The Little Things In Life

I was sunk deep down in a valley, But now I walk right up the alley. I faced struggles I could not cope, But the Lord has given me new hope. He lifted me up and sat me on a rock, A rock firm and strong, none can knock. He is my pillar and my strong fort, In His arms, do I find comfort. The Saviour who rose from the dead, Will guide me through my way ahead. In Him do I find a life ever new, His love is a joy that I never knew. Without you I can do nothing, Indeed, in you I find everything. Oh Lord, let me always follow thee, And I thank you for calling unto me. Praised be the Lord Jesus Christ, forever and ever. Amen #hopeinGod #God’sloveneverends

Recently I got a chance to visit a beautiful, beautiful place. The moment I put my first step into this place, I was filled with a rare kind of joy and grace filled my soul. And when I say this, I am not talking about a Holy Shrine or a Pilgrim Centre. Well, actually according to me, this place is no less than a Pilgrim Centre. The place I am talking about is a Convent in my hometown. Most of the nuns at the Convent are old and suffering from some kind of illness. I had been there to visit my grandma’s 84 year old younger sister, and this was the first time I was ever seeing her in my life. My mother had described her as a loving, caring and gentle person. And she loves to talk. She simply loves to talk. I have an ever growing fondness for the old, and well, an equally growing fondness for babies and young children.

Dedicated to all those - whose sorrows are never known, whose sufferings are forgone, whose miseries are unknown. My pains have made me encased, The struggles I have faced, Have made me so dazed,

My urge to write this post was aroused by an online discussion. The discussion was about nature – about one’s favorite place to be or about one’s favorite vacation spot. Being a native of a region in India which is known for its hills, and the twists and turns they provide while riding those snake-like roads, I am a total fan of the hills. The hills would always be my ideal holiday location, especially when the Heavens drench it with cold, icy waters, when the earth meets its desire to quench its thirst with the showers that smear its dry, hard surface; or to be less poetic and more specific, I mean to say, the Monsoons.

The word ‘gerund’ brings to my mind some fond memories of school days. It so happened that our subject teacher had announced that we would be doing Gerund the following week. He warned us not to miss these classes as Gerund is a crucial topic and a very difficult one at that. Being deeply interested in English language and literature from a very young age, I would keenly look forward to our Grammar classes for a deeper understanding on the subject. (English is not our first language. Yes, we need to learn it!) I bore in my mind, with acute gravity, the teacher’s warning about not missing out on the classes.

Yesterday, after the Mass, I was catching up with an 8 year old in my Parish. Kids are really excited about Christmas these days. What with the preparations for the crib and carol singing and various images of the Santa and the Christmas Trees around, the Christmas fervor is bound to be in the air.

A toddler living across my balcony was having her morning breakfast (which she calls 'mum-mum') when she spotted a couple of pigeons hovering over (whom she calls ‘boo-boo’ as in kabootar). She came running down to them and asked them with utmost sincerity "Boo-boo, mum-mum?" offering them the wafer in her hand. The birds, however, not realizing the child's concern for them, flew away without a backward glance, leaving her a little disappointed and perplexed. I explained to her that they eat a different kind of ‘mum-mum’, which of course the baby did not understand. She, in turn, stared at me for a while with her big beautiful eyes, and then toddled away to her mother. This, I think, would be the sweetest thing I’d see today.