In the quiet of an evening

Just a little over two weeks and I will be in India. I sit here relishing every nook and cranny of my house. I love the quiet comfort of home, the hum of the refrigerator, the warmth of the furnace, and the calm spirit that prevails in the late or early hours of evening. I do my best thinking then. Alone and at peace, I wonder what the next few months will bring. How will I be changed? Will I make a difference in some child's life? Perhaps there will be another Mahatma Ghandi whose spirit will brush past mine. Or a little girl who may one day become whatever she desires to become. Will I be so privileged to live for a few short months among growing minds and spirits destined for greatness? Somehow, I am beginning to believe that it is not I that will give to India, but it is India's children who will restore my spirit, shore up my resolve, and daily strengthen me to be a good teacher. My faith, my hope, my plea, is that I will be prepared enough to know what to do and when to do it - and that everything I do will percolate with energetic love and compassion. This sounds like a prayer - and it is. Already, I feel my heart turning and molding and adjusting. If I close my eyes and turn out all the lights, I can see them - the children of India. And they call to me.