My friends at the Sikh temple have been telling me for weeks to make sure that my calendar was clear for Saturday night. A huge celebration was being held and Indians were coming from around the country to take part in the festivities. Saturday night was just fellowship and meal. Sunday morning was for a ceremony, changing of the flag, and more food. I wasn't going to go on Sunday - because I have to and want to go to my own "prayers" on Sunday morning, but I made sure to go on Saturday night.
Donning my new punjabi suit, I drove over to the temple to hang out with the young moms with their babies in the house. Some of the other ladies were hard at work rolling out hundreds of chapatis. The men were lifting heavy hot pots and rolling out two long mats for people to sit on. Conversation flowed as people sat down on the ground, with a tray of food in front of them. The attire was beautiful for all the Indians who attended, but all people groups were invited. Street kids made their way into the line-up to try spicy food and sweet rice. The language was foreign to me, but I felt like for one night I went on a holiday.
I am so grateful for the open friendship that I have with my friends at the Sikh temple.
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