Because We Are Able PT III “The Reunion”
Prisha looks ahead at a long stretch of straight road. She can see the heat rising off the asphalt. She can feel it blistering the bottom of her feet. Feet that are burned, cracked, bleeding. Her lips are the same. Just a mass of blisters and she has developed sores on her nose as well. Her will to go on is nearly gone. If it weren’t for her son. If it weren’t for her mother, she would have just stopped days ago like so many others did. Just walked off the road and found a tree to sleep under. A tree to sleep under forever.
She has been walking with two others for the last few days. The rest have either made it to their destination or didn’t make it at all. The two she is with are not from her village. Those from her village were among those that had gone and found a tree.
She wants to cry, but she can’t spare the strength or the water it would take. So, she shuffles along. Head down. Watching her feet. Making sure one moves forward, then the next. Each step forward is a step closer to her son. Closer to her mother. Her fear for them far outweighs her fear for her own life. She knows they must have no food by now. The thought of her son, her mother, starving is more than she can bear and it drives her on.
It is mid-day though now and the sweltering heat is burning her lungs. She looks up and nudges the elbow of the woman walking beside her and points to a grove of trees on the side of the road. They must rest now until the sun is behind them. The woman nods and tugs on the sleeve of the third traveler and points to the grove. The three of them stumble down the bank towards the life-saving shade. That’s when they hear the sound of a whining engine behind them. Gears grinding. Brakes squealing.
All three turn and look, eyes wide as a truck grinds to a halt on the side of the road. A frail, elderly man steps down from the truck and stands there for a moment, hands on hips. Then he motions for them to come back up to the road. He asks each of them in turn where they have come from and where they are going. They reply in hoarse whispers. He says nothing in return, but points to the back of the truck, a flatbed with rails, mostly filled with fruit and vegetables, but with enough space at the back for the three of them. He helps them in, one by one and when they are all three in the truck he points to the produce and says, “eat a little.”
Prisha sits and stares as the truck lurches forward. She simply cannot believe it. Tears fill her eyes as the truck picks up speed. Looking back, she watches the road as the long straight stretch disappears when they round a corner. Five minutes later and they have gone further than they would have in an entire day. That seems impossible. Where was this truck, any truck, all these days?
Prisha and her companions help themselves to some fruit. They are all ravenous, but she knows to be careful, so she eats slowly. She has had so little to eat that she knows she will become ill if she gives into her desire to eat everything in sight. After three pieces of fruit, she settles back against the rails of the truck, leaning her head against a pile of sturdy vegetable stocks, and then closes her eyes, taking in deep, ragged breaths. She is beyond exhausted. The sun has gone down now, just a small crescent on the horizon. Sleep comes. And even though she is jostled this way and that, it is still sleep.
She awakens once, just for a moment when the truck comes to a stop. She opens her eyes and looks at her surroundings. Not her stop. But both of her companions climb out of the back of the truck, not even giving her a backwards glance. She watches them for a moment as the truck lurches forward once again, then closes her eyes, hoping for more sleep.
Sleep comes, but then so do dreams. She dreams she has arrived at her village, but something is dreadfully wrong. There is no one there. The homes are all empty. The children all gone. She runs from place to place and then through the trees, calling out for her son, calling her mother’s name, but no one answers. She is too late! She has lost them both. Her long and torturous journey has been for nothing. It is the sound of her own voice, crying out into the night that wakes her. It is morning already.
The driver has driven through the night. She realizes suddenly that if he hadn’t stopped, she would have never made it! How far have they come? Then she remembers her dream and feels panic rise up inside her. She stands and looks around. The shadows are still long in the new morning light, but she recognizes the fields that are flashing by. Recognizes structures in the distance. Fields where she once worked! They are getting close to her village. Only a few more miles. But what will she find? The money she sent and the food it would have bought will have been long gone. Long gone. Will her terrible dream become a reality? Has she lost everything that she loves? All that matters?
Moments later, they round a corner and she can see the short road to her village. She cries out to the driver, leaning over the edge of the rail and pointing at her road. The driver sees her in the mirror and pushes hard on the brakes, sending her flying face forward into the produce. The truck comes to a stop, just past the road. Prisha climbs out of the back and walks to the to the open window of the truck, thanking the driver over and over. He simply nods and smiles before grinding the truck into gear and leaving her standing there on the side of the road.
She turns and looks back at the road to her village. She has made it. Just a few hundred yards down the road, her son and mother are waiting. The home where her son was born is waiting. But what will she find?
She moves quickly to the road. As quickly as her tattered feet and weak legs can carry her. Down the road she walks to her home, the first on the left. She walks up the short path and pulls the blanket that serves as a door aside, fearful of what she will find. There, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room is her son and mother, eating from plates filled with food. They turn and look at her in disbelief. They all cry out at the same time, Advik and his grandmother scrambling up from the floor and rushing into Prisha’s outstretched arms. Tears flow and questions fly from three mouths all at the same time.
Prisha tells the harrowing story of her journey, leaving out much of the tragedy she had witnessed to spare her son from the sad truth. They in turn told her of their own time waiting for word from her. Of their worry and sleepless nights. But, through it all, Prisha has a question burning to be asked. In the middle of one of her mother’s sentences, she blurts it out; “Where did the food come from?” “How have you gone all of this time since I sent the last money?”
Advik smiled and took her mother by the hand. “Come and see!” he said, pulling her to her feet. He took her to the far corner of the room and pulled a blanket aside and pointed. There in the corner were bags of food. Enough for weeks! Prisha couldn’t believe her eyes! How could this be? “Where did you get this?
Advik explained to her that they had been out of food for 3 days. His grandmother was getting ready to leave and try to find food when a truck pulled into the village. The back of the truck was filled with food and men passed out enough food for a month to every home in the village. The food was a gift from a Christian Children’s Home not far from the village and they promised to return each month. Advik told her that it was given in the name of someone…someone named Jesus.
Prisha fell to her knees and wept; thanking this Jesus whom she has never met.
The story of Prisha and Advik represents a sad and tragic reality for many thousands of orphans and widows. They also represent an incredible opportunity for an expansion of Orphan’s Lifeline’s programs to bring God’s love, compassion and Word to orphans and widows within their own homes. Perhaps it seems bold to be expanding in times like this, but Jesus said: “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.” We believe. And therefore… we are able.