At the Well

My favorite Bible story is the Woman at the Well in John 4.
Jesus is walking along with his disciples (see Hot Tea at Dawn). They come to a well at midday and stop for a rest. There's a tree to sit under (oh, was that just my imagination?), and the disciples trek into town to find something to eat, while Jesus rests. He gets in a conversation with a woman who comes for water. That's strange, because women don't come for water at midday. That's strange because men don't talk to women. But these two end up talking about life-changing issues--the woman goes back to her neighborhood with renewed life; Jesus can continue his journey refreshed with liquid water and fortified by a meaningful interaction.
I can picture the tree, huge, overshadowing the well and the road, with a built up stone platform at the right height for leaning loads on, and for setting out a picnic lunch on. I can picture the water, with women gathering at dawn and dusk chatting as they wait in line to fill, and hoisting their jugs up with water that must last the day. The complex routine of who gets to go first is well-established and practical, to avoid dispute. If you need to do laundry, you have to wait till the end, no matter what your rank. When a man comes by, he jumps the whole line, but he knows better than to linger. He definitely doesn't come to talk. I can picture the well, abandoned and dry at the middle of the day because there is no one to draw the water.
I tried to take a picture of it once, and it broke the camera. There was too much to fit in a print. (I also had the lens pointing directly into the sun. This was the old days, when that mattered.) Imagine what Jesus would talk with you about!

The Glass

A favorite quote from my husband, and he really believes it:
The glass is not half empty or half full, but overflowing!

Peace

The homeless guys outside the soup kitchen got in an altercation after lunch today. Someone must have called Sister Anna Maria (even though the police station is across the street) because before too long--before too many bad words had polluted the air--I heard Sister's voice raised firmly above the rabble. From my office on the other side of the window, I could not hear her words, but she diffused the rancor and shortly I heard conversation and laughter.
On the roadways in India--the Himalayan Highways--if there is an accident or fatality (animal or human), the whole community comes to resolve the issue. If a child or cow gets killed by a speeding vehicle, the neighbors--all witnesses--gather together and decide the culpability and retribution before the police even arrive.
Once when I was quite young, on one of the rare occasions we had a vehicle, my parents were tending to some business and I was waiting in the Land Rover parked on the edge of the street. All of a sudden, the slate roof of the house next to the car collapsed with a crash. One corner landed on the hood of the Land Rover. The neighbors and my parents all came out to investigate and discovered a baby swinging in a  hammock under the corner of the porch that had been caught by the Land Rover. They proclaimed it a miracle--new vocabulary: bachaio = saved. We all raised a collective prayer of thanksgiving.
I grew up and married, and we taught our four kids that they possess within themselves the resources they need to resolve conflicts.

Nails

A long time has passed since I had time to take care of my nails. It's getting embarrassing! Finally, I can't wait and I decide I'll just clip them. I always carry my clippers with me, but the problem is where. Where can you clip your nails and it won't be weird? How can you do it and not gross people out? What do you do with the nails if you clip them in your office? Besides, my office is so close to everyone else's they would all hear me. I can't clip them in the car, because I'm driving . I just get in position and the light changes, and I have to start all over again. And I can't do it in the coffee shop, the library, the lunch room, the doctor's office, or the grocery store.
I finally choose the bus stop. I look all around; nobody is on the sidewalk in either direction. Looking way down the road, I can't see the bus anywhere. But there is a steady stream of cars (and their drivers) passing by within ten feet of my chosen spot. Last week a couple of guys in a dump truck laughed at me for doing up my hair at the bus stop. What would they say about clipping my nails?
I look up and down the road again. My bus isn't due for at least five minutes. So I turn around in the bus stall, so the drivers won't see. I hope their music is turned up so they won't hear. The nails can go on the ground outside. All this bother, just to clip my nails!
It makes me think of traveling by train in India. Everyone in the whole car has to use the two toilets on either end of the carriage. Fortunately, there's a sink outside the toilets in the hall. In the morning, there's a carefully orchestrated arrangement involving the chai wallahs calling their first round of morning tea through the train and the elderly aunties, who automatically get to go first. People on the top bunks either have to be very early risers, or wait until the rush is over, after the third cup of chai. I always try to be polite while I watch young brides change out of their jeans and slip on the sparkle-trimmed salwar-kamiz or purda just before their stop, or sleep-deprived mothers brushing up the little girls' hair with oil and bright hair ties, or dignified gentlemen switching their pajama-kurta for a suit and tie.
Funny thing: everyone just washes their face or brushes their teeth right there in the open, and it's ok. Who would think of not brushing your teeth? Why would you take up precious time inside the toilet? People take full baths inside the toilet compartments  They come out combing their hair and adjusting their pants.
It's silly that it should be embarrassing to clip your fingernails in public.