Sharing Samosas in Silence

I love the morning part of my day where I wake up in the quiet and still of the factory, knowing that in a few hours’ time it will be filled with the singing and prayerful voices of our community, the humming of machines, and the noises of family – good and bad. I think it is a sacred time where the weight of inviting the Spirit into our place of business, place of communion, and place of refuge daily can’t be underestimated. I love it!

There is a woman who often comes into our community drop-in centre; Kundhula tells me she has been visiting for five years. When she comes in she doesn’t talk a whole lot and when she does communicate I find her difficult to understand, which is probably a reflection of the amount of trauma she has endured throughout her life. Her eyes appear disassociated most of the time and the way she reclines out on the cushion tells me she doesn’t want to care but she does. A number of the other ladies who come visit refer to her as crazy but I suspect that is because she is misunderstood. After a while of her and I meeting one another in the drop-in centre yet exchanging few words, I had almost become convinced that our relationship wouldn’t progress too much further. Then one day, again without saying a word, she came in and saw me sitting cross-legged against the back wall; two minutes later she returned with two samosas in hand – one for me and one for her. We ate in silence, exchanging a thankful glance, and when she was finished she got up and left, again without saying a word. That expression of friendship spoke volumes of the slow but never-waning work of God in both her and I. God has been teaching me a lot about the power of simply showing up and being present with people, and in that small moment of sharing a samosa with this particular woman He definitely used her (a woman who is seemingly so disenfranchised and a little bit “crazy”) to

South Asia


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