Mother Teresa’s Ride

One night I had a dream. The train I was riding in was traveling to the mountain town of Darjeeling in India. As I looked around, there were many interesting faces, young and old, on the train.

One face caught my attention. I looked again. The woman’s face was old and weather-beaten. She was wearing a plain white sari with blue trim. A small cross was pinned to her left shoulder.

As the ride went along, I tried to move closer to the fascinating lady. Her face was full of peace and genuine caring for each person on the train. She chatted quietly with the person next to her and moved around the train, tending to people’s needs as she saw them.

Suddenly, she sat down in the seat next to mine.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“I am Rosemary, a photographer. I was sent to catch a glimpse of the beauty and pain of India through photography. Who might you be?”

“I am Agnes Bojaxhiu, but you may know me as Mother Teresa.”

“Are you kidding? Are you really Mother Teresa?”

“I am.”

“Well, Mother. May I join you on your journey?”

“Do you love the poor? Will you help me care for the sick? Do you care about those who are weak? Will you care for the homeless, the lepers, and the blind? They are all God’s children. If you are willing to assist me, you are welcome to come with me. If you take pictures, all I ask is that you respect the people and their feelings as you record the images for the world to see.”