It was 5 a.m. -- our last day of a three week stay in Calcutta. Quietly and with a sense of expectation, our group walked through the downtown streets from our temporary home at the YMCA. Through the Hindu quarter, past the Muslim quarter, we were on our way to the Mother Teresa’s house and another day of labor intensive service. I, as the “older adult,” continued feeling responsible for the eleven undergraduates within my charge. Yet, I knew their dedication to trying to serve the poorest of the poor in India was a bond that connected them and me in a way that was healthy and required little direction.

       As we made our way to mass that morning, I reflected back on how I had become involved with such a focused volunteer effort and what meaning it had in my life. Within my contemplation that day, as now, have been a multitude of thoughts. Some have centered on personal development. Others have involved the impact of being immersed in a foreign culture. Yet, a third group have centered on the complex dimensions of helping others, and in so doing, assisting them in finding their own way.

       The experience began when a young woman named Jessica showed up at my office and asked for a few minutes of my time.
        “I want to go to India and work with Mother Teresa,” she began. “It’s a dream I’ve had since childhood.”
        “I’d like to play in the National Basketball Association like Muggsy Bogues of the Charlotte Hornets,” I countered. “I’ve always liked his style.”
        “But I really have an opportunity to go work with Mother Teresa,” she said. “Besides, I’ve seen you play basketball and you don’t have a prayer.”

        With that, she produced a wrinkled typed letter from Mother Teresa inviting her to spend time with the Missionaries of Charity. “Will you help?” she questioned, knowing full well that I administered the university’s endowment for ethics and leadership and was in a position to be of assistance.

        Struck by her sense of purpose and readiness, I became a financial sponsor of her effort. Now some months later, I was leading a wave of students in her footsteps. I was no longer sending someone on a journey. I was in the midst of an experience that was almost overwhelming. At every junction was something new and different.

        The trip started changing my life from the moment I arrived. I had traveled in Western Europe and Japan previously. However, I had always gone for fun, pleasure and education. I had never become immersed in the culture and had never encountered conditions of such a desperate nature. Thus, I was caught experienced but off guard.

        It took time and effort to get to Calcutta. I started gathering information (and getting shots) eight months before the trip began. I read everything I could find about Mother Teresa and the history of India. In the process, I came to realize that as a white, middle class, North American, Christian I would be a novelty to many of the indigenous people. With each day I became a little more humbled. Though my family was old in America, it was young by Indian standards. Though I prided myself in knowing a great deal about American literature, I was almost ignorant about the richness of the written arts in India. Therefore, I undertook to become a learner first so I could become a doer later. Participating in a support group with the others who were making this pilgrimage helped. In addition to acquiring information, we talked about our hopes, fears, and expectations thereby dovetailing facts with feelings and learning about a culture and about ourselves.

        Preparation was one thing, actual contact was another. Upon landing in Calcutta, I realized again the crucial nature of accepting and affirming the environment, its people, and the Indian culture on their terms, not mine. The air was filled with a variety of smells and a cacophony of noise. There were people everywhere and a rhythm to the city that initially seemed chaotic from an outsider’s view. It was similar to counseling sessions I had experienced where different worldviews and values came together but did not mesh. Thus understanding and appreciation of the city came slowly over time and with effort. “I listened to and observe verbal and nonverbal behaviors.

        Therefore, a key to initiating contact was becoming sensitized to the newness. It was a way of offering help based on simultaneously looking outward and inward. The process led to understanding, appreciation, anxiety and frustration. It also produced knowledge and awareness that transcended judgments and emotions.

        Once grounded, I concentrated on getting to know the clientele in Mother Teresa’s homes as well as people on the streets. On a daily basis I met the homeless, the sick, the malnourished, and even the dying. I did simple tasks such as washing clothes, making beds, feeding the crippled, emptying bedpans, and giving coins and comfort to those I found to be downtrodden. Children were relatively easy to get to know because of their curiosity, outgoing natures, and their participation in playful activities. Adults were more of a challenge. In all cases, what was required was looking beyond outer appearances and circumstances to find the uniqueness of persons and to attend to them.

        Some situations were obvious in what they demanded, such as dressing a wound or shaving off the hair of a person infected with lice. Other times subtleties prevailed and employing appropriate behaviors, such as silence or nodding an acknowledgment, were not apparent. As with counseling, helping responses had to be practiced. In the process, I made mistakes but also learned to overcome my tendency to stay encapsulated as a member of my own culture. This demanded that I take risks beyond my levels of comfort. Doing so meant becoming attuned to what was happening outside of me and working to channel my own thoughts and feelings constructively.

        Leaving Calcutta might have seemed easy and a relief after such intensity. However, just as working with difficult clients sometimes produces surprises, so did our exit. Upon getting ready to depart, our group bid farewells to those inside the compounds in which we worked as well as to the street people we had grown to know. We realized through our conversations that the impact we made on Calcutta was not great but that our experiences would continue to have an influence on us as we reentered the United States. Therefore, after saying good-bye to the Missionaries of Charity with whom we had labored, we partook of a last meal together. We thought it important to get closure for ourselves individually and collectively as well as with others.

        As another way to terminate our experience on a positive note, we took a train to New Delhi and visited the Taj Mahal so that one of the last sights we saw of India was a monument of lasting beauty. In such surroundings, we could celebrate goals we had accomplished. We could also admire the achievements of a culture and its people.

        Months have now past since that morning in Calcutta. During the trip I got to visit with Mother Teresa, talk extensively with the missionaries, interact with many different Indian people, work with a wonderful group of young adults, and have the joy of giving to the truly needy. All of these encounters and experiences helped shape my impressions of a culture and the difficulties of helping the poor. Memories from the time have stayed with me in ways I cannot explain. There are few days that go by without my remembering aspects of the trip and realizing the journey still continues.

        Normally, I would think that with time I would become less sensitive about the culture I encountered and which became a part of me. However, I doubt that will happen in this circumstance. The reason is due to the living nature of conversations I have had about what occurred and the feedback that it keeps producing. Nowhere has the power of this quality been more dramatic and impactful than when my five-year-old son, Timothy, came up to me with an envelope full of dried beans just as I was leaving for work. “Daddy, please mail these to the poorest of the poor people of India,” he said. I agreed and slipped the package into my pocket as I headed for the door. Looking back I saw an excited and smiling blue-eyed and curly blond-haired boy who, despite his limited knowledge of the world, had caught the spirit of giving and the idea that he could be a helper. This same attitude underlies the profession of counseling on many levels. Hopefully, it makes a difference both in what we do and who we are.