Every beauty has her flaws.
Kolkata, India...you have many, but I love you dearly.
Heading home, folks.
Wednesday, December 28
Sunday, December 25
Visible Grace
Yesterday, on Christmas Eve, we woke up to the reality that we were leaving a family of four Bengalis that we had been adopted into. It was a sweet morning. We awoke to our host mom cooking our favorite breakfast, puri and alu. Mmmm, so much goodness. It's something that to cook, she has to wake up pretty early for because it's time consuming, but as she would say "she did it for her princesses." Love. We all circled around the kitchen area sharing one last breakfast, and feeling the sadness of leaving floating in the air. It was there, but we didn't let it hinder our day. The 5 year-old son walked into the kitchen freezing, so I wrapped a blanket around him and held him in my lap as his mom fed him (yes, the parents feed the kids until they are like ten). I held him close as he rested his sweet little hand on my cheek for one of the last times. Just enjoying life together.
After breakfast, the host dad said he wanted to take us to his old home. Where he grew up, and were he and his wife lived for about 11 years. This meant so much to him, so we all bundled up (because joy jishu it's finally cold) and headed out the door. First, he took us to meet a lady named Grace. She was a 74 year-old spitfire. No words to describe that lady, but she is a beauty inside and out...and I met her for a mere 10 minutes. Some people are just born to be amazing people and she is one of them. The family has kind of taken her on as a grandparent, because her children have sort of left her in this nursing home and never returned. You wouldn't know it, though. This lady has a spirit as though she's never seen a dark day in her life...but you know she has for her to appreciate life like she does. Just wow. Anyways, after meeting Grace, we jumped in an auto and headed to our host dad's old home. It was about a 10 minute ride and 10 minute walk to his neighborhood. We turned down this side road and the door was to the right. I'll never forget this morning. We walked right into the house, or actually room that was the home he grew up in, took our shoes off and stepped right up onto the bed to sit. It was humbling. It was home, and even though our host dad has been blessed to move into a larger space, this is comfort and it is home to him. We were served cha and given an incredibly warm welcome by these people. After a while, we left and went around back to see the house where he and our host mom lived for the first 11 years of their marriage. Same thing. Small little room that is completely filled by a queen size bed, with a kitchen underneath the bed. That's how they do it, and it is well. We sat there for a moment as he told us about those days and then once again headed out the door. He stopped to shortly show us the restroom and shower areas for the thirty people in the surrounding rooms. Incredible. No wonder it's so easy for this family to see God's blessings pouring down on them...there has never been anything to crowd that view.
We went back home and finished packing our things/cleaning up the room, then we all sat around on the bed in our bedroom. The whole family. Just sitting there. Usually there is something to do, somewhere to be, but that day everything stopped/slowed just to absorb life as we have known for 4 months, but not again. Sweetness. Our team leader showed up and we all moved into the kitchen to have lunch. After lunch, we moved into the family's room and all sat on the bed, like Indians do. We sat around in a circle and sang a few hyms. In Hindi and English, which is pretty cool. And then Rada prayed for us as we prepared to walk away from their lives. It was such a powerful prayer, and I couldn't even understand her Hindi words. We said amen and sat their as the host dad told us what we've meant to them for the past four months. He spoke of our importance in the home and how the wonderful memories from the past four months will always be stored in their hearts. He said that they will not be able to forget us, for we have meant so much to them. Of course, we were all crying, but it was a celebration of the gift we've all received from joining together as strangers and becoming a family. Walking out the door, Rada had me kiss both of her cheeks and her forehead. A mom can't be left without a kiss...she always demands them from her actual children, so she wasn't going to let us leave with out requesting the same from us. It was so tender. They stood behind our taxi as we drove away, just waving, crying, and doing their best to smile.
We will see them tonight for one last dinner - in celebration of Christmas, but our goodbye was yesterday. My heart felt/feels it. One last embrace, and we will be on our way out of the city. Tomorrow we head for our debriefing retreat...time to process the first four months as a team and escape Kolkata's craziness before we begin our 24 hour journey home. So close.
But today, our hearts are all joined in celebration of Christmas. I just have to say, I've never felt Christ celebrated like I have this year. As I said on my Facebook, "
After breakfast, the host dad said he wanted to take us to his old home. Where he grew up, and were he and his wife lived for about 11 years. This meant so much to him, so we all bundled up (because joy jishu it's finally cold) and headed out the door. First, he took us to meet a lady named Grace. She was a 74 year-old spitfire. No words to describe that lady, but she is a beauty inside and out...and I met her for a mere 10 minutes. Some people are just born to be amazing people and she is one of them. The family has kind of taken her on as a grandparent, because her children have sort of left her in this nursing home and never returned. You wouldn't know it, though. This lady has a spirit as though she's never seen a dark day in her life...but you know she has for her to appreciate life like she does. Just wow. Anyways, after meeting Grace, we jumped in an auto and headed to our host dad's old home. It was about a 10 minute ride and 10 minute walk to his neighborhood. We turned down this side road and the door was to the right. I'll never forget this morning. We walked right into the house, or actually room that was the home he grew up in, took our shoes off and stepped right up onto the bed to sit. It was humbling. It was home, and even though our host dad has been blessed to move into a larger space, this is comfort and it is home to him. We were served cha and given an incredibly warm welcome by these people. After a while, we left and went around back to see the house where he and our host mom lived for the first 11 years of their marriage. Same thing. Small little room that is completely filled by a queen size bed, with a kitchen underneath the bed. That's how they do it, and it is well. We sat there for a moment as he told us about those days and then once again headed out the door. He stopped to shortly show us the restroom and shower areas for the thirty people in the surrounding rooms. Incredible. No wonder it's so easy for this family to see God's blessings pouring down on them...there has never been anything to crowd that view.
We went back home and finished packing our things/cleaning up the room, then we all sat around on the bed in our bedroom. The whole family. Just sitting there. Usually there is something to do, somewhere to be, but that day everything stopped/slowed just to absorb life as we have known for 4 months, but not again. Sweetness. Our team leader showed up and we all moved into the kitchen to have lunch. After lunch, we moved into the family's room and all sat on the bed, like Indians do. We sat around in a circle and sang a few hyms. In Hindi and English, which is pretty cool. And then Rada prayed for us as we prepared to walk away from their lives. It was such a powerful prayer, and I couldn't even understand her Hindi words. We said amen and sat their as the host dad told us what we've meant to them for the past four months. He spoke of our importance in the home and how the wonderful memories from the past four months will always be stored in their hearts. He said that they will not be able to forget us, for we have meant so much to them. Of course, we were all crying, but it was a celebration of the gift we've all received from joining together as strangers and becoming a family. Walking out the door, Rada had me kiss both of her cheeks and her forehead. A mom can't be left without a kiss...she always demands them from her actual children, so she wasn't going to let us leave with out requesting the same from us. It was so tender. They stood behind our taxi as we drove away, just waving, crying, and doing their best to smile.
We will see them tonight for one last dinner - in celebration of Christmas, but our goodbye was yesterday. My heart felt/feels it. One last embrace, and we will be on our way out of the city. Tomorrow we head for our debriefing retreat...time to process the first four months as a team and escape Kolkata's craziness before we begin our 24 hour journey home. So close.
But today, our hearts are all joined in celebration of Christmas. I just have to say, I've never felt Christ celebrated like I have this year. As I said on my Facebook, "
Friday, December 23
Final farewells.
I've left behind many loves in the past few days, and as Erin would say, heroes. Those are some amazing women, and I've been blessed to spend the past four months next to them.
Today I sat there absorbing the last worship session that I would have with the ladies. I did my best to memorize the glory in their harmony as they sang out "hallelujah". It was lovely. It was peace. It was freedom. It was voices praising a very good God.
These dear ladies have bid me farewell so sweetly. All caressing my face, embracing me tightly, crying with me, kissing my cheek, holding my chin, and telling me to come again. I have no doubt that they've enjoyed our presence here, which is all I could wish for from such beautiful women. I'm taking home so much love in my soul...all passed on from the Sari Bari ladies. I will miss them dearly.
Tonight is the last night in the house. Tomorrow we part ways with the family. This will be the most difficult goodbye. Praying for full assurance that the Lord's plan is greater than mine.
Today I sat there absorbing the last worship session that I would have with the ladies. I did my best to memorize the glory in their harmony as they sang out "hallelujah". It was lovely. It was peace. It was freedom. It was voices praising a very good God.
These dear ladies have bid me farewell so sweetly. All caressing my face, embracing me tightly, crying with me, kissing my cheek, holding my chin, and telling me to come again. I have no doubt that they've enjoyed our presence here, which is all I could wish for from such beautiful women. I'm taking home so much love in my soul...all passed on from the Sari Bari ladies. I will miss them dearly.
Tonight is the last night in the house. Tomorrow we part ways with the family. This will be the most difficult goodbye. Praying for full assurance that the Lord's plan is greater than mine.
Thursday, December 22
Where there are roots...
Today I left one of the Sari Bari offices for the last time.
Today I bid farewell to many of the great women I've grown to love dearly.
Today was only the first really difficult goodbye I will say.
It was a good, good day. As we told the women...it is a happy day. Yes, this is our last day at Sari Bari, but it is happy because together we are celebrating the birth of the Christ that has given us freedom. We sat around and heard the story of the first coming of Jesus in Bangla, ate a combination of Indian favorite Christmas snacks, shared cups of coffee, danced the day away, and the women were given lovely saris as gifts. Then we said goodbye. It all happened so fast...it's like one moment they were all there with us and the next they were all gone. Individual women that I've grown really close to clung to me tightly as we shared tears of sadness and words like "go well" and "Jesus loves you dearly". I didn't want to let go of any of them. There's too much beauty there...in their presence. But, we have a great Father above that has plans for us all, so I'm following that.
My tears right now speak something differently, but it was truly a beautiful day. Through this, the Lord has shown me that where there are roots, there will be blossoms. The only reason that it is so hard to leave this place is because of the beautiful relationships that have blossomed, the beautiful memories that have blossomed, the beautiful joy that has blossomed. So yes, it's incredibly difficult to uproot myself, but it took planting those roots here to make it worth staying. If I had never put roots down, the days would have been meaningless. It's that whole where the is joy there is sorrow, and where there is sorrow there is joy. It's definitely a two-way road. I either had both, or nothing. And I'm gonna go with both. It was a joy-filled sorrowful day, but wonderful as a whole.
I learned a little more about love today. And the truth that language doesn't really build that great of a wall in the presence of these women. No way. There love is much greater than any wall...
So where there are roots, there will be blossoms.
Praise the Father above for that. I would hate to plant roots and never see blossoms. Or not have the opportunity to plant roots in the first place, that would lead to never seeing the blossoms.
Who is good? God is good. Always.
Tuesday, December 20
So many goodbyes...
Cigarette lady. Oh man. We bought her sweets today to give to her as a gift since we are leaving. That's how it seems to work in this culture. If you are leaving, if it's your birthday, or you have some kind of celebration - you gift others...not them gifting you. Which is pretty cool. Anyways...she's been asking for weeks when we are bringing sweets and a chobi (picture) of us. Well, the picture wasn't ready yet, so we are still waiting on that...but we did take sweets today. Then all of a sudden she pulled out three rashogola's (the favorite Bengali sweet) the size of a golf ball (no exaggeration, people) and stuffed it into our mouths. I was the first victim; I didn't even see it coming...all of a sudden her hand and the rashogola were pushing on my lips trying to stuff it in my mouth. SURPRISE! Haha. That was a hilarious, hilarious moment, but one I won't forget. When she said she wants to feed us sweets, she really meant feed us. And she wasn't gentle...at all. Indian women. Love them. We all almost choked as we tried to chew/swallow the "sweet" that taste like a ball of string cheese soaked in sugar water. Yeah, it's bad...but I've gotten used to it. That one was just so unexpected that I didn't have any time to prepare myself. Terrible, but so awesome. Great, great lady. Soon we will say goodbye, won't be the hardest, but she's in our story...I'll miss her.
Today was our last day at Mama T's. Wow. I'm unsure of how our days there have disappeared so quickly, but they have. And those kids have stolen my heart. I ran around like a crazy mama taking pictures of her twenty kids today...at least that's what I felt like trying to get everyone to smile and snap a cute photo. My little Roshan. Oh, I'm just smiling at the thought of the precious photos I took of him. That little man...I will miss him dearly. It was hard to leave them today. Mitu, one of the older girls kept saying "kalke", which means tomorrow. She was telling me that she would see me tomorrow...but finally she understood that I was saying I wasn't coming again. The famous "abar ashbo na" that throws me into tears. I held it together this time, until the mashi said thank you for all of your help (in Bangla) and blew me a kiss. That sent me out the door with tears streaming down my face. I don't think I've fully wrapped my mind around the fact I won't ever see those kids again. I certainly dislike those words, though.
It's hard to close a door on a face and heart you know will continue living, but you will never be able to see again...not to sound morbid, but it's kind of like a death. At least in my heart it feels that way - it feels like I'm losing people I love. And I am. So many of those approaching.
Tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday we will be attending each Sari Bari office for the last time. It will be wonderful seeing the women one last time - all smiling and celebrating the birth of our Christ, but the finality of us leaving will not be pleasant. Those women have just absolutely changed me. They are tremendously strong - to a level that I really cannot fathom. To live life as joyfully as they do, blows my mind. Where there is freedom, there is joy and they are a walking testimony of that. I'm just nervous to leave them for good. To see their faces one last time, trying to soak up every laugh, every touch, every bit of love, will be a new experience, but I'm praying for nothing but blessed seconds. Also, I cannot wait to see their faces when the three murgi bachas bust up in Sari Bari wearing Saris. Oh they will love it. :)
Saturday we move out of the house. I don't know how that will go. It hurts thinking about leaving this family that we have become a part of. I told the daughter the other night, it's strange to think that our futures won't be grown together. Leaving them will be the most difficult goodbye I've experienced...in this city and at home. One that I've known has been approaching this entire journey, but has only gotten more difficult to accept as time has passed. Our host mom is fearful that we will forget her. She keeps asking me that at least. But I don't think she understands just how magnificent of a woman she is...and how great of a mom she has been to us in this city. I keep telling her she is just too special to forget...forgetting her is not possible. And it's not. They are etched into my heart...I'll always have my Indian family.
But, soon I will return home. Whoop! Home sounds sweet right about now. And a hamburger or bacon...darn you India for having no beef or pork available. Soon, soon I'll be on an airplane. Bittersweet.
Today was our last day at Mama T's. Wow. I'm unsure of how our days there have disappeared so quickly, but they have. And those kids have stolen my heart. I ran around like a crazy mama taking pictures of her twenty kids today...at least that's what I felt like trying to get everyone to smile and snap a cute photo. My little Roshan. Oh, I'm just smiling at the thought of the precious photos I took of him. That little man...I will miss him dearly. It was hard to leave them today. Mitu, one of the older girls kept saying "kalke", which means tomorrow. She was telling me that she would see me tomorrow...but finally she understood that I was saying I wasn't coming again. The famous "abar ashbo na" that throws me into tears. I held it together this time, until the mashi said thank you for all of your help (in Bangla) and blew me a kiss. That sent me out the door with tears streaming down my face. I don't think I've fully wrapped my mind around the fact I won't ever see those kids again. I certainly dislike those words, though.
It's hard to close a door on a face and heart you know will continue living, but you will never be able to see again...not to sound morbid, but it's kind of like a death. At least in my heart it feels that way - it feels like I'm losing people I love. And I am. So many of those approaching.
Tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday we will be attending each Sari Bari office for the last time. It will be wonderful seeing the women one last time - all smiling and celebrating the birth of our Christ, but the finality of us leaving will not be pleasant. Those women have just absolutely changed me. They are tremendously strong - to a level that I really cannot fathom. To live life as joyfully as they do, blows my mind. Where there is freedom, there is joy and they are a walking testimony of that. I'm just nervous to leave them for good. To see their faces one last time, trying to soak up every laugh, every touch, every bit of love, will be a new experience, but I'm praying for nothing but blessed seconds. Also, I cannot wait to see their faces when the three murgi bachas bust up in Sari Bari wearing Saris. Oh they will love it. :)
Saturday we move out of the house. I don't know how that will go. It hurts thinking about leaving this family that we have become a part of. I told the daughter the other night, it's strange to think that our futures won't be grown together. Leaving them will be the most difficult goodbye I've experienced...in this city and at home. One that I've known has been approaching this entire journey, but has only gotten more difficult to accept as time has passed. Our host mom is fearful that we will forget her. She keeps asking me that at least. But I don't think she understands just how magnificent of a woman she is...and how great of a mom she has been to us in this city. I keep telling her she is just too special to forget...forgetting her is not possible. And it's not. They are etched into my heart...I'll always have my Indian family.
But, soon I will return home. Whoop! Home sounds sweet right about now. And a hamburger or bacon...darn you India for having no beef or pork available. Soon, soon I'll be on an airplane. Bittersweet.
Monday, December 19
Her name...
Her name is Alapoona.
I don't know her. But I met her the other night.
I was walking with Natalie and our host family's daughter to take out the trash. We walked the 5 minute walk to the closest dump. As soon as we were in sight of it, I saw this small child get up from the edge of the trash dump and start walking our way. She had her hand out. I know these kids...I've seen so many of their faces. I reached into my purse and gave her two chocolates, but I didn't feel like that would cut it. I know those hands, those faces, those kids...but she felt so much more empty than the others. Most of them run up to me in a huddle of other kids...usually smiling, but she had neither fellow hands or a smile. We turned and began walking back home, but with every step I felt myself being called back. The direction I was walking in wasn't right. We were coming up on a dokan, so I bought a pack of bread and a couple snacks to take back to her.
She didn't expect us to come back. I could tell. I sat beside her on her cardboard bed, so I could close in on any distance she might feel. I didn't want to just be someone handing her material things, I wanted to be someone who wasn't afraid of being close to her...someone who cared for her heart as much as I did her stomach. In my poor Bangla, I told her I bought food for her and I wanted her to eat. She opened the bread and ate a couple pieces as she did nothing but stare at the ground in silence.
She was breaking my heart.
Her silence. Her brokenness.
I asked her about her family - she doesn't have any. I asked her her age - 9.
I don't know anymore of her story, but the fact that she was caked in layers and layers of dirt and sleeping on a cardboard sheet at a trash dump says enough for me. Something went wrong in this story. Our Father looks down on this and I know it shatters His heart to see His daughter in this condition - mentally, physically, and spiritually. That comforts me, but the all-consuming amount of powerlessness I felt in those moments with her, that entire night, and all of the days since, doesn't go away.
I brought two jackets with me. I don't need two. I gave her one, but I don't think that will cut it for the low temperatures that we have had as of late. And it certainly doesn't solve the biggest issue of this child's life.
I'm angry that I cannot fix this completely. I'm angry at all of it.
I walked away after a while of just sitting with her. There were so many men around her. That frightened me more than anything. I know men in this country. And I know children in this country. They are the innocent victims of some terrible, disgusting crimes committed by men. And I hate it. Hate it. Before I left her, I asked her if she was afraid of them and wanted me to stay. I don't know if they are there often or if they bother her, but after I asked, I got the expected answer of "no". But I know that she is...she's a 9 year old, but because she lives on the street and claims to have no family, she has had to condition herself to not be afraid.
These things make me hate the world. Hate the brokenness in it. Hate that it's 9 year old's that are left to survive on their own, left to fight abuse of every kind as they name the streets their home. Hate that people, including me, aren't doing more about this. Hate that I don't know what to do about it. Hate that I feel powerless. Hate that I will leave this country knowing that Alapoona is in no better a state than the night I found her. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I only wish my tears could make it all well.
I think this has broken my heart almost more than anything I've experienced in this city. Makes me feel like anything but a fight to right these wrongs is an empty pursuit of life. What am I doing?
Pray for her. Pray for her nights. Pray for her days. Pray for her life. And every other child in this world that has her story. There is way too many...even if she was the only one.
I don't know her. But I met her the other night.
I was walking with Natalie and our host family's daughter to take out the trash. We walked the 5 minute walk to the closest dump. As soon as we were in sight of it, I saw this small child get up from the edge of the trash dump and start walking our way. She had her hand out. I know these kids...I've seen so many of their faces. I reached into my purse and gave her two chocolates, but I didn't feel like that would cut it. I know those hands, those faces, those kids...but she felt so much more empty than the others. Most of them run up to me in a huddle of other kids...usually smiling, but she had neither fellow hands or a smile. We turned and began walking back home, but with every step I felt myself being called back. The direction I was walking in wasn't right. We were coming up on a dokan, so I bought a pack of bread and a couple snacks to take back to her.
She didn't expect us to come back. I could tell. I sat beside her on her cardboard bed, so I could close in on any distance she might feel. I didn't want to just be someone handing her material things, I wanted to be someone who wasn't afraid of being close to her...someone who cared for her heart as much as I did her stomach. In my poor Bangla, I told her I bought food for her and I wanted her to eat. She opened the bread and ate a couple pieces as she did nothing but stare at the ground in silence.
She was breaking my heart.
Her silence. Her brokenness.
I asked her about her family - she doesn't have any. I asked her her age - 9.
I don't know anymore of her story, but the fact that she was caked in layers and layers of dirt and sleeping on a cardboard sheet at a trash dump says enough for me. Something went wrong in this story. Our Father looks down on this and I know it shatters His heart to see His daughter in this condition - mentally, physically, and spiritually. That comforts me, but the all-consuming amount of powerlessness I felt in those moments with her, that entire night, and all of the days since, doesn't go away.
I brought two jackets with me. I don't need two. I gave her one, but I don't think that will cut it for the low temperatures that we have had as of late. And it certainly doesn't solve the biggest issue of this child's life.
I'm angry that I cannot fix this completely. I'm angry at all of it.
I walked away after a while of just sitting with her. There were so many men around her. That frightened me more than anything. I know men in this country. And I know children in this country. They are the innocent victims of some terrible, disgusting crimes committed by men. And I hate it. Hate it. Before I left her, I asked her if she was afraid of them and wanted me to stay. I don't know if they are there often or if they bother her, but after I asked, I got the expected answer of "no". But I know that she is...she's a 9 year old, but because she lives on the street and claims to have no family, she has had to condition herself to not be afraid.
These things make me hate the world. Hate the brokenness in it. Hate that it's 9 year old's that are left to survive on their own, left to fight abuse of every kind as they name the streets their home. Hate that people, including me, aren't doing more about this. Hate that I don't know what to do about it. Hate that I feel powerless. Hate that I will leave this country knowing that Alapoona is in no better a state than the night I found her. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I only wish my tears could make it all well.
I think this has broken my heart almost more than anything I've experienced in this city. Makes me feel like anything but a fight to right these wrongs is an empty pursuit of life. What am I doing?
Pray for her. Pray for her nights. Pray for her days. Pray for her life. And every other child in this world that has her story. There is way too many...even if she was the only one.
Saturday, December 17
Ten days remaining (tomorrow)...
Ten days tomorrow (for me that's only 5 hours away, so 11 to you kids in America)...anyways, it's so strange to be blogging about my ten days remaining, when it seems like yesterday I was writing a blog about having ten days until I left to come here. I really don't understand time. In one respect it feels like I arrived yesterday, but at the same time it feels like I've been here for at least half of my life. Days are just so long...
But as I wrap up these ten days, I'm doing my best to make sure I have plenty of time to say sweet farewells to everyone that has become a part of my life here.
But as I wrap up these ten days, I'm doing my best to make sure I have plenty of time to say sweet farewells to everyone that has become a part of my life here.
I had yet another dream last night where I'm back in America and forgot to say good-bye to everyone...it's like I just appeared in America and I've forgotten my life in India. I spend almost the entire dream crying and coming to terms with the fact that it's over. It's so terrible...every time. Today my team leader helped me realize that yes these dreams do suck, but in one way it's my heart preparing it's absence from this place. It's almost like I'm in both places. I'm allowed to begin processing my return home before I've actually returned home. Nice, but not the funnest thing. But it is nice waking up and knowing I have more time left...and knowing that I will for sure get it all done, because I've seen my heart in the case I didn't do all I intended to.
What does that mean?
It means today I purchased the ingredients to make the family donut holes. Yes, homemade donut holes people. First attempt...pray for me. But I know they will love it.
It means today I purchased the ingredients to make the family donut holes. Yes, homemade donut holes people. First attempt...pray for me. But I know they will love it.
It also means us three girls dressed up in our saris and bangles to take a picture...of which we will make 90 copies (yes, that's a lot...we know), and pass one out to each of the ladies.
It means that we've made plans of our mishti (sweets) date with the cigarette lady down the road, and our departing gift for the cha lady has been purchased.
And finally, it means that Friday I totally took Roshan the entire day at Mama T's, because next time I'm gonna be running around getting pictures of all of my babies.
I have so much more peace about leaving than I have before, so I know the Lord is giving me grace in that, but I still don't know what to do with the ticking clock I have in my hand. It's like holding on to sand...just keeps falling out of my hand no matter how hard I try to hold on to it.
Seven more nights with the family.
One more day at Sari Bari.
One more day at Mama T's.
One more day at Mama T's.
Three Christmas parties with each Sari Bari office.
Three days of a debriefing retreat.
And then I'm home.
Whoa.
Don't have too much to say, just a report card. The Lord knows I can't absorb things like this well, so He has provided a sense of numbness to my emotions. Not in a negative manner like I've always perceived it to be. I'm still absorbing and I don't have walls up...I can feel that, but I'm protected against drowning in my regrets of leaving this place and it's beautiful. As I said today...it helps me leave with the joy of the past four months shining so brightly and not being weighed down by the sadness of saying good-bye.
Be in prayer for all of us. Us three girls as we finish out here, and transition to home. Pray for the people we are leaving and that the Lord will continually work in the lives of those people. Pray as the Spirit leads...I can't name all that we need, but He knows.
Tuesday, December 13
Sometimes there are only questions...
This great evil, where's it come from?
How'd it steal into the world?
What seed, what root did it grow from?
Who's doing this?
Who's killing us?
Robbing us of life and light?
Mocking us with the sight of what we might have known?
Does our ruin benefit the earth?
Does it help the grass to grow, the sun to shine?
Is this darkness in you, too?
Have you passed through this night?
-Have you passed through this night?, Explosions In The Sky (Listen to this above...bomb)
This week our book discussion is on a book called Not For Sale. Each chapter focuses on a part of the world and a type of slavery that is present in that country. It ends with a hopeful story in each chapter - stories about success in the abolitionist movement. But it also ends with the fact that the issue is still present. One child, one woman, one victim of whatever age and gender may have found freedom, but the numbers of those still suffering are disgusting. It pains my heart to read these stories; my eyes read the words, but my brain lags far behind in processing them. As I read, some turn to movies playing out in my mind and somehow they get stuck feel like that - fiction. They are not, but my mind and heart cannot fathom nor even begin to understand the brokenness that the oppressors and oppressed are experiencing. The words on the pages are not just words. They are real. There is tragic story after tragic story of real people with real lives that are absolutely stolen from them. I get angry reading things like this and feel like all I have left is a thousand questions.
Why are people even doing this?
Why don't more people know about this?
Why isn't something being done about it?
I don't get it. I don't understand...in any context.
Seriously, where are people when these things are happening?
Where are people when parents are selling their children to traffickers so they can buy some something that should not ever take precedence over a life?
Where are people when little girls and teenage girls are being promised jobs and education in a far-away place, when really they are being taken captive into the sex trade?
Where are people when little kids are being trapped in the ranks of an army that shouldn't even exist in the first place, and being forced to ruthlessly murder, torture, and rape everyone in their path?
Where are people when young girls are taken into family's homes to become enslaved laborers, in addition to the father's sex slave?
Where are people when street kids are being viewed as a part of the city that needs to be exterminated and actions being taken to do so?
My thoughts just keep screaming, "why is this happening!? and why are we letting it happen!?"
I have no answers, only questions. Along with a heart pumping boiling blood if I'm going to be honest.
You know...none of us really understand the magnitude of modern-day slavery, but just in case you didn't know - it's everywhere. Yes, that means right in our home country of America, right in our home state, right in our hometown. I decided to check out the Not For Sale website...then I found a link to a Slave Map that is a small, small picture of just how close slavery is to our lives. What did I find? My new office in Dallas...750 N. St. Paul Street - 11 minute walk to three locations that sex slavery has been found, one of which involved children. 11 minute walk. 11. Here's the link if you want to see for your self:
Proximity of slavery to my life.
And to think...that's only the places that have been found. This thing, whatever monster it is, of slavery continues because it has a veil. It's invisible. It continues to thrive because people like us are failing to realize it's happening and failing to take action against it. When is something going to be done? My hope is sustained by the promise of Jesus' return that will make all right again, but seriously - are we just going to shrug our shoulders, view it as someone else's problem, and just wait for that day.
You know why I can comfortably place faith in that end?
Because I'm NOT enslaved. It's women, men, and children that are all disconnected from my pattern of life.
Just because we are promised that one day it will be fixed, my heart is not settled to sit around waiting for that day - I may be innocent of the actions, but I'm no longer ignorant. And neither are you. Knowledge comes bearing the gift of a not-so-neatly packaged responsibility to act. What are we doing? I cannot take the world by storm and rid it of every case of slavery, but that doesn't mean something of my efforts aren't going to fit into the attempt to do so. This is a great burden of the world, and I know Christ is calling my heart, my mind, and my hands to be a part of these efforts somewhere, somehow. I have no idea where that will be in the future, but that's been in Kolkata, India for the past three and a half months...forming precious relationships with some beautiful women that have found a sense of freedom from slavery.
I can promise you one thing: freedom is worth every fight...
Saturday, December 10
Preserve her joy, Lord
Last night I had another dream, or really nightmare, about leaving this place. Kolkata has captured my heart in a way that I never expected to happen. And because of that, when I leave, I fear my heart will be staying here in India and just my body will returning to the States. At least that's the way it feels in my nightmares. I've had so many of them...and it's kind of disturbing. I'm sure it's just my fears of leaving this place manifesting themselves into dreams, but it's beginning to make me question why I am even leaving. It's making me question why I signed a contract to start a job in January, which obligates me to return home. Maybe because that's the Lord's plan...in which case He knew well to have me sign prior to coming to Kolkata. Regardless, I fight each day to continue soaking up every moment here instead of spending that time fearing my return to the States. It's hard to have my heart in so many places at once...I've never dealt with it to this extreme and I don't know what to do. I go in and out of numbness...in that I mean, sometimes it's so overwhelming, my heart doesn't really know how to address the situation so it doesn't, and others I feel the hurt of leaving and my emotions consume me. I don't know which is better. But I do know that everything in me wants to stay. Really.
This place is better. Only because somehow without a fog (composed of something I cannot name) that is present in my life in the states, I see God so much clearly. I mean, He is closest to the broken. I'm in His presence here, because I'm in the presence of the broken everyday. Broken to an extreme that they can't pretend all is well, like so many people (including me) do in the U.S. There's something about admitting you are broken, being humbled to the point of asking for help, and seeking the hands of Christ to heal the wounds of our soul. And I don't want to leave it.
I may or may not need to discern if the current path I see as being laid before me is the one I'm actually suppose to walk. My prayer: Lord, show me.
Today was the start of the goodbyes. I don't like them. I can't really grasp them, actually. I've learned enough about myself in the past few years to realize I put up a little wall around my heart when it comes to these things - the things that hurt. Leaving hurts, so I feel the bricks being piled up around my heart and I'm praying the Lord strips them all away. I will feel the finality of my absence from this place once I return home, and then will only be wishing to return and truly soak up the final moments my heart couldn't stand to take the first time around. So, Lord let's do this.
I walked out of the Tollygunge metro overjoyed to see my sweet little Minu sitting there. There have been weeks that her and her mom were missing, but this being the last time I would pass by, I took special treats. This little girl. I adore her. I've never seen such a joy in a child's face...at least not in the face of a child I assume to have lived a life like hers. The Lord has preserved her joy, probably because she's shares it so beautifully. After the first couple times when I stopped, she knew who I was and expected me. So any Saturday she saw me approaching she would run towards me with the biggest smile on her face...just waiting for that chocolate. Oh my goodness. Beautiful. She never takes one bite...the whole chocolate bar would go into her mouth. Haha. And as she ate it, she would dance around so joyfully. She is something special. Her smile is radiant and her laughter (which most of the time was at the expense of my Bangla mistakes) is a sound that never ceases to bring a smile to my face. Today, I wanted to let her know I wouldn't be coming again. I didn't want her to expect me, and I wanted to have the opportunity to tell her goodbye and let her know how special she is to me. I said "abar ashbo na" (which seems to be the words that shatter my guard - tears flood at the sound of these words - crazy what weight they hold), which means I will not come again. I told her that soon I will be going home to my country, but she will always be in my heart. It was so, so, so difficult to walk away from her today. I just cupped her little face, held it up and told her "I will miss you so much"...in English, because I don't have the Bangla skills to communicate that. And I just stared into that precious smile of hers...trying to soak up every bit of it's goodness, so that I won't forget what brilliant light is still shining in her heart that has yet to be broken by this ugly world. She's given me a hope. It's hard to see so much ugly all around this place, but finding that smile in a billion frowns has restored something in my soul. She's a beauty, and I pray the Lord preserves that light in her.
Also, today was our final Bangla lesson with the Sari Bari manager that lives out in a village. That was something else. It was a beautiful, beautiful goodbye to her home and her family, but nonetheless it was heart-wrenching. As the amazing Indian woman she is, she fed us a delicious breakfast and even taught us how to cook luchi (whoa). We shared a few words in Bangla, but then she took us down the road to her mother's house. Such a pleasant visit...so much green! We don't see many trees/leaves/grass in the city, so just being in the presence of that was beyond peaceful. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Again, the words "abar ashbe na" were spoken over and over and over again and every time there was a flood of tears streaming down my face. Those words just seem so final..."they will not come again"...it makes my heart hurt. Reminds me that time does continue to pass...even though I feel like it should be and stay December 1st, it doesn't - and the 10th is already here and almost over. But holding to the fact we will see her again kept my head above the sea of tears I seemed to let pour from my eyes...Sari Bari Christmas party - joy. Regardless, during this time I'm being taught to see beauty in so much and realizing every moment is a blessing.
Every time we leave the house, our host mom says "go nicely." I just love that. I'm beginning my journey of going...and praying for it to be done nicely. The Lord will be faithful to pull down guards and build them up in places the need to be absent or present. He is faithful.
I'll end with the promise that I will never again eat dahi puchka. Sorry for this being so off topic, but my tummy is reminding me of it constantly. Dahi puchka, you are tasty, but not worth it. Tums...they better kick in soon. Oh man.
Goodnight, folks.
This place is better. Only because somehow without a fog (composed of something I cannot name) that is present in my life in the states, I see God so much clearly. I mean, He is closest to the broken. I'm in His presence here, because I'm in the presence of the broken everyday. Broken to an extreme that they can't pretend all is well, like so many people (including me) do in the U.S. There's something about admitting you are broken, being humbled to the point of asking for help, and seeking the hands of Christ to heal the wounds of our soul. And I don't want to leave it.
I may or may not need to discern if the current path I see as being laid before me is the one I'm actually suppose to walk. My prayer: Lord, show me.
Today was the start of the goodbyes. I don't like them. I can't really grasp them, actually. I've learned enough about myself in the past few years to realize I put up a little wall around my heart when it comes to these things - the things that hurt. Leaving hurts, so I feel the bricks being piled up around my heart and I'm praying the Lord strips them all away. I will feel the finality of my absence from this place once I return home, and then will only be wishing to return and truly soak up the final moments my heart couldn't stand to take the first time around. So, Lord let's do this.
I walked out of the Tollygunge metro overjoyed to see my sweet little Minu sitting there. There have been weeks that her and her mom were missing, but this being the last time I would pass by, I took special treats. This little girl. I adore her. I've never seen such a joy in a child's face...at least not in the face of a child I assume to have lived a life like hers. The Lord has preserved her joy, probably because she's shares it so beautifully. After the first couple times when I stopped, she knew who I was and expected me. So any Saturday she saw me approaching she would run towards me with the biggest smile on her face...just waiting for that chocolate. Oh my goodness. Beautiful. She never takes one bite...the whole chocolate bar would go into her mouth. Haha. And as she ate it, she would dance around so joyfully. She is something special. Her smile is radiant and her laughter (which most of the time was at the expense of my Bangla mistakes) is a sound that never ceases to bring a smile to my face. Today, I wanted to let her know I wouldn't be coming again. I didn't want her to expect me, and I wanted to have the opportunity to tell her goodbye and let her know how special she is to me. I said "abar ashbo na" (which seems to be the words that shatter my guard - tears flood at the sound of these words - crazy what weight they hold), which means I will not come again. I told her that soon I will be going home to my country, but she will always be in my heart. It was so, so, so difficult to walk away from her today. I just cupped her little face, held it up and told her "I will miss you so much"...in English, because I don't have the Bangla skills to communicate that. And I just stared into that precious smile of hers...trying to soak up every bit of it's goodness, so that I won't forget what brilliant light is still shining in her heart that has yet to be broken by this ugly world. She's given me a hope. It's hard to see so much ugly all around this place, but finding that smile in a billion frowns has restored something in my soul. She's a beauty, and I pray the Lord preserves that light in her.
Also, today was our final Bangla lesson with the Sari Bari manager that lives out in a village. That was something else. It was a beautiful, beautiful goodbye to her home and her family, but nonetheless it was heart-wrenching. As the amazing Indian woman she is, she fed us a delicious breakfast and even taught us how to cook luchi (whoa). We shared a few words in Bangla, but then she took us down the road to her mother's house. Such a pleasant visit...so much green! We don't see many trees/leaves/grass in the city, so just being in the presence of that was beyond peaceful. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Again, the words "abar ashbe na" were spoken over and over and over again and every time there was a flood of tears streaming down my face. Those words just seem so final..."they will not come again"...it makes my heart hurt. Reminds me that time does continue to pass...even though I feel like it should be and stay December 1st, it doesn't - and the 10th is already here and almost over. But holding to the fact we will see her again kept my head above the sea of tears I seemed to let pour from my eyes...Sari Bari Christmas party - joy. Regardless, during this time I'm being taught to see beauty in so much and realizing every moment is a blessing.
Every time we leave the house, our host mom says "go nicely." I just love that. I'm beginning my journey of going...and praying for it to be done nicely. The Lord will be faithful to pull down guards and build them up in places the need to be absent or present. He is faithful.
I'll end with the promise that I will never again eat dahi puchka. Sorry for this being so off topic, but my tummy is reminding me of it constantly. Dahi puchka, you are tasty, but not worth it. Tums...they better kick in soon. Oh man.
Goodnight, folks.
Friday, December 9
Something, something.
So Today at Mama T's there was this lady from New Jersey there. She's an older lady...mom of six kids - whoa. Proud moma, too - she showed me a picture of all of them and told me each of their names and ages. It was funny to have someone share something like that, but she's ten days in and missing them and I'm three months in and haven't met many random Americans, and definitely not mothers, so I didn't mind the chat. Anyways, we got into both of our stories and what brought us to Kolkata. Crazy. But she ended up asking me what is the biggest thing that I've learned in this city. It took me a moment to recover from such a loaded question. Did this lady just hear me say that I've been here for three months...not three days. Hello. I don't think such a thing exists. After nearly four months here, I've learned way too many things to pick a single one to be the most important lesson. They have all been life-giving and life-changing...combined together they have made me a new person, alone they are just simple lessons that really don't deserve the weight of the greatest lesson of a 14 week span of my life.
I thought about it for a few seconds, and even though this isn't THE biggest thing I've learned in India, it's been an incredible thing to learn. I was riding on the bus this morning and it all started to make sense (with the help from a book we read recently. I wanted to quote it, but forgot it at home and I'm too lazy to go back and get it...maybe I'll post one later, but for now just know all these thoughts stemmed from this book and the dear city of Kolkata). And on to it. I walked into this city and had so many complaints about the people and how they did things. Men stare. Men touch. Men take everything they want. Women do not exist here, or at least not in any way that really speaks of their value as a human. There is sick, sick, sick poverty in this city. People are denied, people are devalued. All around, people are doing what they can to get in front of the next person...whether that be in a line or to get on/off the metro. It's a lonely place. They don't claim that, because seriously the population is said to be about 14 million. But it is lonely. Lonely in the respect that outside of family and friends, people do not seem to have a respect for anyone else. This place isn't kind, speaking from the eyes of an outsider. Homes are corrupt, with a never-ending theme of abuse. And the police system is corrupt, so justice doesn't really exist.
All my eyes could see was the taking without rights, the dehumanization of anything that isn't a man, terrible physical poverty that destroys something much deeper than a person's skin, the "me first" attitude in every context, and corruption that seems to have no end because justice isn't in the cards. That is what I was concentrating on..the way I saw these people living wrongly. Therefore, I had a bad attitude. I responded poorly, because I was looking at the surface and reacting to it. I forgot that there are roots to everything. Everything. The only reason there is so much brokenness in the actions of the people is because they are all broken. They have been hurt. There are wounds inside all of them. And the way they live life is just a response to that...whether it's individually or just as a whole, there is something off within the hearts of this city.
First, when I simply named the actions that frustrated me as things just wrong with the people, I had a really, really, really good heart check sent my way. The Lord opened my eyes to just how sick I am. For my first reaction to be to follow suit and do as they do and not act as His child, something was off in me. I wasn't loving. I wasn't taking on His heart and acting based on that, which is what He has called me to do - as His servant, as His follower. It revealed so much of my own brokenness, my own corruption. I'm thankful it did so, and I'm thankful the Lord called me to another direction in this city. I'm thankful He whispered words to me that sent my heart's desire and actions during my life here spinning in the opposite direction. As was spoken of in the book Brokenness to Community, I was doing what I could to get to the top of the ladder - like everyone else. When really I'm called to bottom rung...the one that we think won't get us anywhere, but let's not forget those who humble themselves, He will lift high. I didn't humble myself, the Lord did it - gently, but He showed me the true reflection of my heart. I blogged about that earlier, I think in "I was once a Kolkata", but the Lord has been great to continue to work this in my heart. He has molded me...my words do not communicate it by any measure. I don't really know who I am in the U.S. anymore. I know who I am here (sorta), because this is where the Lord has changed me, but figuring out all of this in the States will be a process. For those of you who know and love me at home...have patience, please. :)
I know He has plans. He who began a good work in you will see it through to completion. (Philippians 1:6)
Secondly, after the realization that knocked me off my feet (in a good way - I needed to learn to stand while holding His hand and not on my own, which is why he gives us those lessons - Hebrews 12:5-8 ), I began to love this city so much more. I began to accept it in all it's brokenness...and because of it's brokenness. I mean, when we really have the heart of Christ, he calls us to serve in broken places. That's been Kolkata for me, but He sends us all different places...to all different kinds of brokenness. In Brokenness to Community, it talks about how it's difficult to love broken people, because those loving often get the brunt of the actions stemming from those wounded roots. But the beauty of it is when you submit yourself to that and pour your heart into that person/people they begin to realize that even in their worst they can be loved and eventually something beautiful blossoms. They see that they no longer have to act out of brokenness, they no longer have to live as though they are fighting for life with every breath in their being. They can just be, they finally have permission to exist as who they were created to be. They receive life...in the grandest of fashions, love.
So in once sentence what is one of the greatest lessons I've learned? I have a sinful, corrupt, and broken heart that is (thankfully) covered by the innocent blood of my dear Savior, Jesus Christ, who is/was/will always be God stepping down from His thrown (humbling Himself) to walk in the flesh with us sinful, corrupt, and broken people so that through dying on a cross he would cleanse our dark souls and tear down the wall dividing us from our Father in Heaven; therefore, I am called to walk as He did - loving the broken, despite their brokenness (putting myself in last place) - and as a result, evil fails to rule in the hearts of people...life, beauty, and light will reign from above and the greatest love wins.
That's a really long sentence (with tons of incorrect grammar - oh well), but there's no shortening that.
As the family says often: Who is Good? God is Good. Always.
I thought about it for a few seconds, and even though this isn't THE biggest thing I've learned in India, it's been an incredible thing to learn. I was riding on the bus this morning and it all started to make sense (with the help from a book we read recently. I wanted to quote it, but forgot it at home and I'm too lazy to go back and get it...maybe I'll post one later, but for now just know all these thoughts stemmed from this book and the dear city of Kolkata). And on to it. I walked into this city and had so many complaints about the people and how they did things. Men stare. Men touch. Men take everything they want. Women do not exist here, or at least not in any way that really speaks of their value as a human. There is sick, sick, sick poverty in this city. People are denied, people are devalued. All around, people are doing what they can to get in front of the next person...whether that be in a line or to get on/off the metro. It's a lonely place. They don't claim that, because seriously the population is said to be about 14 million. But it is lonely. Lonely in the respect that outside of family and friends, people do not seem to have a respect for anyone else. This place isn't kind, speaking from the eyes of an outsider. Homes are corrupt, with a never-ending theme of abuse. And the police system is corrupt, so justice doesn't really exist.
All my eyes could see was the taking without rights, the dehumanization of anything that isn't a man, terrible physical poverty that destroys something much deeper than a person's skin, the "me first" attitude in every context, and corruption that seems to have no end because justice isn't in the cards. That is what I was concentrating on..the way I saw these people living wrongly. Therefore, I had a bad attitude. I responded poorly, because I was looking at the surface and reacting to it. I forgot that there are roots to everything. Everything. The only reason there is so much brokenness in the actions of the people is because they are all broken. They have been hurt. There are wounds inside all of them. And the way they live life is just a response to that...whether it's individually or just as a whole, there is something off within the hearts of this city.
First, when I simply named the actions that frustrated me as things just wrong with the people, I had a really, really, really good heart check sent my way. The Lord opened my eyes to just how sick I am. For my first reaction to be to follow suit and do as they do and not act as His child, something was off in me. I wasn't loving. I wasn't taking on His heart and acting based on that, which is what He has called me to do - as His servant, as His follower. It revealed so much of my own brokenness, my own corruption. I'm thankful it did so, and I'm thankful the Lord called me to another direction in this city. I'm thankful He whispered words to me that sent my heart's desire and actions during my life here spinning in the opposite direction. As was spoken of in the book Brokenness to Community, I was doing what I could to get to the top of the ladder - like everyone else. When really I'm called to bottom rung...the one that we think won't get us anywhere, but let's not forget those who humble themselves, He will lift high. I didn't humble myself, the Lord did it - gently, but He showed me the true reflection of my heart. I blogged about that earlier, I think in "I was once a Kolkata", but the Lord has been great to continue to work this in my heart. He has molded me...my words do not communicate it by any measure. I don't really know who I am in the U.S. anymore. I know who I am here (sorta), because this is where the Lord has changed me, but figuring out all of this in the States will be a process. For those of you who know and love me at home...have patience, please. :)
I know He has plans. He who began a good work in you will see it through to completion. (Philippians 1:6)
Secondly, after the realization that knocked me off my feet (in a good way - I needed to learn to stand while holding His hand and not on my own, which is why he gives us those lessons - Hebrews 12:5-8 ), I began to love this city so much more. I began to accept it in all it's brokenness...and because of it's brokenness. I mean, when we really have the heart of Christ, he calls us to serve in broken places. That's been Kolkata for me, but He sends us all different places...to all different kinds of brokenness. In Brokenness to Community, it talks about how it's difficult to love broken people, because those loving often get the brunt of the actions stemming from those wounded roots. But the beauty of it is when you submit yourself to that and pour your heart into that person/people they begin to realize that even in their worst they can be loved and eventually something beautiful blossoms. They see that they no longer have to act out of brokenness, they no longer have to live as though they are fighting for life with every breath in their being. They can just be, they finally have permission to exist as who they were created to be. They receive life...in the grandest of fashions, love.
So in once sentence what is one of the greatest lessons I've learned? I have a sinful, corrupt, and broken heart that is (thankfully) covered by the innocent blood of my dear Savior, Jesus Christ, who is/was/will always be God stepping down from His thrown (humbling Himself) to walk in the flesh with us sinful, corrupt, and broken people so that through dying on a cross he would cleanse our dark souls and tear down the wall dividing us from our Father in Heaven; therefore, I am called to walk as He did - loving the broken, despite their brokenness (putting myself in last place) - and as a result, evil fails to rule in the hearts of people...life, beauty, and light will reign from above and the greatest love wins.
That's a really long sentence (with tons of incorrect grammar - oh well), but there's no shortening that.
As the family says often: Who is Good? God is Good. Always.
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