Monday’s thankfulness

Today I will tell stories for each thing I am thankful for, the thankful aspects will rise like fat in milk, wait…impurities in gold? no… um….tortelini in boiling water when its ready. MMMM…. Tortelini… its been too long. Ok back to my stories.

God has brought me my very own “Man of Peace”. Each and every day He brings me new people to be my friends. When I first met him he came in my living room while I had just finished making breakfast and took Vange out of her walker and was about to take her out the door when I snatched her (graciously) back to eat breakfast. I think its been almost two weeks now. And now I know his name and trust him on completely different levels. Today I let (was forced) him carry Vange while he drove his Rickshaw one handed. A asked “Mom why are you upset?”, observant girl. But I learned a new level of trust and letting go. He is the sweetest man. He completley adores Vange. Every morning he comes in to pick her up for her morning “biscuit”. Now she leaps out of my arms to go to him and WAILS when he leaves her. He is from another city, but is here for work. He hopes to move back to all his 6 kids and wife someday, but the thought of him leaving makes me cry (surprise , surprise these days). Whenever I can find him near the home I bring him meals or have him in to dine with us. I love taking care of him. He is the grandfather I never had around. And he is around every day, many times a day. I am SO grateful for the “Gatekeeper”.

Last night Gatekeeper introduced me to The English Teacher. She is my new cultural informant. After asking all the “American viewed” personal questions that I have grown quite used to answering. She was disgusted that I was being overcharged for my rent and Urdu tutor. She discovered I was looking for a maid to help with cooking and cleaning and said that she would find one and set it all up. She also is the first person I have met that has an RO filter for water, so now when we get a permanent residence I know who to ask about where to get one and how to set it up. I am grateful for the English teacher.

The said Tutor ( I had to say that word since I have been seeing it more and more on the blogs I follow, one must be a ligitimate blogger, I think, to use it) is a HUGE blessing. Even though I have learned she milked me of my MOOLAH because I am American, she is an answer to prayer and I am loving the language I have been able to use from learning in our sessions. I am really only paying her about 4 dollars a day, but here that is WAY too much. Tutors here make about 4-10 dollars a month. So for me to pay that amount makes me look really foolish or way to extravagant. There is a difference between being generous and being stupid here. And aparently I am still stupid. But I am thankful for the tutor.

The current time is the official India naptime, which I am also thankful for (anytime between 3-6pm, or all of it). But I am not napping. Why you ask? Its not that I have not tried. I have 3 times. When I first drifted off to sleep I was woken by J’s friend loudly knocking on the door. To which I threw on my Hijab and did my wifely duty of serving them cups of water brought on a tray. Then I returned to my lovely bed. I was then awoke by a louder and longer “door beat”. I knew who this was. Our daily visitors of neighborhood boys. “F” is 7, “Z” is 12, “F” is 11, and “S” is 9. They have been visiting to play with A and M. Mainly they take me up on juice and cookies while they watch Amereican Cartoons that they have never even heard of, like Incredibles, Stuart Little, and Veggietales. I think I am growing quite fond of “Laptop CD now!” in the most demanding voice you can imagine by F, the 7 year old.

Yes, it was them at the door, and when I peeked out and shushed them, “Sona” I whispered, indicating that we all were napping, well, everyone but me. I saw that they had brought their blessed goat to meet M and A. Now is like Christmas time for Muslim’s, the 2nd Eid (pronounced E-e-e-d) where they buy goats and sacrifice them in remembrance of Abraham being given a provision of a sheep instead of sacrificing Ismeal (the version believed by Muslim’s). They then eat the goat meat. One pretty funny thing is that now the streets and neighborhoods are filling up with goats, they will be EVERYWHERE and then all the sudden they will be all gone. Ok, back to my story, After they turned to go the goat pooped its tiny little pellets all over my living room floor all the way to the door. They giggled and escaped. YES, I am thankful for my children’s precious friends. And YES I am thankful that I can call someone to come clean up poop off my floor. In India you can do this. All you stay-at- home- moms might be thinking “why can’t we call someone to come clean up the poop messes in our house?”, cause you don’t live in India.

Today I was supposed to meet one of my new neighbor friends at the Market to get help buying Salwar Kamise and bangles. But we never foundeachother, for reasons I am unsure of still, she went to the market then sent her maid, who speaks no english, to tell me that I must take myself to the market then find her, which didn’t happen. So I wasn’t going to waste my rickshaw fare to the market so I wandered around keeping an eye out and looked for things I might still buy on my own. I came across a lady getting Henna, which I have been wanting to do for years, seriously. So after finding out how long it took and how much it cost I decided to make my trip worthwhile by getting my own Henna. …. I am thankful for new experiences.

holy experience

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