Theresa Karsner's Story
“Beep! BEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEEEP!” blew the chipped yellow taxi cab. My heart was pounding. It was the summer of 2005, the third summer I had spent with Leaders Today, and my most recent trip was to Calcutta, India. It was pandemonium. Yet even that could not explain what my eyes witnessed.
People were everywhere.
It was like looking at a painting that was in a constant motion of life. Merchants sold chai tea, soapy men rinsed off near a side-street water pump, women walked past in colourful saris. Rickshaws and cows were everywhere. The potent smells of curry and various other spices carried through the streets, their heavy smells never leaving your nostrils. The intense images of poverty that surrounded me invaded my heart.
Calcutta hit me like an ocean wave and I was becoming a part of the motion.
I volunteered for two weeks at Mother Teresa’s Shishu Bhavan Center, a center for children with special needs whose parents had either died or abandoned them.
It was there that I had the most profound experience of my life. It was there that I met Amanda. The first time I saw her, she was a little girl lying on a bright red mat, like the rest of the children. She was beautiful. Looking at her, I was overwhelmed.
She had thick black hair that was shaved very close to her head and a striking golden-brown skin tone. Although her eyes were alive, her tiny hands were curled up under themselves and her frail legs were moulded into a hardened bunch. I was told that she was suffering from physical as well as mental disabilities and that she was terminally ill. There was no doctor to diagnose Amanda’s symptoms, but the pain she was experiencing hit home with me immediately. I knew the disease she suffered from.
As a child, I was diagnosed with a severe form of juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, an illness that affected every joint of my body, and sometimes confined me to a wheelchair. It was an illness I battled against and won. Looking at Amanda reminded me of all the horror stories the doctors told me would take effect on me and that had already taken effect on her. It was the same illness, but the difference was that I had physical therapy on a regular basis and received medicine.
Amanda didn't have the means for these types of luxuries.
In that moment, I knew how I wanted to spend the rest of my time in India. I asked, and the sisters at Shishu Bhavan honoured me with the care of Amanda. I was acutely aware of the pain she was experiencing, and from that point on I worked to the best of my ability to make her as comfortable as possible. She could not communicate to me with words, but she managed to tell me what her life was all about through her facial expressions and the jubilant sounds she uttered.
To this day, I can still see Amanda with her eyes tightly closed, smiling from ear to ear and voicing sounds of happiness as I sang to her: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” I found that singing in her ears, making funny noises and rattling a bell invigorated her spirits. She reminded me constantly to look beyond what my physical eyes could understand and look deep into my heart.
Although Amanda was unable to speak and would not have been able to understand English, the bond of understanding between us grew stronger by the day.
The days passed and then came the time to say goodbye. I carried her over to her bed, sang her one more song, and combed her hair. With tears falling down my face I said, “I will carry you with me always.” As I started to walk away, Amanda opened her mouth widely and smiled, and sang a high-pitched sound of happiness.
In that brief moment I realized just how similar Amanda and I were. It was love that cured an illness that the doctors said would leave me crippled and end my life early. And it was love that gave Amanda the strength to embrace life’s many gifts.
My trip to India opened my eyes to this beautiful world. I learned that anything is possible. Now, when I close my eyes, I can still see Amanda’s peaceful body resting and healing the world. As I recollect walking through Mother Teresa’s center on my last day, I remember a quote Mother Teresa expressed, “If there is no peace it is because we have forgotten that we belong to one another.”
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