My People

When I was a little girl, I told my mom I was going to be Indian when I grew up. I meant Cherokee or Iroquois or some other kind of Native American. I just loved them. When neighborhood kids played Cowboys and Indians, I was always an Indian. I felt badly about how the Indians were treated. My tender heart noticed, even before accurate history books were in the schools, that something was not quite right in the whole scenario. I thought they were beautiful and majestic. I dressed up like a squaw more than once for Halloween. My mother could not convince me that I couldn't grow up to be Indian.

Now, at almost forty, I have connected with Indians again. Not the Western Hemisphere type. The kind who live in India. If you've been here awhile (and by here, I mean my blog), you've noticed my appreciation for Bollywood and Indian food. I love both. "Lagaan" truly is in the top five movies I've ever watched. I could lick my plate when I eat Chicken Tikka Masala.

Here's the odd part: I really do feel a connection to people from India. I see a person of Indian heritage and I want to talk to them. It's pretty much compulsive (which makes whomever I'm with very uncomforable). Whether they are working in the gas station, the Indian grocery store, or the NICU, I strike up a conversation. And by strike up, I mean I try to get them to talk. Most of the time, they look at me a little strangely, then they are hesitant, and finally they visit a bit. I'm sure they wonder why I want to chat with them and then they probably wonder why I want to talk about Bollywood. They probably roll their eyes when I walk away, "Just another very white girl Slumdog wannabee India groupie." But, my fascination for India started more than three years ago when we studied the least evangelized people groups of the world. The 10/40 Window. It rocked my world. India was brought to my living room and my heart. The poverty. The numbers. The beauty.

So, again a part of me wants to grow up to be Indian.

They are my people.
Of course, by my people, I mean the people I love, pray for, and who have no idea I exist.