From 1995 through 1998 I lived in a small village in the mountains of Northern Pakistan known as Sonikot. My poorest neighbors were a family living in a small plot of land directly across the street from us. The family consisted of a woman in her middle 30's who was married to a man 30 years her senior who was in poor health and on his second marriage. His first wife had died long ago. They had two school aged children. The wife and mother whose name is Kukari is an amazing example of love and faith. Though she was extremely poor she was always giving of whatever meager means her garden produced. She spoke a language which had not yet had a translation of the Bible but she wanted to learn about Jesus. We gave her a taped recording of part of the gospel of Mark in her language. She listened to it over and over. When we asked her about what she heard she said this, "why did it take so long for me to hear about this?" and "where is the rest? I believe it all but I want to know more."
Whatever Kukari heard about Christ she practiced and lived. Once I was involved in a horrific truck accident that resulted from an avalance on the notoriously dangerous Karakoram highway. She was my first visitor to inquire about how I was doing. I could see the compassion in her eyes as she inquired about my health.
At harvest time she gave us some vegetables from her limited supply and while I protested she told me to stop and allow her to give as " when I give I never run out, don't stop the blessing from my life."
She invited us to her home for tea. In the corner her husband never moved from his position of rest on the chairpai (a bed strung together with rope. Kukari scurried around to serve us some biscuits and tea. Her hands gnarled and worn from so many years of hard work grasped a tray of precious tea cups. Each cup's edge was broken in a tragic symbol of a broken but precious life. Kukari was giving us her best and we knew it deeply. The power of her service and love brought tears to our eyes. She was giving her all to us in a moment of unique tenderness. Her alabaster jar was being broken all over our lives.
While we prepared to leave Pakistan our wealthy neighbors and landlords began to bicker over our "stuff". They had so much but wanted more. Meanwhile Kukari cried tears of sadness over our departure but never asked for a single thing. She had what she wanted from us... our love and friendship. Nevertheless, we wanted to give her something to remember us and to bless her and so we ensured that she have our tea cups and various household items that would enable her to continue her love of her neighbors.
When I think of Kukari I think of Jesus teaching that "Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God'. What she knew of Jesus she lived. What she had she gave willingly. What she needed she trusted God for. And whom she knew she loved. I miss you Kukari. I will see you soon.... in heaven.
Want to be like Kukari?... follow Jesus.
Jim
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