by Craig Mayes on February 16th, 2010

Imagine a courtyard smaller than a football field, filled with 230 running, screaming, beautiful brown skinned children. Add another 100 young Indian adults in their late teens and 20s, and throw in 21 (by contrast) very white skinned Americans raging in age from teens to 50's, and that is the scene each day here in India at about 4:30 PM when school is over. It is complete pandemonium...and joy. I am in the 50's group- but jump right in with the kids, learning their games. Today it was simple- in their language and with some bits of English thrown in, I figured out that about a dozen girls wanted me to run and they would chase me. So I tore off through the courtyard, dodging in and out of traffic, with my entourage behind yelling and closing in. As I went to make a sharp cut, I slipped and fell down pretty hard. I got up with a tear in my pants at my knee, but no damage. But the game was over. The girls were so concerned- kept examining my pants, my knee, my hands, and saying "no run." I couldn't talk them into resuming the game. They led me over to the porch, made me sit, and as you can see, took care of me.

I think we sat there for an hour. Our ability to talk was limited by language, but they taught me a few words I will never forget. The first was "nana"- father. They each said that I was their father. And each said to me as they took my hand "kuturu"- daughter. So we sat, smiled, held hands. 

We speak of the family of God- linked by our shared humanity and our Creator. Today, I got a taste of that reality as I hung out with a dozen of my daughters. Can't remember a better hour spent in a very long time.

And they still won't let me run. I'm going to have to learn the word for "grandfather".