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.
Wednesday, December 7
Failure To Operate
This morning one of my fears concerning the metro, which we travel by almost daily, occurred.
The metro stopped and all of a sudden the loud speakers came on and were announcing something which I assume to be pretty important, but because I do not speak the language I had no idea what was happening. Then in the same second everyone, I mean everyone, starts running out the doors. Me and Natalie follow behind, because it's rather obvious there is something wrong.
Again, my fear: on an underground metro, in a foreign country, loud speakers announcing a message in a foreign language (that sends everyone running for the doors), and hundreds of people flooding the one of two exit choices we have. Bad situation.
I didn't know what was going on. Fire? Accident? What else?
But I do know that if you don't fight your way through the crowds of this city, you won't get where you are trying to go. Because of the language issue, we were a bit delayed on getting the message to exit the metro, therefore we were one of the last ones off. We stood in the door of it for a while, because the line up the stairs and out of the station are so long. I step off and turn around to see the door closing on Natalie. I freak out. I don't think, which is good and bad, but go straight to fighting to keep the door open to help get her off and whoever else is on...because I have no idea the severity of the situation and why we are being rushed out of the train and up the stairs. I do what I can to get the doors open (like superwoman, seriously I wish someone would have taken my picture at that moment...haha) and eventually it's open enough for Natalie to get off. As soon as she's off, I grab one side of the door and she grabs the other and we pry that thing all the way open - using our entire bodies to hold it so other people can rush off. I'm struggling. She's struggling. And men stand around just watching. Seriously...no one helped. They stared, that's for sure, but no man took action. Can I add this to the list of my annoyances with most of the men in this country (not all - the Lord has blessed me with the ability to meet some amazingly Godly men in the city and show me hope in all the ugly)? Them being men who are useless in every context of the word. The moment everyone was off and we were in the massive blob of people flowing up the stairs, my only concern (minus the situation at hand, obviously) was preventing myself from being touched, because at that point I was vulnerable - their was a man on every side of me. Talk about a crap situation. I just had to laugh at all of that. I didn't know how else to react. Wow.
Anyways, from there we rush out of the metro and do our best to make it to Sari Bari after being forced off the metro in a location we are absolutely unfamiliar with and having to figure out what to do next. Nevermind the fact we are white and stand out like sore thumbs, but also being in a situation like this where you don't speak the language you feel just that more helpless. Thanks to Natalie and her amazing observation skills and something of an internal compass, we made it to Sari Bari. Only 30 minutes late, too. Not that bad. But seriously. The men today...no words. Complete picture, complete picture.
I'm ready for the women to take their voice here in India. All of them.
In addition to all this, I want to tell a small story from our Mama T's visit yesterday. Mita, who is one of my favorite kids at Shishu Bahvan, is blind. Because of that (in combination with mental disabilities) she has been slow to stand, slow to walk, and speak. But yesterday as we sat down with the kids to sing the morning songs, Mita scooted herself over to Natalie and sat in her lap. After a little time, she used Natalie's arms to stand and lean against her. Then Mita started falling forward and backward. Of course, as she fell forward, Natalie would have her arms stretched out to catch her, but Mita didn't know that. Mita trusted that. She cannot see...literally, but had faith that she wouldn't fall when she was in the arms of someone she knows loves her. So many lessons to be learned from these kids. It's beautiful. Since when am I that trusting? I'm blind of the path that the Lord has laid before me, but I still tend to do what I can to mold and shape it, because I fail to have the faith his arms are there to catch me. Lessons.
The metro stopped and all of a sudden the loud speakers came on and were announcing something which I assume to be pretty important, but because I do not speak the language I had no idea what was happening. Then in the same second everyone, I mean everyone, starts running out the doors. Me and Natalie follow behind, because it's rather obvious there is something wrong.
Again, my fear: on an underground metro, in a foreign country, loud speakers announcing a message in a foreign language (that sends everyone running for the doors), and hundreds of people flooding the one of two exit choices we have. Bad situation.
I didn't know what was going on. Fire? Accident? What else?
But I do know that if you don't fight your way through the crowds of this city, you won't get where you are trying to go. Because of the language issue, we were a bit delayed on getting the message to exit the metro, therefore we were one of the last ones off. We stood in the door of it for a while, because the line up the stairs and out of the station are so long. I step off and turn around to see the door closing on Natalie. I freak out. I don't think, which is good and bad, but go straight to fighting to keep the door open to help get her off and whoever else is on...because I have no idea the severity of the situation and why we are being rushed out of the train and up the stairs. I do what I can to get the doors open (like superwoman, seriously I wish someone would have taken my picture at that moment...haha) and eventually it's open enough for Natalie to get off. As soon as she's off, I grab one side of the door and she grabs the other and we pry that thing all the way open - using our entire bodies to hold it so other people can rush off. I'm struggling. She's struggling. And men stand around just watching. Seriously...no one helped. They stared, that's for sure, but no man took action. Can I add this to the list of my annoyances with most of the men in this country (not all - the Lord has blessed me with the ability to meet some amazingly Godly men in the city and show me hope in all the ugly)? Them being men who are useless in every context of the word. The moment everyone was off and we were in the massive blob of people flowing up the stairs, my only concern (minus the situation at hand, obviously) was preventing myself from being touched, because at that point I was vulnerable - their was a man on every side of me. Talk about a crap situation. I just had to laugh at all of that. I didn't know how else to react. Wow.
Anyways, from there we rush out of the metro and do our best to make it to Sari Bari after being forced off the metro in a location we are absolutely unfamiliar with and having to figure out what to do next. Nevermind the fact we are white and stand out like sore thumbs, but also being in a situation like this where you don't speak the language you feel just that more helpless. Thanks to Natalie and her amazing observation skills and something of an internal compass, we made it to Sari Bari. Only 30 minutes late, too. Not that bad. But seriously. The men today...no words. Complete picture, complete picture.
I'm ready for the women to take their voice here in India. All of them.
In addition to all this, I want to tell a small story from our Mama T's visit yesterday. Mita, who is one of my favorite kids at Shishu Bahvan, is blind. Because of that (in combination with mental disabilities) she has been slow to stand, slow to walk, and speak. But yesterday as we sat down with the kids to sing the morning songs, Mita scooted herself over to Natalie and sat in her lap. After a little time, she used Natalie's arms to stand and lean against her. Then Mita started falling forward and backward. Of course, as she fell forward, Natalie would have her arms stretched out to catch her, but Mita didn't know that. Mita trusted that. She cannot see...literally, but had faith that she wouldn't fall when she was in the arms of someone she knows loves her. So many lessons to be learned from these kids. It's beautiful. Since when am I that trusting? I'm blind of the path that the Lord has laid before me, but I still tend to do what I can to mold and shape it, because I fail to have the faith his arms are there to catch me. Lessons.
Tuesday, December 6
Denying Myself
Since when do I do this?
Not often. I just need to admit that I need to do this a lot more often. In so many ways.
I don't need all of the ice cream chocolate sundaes that I have found myself desiring in this city. Why? Not because it's a treat and calories (that's ridiculous), but because indulgence in something steals the celebration, as my team leader spoke so perfectly to me.
The Lord wants us to enjoy things, He loves to bless us - but I abuse that.
I was sitting at McDonald's the other day eating the fourth chocolate sundae I've allowed myself to have in this city and I realized the reason it's so darn good every time I have it is not because it's all that good in itself, but it's because I haven't run it in the ground. The Theory of Diminishing Returns is the only thing that I remember from economics in my freshman year in college. I found it so interesting. My professor used beer as the example which was beyond appropriate for his college audience, but also makes the point a bit more obviously than other examples might. Basically what he got around to saying is that yes beer number 1, and number 2 may be great for the one consuming, but you get to beer number 3 and things aren't all that "original", beer number 4 and so on just keep getting less entertaining because it's always the same thing...it no longer sparks our interest, and then if you keep going you eventually get to the beer that sets you over the limit and you get sick. Let's not try this at home, folks :). So as you go on, the return on consumption drops. What does this mean for me and ice cream or whatever other treat, not necessarily food - it can be anything, that I want? It means if I always get it whenever I want, over time it provides less than I expect it to. I'm not receiving full enjoyment from any of the treats I'm consuming, because as time goes on and my consumption increases, the returns are diminishing. Each one is providing less and less. This quite nicely proves the point that things cannot satisfy - only Jesus, but that's a whole different topic in itself. (Side note to all the economic peeps reading: sorry for butchering that theory, but just as the English kids out there forgiving my mistakes - please do the same.)
God created those little joys in life to provide enjoyment and celebration, not indulgence. But so often we blur that line. We tend to over-do the things we enjoy, which only leads to less and less returns on it. Sadly, this starts a vicious cycle of trying to make up for the last short-lived enjoyment by buying/consuming yet another and then another and then another and then another. And then we are only consumers. We are not people who celebrate or receive life from something...which would produce a natural turning and praising the Father for that goodness like He desires. But instead we become people who want and get...no time to turn and praise the Father in those cases...I'm too busy trying to get my fix again.
Last year during Lent, I gave up coffee. This was the first Lent I've ever partaken in, but at that time I felt the Lord calling me to deny myself from something...and He didn't mean chores...it was something that I enjoyed. It was hard, but I did it. And now after processing all of this dealing with celebration and indulgence, I realize why that first cappuccino after Lent was pretty much the tastiest I've ever consumed. Makes sense. Wow, the Lord is pretty complex...working all that out then and me learning this lesson here. Crazy.
This place, these people (speaking of my community) has really taught me what it means to celebrate and not indulge. It's beautiful. And there is so much more enjoyment in things. That's the way Jesus intended things to be. In denying myself, life changes from being about me trying to please myself, to enjoying the sweet, sweet things that the good Lord has graced our lives with and being beyond thankful for Him providing those things. It's so stinking awesome!
The Lord does seem to always put things upside down:
The first will be last, the last will be first.
Those who are humbled will be exalted, those who exalt themselves will be humbled.
Those who give their lives will receive it, those who hold to their lives will lose it.
Now He has taught me that in denying myself I will receive a much more grand return and in seeking to always indulge I will lose so much return. Funny.
Not often. I just need to admit that I need to do this a lot more often. In so many ways.
I don't need all of the ice cream chocolate sundaes that I have found myself desiring in this city. Why? Not because it's a treat and calories (that's ridiculous), but because indulgence in something steals the celebration, as my team leader spoke so perfectly to me.
The Lord wants us to enjoy things, He loves to bless us - but I abuse that.
I was sitting at McDonald's the other day eating the fourth chocolate sundae I've allowed myself to have in this city and I realized the reason it's so darn good every time I have it is not because it's all that good in itself, but it's because I haven't run it in the ground. The Theory of Diminishing Returns is the only thing that I remember from economics in my freshman year in college. I found it so interesting. My professor used beer as the example which was beyond appropriate for his college audience, but also makes the point a bit more obviously than other examples might. Basically what he got around to saying is that yes beer number 1, and number 2 may be great for the one consuming, but you get to beer number 3 and things aren't all that "original", beer number 4 and so on just keep getting less entertaining because it's always the same thing...it no longer sparks our interest, and then if you keep going you eventually get to the beer that sets you over the limit and you get sick. Let's not try this at home, folks :). So as you go on, the return on consumption drops. What does this mean for me and ice cream or whatever other treat, not necessarily food - it can be anything, that I want? It means if I always get it whenever I want, over time it provides less than I expect it to. I'm not receiving full enjoyment from any of the treats I'm consuming, because as time goes on and my consumption increases, the returns are diminishing. Each one is providing less and less. This quite nicely proves the point that things cannot satisfy - only Jesus, but that's a whole different topic in itself. (Side note to all the economic peeps reading: sorry for butchering that theory, but just as the English kids out there forgiving my mistakes - please do the same.)
God created those little joys in life to provide enjoyment and celebration, not indulgence. But so often we blur that line. We tend to over-do the things we enjoy, which only leads to less and less returns on it. Sadly, this starts a vicious cycle of trying to make up for the last short-lived enjoyment by buying/consuming yet another and then another and then another and then another. And then we are only consumers. We are not people who celebrate or receive life from something...which would produce a natural turning and praising the Father for that goodness like He desires. But instead we become people who want and get...no time to turn and praise the Father in those cases...I'm too busy trying to get my fix again.
Last year during Lent, I gave up coffee. This was the first Lent I've ever partaken in, but at that time I felt the Lord calling me to deny myself from something...and He didn't mean chores...it was something that I enjoyed. It was hard, but I did it. And now after processing all of this dealing with celebration and indulgence, I realize why that first cappuccino after Lent was pretty much the tastiest I've ever consumed. Makes sense. Wow, the Lord is pretty complex...working all that out then and me learning this lesson here. Crazy.
This place, these people (speaking of my community) has really taught me what it means to celebrate and not indulge. It's beautiful. And there is so much more enjoyment in things. That's the way Jesus intended things to be. In denying myself, life changes from being about me trying to please myself, to enjoying the sweet, sweet things that the good Lord has graced our lives with and being beyond thankful for Him providing those things. It's so stinking awesome!
The Lord does seem to always put things upside down:
The first will be last, the last will be first.
Those who are humbled will be exalted, those who exalt themselves will be humbled.
Those who give their lives will receive it, those who hold to their lives will lose it.
Now He has taught me that in denying myself I will receive a much more grand return and in seeking to always indulge I will lose so much return. Funny.
Saturday, December 3
There is something about this place.
Yesterday was so stinking awesome.
Started off the day witnessing an incredibly insane little scene. So there was a goat. This goat was wearing a sweater. A Christmas sweater. And this little Christmas sweater wearing goat was having a snack. But he wasn't having a snack from the trash on the side of the street like every other goat that I've seen. No, he was having a snack in a meat shop. A meat shop that had two...dead...goats hanging outside. A goat meat shop. And he was being fed a snack inside, while wearing a Christmas sweater. It was just way too much. That was just not okay. At least feed the poor thing on the street...not right beside his dead friends. And how could they pretend to care about keeping him warm in this weather, when really they are going to hang him up soon. I don't get it. Haha.
That's not the best. That was just funny, so I had to say it. The greatest event of the day was the organization's Christmas party! It was so, so, so, so beautiful. Not only was the entire staff there, but also their families. The kids and the husbands of the Indian staff got to attend. It was so stinking cool. I have only been here for three months, but it felt like home...it felt like family. The Lord has truly blessed us with that during the holiday seasons that we are missing. Yes, we are away from home. Yes, we are away from family. But really we have a new home...a place and people we love and serve. And we have a family...the family of Christ shines so brightly in this circle. It's truly beautiful, and for a time I've been blessed to be a part of it. We went to this super sweet restaurant...with amazing Indian food. It was never-ending rice, luchee, dal, and and like a thousand vegetable options. Heaven. Minus that one dessert that made my numb mouth with the speck of a bite I took. The Indians all ate it in one bite. I don't understand. We started the celebration with going around and saying something we've learned/that was good about this past year. Incredible. Of course, we were the only kids to speak in English, but we understood the Bangla (which is such a blessing). It was a lovely time. After that, we were all gifted with Christmas presents. I'm the new owner of an absolutely beautiful sari. Not only was I overjoyed to have a sari to wear to the Sari Bari Christmas parties, but but but - it is a red, black, and cream swirly design, very elegant (much more than I can describe), and it has peacock feathers on it. Oh my, it's amazing. After the outing our host mom was teaching us how to put it on...yep, it's difficult. But I'm so, so, so excited for those parties. They do mark the end of our time at Sari Bari, so they can come slowly, but I'm looking forward to those beautiful days of celebration. Anyways, afterward dinner we all took advantage of our moments of being "fixed up" and took some photos. We got one of the family...and by that I mean us servant team and our host family. We are getting it printed and framed to give to them for Christmas. So excited about that. Last night the dad gave us a talk that sorta felt like he was giving us permission to leave. I don't mean that like it sounds...it was more like him saying that they understand we have a home back there and it's important for us to be there...even though daily the sadness of our absence is mentioned in some form. Of course talk of it made me bust into tears, which also lead to our host mom crying. It hurts at times. But there's so much peace in it. Peace in the fact that God is the Father of us all. He's led us hear to learn the hearts of our brothers and sisters, but to learn, grow, and change, and then carry that on to whatever he has next. As my team leader said to me the other day "this is not the end of the story." It was so good to have that spoken over me. It's true. There's peace that yes...these days are joy and that will end, but there's more to come.
It was a lovely night. All gathering. All celebrating. Things like that just fill my soul.
Today was filled with things as well...sweet words, and gestures in the moments that our confused faces give away the fact we aren't understanding their Bangla.
This morning our language teacher, who is a manager for Sari Bari, told us that every night she prays we come back to be on staff here. She said she hasn't given her heart to people that come, because it's too difficult to watch them leave. She hasn't allow herself to be too emotionally involved in the past, but she said for us, she couldn't help it. She's come to love us deeply. It's sad to go. It's terribly sad to go. But it's beautiful knowing that we're all in this family...the family of Christ, and eternity holds a beautiful future for us all...together. I cannot wait to have my hands lifted high in worship of our God beside these people. So cool.
On our walk home from the metro, we've made three different groups of friends. The first being who we call "cigarette lady", because she sells cigarettes. Today she stopped us and talked for about five minutes straight...without taking a breath. After that, I concluded she thinks we understand so much more Bangla than we do. But that's okay. Towards the end we could pick up on it. She was saying how she wants a photo with us so when we aren't here anymore she has that to look at (she's resorted to this...in the beginning she told me I couldn't leave...my family had to come here...and she couldn't come with me because she doesn't have a passport - haha). She was also incredibly concerned that we had plans to go back to America without saying bye. Apparently, she wants us to stop one day for a long time and share Bengali sweets with her. That will be fun. And right before we left, she gave us some cookies, which she would not take money for! We kept trying to give it to her and she was like, "if you do, I'm throwing it into the street." Haha. She's serious, too. She's hardcore. She sells cigarettes. From there we walk about 2 minutes and end up at the stand of our friend that we've named "cha lady". As soon as we walk up, she says "bosho!", which means "sit!" So we sit, and then she gives us something to eat...samosa or a mishti of some sort, and then usually cha. Today I tried to tell her that she cannot give us more snacks, because she has given so much, but she's Indian...that will not work. She said "No, not too much...you are my friend!" So of course we took it. She's so kind. And so cool...she has a strength about her...it's awesome. We told her we would see her later and headed home, only to pass one of our friends that lives across the street (a male, but definitely not interested in our kind, as in women - so it's safe). He stopped us to tell us that when we first arrived in the neighborhood we looked and acted like foreigners, but as we left the house yesterday evening we looked "khub shundor", or beautiful, and walked with the attitude of Indians. He said we are no longer the bideshis, we are Indians. That was cool. Like that guy...and his level of excitement.
We have met some great folks here.
Thankful for them. So thankful - for every one of them. And the blessing they are in my life.
Started off the day witnessing an incredibly insane little scene. So there was a goat. This goat was wearing a sweater. A Christmas sweater. And this little Christmas sweater wearing goat was having a snack. But he wasn't having a snack from the trash on the side of the street like every other goat that I've seen. No, he was having a snack in a meat shop. A meat shop that had two...dead...goats hanging outside. A goat meat shop. And he was being fed a snack inside, while wearing a Christmas sweater. It was just way too much. That was just not okay. At least feed the poor thing on the street...not right beside his dead friends. And how could they pretend to care about keeping him warm in this weather, when really they are going to hang him up soon. I don't get it. Haha.
That's not the best. That was just funny, so I had to say it. The greatest event of the day was the organization's Christmas party! It was so, so, so, so beautiful. Not only was the entire staff there, but also their families. The kids and the husbands of the Indian staff got to attend. It was so stinking cool. I have only been here for three months, but it felt like home...it felt like family. The Lord has truly blessed us with that during the holiday seasons that we are missing. Yes, we are away from home. Yes, we are away from family. But really we have a new home...a place and people we love and serve. And we have a family...the family of Christ shines so brightly in this circle. It's truly beautiful, and for a time I've been blessed to be a part of it. We went to this super sweet restaurant...with amazing Indian food. It was never-ending rice, luchee, dal, and and like a thousand vegetable options. Heaven. Minus that one dessert that made my numb mouth with the speck of a bite I took. The Indians all ate it in one bite. I don't understand. We started the celebration with going around and saying something we've learned/that was good about this past year. Incredible. Of course, we were the only kids to speak in English, but we understood the Bangla (which is such a blessing). It was a lovely time. After that, we were all gifted with Christmas presents. I'm the new owner of an absolutely beautiful sari. Not only was I overjoyed to have a sari to wear to the Sari Bari Christmas parties, but but but - it is a red, black, and cream swirly design, very elegant (much more than I can describe), and it has peacock feathers on it. Oh my, it's amazing. After the outing our host mom was teaching us how to put it on...yep, it's difficult. But I'm so, so, so excited for those parties. They do mark the end of our time at Sari Bari, so they can come slowly, but I'm looking forward to those beautiful days of celebration. Anyways, afterward dinner we all took advantage of our moments of being "fixed up" and took some photos. We got one of the family...and by that I mean us servant team and our host family. We are getting it printed and framed to give to them for Christmas. So excited about that. Last night the dad gave us a talk that sorta felt like he was giving us permission to leave. I don't mean that like it sounds...it was more like him saying that they understand we have a home back there and it's important for us to be there...even though daily the sadness of our absence is mentioned in some form. Of course talk of it made me bust into tears, which also lead to our host mom crying. It hurts at times. But there's so much peace in it. Peace in the fact that God is the Father of us all. He's led us hear to learn the hearts of our brothers and sisters, but to learn, grow, and change, and then carry that on to whatever he has next. As my team leader said to me the other day "this is not the end of the story." It was so good to have that spoken over me. It's true. There's peace that yes...these days are joy and that will end, but there's more to come.
It was a lovely night. All gathering. All celebrating. Things like that just fill my soul.
Today was filled with things as well...sweet words, and gestures in the moments that our confused faces give away the fact we aren't understanding their Bangla.
This morning our language teacher, who is a manager for Sari Bari, told us that every night she prays we come back to be on staff here. She said she hasn't given her heart to people that come, because it's too difficult to watch them leave. She hasn't allow herself to be too emotionally involved in the past, but she said for us, she couldn't help it. She's come to love us deeply. It's sad to go. It's terribly sad to go. But it's beautiful knowing that we're all in this family...the family of Christ, and eternity holds a beautiful future for us all...together. I cannot wait to have my hands lifted high in worship of our God beside these people. So cool.
On our walk home from the metro, we've made three different groups of friends. The first being who we call "cigarette lady", because she sells cigarettes. Today she stopped us and talked for about five minutes straight...without taking a breath. After that, I concluded she thinks we understand so much more Bangla than we do. But that's okay. Towards the end we could pick up on it. She was saying how she wants a photo with us so when we aren't here anymore she has that to look at (she's resorted to this...in the beginning she told me I couldn't leave...my family had to come here...and she couldn't come with me because she doesn't have a passport - haha). She was also incredibly concerned that we had plans to go back to America without saying bye. Apparently, she wants us to stop one day for a long time and share Bengali sweets with her. That will be fun. And right before we left, she gave us some cookies, which she would not take money for! We kept trying to give it to her and she was like, "if you do, I'm throwing it into the street." Haha. She's serious, too. She's hardcore. She sells cigarettes. From there we walk about 2 minutes and end up at the stand of our friend that we've named "cha lady". As soon as we walk up, she says "bosho!", which means "sit!" So we sit, and then she gives us something to eat...samosa or a mishti of some sort, and then usually cha. Today I tried to tell her that she cannot give us more snacks, because she has given so much, but she's Indian...that will not work. She said "No, not too much...you are my friend!" So of course we took it. She's so kind. And so cool...she has a strength about her...it's awesome. We told her we would see her later and headed home, only to pass one of our friends that lives across the street (a male, but definitely not interested in our kind, as in women - so it's safe). He stopped us to tell us that when we first arrived in the neighborhood we looked and acted like foreigners, but as we left the house yesterday evening we looked "khub shundor", or beautiful, and walked with the attitude of Indians. He said we are no longer the bideshis, we are Indians. That was cool. Like that guy...and his level of excitement.
We have met some great folks here.
Thankful for them. So thankful - for every one of them. And the blessing they are in my life.
Wednesday, November 30
Stepping out from underneath of that black cloud...
Today at our book discussion, my team leader said something that really made me think back to the beginning of my time here. It was incredibly difficult. The first month of my time here made me think the end might never come. I struggled with so many things in so many ways. Then, I completely credited every bit of the struggle to culture shock. But now, I'm not so sure. After weeks and weeks of existing in this city, seeing poverty in ways I never have before, and encountering brokenness in ways that have wounded my heart, I've had a mirror held up to my heart and my life. I can no longer claim ignorance and continue living as I always have. So, what are we...13 weeks into this journey? Yep, 13 weeks. After 13 weeks, I can very clearly see that first month not as a month of culture shock, but as a month of withdrawals. I was experiencing withdrawals from the richness in which I live in in America. I missed my cute clothes, I missed my make-up, I missed my comfortable bed, I missed my cute wall decorations, I missed my air conditioner, I missed my familiar foods, I missed clean streets, I missed the part of the world I've been grown to see as the only part of the world. I thought I needed all those things. I equated all of that with happiness. With worth. With the way life should be. In fact, before I came...I was building in my mind the cutest little apartment that would be mine when I return home and move to Dallas. Ya know, since I'll have a big girl job and be able to afford all of those grand things...why not buy it all? Now I have a million and one reasons not to. I do still miss all of those things, but they don't hold the value they once did. They're not actually important at all. It's been a really cool thing to see that once I starved myself of all of those things, I realized I don't need any of them. Once I "sacrificed" those things to come here, I realized I wasn't really sacrificing anything like I thought I was. Now that I've been shown this, now that the withdrawals are over...I've stepped out from underneath that black cloud that was shadowing the sun above. No light was coming in, because that stupid huge black cloud of misplaced priorities was hanging above me. It sorta feels like I shed the chains holding me to this world. Honestly, I have understood life as how to meet my own needs, failing to really see the needs of the people with less in this world. I had chains. I had a black cloud. And I was failing to love well.
Sider, who wrote Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger, said something along the lines of even the greatest of possessions is worth far less than the least cherished life. It's so true. I don't need worldly junk...there's way too many lives that are being lost daily for the dumbest reasons. Hunger. Preventable diseases. Genocide. And the list goes on and on. Because my cloud was shadowing my view of the world, I had no light to see my brother or sister in need. Maybe they are in the next country, or perhaps across the street. Regardless they are there...ignorance cannot be my excuse.
So then we went on to talk about if failing to assist the poor was a sin. I truly believe so. If you've opened your bible as of late, I'm sure you read something that was a picture of the Lord's heart for the poor. Let's just check out 1 John 3:17: "If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?" Ouch. That's serious business. Or what about Matthew 25...31-46, but here is verse 40: "The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'" Jesus takes it personal when we give of fail to give to the least of these. Releasing the possessions I thought were key to life, really allows me to spend my resources providing life instead of attempting to satisfy the insatiable monster of consumerism.
So then we went on to talk about if failing to assist the poor was a sin. I truly believe so. If you've opened your bible as of late, I'm sure you read something that was a picture of the Lord's heart for the poor. Let's just check out 1 John 3:17: "If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?" Ouch. That's serious business. Or what about Matthew 25...31-46, but here is verse 40: "The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'" Jesus takes it personal when we give of fail to give to the least of these. Releasing the possessions I thought were key to life, really allows me to spend my resources providing life instead of attempting to satisfy the insatiable monster of consumerism.
I didn't know I was so attached to my "things" until the light had space to shine and that cloud moved on. Praise the Lord for that. It's such a freedom to see the worth of things I thought were necessary to life diminish to nothing. Excited to strive for a life of open hands. I'll need Jesus every day in that, but if I could get it all right on my own anyways, Jesus' life was pointless...and it totally wasn't. Freedom. Mmmm, such a sweet taste.
Here's a cool video. Takes some time, but sheds some good light:
The Story of Stuff
Here's a cool video. Takes some time, but sheds some good light:
The Story of Stuff
Tuesday, November 29
Disciplines
My new favorite food...chingri mach malai curry. Talk about bomb.
So this past weekend, we had the lovely gift of being fed and entertained by one of the Sari Bari managers. She and her husband recently had a baby, so she hasn't been at work; this was my first time to meet her. They invited us out to their home in a village outside of Kolkata, which was an absolute blessing because the villages are so peaceful. They are incredible people. I had never met either one of them, but they felt like strangers for about a whole 2 minutes, and from then on it felt like a group of friends just hanging out. They are a precious couple with an adorable baby...this family is going to do great things. Anyways, we had amazing food...her mother made chingri mach (shrimp) malai curry and it was the most delicious thing I've ever had. I got the recipe - yep, yep I did. But I always feel so loved by the families here and their hospitality. It's always a blessing. Of course, I felt like my stomach was going to explode, which isn't pleasant, but it's how they show love...so I'll take it.
I think one (yes, just one) of the things that I've learned from these people is how conditional or limited my love is. I don't really know how to explain it. I mean I don't really even understand the debt of it, but I see them love without end and it really makes me question how selfish my giving/loving is. For example, when we went to this family's house (and same case in the first family that hosted us), the family serves us at least two times over, puts us to rest (literally they give you a bed and say "rest"), and then they will eat. They assure their guests are completely finished, completely full before they ever touch the food. It's so giving. I'm gonna go ahead and say if I have guests over, I'm gonna be like "make sure you leave me some of those mashed potatoes...I worked hard on those and I dang sure want some." For real! I am amazed by how unconditional their love is...I didn't do anything to earn that family's love...I just met them. It's beautiful. I only wish love flowed from me that freely. That will be a life-long discipline for me.
And this also leads me to something I've realized during my time here. It is so hard for me to receive. I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to just willing accept someone's kindness in gifts or action...I just don't. I will deny, deny, deny, and if they've pushed that far, they must actually want to give it, so I'll let them. That's the thing for me...I think I know deep down I'm poor at actually wanting to give things. It may be too costly or too much effort, therefore I assume that's the case for others and I try to let them off the hook before they have to get their hands dirty and do something nice for me. Or it could be a pride thing..."no, really...I can do this on my own". I would say either or both of these is the case for most Americans. We give out of obligation and not out of desire or we want to claim full independence, so when we reach the top all the glory is ours...or we die trying an incredibly stubborn individual and like it that way, because we can still claim independence. I'm not saying this is always the case, but let's be honest...they've both entered our hearts and minds. Either that or I just confessed to being a really mean person. But being here has taught me how to receive. I've learned how to accept blessings...great and small. Sometimes, it's difficult, because I know that these people work incredibly hard for what they gift me with, but the thing is...they want to do it. They truly want to give...and in return, they only want you to accept. It's humbling. All of it. To be blessed by someone with less "buying power" (if you will) than I, and to realize how small my own heart is.
-------
And today I realized something so simple, a foundation to faith, but in different words and spoken directly to my heart that gave me so much peace. First and foremost...emotions do not speak the truth. I don't think I've ever really come to that conclusion before...maybe in a round-about way, but still never so clearly spoken. I get caught up in the "feelings" of my relationship with Christ. I'm a feeler...hardcore, so that's not a surprise. But sadly I've let that dictate so many of my thoughts and truly control my life. So often I "feel" far from the Lord...even in times I'm not stuck in some sin or walking through a crap season in life...I just, again, "feel" stale about things. For so long, I've let that "feeling" make me think the Lord has sort of just up and left me. Maybe because I don't have things right (truth is, I never will) but that's just an emotion and it isn't speaking honestly. I may have walls up or ice around my heart that the Lord needs to tear down or melt, and I pray by His power he does so, but those "feelings" are not a reflection or where Christ stands in relation to me. It only takes me seeking His face and it will be revealed, because He is there. He hasn't abandoned me. He's right where He has always been and will always be - holding my hand. It is a discipline to choose to see God, even when whatever I'm feeling wants to convince me he is not there.
And the other day I realized that the ugly days in life...the ones I felt like God checked out on...have only affirmed His presence in my life, not his absence. His hand was and is and will always be there.
-------
My mom put it beautifully in an e-mail she sent when she said something along the lines of "our hearts hurt over the ugly things, because our hearts do not belong to us anymore...they are the heart of Christ...and he hurts over those things."
I tend to have the burden to make right every wrong, heal every wound, and love every unloved...I want to fix the never-ending list of issues this world has. I hear about hungry children, okay then let's go feed them. I hear about abused children, okay then let's go pull them away from those abusers and start a healing process. I hear about women and all the crap they take from men, and I want to find someway to change all that. I hear about all of the injustice in the world and I want to fix it all. I want to be on every team healing people in every nation, but the truth is I can't do that...I'm not God. I see all of those issues continuing to exist and feel helpless and burdened. But as I sat in church two days ago thinking about this, I felt the Lord's peace. He doesn't want me weighed down by the ugliness of the world...it's not my burden to carry. I need to shed that weight and pass it on to the Lord who has already come to provide a cure for the brokenness. So then I think about how I need to hand that to the Lord. What does that even look like? I'm not sure...I don't have that mastered (and won't), but I do know what it doesn't look like. I know it doesn't look like me failing to pray for those things. It doesn't look like me claiming to lay it at the foot of the cross and the walking on in life like I never encountered it. It doesn't look like me pretending I feel peace about it when I'm really torn up inside. I don't know know the balance. I don't know how to surrender it, but still carry the responsibility of pleading those causes to the Father. It's a battle for me. This will always be a developing discipline...surrendering the weight and the cause, but not pardoning myself to live as if it doesn't exist. But regardless of how well or poorly I do this, I hold to the fact His plan is better than mine. Know the victory is His and the darkness is overcome.
John 16:33
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."
Those are words straight from the mouth of Jesus...they can be trusted.
-------
I write all these things and at the end realize I'm the creation of great God who doesn't know how to love well, lets my stupid emotions get in the way of my sight of that God, and struggle with the difference between surrendering and forgetting. It's a good thing God sent that Jesus guy down...I need both the saving and the example. Also, thank goodness I'm called to disciplines...I sure don't want to be that person in James 1:22-24 (at least not for my life)...I have been at times, but the Holy Spirit freely showers conviction and open your eyes when you pray for it. I can say that from experience. :)
-------
And I just have to end this blog with the story about the wedding that interrupted my writing of this blog. Good heavens...talk about a celebration. I heard drums for about 5 minutes and then decided to walk out to the balcony to see what was happening: a wedding, not to be confused with a parade. Drums, dancers, lights, decorated cars...you know, the whole package. That was annoying. I had to yell at the girl in the room with me for her to be able to hear me. India, you are something else.
-------
Prayer requests...
I feel kind of thin. I'm trying to wrap up my time here - but still live in every moment, prepare for my return to America - but not exist there just yet, and still love all across the board. I feel like I'm being pulled in a ton of directions right now. I don't know if my heart has that many compartments. Just be praying for all of this. I've grown so much in my faith and as a person since I've been here, but I sorta feel like a t-shirt being wrung out a hundred times over. I also know that in my attempt to prepare for things that hurt me, I tend to shut down. Please be praying against that...I don't need my heart to leave here any earlier than I do. This journey home will be just as difficult as my arrival here, so please pray for all of it. I want every second here to pass so much slower than a normal second, but it wont, so I need to hold tight to every moment and also look to the coming days out of this city - pray the Lord directs me in this. I'm with an amazing organization that pours so much back into us. We have a debriefing retreat scheduled for a few days before we leave...be praying that time is productive for all of us.
So this past weekend, we had the lovely gift of being fed and entertained by one of the Sari Bari managers. She and her husband recently had a baby, so she hasn't been at work; this was my first time to meet her. They invited us out to their home in a village outside of Kolkata, which was an absolute blessing because the villages are so peaceful. They are incredible people. I had never met either one of them, but they felt like strangers for about a whole 2 minutes, and from then on it felt like a group of friends just hanging out. They are a precious couple with an adorable baby...this family is going to do great things. Anyways, we had amazing food...her mother made chingri mach (shrimp) malai curry and it was the most delicious thing I've ever had. I got the recipe - yep, yep I did. But I always feel so loved by the families here and their hospitality. It's always a blessing. Of course, I felt like my stomach was going to explode, which isn't pleasant, but it's how they show love...so I'll take it.
I think one (yes, just one) of the things that I've learned from these people is how conditional or limited my love is. I don't really know how to explain it. I mean I don't really even understand the debt of it, but I see them love without end and it really makes me question how selfish my giving/loving is. For example, when we went to this family's house (and same case in the first family that hosted us), the family serves us at least two times over, puts us to rest (literally they give you a bed and say "rest"), and then they will eat. They assure their guests are completely finished, completely full before they ever touch the food. It's so giving. I'm gonna go ahead and say if I have guests over, I'm gonna be like "make sure you leave me some of those mashed potatoes...I worked hard on those and I dang sure want some." For real! I am amazed by how unconditional their love is...I didn't do anything to earn that family's love...I just met them. It's beautiful. I only wish love flowed from me that freely. That will be a life-long discipline for me.
And this also leads me to something I've realized during my time here. It is so hard for me to receive. I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to just willing accept someone's kindness in gifts or action...I just don't. I will deny, deny, deny, and if they've pushed that far, they must actually want to give it, so I'll let them. That's the thing for me...I think I know deep down I'm poor at actually wanting to give things. It may be too costly or too much effort, therefore I assume that's the case for others and I try to let them off the hook before they have to get their hands dirty and do something nice for me. Or it could be a pride thing..."no, really...I can do this on my own". I would say either or both of these is the case for most Americans. We give out of obligation and not out of desire or we want to claim full independence, so when we reach the top all the glory is ours...or we die trying an incredibly stubborn individual and like it that way, because we can still claim independence. I'm not saying this is always the case, but let's be honest...they've both entered our hearts and minds. Either that or I just confessed to being a really mean person. But being here has taught me how to receive. I've learned how to accept blessings...great and small. Sometimes, it's difficult, because I know that these people work incredibly hard for what they gift me with, but the thing is...they want to do it. They truly want to give...and in return, they only want you to accept. It's humbling. All of it. To be blessed by someone with less "buying power" (if you will) than I, and to realize how small my own heart is.
-------
And today I realized something so simple, a foundation to faith, but in different words and spoken directly to my heart that gave me so much peace. First and foremost...emotions do not speak the truth. I don't think I've ever really come to that conclusion before...maybe in a round-about way, but still never so clearly spoken. I get caught up in the "feelings" of my relationship with Christ. I'm a feeler...hardcore, so that's not a surprise. But sadly I've let that dictate so many of my thoughts and truly control my life. So often I "feel" far from the Lord...even in times I'm not stuck in some sin or walking through a crap season in life...I just, again, "feel" stale about things. For so long, I've let that "feeling" make me think the Lord has sort of just up and left me. Maybe because I don't have things right (truth is, I never will) but that's just an emotion and it isn't speaking honestly. I may have walls up or ice around my heart that the Lord needs to tear down or melt, and I pray by His power he does so, but those "feelings" are not a reflection or where Christ stands in relation to me. It only takes me seeking His face and it will be revealed, because He is there. He hasn't abandoned me. He's right where He has always been and will always be - holding my hand. It is a discipline to choose to see God, even when whatever I'm feeling wants to convince me he is not there.
And the other day I realized that the ugly days in life...the ones I felt like God checked out on...have only affirmed His presence in my life, not his absence. His hand was and is and will always be there.
-------
My mom put it beautifully in an e-mail she sent when she said something along the lines of "our hearts hurt over the ugly things, because our hearts do not belong to us anymore...they are the heart of Christ...and he hurts over those things."
I tend to have the burden to make right every wrong, heal every wound, and love every unloved...I want to fix the never-ending list of issues this world has. I hear about hungry children, okay then let's go feed them. I hear about abused children, okay then let's go pull them away from those abusers and start a healing process. I hear about women and all the crap they take from men, and I want to find someway to change all that. I hear about all of the injustice in the world and I want to fix it all. I want to be on every team healing people in every nation, but the truth is I can't do that...I'm not God. I see all of those issues continuing to exist and feel helpless and burdened. But as I sat in church two days ago thinking about this, I felt the Lord's peace. He doesn't want me weighed down by the ugliness of the world...it's not my burden to carry. I need to shed that weight and pass it on to the Lord who has already come to provide a cure for the brokenness. So then I think about how I need to hand that to the Lord. What does that even look like? I'm not sure...I don't have that mastered (and won't), but I do know what it doesn't look like. I know it doesn't look like me failing to pray for those things. It doesn't look like me claiming to lay it at the foot of the cross and the walking on in life like I never encountered it. It doesn't look like me pretending I feel peace about it when I'm really torn up inside. I don't know know the balance. I don't know how to surrender it, but still carry the responsibility of pleading those causes to the Father. It's a battle for me. This will always be a developing discipline...surrendering the weight and the cause, but not pardoning myself to live as if it doesn't exist. But regardless of how well or poorly I do this, I hold to the fact His plan is better than mine. Know the victory is His and the darkness is overcome.
John 16:33
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."
Those are words straight from the mouth of Jesus...they can be trusted.
-------
I write all these things and at the end realize I'm the creation of great God who doesn't know how to love well, lets my stupid emotions get in the way of my sight of that God, and struggle with the difference between surrendering and forgetting. It's a good thing God sent that Jesus guy down...I need both the saving and the example. Also, thank goodness I'm called to disciplines...I sure don't want to be that person in James 1:22-24 (at least not for my life)...I have been at times, but the Holy Spirit freely showers conviction and open your eyes when you pray for it. I can say that from experience. :)
-------
And I just have to end this blog with the story about the wedding that interrupted my writing of this blog. Good heavens...talk about a celebration. I heard drums for about 5 minutes and then decided to walk out to the balcony to see what was happening: a wedding, not to be confused with a parade. Drums, dancers, lights, decorated cars...you know, the whole package. That was annoying. I had to yell at the girl in the room with me for her to be able to hear me. India, you are something else.
-------
Prayer requests...
I feel kind of thin. I'm trying to wrap up my time here - but still live in every moment, prepare for my return to America - but not exist there just yet, and still love all across the board. I feel like I'm being pulled in a ton of directions right now. I don't know if my heart has that many compartments. Just be praying for all of this. I've grown so much in my faith and as a person since I've been here, but I sorta feel like a t-shirt being wrung out a hundred times over. I also know that in my attempt to prepare for things that hurt me, I tend to shut down. Please be praying against that...I don't need my heart to leave here any earlier than I do. This journey home will be just as difficult as my arrival here, so please pray for all of it. I want every second here to pass so much slower than a normal second, but it wont, so I need to hold tight to every moment and also look to the coming days out of this city - pray the Lord directs me in this. I'm with an amazing organization that pours so much back into us. We have a debriefing retreat scheduled for a few days before we leave...be praying that time is productive for all of us.
Saturday, November 26
Love journeys.
As I approach the final month of my time here, I'm already beginning to mourn the absence of these people in my life. It's something I don't really care to think about, but I'm down to 30-something days...time is passing quickly. A few days ago I started stressing. I felt like I would be leaving so much of myself here. Even though I haven't packed my bags to head home, I know that time is coming and it already feels like my heart is falling out of my chest. Yes, I'm a dramatic person, but this is for real. I feel a hollow spot in my chest when I think about leaving. It hurts. I have to hold on to the fact that Jesus gives us seasons. So yes, I will leave so much of my love here, but the truth is so much more love is going home with me. Just as the women of Sari Bari sew blankets, they have sewn love into my heart, the kids at Shishu Bahvan overwhelm my heart with so much joy at the sight of their smiling faces, and the family has provided more than just a roof and and food...they have been an anchor in this city and a picture of faith that I thought only truly existed in the Bible. So yes, I will feel as though my heart is staying here, but really it's going back filled to the brim. The sweet memories of this place and these people won't stay in India...that will forever be etched into my story. I will hold to that. This has been a season, but one of the most beautiful ones I've lived through. It's hurt in ways I can't explain, but it's blessed me in more ways that I could ever speak of. So as I prepare to leave during this last month, I will relish in the sweetness of each moment and hold to the fact that love will journey with me. There's no losing it.
Here's a short, short reflection on my time here and just my life in general that I journaled the other night...
"I realized tonight what great things, sorrows and blessings, the Lord has allowed me to see and experience. I've seen wounds created and healing grow up...in my own life, heart, and soul. I praise Him for that goodness. Now He has led me to India. I've learned an innumerable amount of lessons here, but primarily that of his never-ending grace and love. I've been blessed to see him redeem and create newness in the lives of the Sari Bari women...despite what ugly mess they have been dealt with in life. He does great things for all of His creation, collectively and individually. He provides healing...in America and India...for all those who pursue Him. I don't really have words to describe the magnitude in which He has changed me and my heart. But I speak truth when I say that He is the potter and I am the clay. Even when I'm not the best consistency to work with, He doesn't give up. He acts righteously at all times...and always with a purpose. It's beautiful. He's fashioning me to be a servant. He is continually opening my eyes to the world and it's brokenness, but showing me the good He does in the midst of that. He is giving me a desire to do His works, and providing a wholeness in my heart in that service. May I be ever-changing...to His likeness more and more. Steal all standstill, Lord."
Ephesians 2:22
And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.
He does this. By grace, I've been deemed worthy to be a dwelling of the Holy Spirit...a servant. He's done this work in Kolkata through the people I've grown to love and be loved by...they've built me up in ways I can't explain. And I've also seen him do it through mending the gaping wounds this world has left me with. He is a faithful Creator.
Here's a short, short reflection on my time here and just my life in general that I journaled the other night...
"I realized tonight what great things, sorrows and blessings, the Lord has allowed me to see and experience. I've seen wounds created and healing grow up...in my own life, heart, and soul. I praise Him for that goodness. Now He has led me to India. I've learned an innumerable amount of lessons here, but primarily that of his never-ending grace and love. I've been blessed to see him redeem and create newness in the lives of the Sari Bari women...despite what ugly mess they have been dealt with in life. He does great things for all of His creation, collectively and individually. He provides healing...in America and India...for all those who pursue Him. I don't really have words to describe the magnitude in which He has changed me and my heart. But I speak truth when I say that He is the potter and I am the clay. Even when I'm not the best consistency to work with, He doesn't give up. He acts righteously at all times...and always with a purpose. It's beautiful. He's fashioning me to be a servant. He is continually opening my eyes to the world and it's brokenness, but showing me the good He does in the midst of that. He is giving me a desire to do His works, and providing a wholeness in my heart in that service. May I be ever-changing...to His likeness more and more. Steal all standstill, Lord."
Ephesians 2:22
And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.
He does this. By grace, I've been deemed worthy to be a dwelling of the Holy Spirit...a servant. He's done this work in Kolkata through the people I've grown to love and be loved by...they've built me up in ways I can't explain. And I've also seen him do it through mending the gaping wounds this world has left me with. He is a faithful Creator.
Monday, November 21
Have an extra $25? Yes, I know you do. And I have a suggestion of where you should spend it...
Give the gift of freedom this year...
I have had the absolutely amazing opportunity of being a part of this Kolkata Servant Team, but as Erin said earlier today, "I've yet to serve, I've only been served." That's pure truth to be spoken of the Sari Bari ladies. They give and give and give. Whether it's half of their lunch, hand cream for my dry hands, a Bangla lesson, or just a sweet, sweet smile...they haven't stopped giving to us.
It's time for them to receive.
As you start preparing for this Christmas season, Sari Bari would like to encourage you to add one more thing to that shopping list of yours. We would love for you to join in and be a part of the Sari Bari Christmas Celebration! India is a land with seemingly endless religious festivals, and Christmas is an opportunity for us to clearly communicate the amazing truth that God became flesh and made his dwelling among us. At Sari Bari, there is a beautiful culture of celebration...and this time of year holds so much excitement for the family of Christ. Each woman will receive a new Sari and in addition to that, we will share a celebration meal, a sweet dance party, tons of laughter, and the truth of God with us. A gift of $25 will sponsor the Christmas Celebration for one member of the Sari Bari family. You can give so much to these ladies with $25, but the sweetest thing you give by participating in this is the message they are dearly loved. Something that you can never communicate too often to a group of ladies that pour out so much love themselves.
If you would like to celebrate with these ladies, you can make a donation by check to WMF, P.O. Box 70, Omaha, NE 68101. If you do so using this method, please include a separate piece of paper indicating the gift is for Sari Bari Christmas. Or you can visit WMF - Donate and give using any credit card. Again, please indicate the gift is for Sari Bari Christmas on-line.
I assume that if you are reading this, you've been following my journey here in Kolkata. You've read words that have been a weak representation of how lovely they really are, but nonetheless an attempt. You've read words about how they have cared for me time and time again, and how I've grown to love these women greatly. You've read about my time with them, and my involvement in their lives. Now it's time for you to be a part of their lives. This is your invitation. Take it. You will never see the blessing these ladies will experience because of your $25, but I can promise you, no one deserves it more.
Just in case you aren't familiar with Sari Bari, you can read about the purpose here: About Sari Bari.
70 women. Bless at least one this Christmas.
I have had the absolutely amazing opportunity of being a part of this Kolkata Servant Team, but as Erin said earlier today, "I've yet to serve, I've only been served." That's pure truth to be spoken of the Sari Bari ladies. They give and give and give. Whether it's half of their lunch, hand cream for my dry hands, a Bangla lesson, or just a sweet, sweet smile...they haven't stopped giving to us.
It's time for them to receive.
As you start preparing for this Christmas season, Sari Bari would like to encourage you to add one more thing to that shopping list of yours. We would love for you to join in and be a part of the Sari Bari Christmas Celebration! India is a land with seemingly endless religious festivals, and Christmas is an opportunity for us to clearly communicate the amazing truth that God became flesh and made his dwelling among us. At Sari Bari, there is a beautiful culture of celebration...and this time of year holds so much excitement for the family of Christ. Each woman will receive a new Sari and in addition to that, we will share a celebration meal, a sweet dance party, tons of laughter, and the truth of God with us. A gift of $25 will sponsor the Christmas Celebration for one member of the Sari Bari family. You can give so much to these ladies with $25, but the sweetest thing you give by participating in this is the message they are dearly loved. Something that you can never communicate too often to a group of ladies that pour out so much love themselves.
If you would like to celebrate with these ladies, you can make a donation by check to WMF, P.O. Box 70, Omaha, NE 68101. If you do so using this method, please include a separate piece of paper indicating the gift is for Sari Bari Christmas. Or you can visit WMF - Donate and give using any credit card. Again, please indicate the gift is for Sari Bari Christmas on-line.
I assume that if you are reading this, you've been following my journey here in Kolkata. You've read words that have been a weak representation of how lovely they really are, but nonetheless an attempt. You've read words about how they have cared for me time and time again, and how I've grown to love these women greatly. You've read about my time with them, and my involvement in their lives. Now it's time for you to be a part of their lives. This is your invitation. Take it. You will never see the blessing these ladies will experience because of your $25, but I can promise you, no one deserves it more.
Just in case you aren't familiar with Sari Bari, you can read about the purpose here: About Sari Bari.
70 women. Bless at least one this Christmas.
Friday, November 18
Hands and feet...working together as one body.
I got a couple e-mails in response to that last blog and just life in this city that have done my heart some good. Just wanted to share a little from one of them...
"Remember that our God has already won. He has defeated sin and death. He is victorious, even when our limited vision cannot begin to fathom that. The grave is empty, Taylor. Hold onto that because that is the only hope we have."
Thanks for the words, people. Good for my heart. We are called the body of Christ, as believers, because we each have individual places to serve and act, but also because we build one another up to form wholeness. I needed those words. Needed them to remember to keep heart and to continue with love.
Also, just happened to hear this in a random podcast I listened to. Austin Stone. Always good...
"The past. What God has done in the past should inform our present and future. There stands a faithful and loving God."
I forget too easily.
"Remember that our God has already won. He has defeated sin and death. He is victorious, even when our limited vision cannot begin to fathom that. The grave is empty, Taylor. Hold onto that because that is the only hope we have."
Thanks for the words, people. Good for my heart. We are called the body of Christ, as believers, because we each have individual places to serve and act, but also because we build one another up to form wholeness. I needed those words. Needed them to remember to keep heart and to continue with love.
Also, just happened to hear this in a random podcast I listened to. Austin Stone. Always good...
"The past. What God has done in the past should inform our present and future. There stands a faithful and loving God."
I forget too easily.
Weak.
Preface: I have limited sight, therefore I have limited faith. These words are proof of that.
There is pain in this world, so I'm consumed with nothing but the question of "why is this allowed?" and bitterness.
There is joy in this world, but I consumed with anything but the question of "why is this allowed?" and thanksgiving.
Where does that leave me?
A bitter, ungrateful creation. One that never fails to forget the joy, but refuses to release the pain.
Still, I will stand and say...
I'm ready for a victory.
I'm ready to see God win.
I'm ready for hopes to become a reality.
I'm ready for justice to be exercised, not just yearned for.
I'm ready for peace to be known by our hearts and our eyes...not just a prayer.
I'm ready for these ladies that I've grown to love to taste something besides the incessant bitter flavors of life.
I need not forget I only know to expect these, because I've been told they are approaching. I've been promised they are to be.
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer.
Romans 12:12
If this is what the Lord wants of me, I'm going to be honest...He needs to create it in me.
In this moment...
Hope feels too distant...so how can joy even be present?
Afflictions are plentiful...patience seems to only lead to an accumulation of more.
Prayer...I don't have words, so how can I be faithful in pouring out my requests in prayer to the Lord?
Sometimes, my faith just isn't capable of holding on to hope in the midst of afflictions. But that doesn't take away the fact He is worthy of my faith and capable of providing joy when afflictions come my way...or into the way of those I love dearly. He's proven it to me time and time again, but as humans we are forgetful creatures.
I am weak. My faith is weak.
He is strong, and His promises ring loud. I'm told to wait upon the Lord, but sometimes I wonder how much longer we need to wait. Regardless, I continue to wait. I continue to wait. I continue to wait. I know His words are true and His love is great. He does hurt more than I do over the sickness of this world. His heart does break more than mine over the ugly that sin produces. So I pray for forgiveness of my urgency to see His words turn to reality and for my moments of unbelief. And turn to thank Him for seeing fit to purchase this traitor's heart with Christ's innocent blood.
And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from you flesh and give you a heart of flesh.
Ezekiel 36:26
Thanks, God. I need that. I can't do it myself. And this heart of stone is heavy on my soul.
-----
Also, please give this beauty a listen. Twist on an old hymn. Pure delight. May these words be life.
There is pain in this world, so I'm consumed with nothing but the question of "why is this allowed?" and bitterness.
There is joy in this world, but I consumed with anything but the question of "why is this allowed?" and thanksgiving.
Where does that leave me?
A bitter, ungrateful creation. One that never fails to forget the joy, but refuses to release the pain.
Still, I will stand and say...
I'm ready for a victory.
I'm ready to see God win.
I'm ready for hopes to become a reality.
I'm ready for justice to be exercised, not just yearned for.
I'm ready for peace to be known by our hearts and our eyes...not just a prayer.
I'm ready for these ladies that I've grown to love to taste something besides the incessant bitter flavors of life.
I need not forget I only know to expect these, because I've been told they are approaching. I've been promised they are to be.
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer.
Romans 12:12
If this is what the Lord wants of me, I'm going to be honest...He needs to create it in me.
In this moment...
Hope feels too distant...so how can joy even be present?
Afflictions are plentiful...patience seems to only lead to an accumulation of more.
Prayer...I don't have words, so how can I be faithful in pouring out my requests in prayer to the Lord?
Sometimes, my faith just isn't capable of holding on to hope in the midst of afflictions. But that doesn't take away the fact He is worthy of my faith and capable of providing joy when afflictions come my way...or into the way of those I love dearly. He's proven it to me time and time again, but as humans we are forgetful creatures.
I am weak. My faith is weak.
He is strong, and His promises ring loud. I'm told to wait upon the Lord, but sometimes I wonder how much longer we need to wait. Regardless, I continue to wait. I continue to wait. I continue to wait. I know His words are true and His love is great. He does hurt more than I do over the sickness of this world. His heart does break more than mine over the ugly that sin produces. So I pray for forgiveness of my urgency to see His words turn to reality and for my moments of unbelief. And turn to thank Him for seeing fit to purchase this traitor's heart with Christ's innocent blood.
And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from you flesh and give you a heart of flesh.
Ezekiel 36:26
Thanks, God. I need that. I can't do it myself. And this heart of stone is heavy on my soul.
-----
Also, please give this beauty a listen. Twist on an old hymn. Pure delight. May these words be life.
Wednesday, November 16
This is what it's all about.
For every minute I spend cursing this city because of the ridiculous things that go on, I spend a hundred more being lavished in the love these people have to offer.
I'm really a part of this city. Not just a visitor.
I've sewn next to the ladies long enough that I'm no longer just someone there to offer a little help, but someone who wants to know them and know their work. I've cared for the kids at Shishu Bhavan long enough to know their precious hearts, not just know their disorders. I speak enough Bangla to communicate with friends and strangers. I've walked the same roads long enough for people to realize I'm not some tourist passing by. I've ridden the Monday 8:19 train enough Mondays to have made friends with a lady that either holds my bag or pushes people down to make room for me to sit.
This has been beautiful to realize.
It's all about the relationships. That is what grounds me to this place. I don't like this city. I would never desire to live here. But I love these people. And I would never desire to leave them. Sadly, that chapter will come. I know I've spoken this a million times before, but lately I've been worried about how I will mourn leaving these people. How I will heal the wounds that are left when they are missing from my life? I'm nervous for this. But I know the Lord has plans. He wouldn't be stirring so much in my heart if he didn't. Remind me of this if I forget when I'm home and crying to any of you reading this now.
Today, as me and Erin walked home from the metro, we stopped at a little simosa and cha stand and Erin introduced me to the ladies there. Then a stranger, I repeat a complete stranger (a lady of course), bought us both two simosas and a cup of lal cha. Who would ever do that in the states? I can't even properly communicate with these people. I can't really ask them about their day and understand much of what they say. I can't connect with them using words, but you better believe they are going to love me well. Force-feeding is the love language here. And today, right after lunch I got enough food to fill me up again. I didn't really want that food...but you receive in this culture...you do not object to receiving gifts. It's lovely. I've learned here that I'm so bad at being the receiver. I'm not a big gift person...some people are and that's great, but I'm not. But here I've learned to be. Here you receive so that really you give back...in thankfulness. Blogged about that earlier, and the Lord continues to show me that. It's so interesting. It's like in America we don't receive because that somehow communicates that we need...that we are needy people...and that requires us to be humble about it. Humility is something that we could all use a little bit more of. Today I was the receiver of love...and yes, I needed it. I needed it to remind me that I'm wrong when thinking all of this place is bad...or all of this place needs my help. Because really, I'm the one that often needs the help...the love. It's beautiful to learn I'm so wrong in my assumptions about this city as a whole. Yes, there are very ugly things about this city, but tell me a city that doesn't have ugly things. You can't. So, instead I'll seek the beauty. I'll seek the love. And I've found it in the relationships.
People make this place real for me. People make this city more than the deteriorating stone walls I see everywhere, the same walls that are a perfect visual for the sadness in this city...rigid and crumbling. There is also life here. Just like the lovely vines that grow up those stone walls. Both the vines and people add beauty to something so broken.
Also, something beyond sweet that the Lord has shown me: love is a fuel. I know this sounds cheesy, but for me it's real. It has application. See, when I posted that blog a little time ago about being exhausted...not feeling as though I have capacity for anything, I was reminded that something much greater than my strength is what operates in my life. When I love others, I'm filled. My exhaustion exists, but love fans the fire that keeps me giving, keeps me serving. It's nothing I do. It's his overflow...and I get the blessings.
Prayer requests...
I'm really a part of this city. Not just a visitor.
I've sewn next to the ladies long enough that I'm no longer just someone there to offer a little help, but someone who wants to know them and know their work. I've cared for the kids at Shishu Bhavan long enough to know their precious hearts, not just know their disorders. I speak enough Bangla to communicate with friends and strangers. I've walked the same roads long enough for people to realize I'm not some tourist passing by. I've ridden the Monday 8:19 train enough Mondays to have made friends with a lady that either holds my bag or pushes people down to make room for me to sit.
This has been beautiful to realize.
It's all about the relationships. That is what grounds me to this place. I don't like this city. I would never desire to live here. But I love these people. And I would never desire to leave them. Sadly, that chapter will come. I know I've spoken this a million times before, but lately I've been worried about how I will mourn leaving these people. How I will heal the wounds that are left when they are missing from my life? I'm nervous for this. But I know the Lord has plans. He wouldn't be stirring so much in my heart if he didn't. Remind me of this if I forget when I'm home and crying to any of you reading this now.
Today, as me and Erin walked home from the metro, we stopped at a little simosa and cha stand and Erin introduced me to the ladies there. Then a stranger, I repeat a complete stranger (a lady of course), bought us both two simosas and a cup of lal cha. Who would ever do that in the states? I can't even properly communicate with these people. I can't really ask them about their day and understand much of what they say. I can't connect with them using words, but you better believe they are going to love me well. Force-feeding is the love language here. And today, right after lunch I got enough food to fill me up again. I didn't really want that food...but you receive in this culture...you do not object to receiving gifts. It's lovely. I've learned here that I'm so bad at being the receiver. I'm not a big gift person...some people are and that's great, but I'm not. But here I've learned to be. Here you receive so that really you give back...in thankfulness. Blogged about that earlier, and the Lord continues to show me that. It's so interesting. It's like in America we don't receive because that somehow communicates that we need...that we are needy people...and that requires us to be humble about it. Humility is something that we could all use a little bit more of. Today I was the receiver of love...and yes, I needed it. I needed it to remind me that I'm wrong when thinking all of this place is bad...or all of this place needs my help. Because really, I'm the one that often needs the help...the love. It's beautiful to learn I'm so wrong in my assumptions about this city as a whole. Yes, there are very ugly things about this city, but tell me a city that doesn't have ugly things. You can't. So, instead I'll seek the beauty. I'll seek the love. And I've found it in the relationships.
People make this place real for me. People make this city more than the deteriorating stone walls I see everywhere, the same walls that are a perfect visual for the sadness in this city...rigid and crumbling. There is also life here. Just like the lovely vines that grow up those stone walls. Both the vines and people add beauty to something so broken.
Also, something beyond sweet that the Lord has shown me: love is a fuel. I know this sounds cheesy, but for me it's real. It has application. See, when I posted that blog a little time ago about being exhausted...not feeling as though I have capacity for anything, I was reminded that something much greater than my strength is what operates in my life. When I love others, I'm filled. My exhaustion exists, but love fans the fire that keeps me giving, keeps me serving. It's nothing I do. It's his overflow...and I get the blessings.
Prayer requests...
- The ladies. There seems to be never ending chaos in their lives.
- My host family. Always something...always.
- The pastor's wife at our church. She has been in the hospital for quite some time. He always requests prayer for her...and he speaks with such hope about when she is out, but she is very sick.
- The kids at Shishu Bhavan. My little Roshan. They all need so much more than the sisters and mashis can provide. Love is good, but these are children with disorders. Disorders that no one there really understands, therefore they don't understand how to properly handle or treat the children. So difficult seeing this need, but being helpless myself. Also, there is a new baby boy there - his name is Omal and he is five months old. He has what is widely known as "water on the brain". I don't know how much longer this baby will live. Not sure if surgery is even an option for him, it is so incredibly severe. This isn't the best place for him to be, but it's about the only place. Pray for him...and whatever blessings the Lord sees best to pour over his young life.
- Lastly, pray for me and the team. We are at the six weeks remaining mark, and that will fly by. Especially with all the things going on...holidays, parties, activities, major events, etc. It will be gone quickly. I can't imagine a life different than this one after so long and I'm so nervous about coming home. I also just got an e-mail from the company I'm working for and my start date, which I was told would be beginning of February, is actually going to be January 16th. I'll have 18 days until I start work. Only 18 days to get back into the jive of America, only 18 days to rest, only 18 days to visit family and friends, and less than 18 days to move to Dallas. This will be draining. And even though I don't want my time here to disappear as I figure out what the next chapter in my life will look like, I need major prays as to how all of that will play out. I expected much more time. But just gonna go with the flow. It will work out according to planned.
Monday, November 14
Sunday, November 13
Not a lot of words.
Don't really have anything to blog, but I came across one of Jamie Ivey's blogs from September and it is absolutely beautiful. I just had to share. I feel like this lady put words to my desires and my fears. She speaks so well of the materialistic battle and the impact of seeing something outside what we (including I), as Americans, have mistakenly viewed as necessary components of a happy life. And we don't have to voice these things...the way you live speaks it for you. This battle...I don't want to have it, but will. I won't always be walking on these streets seeing what I do. One day, the intensity of these moments will fade. In that time, I have to remember to continue dying to myself daily.
Jesus did say the only way to find our lives is to give it up.
So here's the link to her blog: I was forever changed...
Please go read, it is a good one.
In addition to this, just have to say how much I love going to church where we go. It is such a sweet blessing to be there every Sunday. Those children are adorable. And the message today, Jesus definitely planned that one out. So beautiful when that happens. But the message was about 2 Corinthians 12:7-10. Commonly known, but never spoken enough...not with understanding, at least. It was a comfort. We are told to delight in weaknesses, hardships, difficulties, and the like...for in our weakness HIS strength is known. So many reasons to hate suffering, but a few great reasons to appreciate it. Hold to those. Only way to survive.
Jesus did say the only way to find our lives is to give it up.
So here's the link to her blog: I was forever changed...
Please go read, it is a good one.
In addition to this, just have to say how much I love going to church where we go. It is such a sweet blessing to be there every Sunday. Those children are adorable. And the message today, Jesus definitely planned that one out. So beautiful when that happens. But the message was about 2 Corinthians 12:7-10. Commonly known, but never spoken enough...not with understanding, at least. It was a comfort. We are told to delight in weaknesses, hardships, difficulties, and the like...for in our weakness HIS strength is known. So many reasons to hate suffering, but a few great reasons to appreciate it. Hold to those. Only way to survive.
Friday, November 11
Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.
Today was a great blessing. It was just what I needed.
A good cry and the sweet sound of laughter can do great things for a heavy soul.
Thanks for prayers, and specifically prayers addressing my last blog. I've experienced a strange feeling these past few days. It's as though the Lord has whispered sweet words of peace directly over me. I say strange because peace isn't the word I would use to describe most of my days here. It does come, but it is uncommon. So to have it is strange, but wonderfully pleasant.
I just want to tell you about my day.
Today was a Mama T's day. Don't particularly care for the early mornings, but love loving those kids. It's no longer a challenge each day I walk through those doors, it's a blessing. Today, I got peed on (again), had to clean up a poopy diaper, clawed by some little chick that just really needs someone who cares about her, slobbered on by two different kids, and a cup of sweet milk kicked out of my hand and on to my pants...but the grace of Jesus was pouring over my heart. Not one second of stress. Just had to laugh at all of it and hit it head on. It's been spoken to us here that as long as you submit to whatever is going wrong, all goes a bit more smoothly. No point in dwelling in it, just move on through it or right around it. And got another language uh-oh for you guys...today I told Ronnit he was a mosquito, when I mean to say he is funny...mosha, moja...in my defense, those are incredibly close. Haha. Also, I think I have a new favorite kiddo. His name is Roshan. Very small little boy...he's no more than 18 months old. Not quite sure what his condition is, but whatever it is, it cuts me to the core. I hate it. Right before I leave, I make sure to stop by most of the kids' beds and say bye to them...not that they can really understand my Bangla (haha), but I bent down to say bye to Roshan and poor little baby was just crying. The ladies there have told me that he has continual head pain. I though today was going to be a good day, because he was smiling so much...and laughing...but I didn't leave seeing it to be a good day any longer. It absolutely broke my heart. I have yet to cry at Mama T's, but I did today. I prayed over the little baby, but I didn't leave seeing an improvement. He can't do anything but cry, and they don't act as if they can do anything for him. It's so sad. This is the kind of suffering I don't really get. I would like to always see suffering as means for blindness being striped from our eyes, while sight is restored...that way there is a least a small hope floating above that pain. But in his case, this baby, I don't think suffering is leading him closer to the Lord. He doesn't get that, at least not yet. So why? It's hard to see something productive in his pain. I have no other assumption, except for the fact it's just a mirror for how broken and pained our entire world is. Either way, I mourned the fact this sweet little boy has to deal with this terrible pain day in and day out. A pain that seems to simply be nothing more than a curse, in addition to his condition of whatever it is. It's heavy. Why wasn't I born into this? God, why don't I have this instead of this child? Things I ask myself daily. I don't understand. And I won't. But lately, I've felt such a freedom in being real with God. I'm so glad that no one else can hear my thoughts. God knows my heart already, so why not just confess that crap. It's not like you can actually hide a divided heart, so why try? It pays to be honest, yes...even with Jesus. Besides, isn't admitting your brokenness the first step in healing? I would like to think so. In my past, I continued to suffer...never healing, only because I spent all my time trying to convince myself a wound wasn't really there. And this is going so many places...I don't really know how to unpack it all, I only know how to continue asking questions. But I did leave Mama T's with a heart completely surrendered to the Lord. He is greater. And even when I don't see that, I have to trust. Don't have to trust for him, but for myself.
On to much lighter...
After Mama T's, I got a delicious banana and chocolate pancake (which was actually more like a crepe, but delicious). Passed out a few chocolates...seeing beautiful smiles on the children's faces. From there, me and Erin went to New Market...this ridiculously large market full of so much junk and a couple good treasures. The really annoying thing is that as soon as they see you are a foreigner, they follow you around the market for the most ridiculous amount of time trying to convince you to come to their store. Well, that happened today, but it was only one guy. And he ended up tiring of us not following him, so he left. If there is such a thing as a pleasant day at New Market, we had it today. From there, we got a refreshing beverage (fresh lime soda, sweet...such a delight) at a restaurant on the rooftop of this building. We had a sweet conversation (contained many things, but to sum it up - nothing like one liners that rock your world: being nice and loving well are not one in the same, and also you should go read Soul Survivors by Philip Yancey) at a table that overlooked this insanely large city. While we were up there, I realized just how small I am...and just how large this world is. Oddly I felt fragile. I am, but I stand a solid rock. In that moment I couldn't fathom how Christ's sacrifice covered all of our sins. But joy Jishu (praise the Lord...in Bangla of course), it does! And afterwards, we went to this fabric store called Anokhi. They are quite the sweet little business. Good people doing good things. And there I found myself the most amazing Tree of Life piece of fabric...definitely going straight on the wall in my next home. And then we made our way just a little bit further down the street to this killer bookstore. New favorite...left with three treasures. There I purchased a book titled Scar Tissue. Here's a few words off the back cover:
'When one looks at scar tissue,' says Nikhat Grewal, 'there is only a vestige of the wound that once was. The healing process has begun and the battle scars are getting lighter. The stories that you read in this book are like scar tissue, proof that the healing has begun. These women reveal themselves by sharing not their pain, but its aftermath. They are not victims, but survivors, claiming their space and the right to be who they are.
Yes, you can borrow it. :)
In addition to this awesome book, I also purchased my first book of poetry. I'm not really a poetry-reading-kind-of-gal, but at the Rabindra Sadan metro, there is some stinking sweet poetry posted on the walls that has just sucked me in every time we are standing their waiting for the metro train. Apparently, Rabindranath Tagore is to be credited with those words...I couldn't leave this city without something of his. Proud owner of 'STRAY BIRDS, FIREFLIES, & other poems" I am. So much goodness. Actually, the title of this blog is a taste of his words. Give credit where credit is due...I can't claim that beauty. The third little treasure was a post card. I'll tell you a story, and then tell why this postcard is so precious to me. After having a small identity crisis (if it can even be called that) that has led me to desire great changes in the way I live my life, I knew it would be way to easy to go back to the same patter of life. I've had thoughts like...why try to change things, what good will you do (which I will very loudly shout that they are NOT from the Lord)...and I know that beyond prays pleading the Lord to mold me in a way that I don't have the power to reverse, I will need a daily reminder of why I'm choosing the things I will be choosing...as well as something that continues to call me to sacrifice. Being someone who loves photography, I had this idea to have my reminders (in the form of photos) posted on the walls in my next home. So...I saw this beautiful photo at the bookstore that tugged on so many strings in my heart. Sadly, it was 4000 Rupees, which is about $70-80...somehow I felt spending that to remind myself to sacrifice spending was a bit too ironic for my taste. I mean, I won't be carrying that with me at the close of this life, so why really do it. I emotionally walked myself through that little moment, and right before paying for my books, I spotted a postcard of the photo that I fell in love with. 25 Rupees baby. Score. Gave it up, and Jesus gave it right back. I cannot really describe this photo in a way that you can picture it's true beauty, but I will say that it's a photo of a small Indian child resting on the lap of an Indian lady. I love this for so many reasons, but mostly because on this child's face I can see innocence, but stolen youth...it reads suffering...and it reads rest. The only thing in the frame is the child and the woman's lap. It's so powerful. It's so beautiful. And it's an incredible reminder. Anyways, while at the book store, we also had quite the adventure. Filled with much laughter and only a couple uncomfortable moments, but forever a great story. Alcohol is quite an interesting truth serum, it would be wise for this man to stay away from it...and we're leaving it at that. Headed to metro after that adventure and while waiting for the train, Erin decided to...let's just say pass gas...and not quietly. At that moment, there was no containing my laughter. All eyes on the bideshis (foreigner in Bangla...much more pleasing to the ears than foreigner). Good, good laughter. Andddd the A/C train decided to delight us with it's presence. Didn't care how packed this one was, it was A/C and we were going to be on it. Uneventful ride home, which is always the best kind. And I'm here. Smiling. The Civil Wars gracing my ears, while I pour out my little heart. Good end to a good day.
And now I bid you good night. Or possibly good morning. Whichever works. May goodness be sent your way.
A good cry and the sweet sound of laughter can do great things for a heavy soul.
Thanks for prayers, and specifically prayers addressing my last blog. I've experienced a strange feeling these past few days. It's as though the Lord has whispered sweet words of peace directly over me. I say strange because peace isn't the word I would use to describe most of my days here. It does come, but it is uncommon. So to have it is strange, but wonderfully pleasant.
I just want to tell you about my day.
Today was a Mama T's day. Don't particularly care for the early mornings, but love loving those kids. It's no longer a challenge each day I walk through those doors, it's a blessing. Today, I got peed on (again), had to clean up a poopy diaper, clawed by some little chick that just really needs someone who cares about her, slobbered on by two different kids, and a cup of sweet milk kicked out of my hand and on to my pants...but the grace of Jesus was pouring over my heart. Not one second of stress. Just had to laugh at all of it and hit it head on. It's been spoken to us here that as long as you submit to whatever is going wrong, all goes a bit more smoothly. No point in dwelling in it, just move on through it or right around it. And got another language uh-oh for you guys...today I told Ronnit he was a mosquito, when I mean to say he is funny...mosha, moja...in my defense, those are incredibly close. Haha. Also, I think I have a new favorite kiddo. His name is Roshan. Very small little boy...he's no more than 18 months old. Not quite sure what his condition is, but whatever it is, it cuts me to the core. I hate it. Right before I leave, I make sure to stop by most of the kids' beds and say bye to them...not that they can really understand my Bangla (haha), but I bent down to say bye to Roshan and poor little baby was just crying. The ladies there have told me that he has continual head pain. I though today was going to be a good day, because he was smiling so much...and laughing...but I didn't leave seeing it to be a good day any longer. It absolutely broke my heart. I have yet to cry at Mama T's, but I did today. I prayed over the little baby, but I didn't leave seeing an improvement. He can't do anything but cry, and they don't act as if they can do anything for him. It's so sad. This is the kind of suffering I don't really get. I would like to always see suffering as means for blindness being striped from our eyes, while sight is restored...that way there is a least a small hope floating above that pain. But in his case, this baby, I don't think suffering is leading him closer to the Lord. He doesn't get that, at least not yet. So why? It's hard to see something productive in his pain. I have no other assumption, except for the fact it's just a mirror for how broken and pained our entire world is. Either way, I mourned the fact this sweet little boy has to deal with this terrible pain day in and day out. A pain that seems to simply be nothing more than a curse, in addition to his condition of whatever it is. It's heavy. Why wasn't I born into this? God, why don't I have this instead of this child? Things I ask myself daily. I don't understand. And I won't. But lately, I've felt such a freedom in being real with God. I'm so glad that no one else can hear my thoughts. God knows my heart already, so why not just confess that crap. It's not like you can actually hide a divided heart, so why try? It pays to be honest, yes...even with Jesus. Besides, isn't admitting your brokenness the first step in healing? I would like to think so. In my past, I continued to suffer...never healing, only because I spent all my time trying to convince myself a wound wasn't really there. And this is going so many places...I don't really know how to unpack it all, I only know how to continue asking questions. But I did leave Mama T's with a heart completely surrendered to the Lord. He is greater. And even when I don't see that, I have to trust. Don't have to trust for him, but for myself.
On to much lighter...
After Mama T's, I got a delicious banana and chocolate pancake (which was actually more like a crepe, but delicious). Passed out a few chocolates...seeing beautiful smiles on the children's faces. From there, me and Erin went to New Market...this ridiculously large market full of so much junk and a couple good treasures. The really annoying thing is that as soon as they see you are a foreigner, they follow you around the market for the most ridiculous amount of time trying to convince you to come to their store. Well, that happened today, but it was only one guy. And he ended up tiring of us not following him, so he left. If there is such a thing as a pleasant day at New Market, we had it today. From there, we got a refreshing beverage (fresh lime soda, sweet...such a delight) at a restaurant on the rooftop of this building. We had a sweet conversation (contained many things, but to sum it up - nothing like one liners that rock your world: being nice and loving well are not one in the same, and also you should go read Soul Survivors by Philip Yancey) at a table that overlooked this insanely large city. While we were up there, I realized just how small I am...and just how large this world is. Oddly I felt fragile. I am, but I stand a solid rock. In that moment I couldn't fathom how Christ's sacrifice covered all of our sins. But joy Jishu (praise the Lord...in Bangla of course), it does! And afterwards, we went to this fabric store called Anokhi. They are quite the sweet little business. Good people doing good things. And there I found myself the most amazing Tree of Life piece of fabric...definitely going straight on the wall in my next home. And then we made our way just a little bit further down the street to this killer bookstore. New favorite...left with three treasures. There I purchased a book titled Scar Tissue. Here's a few words off the back cover:
'When one looks at scar tissue,' says Nikhat Grewal, 'there is only a vestige of the wound that once was. The healing process has begun and the battle scars are getting lighter. The stories that you read in this book are like scar tissue, proof that the healing has begun. These women reveal themselves by sharing not their pain, but its aftermath. They are not victims, but survivors, claiming their space and the right to be who they are.
Yes, you can borrow it. :)
In addition to this awesome book, I also purchased my first book of poetry. I'm not really a poetry-reading-kind-of-gal, but at the Rabindra Sadan metro, there is some stinking sweet poetry posted on the walls that has just sucked me in every time we are standing their waiting for the metro train. Apparently, Rabindranath Tagore is to be credited with those words...I couldn't leave this city without something of his. Proud owner of 'STRAY BIRDS, FIREFLIES, & other poems" I am. So much goodness. Actually, the title of this blog is a taste of his words. Give credit where credit is due...I can't claim that beauty. The third little treasure was a post card. I'll tell you a story, and then tell why this postcard is so precious to me. After having a small identity crisis (if it can even be called that) that has led me to desire great changes in the way I live my life, I knew it would be way to easy to go back to the same patter of life. I've had thoughts like...why try to change things, what good will you do (which I will very loudly shout that they are NOT from the Lord)...and I know that beyond prays pleading the Lord to mold me in a way that I don't have the power to reverse, I will need a daily reminder of why I'm choosing the things I will be choosing...as well as something that continues to call me to sacrifice. Being someone who loves photography, I had this idea to have my reminders (in the form of photos) posted on the walls in my next home. So...I saw this beautiful photo at the bookstore that tugged on so many strings in my heart. Sadly, it was 4000 Rupees, which is about $70-80...somehow I felt spending that to remind myself to sacrifice spending was a bit too ironic for my taste. I mean, I won't be carrying that with me at the close of this life, so why really do it. I emotionally walked myself through that little moment, and right before paying for my books, I spotted a postcard of the photo that I fell in love with. 25 Rupees baby. Score. Gave it up, and Jesus gave it right back. I cannot really describe this photo in a way that you can picture it's true beauty, but I will say that it's a photo of a small Indian child resting on the lap of an Indian lady. I love this for so many reasons, but mostly because on this child's face I can see innocence, but stolen youth...it reads suffering...and it reads rest. The only thing in the frame is the child and the woman's lap. It's so powerful. It's so beautiful. And it's an incredible reminder. Anyways, while at the book store, we also had quite the adventure. Filled with much laughter and only a couple uncomfortable moments, but forever a great story. Alcohol is quite an interesting truth serum, it would be wise for this man to stay away from it...and we're leaving it at that. Headed to metro after that adventure and while waiting for the train, Erin decided to...let's just say pass gas...and not quietly. At that moment, there was no containing my laughter. All eyes on the bideshis (foreigner in Bangla...much more pleasing to the ears than foreigner). Good, good laughter. Andddd the A/C train decided to delight us with it's presence. Didn't care how packed this one was, it was A/C and we were going to be on it. Uneventful ride home, which is always the best kind. And I'm here. Smiling. The Civil Wars gracing my ears, while I pour out my little heart. Good end to a good day.
And now I bid you good night. Or possibly good morning. Whichever works. May goodness be sent your way.
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