Opportunities in America

by Susan Carter

As the blues of the horizon from the sky and sea merge, so subtly, silently, the Lord’s touch gently, deftly positions people, places, events.  Reflecting back on the day, I can still hear the young lady’s soft gentle voice filling the small room, the passionate tones rising and falling in her foreign tongue.

Today was Wednesday.  Writing day.  Concentration was challenged by external distractions in a familiar workspace, so packing up my computer and books and heading for the public library seemed to be a logical solution.  I anticipated a quiet alcove where I could hide away from civilization and become entrenched in comma splices and gerunds.  Oh, but God had a different plan for me.  It was no accident that I walked into the library for the first time to write, and the “quiet room” was occupied by one other person.

Entering the room as the intruder, I quickly spied my corner and settled into writing mode.  Shortly thereafter my thoughts were jolted by the rude electronic signal of a cell phone.  I bristled at the unwelcome noise in our tomb. The conversation at the opposite end of the room was passionate, filled with foreign, unfamiliar syllables.  My ears were drawn to a poignant conversation; although spoken in a different tongue, the body language communicated volumes.   I quickly exited the room to give my roommate privacy.

Five minutes later I reentered the room to face a gracious, appreciative young lady of 28 years.  As I slipped silently into my claimed corner, the young lady’s voice expressed gratitude and appreciation for my consideration of her.  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” she politely inquired.  Although I gave up coffee drinking some time ago, I sensed her desire to serve.

“Yes,” I replied.

Several minutes later, the dark-haired girl reentered the room carrying two cups of coffee, one in a Styrofoam cup and one in a mug.  She then offered explanation, “I come to the library every day to study.”

“Study?” I implored.

“Yes, I must study 18 hours a day for my exams.”

“Exams?” I asked.

“Yes.  You see I am a medical doctor in India.  It was time for me to be married because the god of education gave me extended time to complete my studies before my father arranged my marriage.  When I met my husband (at the time of marriage), he took me to America as soon as the ceremony ended. Now I need to become licensed to practice medicine in America, so I have to pass the licensure examinations.”

The fair-skinned girl’s penetrating gaze of her bead-black eyes pierced my heart as it bore into the comprehension of what I did not understand.  “I miss my family very much.  I would do anything for my father—even come to America to live.  My mother, father, sister, and brother still live in India.  That was my mother on the phone calling to tell me about the devastation in India caused by the tsunami.  She says that what they have seen is much too sad to accurately describe.  Children standing all alone because their parents are dead and their homes are gone.  Bloated bodies, thousands of them washed ashore.  Mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers crying hysterically in their loss.  Now, great disease will come and claim many more lives.  I want to go back to my people and help them because I am a medical doctor.  I could help.  My people are in trouble.  I am concerned about the future of my country.”

It was at this point that tears filled my eyes, spiral chains streaking my face.  I was living her life vicariously; newly married to a man she did not know, nor choose; uprooting to live in a foreign country, thousands of miles away from her heart’s soil, redoing years of work.  And, then, it struck me!  60,000 souls washed out to sea while sloppy, overindulged Americans drunk on entertainment and carelessly slinging themselves about aimlessly with no ambition other than their own selfish, personal gratification.

Our conversation deepened as the hours moved forward.  At lunchtime she opened her bag and offered me some yogurt.  She then invited me to come to her home in the future to share Indian cooking with her and her husband.  By the time I had to pack up, she had offered her family as hosts to my visit to India in 2005.  She politely asked me to go with her and her husband to meet her family in November.  Our visit culminated with the exchange of phone numbers and email addresses.

Will I go to her home and share a meal with her and her husband?  Absolutely.  What about visiting India?  I’m willing.  What about opportunities in America?  Do we have to cross oceans and star-studded skies to reach the lost?

“Oh, I fast two days a week.  On Thursdays I fast for the god of education who gave me my brain and the opportunity to go to college.  Then on Tuesdays I always fast for my favorite god.”

“May I ask about your favorite god?”

“Oh, yes.  He’s the god of destruction.  If he becomes very, very angry, he will destroy the whole world.  I must worship him.”

Is there opportunity in America?  I think so…..that is, if we’re willing to take it.

Ephesians 5:16 “Redeeming the time, because the days are evil.”

Susan Carter