Cause I can’t shake this...

...Fire burning deep inside my heart.

I finally feel like writing. Wait, let me rephrase that. I finally am not exhausted, tired, or busy. I still don't feel like I have the words to write what I want to, but then again, I usually don't.

I finished an amazing book this past week. It's called The Weight of Silence: Invisible Children of India, by Shelley Seale. A long time ago, I read the book The Irresistable Revolution, by Shane Claiborne. I had said the entire time I was reading the book that this was one of those books that changes your life, that you think about for a long time after reading... one that makes you want to run around and tell everyone about it and everything you want to do because of the book. Well, this book was like that. Except worse. And by worse, I mean COMPLETELY AMAZING.

It is everything I've wanted to do, all wrapped up in one book. It assured me that social work is what I want to major in, that India is where I want to go, that children need a family, no matter where they grow up... whether it is inner city Milwaukee, or the Dharavi Slum in Mumbai, and that I can make a difference. Each time I'd put down the book, all I wanted to do was hop on a plane and go to India. I wouldn't get very far since I don't have an Indian Visa or Passport... so I suppose first things first.

I get asked a lot why I want to go to India. There was a passage in the book that completely answers that question in the best way possible:

There were many things Aja respected and admired about my home country - our pursuit and reward of personal excellence, the opportunity for a person of any class to improve their station in life. Many other things he found difficult to understand, such as our preoccupation with money and our complicated lifestyle.

"True wealth," he concluded, "lies not in wanting more, but in needing less." Being here, I had begun to see my own culture, my own beliefs, in a whole new light and re-evaluate them. There was much to be learned in this place.

We were called into breakfast where we were served a delicious assortment of tiny filled pancake-like treats, vegetable-and-spice stuffed rolls, flat bread with mango chutney, and other exotic dishes. We talked leisurely over the meal for more than an hour and I found myself enjoying the relaxing pace, not missing the hectic, constantly harried rush that was my life back home. Our group discussed many things, but the conversation always came back to the children.

"They're so happy," Matt said, echoing the unexpected gift I also felt I'd received by being admitted into the circle of their simple joy. "It humbles me how much they want to share with me. Love is enough here."

Aja nodded. "It is because they know you come without any self-interest. You come only with love. This is the most important thing. Skin doesn't matter, color doesn't matter; only the heart matters. You come to share joy with them - and also sadness, if it is there." Santosh flashed into my mind, sitting on the step forlornly, missing a mother he had never really known. Yes, I had shared both their joys and sorrows.

Aja looked around the table at all of us. "Our support system is a family system, and you are part of the family now." Then he beamed, "You see, the world has become a global village."

I mean, its not really an answer I can just up and give someone if they ask... but its just... exactly. Its just exactly why. I dont know how else to put it. THAT is why I want to go to India.