginning of the day when all of the women gathered before the work day began and they prayed together and sung songs as one community. Some of the women have children and they pass them around and let them run around without concern because they are in a space. 

There is beauty in this city and in these people, you just need to look for it. This has been an incredibly eye opening experience thus far and I'm sure our last week here will bring many more stories and emotions. Quite often I am lost for words when I am trying to describe and experience or place we visited. It's overwhelming being here, but I do feel fortunate to be here on this journey. I am with a wonderful group who have been so supportive to each other throughout our journey in Kolkata.   

Thanks to everyone back at home for your thoughts, prayers, and well wishes. 

--Matt 

Purpose

Many people struggle with the idea of what their purpose is in everything they do. Before leaving for this trip, several people had asked me: "You're only there for 3 weeks, are you really going to make a difference?" This created an inner battle with myself on what I was trying to accomplish here in Kolkata, and if my presence was really needed. People said "You know, the money you spent to go to India could've all been donated and helped those kids more than you being there for a few weeks." And that just added more fuel to the fire building within me. 

After the first couple of days here, our group reflected on this topic, and we began getting down on ourselves, questioning how much we're actually helping the people we're working with. Then I stumbled upon something Mother Teresa had once said that beautifully put into words why doing service and helping others, no matter how long for, is needed:

"Let us not be satisfied with just giving money. Money is not enough, money can be got, but they [the poor] need your hearts to love them. So, spread your love everywhere you go."

No amounts of money can make these people feel loved or wanted, the way human interaction can. Since my time at Shishu Bavan, an orphanage for children with mental and physical disabilities, I have worked with many children who suffer from extreme Cerebral Palsy and unresponsiveness. Every morning when I walk into my first shift, the kids just look blank, staring out into space, laying in their chairs alone. As the volunteers begin to wake the kids by rubbing their limbs, singing little tunes, playing with their hair, something magical begins to happen. Sad eyes begin to fill with light. The corners of frowning mouths begin to curl up as they fight back laughter. Heads turn to face these monsters bringing all this happiness, and the atmosphere changes completely. This is why we are here. Because even for 3 weeks, these kids are getting full, undeviated attention and love that they weren't getting before. 

To be able to make someone smile is truly the greatest gift of all, and I can't help but wonder how much better this world would be if we strived to do that just a little more often. Like my mom always says, be someone's sunshine on a cloudy day.

Namaskaar,

Kate Messitidis 

The Whole Person

Last night a social worker from the Loreto Day School, Theresa, came to speak to our group and share dinner. She had great insight about the city and about the alleviation of poverty here. I'm really pleased she was able to speak and share with us.

One of the first things she said in relation to her work was that she goes and visits the homes, writes case studies on the families, evaluates the conditions that students come from, works with them in counseling and provides support also to teachers. In my work as an educator we think a lot about what children bring with them to school, from the invisible knapsack of cultural capital to the physical and often emotional pains of being alive, including some difficult situations at home. To hear that these schools are making this a priority through Theresa's work is reassuring to me that the whole child is being cared for. As she put it last night, the child cannot be happy at school if they aren't happy at home. 

Mother Teresa had similar notions - believing firmly that peace started at home, with your family, with children and parents all feeling loved. We've discussed a bit how MT has had some criticism for her work, that it's not solution based but comfort and care based. For many, this sits uneasy based on our desire to see progress, to know that sustainable change will happen and we will move out of the status we are at to greater success. In our Western world, success is so important, and it's often only when a person is highly successful and has emerged from a disadvantaged point that we celebrate their improvement. For many children at Loreto and in the brickfields, they might not become university scholars or make buckets of money or even have much social mobility, but as Theresa said, they have a community of care that lifts them up and creates a place for them to be important and valued, 

It's my goal as an educator in all ways to help individuals feel valued and cared for. MT said that the worst poverty could be loneliness, and I know from my own experiences living alone that loneliness is a dark, quiet and sometimes scary place. In this beautiful group of compassionate and engaged individuals, I don't feel lonely or uncared for. We are looking at our whole selves with care and seeking that connection with each other as well as those we serve. It's a gift to be here. 

We are still healthy, happy, and curious. Thank you for your support and kindness. We're sending you all our love and feeling yours here in Kolkata. 

Love & light,

Sunny

No One Puts Baby In A Corner

Baby is a woman about 35 years old that I see and work with daily at Shanti Dan, a home for mentally and physically handicapped women. She is active, an emotional whirlwind, and has an unstoppable sense of humor. She communicates well with hand signals and faces, frequently gesturing that she would gladly accept a neck massage. She is sensitive and very aware of her surroundings. Baby is both mentally and physically handicapped and can walk with a walker, but it's easier for her to pull herself along on the floor with one of her legs and both hands. Every day that I work in the physical therapy room in Shanti Dan, I find myself eagerly sneaking glances at the door for the moment that Baby will appear. 

She almost always makes her entrance long before it's her turn on the mat to stretch her muscles and do her exercises. She crawls into the room and immediately starts instigating. We are told to never take her seriously, for she only jokes about wanting to hit you.  The other residents are launched into fits of giggles at her antics and bouts of fake fighting with myself and the physical therapists. Even the mossis (nurses) tease her and let out a tender smile at her unfailing sass. Baby has the presence of a queen and is treated as such. One day, the men even lifted her up and placed her on a shelf about as tall as my chin, insisting that she sit up higher than everyone else in a throne-like position. Protesting ensues from Baby and always makes her trademark "I will hit you" motion. 

For a few days, she didn't appear at the door no matter how many glances I stole. I asked the physical therapists and they said she was sick. As Baby's presence dictates the tone of my day, I was really disappointed when she didn't show up. I work in the physical therapist room until noon, and then find other odd jobs to do before we walk back to catch our bus at 12:30. At noon, and still no sign of baby, I walked out disappointed. I look up and to my surprise, Baby comes shuffling towards me with her walker. I wave a big hello and sit down to talk with her. After explaining she has a stomach ache, she starts to dig her nails into my arm, but not out of teasing or an attempt to play fight. Finally the light clicks on, she wants her fingernails cut. She points me in the right direction to find the mossi with access to the clippers and once her hand was in mine, Baby and I sat quietly together side by side on the short cement barrier. I had tuned out the rest of the people moving around me to complete this important and intimate task. 

After the task was completed to the satisfaction of the queen, she released a beaming smile, pressed her hands together palm to palm and bowed her head in traditional Indian fashion meaning Namaskaar: the light in me recognizes the light in you. I returned the gesture graciously and as I lifted my head, the physical therapists walked out to head home for the day. All four men said her name loudly and gave her a hard time for not coming to therapy. She g                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         ave them her trademark hand and strode off with her walker for lunch. I was left by myself, stunned at how much this woman made me feel needed.

Peacefully,

Emily Sanderson

Farewell for now, Kolkata

A Buddhist would tell you that if you are capable of good and deep meditation, and that if you are truly able to quiet the mind, nothing can enter your mind unless you let it.

I am not good at quieting the mind. Negative thoughts enter all the time with their bullying voices, judging chants, and hopeless visions. Kolkata is a challenge for even the most devoted Buddhist. Blaring horns, incessant black crows, the screeching of the tin can tram, market hasslers, frivolous construction, the sound of the breaks on the ancient city busses, the constant movement of millions of people everyday- all bruit that constantly enters the mind.  

I can't wait for the day when I can quiet the mind. Only then will I be able to truly live the life I imagine. In service to others. A disciple of Christ. A channel of peace. 

I often think about why I come to Kolkata, why I walk the difficult path that Mother Teresa forged. You can't come to India with the belief that you will change India. You won't. You are, however, capable of being a drop in the bucket, a ripple in the ocean, and, if you are really fortunate, a wave that will bring change. 

It is an honor to live simply, even for just three short weeks, and it is a gift to work for the poor. I need the girls at Shanti Dan far more than they will ever need me. Kolkata will mean more to me than I will ever mean to Kolkata. That is how it is supposed to be. One does not serve for recognition or praise. One serves to find peace- peace in the world, peace in each other, and, perhaps most importantly, peace in ourselves. 

As I depart India today, I am overwhelmed with many emotions. I am sad to leave the group I have grown so close to. It has been my honor to be the student leader of such a remarkable group of individuals, who have chosen to begin their summer vacation serving the poorest of the poor. I am sad to leave the place where I feel the closest to my best self that I have ever been; the closest I have ever been to eliminating the negative thoughts. 

I am, however, eager to begin this next chapter of my life, obtaining my Doctorate as a Nurse Practitioner from Columbia University. I will be receiving an education and pursuing a career that will allow me to travel to the darkest corners of our world and try to bring light. It will also allow me to be exposed to more amazing individuals like the ones of our group. Perhaps, one day, it will even bring me back to Kolkata with some of these amazing individuals.

I am deeply grateful for all who have supported our journey, both now and long after we return. I will continue to pray and work for peace and I hope you will do the same. 

Namaskaar, 

Mary

Student Leader 2015

Belonging

"If there is no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other". -Mother Teresa 

A sense of belonging is one of the hardest feelings to establish and be at peace with. Where do we belong? Who do we belong to? Especially in our 20s a sense of belonging is ambiguous. People are constantly coming into and leaving our lives. We transition between school and our parents' houses. We don't know what the future holds or where we will "settle down". So how do we belong? 

So far in this journey, I have spent time wondering where I belong. I have settled into my work and am enjoying my time at Daya Dan but because of language barriers, cultural differences, and a relative lack of knowledge compared to the Mashis who run the homes, I still feel at times that I don't belong. 

Everyday at 10:30, we break for tea and crackers. This is our chance to talk with the other volunteers at Daya Dan. We talk about why we are here, what we have been doing, our struggles, our triumphs, our feelings. We talk about Mother Teresa. We talk about God. We are all so different, but we all belong. We are like a patchwork blanket. Individually we are each a little square and we are relatively insignificant, but we are all connected through threads of love, faith, and a sense of duty. This allows us to find peace within one another and create that mysterious sense of belonging. This allows us to bring in new volunteers and incorporate them in a way where they can be their own beautiful selves, while adding the the  overall beauty of our blanket. When somebody leaves, our blanket does not fall apart, it just changes in appearance a bit. 

Because we can draw strength from one another, we can start to belong to Daya Dan. We can start to belong to Mother Teresa's mission. We can start to belong to Kolkata. I am so thankful for the love and support that the other volunteers have offered me so far. They have allowed me to find peace and belonging. Without it, I would be one simple little square of cloth floating down the littered streets of Kolkata. 

-Bri Jones, '17

Reflection from Christine

She extended her arm to Stranger and pulled Stranger's hand close, squeezing and welcoming. With her other arm, She gestured to the stool to the right of Her wheelchair and Stranger sat. Eye contact stronger than the foundation below their feet.

Stranger sweat. "Hello, shundor."

She smiled.

So Stranger continued. "How are you today? Are you well?"

She stared mouth open and body still.

"I am well. I saw you in the corner. I saw you, and I came here to say hello to you!``

Stranger's hand was held tighter by Her's. She gently lifted Her free hand to Stranger's face. A brisk slap. Stranger giggled out of shock, not angry. Just observing. Stranger took the hand that slapped her and guided it back to her own face softly, keeping eye contact with Her. And She listened. And she listened.

This time, Stranger raised her arm, waiting for Her response. She met Stranger's hand in the air and their energies intertwined. Her mouth widened with a smile that spoke friendship. She laughed and Stranger mirrored Her.

Together,

Christine Bean Peloquin

Update from Sunny

To be able to be in this place again with eyes that have not seen the poverty, bodies that have not felt the heat and minds that haven't yet known how to ask the "big questions" about the world as it relates to India is refreshing, and exhausting. We have been on this journey together for only a week but so much has happened that it feels like longer. Our days are full - Missionaries of Charity work almost every morning, and eating, resting, touring, visiting other organizations and market hopping in the afternoons. We rest on flat beds and wake early, looking forward to our bread and jam at the morning breakfast at the Mission. 

Our group gets along well and enjoys each others company. Some of my favorite  moments aside from our service is when we are able to be in each others company laughing and sharing. This group knows and lives out real joy - they're able to effectively use humor to uplift and it has significantly buoyed all of us to burst out in the  most medicinal of laughter, especially after sometimes challenging service work. The group is also beautifully thoughtful. We have examined deeply many of the issues surrounding the structure of poverty we witness daily, and I'm proud to gain even more questions than I have answered after some of our very smart and compassionate discussions and reflections. 

We are healthy. We are drinking lots of water and electrolytes. We are eating rice, fruits, and sometimes pizza from Blue Sky Cafe. We wash our feet and take care of our blisters. We look both ways many times before crossing the street. We are safe where we stay and we are dutifully and lovingly taking care of each other. Most of all, we are happy here, and we already only have two weeks left. 

With thoughts and love for you all holding us close while at home, 

Shanti, 

Sunny

The Importance of Being an Auntie

 

Namaskaar friends and family of this Kolkata journey, 

   It has been an interesting first week in Kolkata. Upon arriving, I was instantly reminded about how much I missed everything- the spice and flower smells, the beautifully colored saris that wash over the streets, the bejeweled Indian newborns (symbols of how precious they are and a black dot in between the eyes to ward off evil spirits) and yes, to a certain extent, even the sweltering heat. I missed the Chai tea and biscuits twice a day, Blue Sky Cafe, and India's Lays Magic Masala. I missed doing service work with members of the Saint Mike's community. However, I was also reminded of the things I didn't miss- the fact that there are, at all times, at least 75% more men on the streets than women, the meat market smell that lingers until after every part, including intestines, liver, heart, and brain are sold, the abject poverty, and the guilt I feel of being a privileged white, blond hair, blue-eyed educated female. 
   It was not until I returned to Mother House and was placed in Shanti Dan, the Mother Teresa home for disabled young girls and older women that I remembered why I love this place so much, this chaotic and confusing place. To a special needs resident at Shanti Dan, you are not white nor black, brown, or blue. You are not tall, small, skinny or fat. You are simply "Auntie," a volunteer who is here to do whatever they need. You follow commands such as, "Auntie, Auntie! Laundry, laundry!," or "Auntie, Auntie! Feed, feed!" or "Auntie, Auntie! Bring to bed now." 
   That last one is my personal favorite. I wheel the girls to their respective beds. I put the bedside bar down, and, usually with the help of another volunteer, lift the girls into their beds. I love it because it is something my mother would do for me. She would lift me in my bed and put me down for a nap. She would kiss me and sing to me and I would sleep knowing she would be there when I woke up. However, for the girls of Shanti Dan, the ever changing Aunties are their mothers. They work alongside their other mothers, such as the Mashis (Indian women who are hired by the Sisters to work in the home) and they all work under the real mothers, the Sisters of Charity, who work 24/7, 365 to care for these women.
   I am looking forward to this week, getting to know the residents of Shanti Dan, learning their names, likes and dislikes, and, even, doing their laundry. It is an honor to be one of their many aunties, no matter the length of time I spend with them. 

Be well, 

Mary 
   

The Importance of Being an Auntie

 

Namaskaar friends and family of this Kolkata journey, 

   It has been an interesting first week in Kolkata. Upon arriving, I was instantly reminded about how much I missed everything- the spice and flower smells, the beautifully colored saris that wash over the streets, the bejeweled Indian newborns (symbols of how precious they are and a black dot in between the eyes to ward off evil spirits) and yes, to a certain extent, even the sweltering heat. I missed the Chai tea and biscuits twice a day, Blue Sky Cafe, and India's Lays Magic Masala. I missed doing service work with members of the Saint Mike's community. However, I was also reminded of the things I didn't miss- the fact that there are, at all times, at least 75% more men on the streets than women, the meat market smell that lingers until after every part, including intestines, liver, heart, and brain are sold, the abject poverty, and the guilt I feel of being a privileged white, blond hair, blue-eyed educated female. 
   It was not until I returned to Mother House and was placed in Shanti Dan, the Mother Teresa home for disabled young girls and older women that I remembered why I love this place so much, this chaotic and confusing place. To a special needs resident at Shanti Dan, you are not white nor black, brown, or blue. You are not tall, small, skinny or fat. You are simply "Auntie," a volunteer who is here to do whatever they need. You follow commands such as, "Auntie, Auntie! Laundry, laundry!," or "Auntie, Auntie! Feed, feed!" or "Auntie, Auntie! Bring to bed now." 
   That last one is my personal favorite. I wheel the girls to their respective beds. I put the bedside bar down, and, usually with the help of another volunteer, lift the girls into their beds. I love it because it is something my mother would do for me. She would lift me in my bed and put me down for a nap. She would kiss me and sing to me and I would sleep knowing she would be there when I woke up. However, for the girls of Shanti Dan, the ever changing Aunties are their mothers. They work alongside their other mothers, such as the Mashis (Indian women who are hired by the Sisters to work in the home) and they all work under the real mothers, the Sisters of Charity, who work 24/7, 365 to care for these women.
   I am looking forward to this week, getting to know the residents of Shanti Dan, learning their names, likes and dislikes, and, even, doing their laundry. It is an honor to be one of their many aunties, no matter the length of time I spend with them. 

Be well, 

Mary 
   

Too Many Degrees

After much Internet trepidation, here it is, blog post number one. I believe that it is fair to say that many of us have found Kolkata to be rather overwhelming so far. The sounds, smells, and sights are like nothing I have ever experienced before. 

For the last two days I have been working at Daya Dan, a home for mentally and physically disabled children. I work with young girls and a couple young boys, all of whom are severely disabled. 

Personally, I have been struggling a little. It is hard. I have never worked with children in this way before. It is hard to keep myself from feeling sad for these children who have been born into a pretty terrible situation. Today, I attempted to feed a young girl who could not communicate that she didn't want to eat. She would just keep spitting out her food. I would take another spoon full and put it in her mouth, she would sit there for a moment, and then spit it out again. I knew that some of the children were very picky eaters and I thought that this was the situation. After a little while she started to cry. I was immediately overcome with a sense of guilt. She was truly just not hungry. She was trying to communicate that to me and I couldn't understand. I know that I am here to offer love to some children who could really use it, but it is moments like this that make me wonder if I am doing more harm than good. I did not comfort her, I upset her.

These sad moments are also combined with good moments. Today I was given the task of helping a visually impaired young girl down three flights of stairs so we could go to the park. I had my arm around her, both of her hands clenched firmly in mine, and tried to hold her securely as we slowly made our way down all three flights. This girl buried her head in my shoulder as we walked, and trusted my guidance. She would squeeze my hand and I would assure her, "Bhãla, Bhãla" or "Good, good".

Today was filled with ups and downs, as I am sure every day will be. It was also very VERY hot. It was about 108 however, with the humidity, the weather app said it felt like 124. That is just too many degrees.

~Bri Jones, '17

Kolkata, we have arrived!

After 29 hours in flights, airports and taxis, the group has arrived in bustling, noisy, wildly beautiful Kolkata!  A drenching rain baptized them on their way to Blue Sky Cafe for lunch, and last I heard they were on their way to Mother Theresa's Missionaries of Charity to register for their work with her homes.

They are exhausted but exhilarated and buoyed by the love and support you have sent with them.

Here's a pre-departure photo of the dynamic staff leaders, Sunny & Matt--a superb duo of organized, responsible, thoughtful and open-minded leadership.
  ~Allison

Matt & Sunny, Vermont to India

One Week To Go!

We will be departing for Kolkata in 1 week. I can't believe this adventure is almost here! Yesterday, Saint Michael's College celebrated its 108th Commencement and we watched the Class of 2015 receive their diplomas. Four members of the Class of 2015 will be heading to Kolkata next week. Congratulations to Mary, Cara, Christine, and Emily on graduating! At Commencement, Saint Michael's College honored Sister Cyril Mooney with an honorary degree. Sr. Cyril  has been working in Kolkata, India as a leader of inclusive education reform. Being able to meet Sr. Cyril and learn more about the amazing things she has accomplished in India made me extremely exited about this trip and made the trip come alive. She is an inspirational woman and I am honored to have had the privilege of meeting Sr. Cyril before journeying to Kolkata. I look forward to witnessing the good work that she has started. Below are a few photos from Commencement.

 (From left to right: Allison Cleary, International Service Coordinator, Sr. Cyril Mooney, Rev. Brian Cummings, S.S.E. '86, Director of Edmundite Campus Ministry)

 (left to right: Sr. Cyril, Allison and John J. Neuhauser, President of the College)

(Sr. Cyril Mooney)

As we prepare to begin our journey to India, a huge thank you is in order to all of our friends, family and loved ones who have supported thus far and will continue to keep us in your thoughts and prayers while we are in India! A special thank you to Allison for all of your countless hours spent preparing us for this journey. Thank you for your guidance and wisdom throughout the planning process. 

-Matt Seklecki '11

SMC Admission Office 

Two weeks and counting...

Mary, Matt, Allison and I met today to review logistics for our trip in two weeks. We are very excited, prepared and eager for this journey. It's practically all I think about now. I'm truly looking forward to sharing this time with a very special group of people. I know by the end of it, there will be some serious "thank you, thank you, thank you from my heart" going on! <3 nbsp="">

This is a poem we talked about at our dinner meeting a week and a half ago. It totally guides me in service experiences and in life. 

"The Invitation" by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

-Sunny-