Too Much Happy for One Face

Imagine you have been travelling for over 24hrs. By taxi, train, steam train, bus, truck and foot. You stumble into a campsite 3000m up on the side of a mountain in the jungle. There are over 100 others milling around: around 70 gypsy and irula kids (with some of the younger parents), indian leaders and camp staff from several states, other volunteers from several countries.
It's getting dark. It's also getting cold. You grab stuff from the truck, try to work out sleeping arrangements, hand out jumpers and jackets to poor kids who have never experienced cold, altitude, isolation from any form of civilisation - in short, anything like this before. Shell-shocked? I think so.

There aren't enough big jumpers, and so the tallest boys end up with some horribly short ones. They _all_ want ones with hoods, and you are overwhelmed by choruses of "cap, cap, cap.. friend, cap? Want cap". You all gobble down some hearty curry and rice, huddle around the fire, learn a fun song and watch a hilarious story be told (well, they listened too - I just didn't understand any!) and as soon as possible, head to bed.

The next morning is bitterly cold. If you were brave, you might have dragged yourself out of bed earlier than you needed to, and stumbled down to the lake. You would have seen mist feathering up off its sapphire depths as the day awoke.
You would have returned to the campsite and joined the shivering children; fervently hugging tumblers of hot chai in icy hands, and hanging out for breakfast (more curry and rice).

The day warms with the sun, and you all relax a little. You begin getting to know eachother. You learn more songs, play games, have competitions, try your hand at archery, maybe go walking and skipping through fern-lined streams and gorges, kids trailing from your hands and arms, taking off, hanging back, yelling, fighting, grinning, begging, learning names, forgetting names..

By the second day, you have come to expect the cold sweeping in. You know that you will get three square meals and plenty of tea. You know that there are a whole stack of people here who are filled with love and joy and compassion and you can't help seeing and feeling it.
The kids are still a little crazy, but the fighting and arguing is no longer a constant. There are many many more smiles than frowns. You really can't believe the change. So soon? And even the angry gypsy lady that yelled all the time and no one liked? Even she is smiling. And gleefully singing snatches of song.

By the end of the 2nd day, no one wants to leave. I'm not going to forget the shining eyes of kids kayaking for the first time - or the guts of those girls trying out abseiling.

On the last day, apparently one little boy burst out "TOO MUCH HAPPY!" That's exactly how I felt too, in this beautiful place, with these people.

This really sounds a bit too sentimental or romantic, I know. Couldn't really have been like that. People don't just change like that. (And of course they were -we are all- still far from perfect!)
But it was real. Something happened. We felt it and saw it and were blessed by this crazy community that grew together. Who knows what will happen when we all go back home - so many back to just surviving on a pittance from day to day, begging and pleading their way forward. Who knows? But I do hope and trust that those bits of peace and love will take root and keep growing. The Creator keep somehow working his redemptive magic.