As of recent, I've had so many insane thoughts. This city is fuel for someone's brain. It just keeps it going and going and going and going. I cannot seem to let my mind rest. It's good, no worries, just a bit exhausting. I'm gonna talk about my Diwali day for now, maybe soonish I'll actually have the mental capacity to spit out everything that's been flopping around in my brain.
So, Wednesday night was Diwali. Yes, cannot forget about that. You might can, but I promise you that for those who were/are anywhere near Kolkata, India, we are still feeling it. In fact, about 30 minutes ago a firecracker was blown up in the ally in front of my host family's kitchen and it was so loud and bright that for half a second I thought the fan above the oven blew up. My heart just almost fell out of my chest...and it took me about 45 seconds to realize my jaw was still dropped. Oh boy.
Anyways, while everyone else was parading (literally) around all morning, evening, and night on Wednesday, me, the other girls, and the family stayed in doors. Me and the girls stayed home all stinking day and it was grand! We got to sleep in until 9 A.M., which is quite the privilege, and then we got fed so well the next day. Holy moley...we woke up to a delicious potato curry and more puri (this deliciously fried bread thing) than we could possibly eat...but because we are living with an Indian family and their love language is force-feeding (I'm serious), we did eat it all. Oh man. Then our host mom made a feast of a lunch. We had sauteed okra, sauteed eggplant, onion pakora, and rice and dal. It was one heck of a fancy lunch. I also watched every move of our host mom while she was in the kitchen cooking and yes, I did write down her recipes. I'm gonna be a chef upon my return to the states...all thanks to my host mom. And then...drum roll, please...me and the girls cooked Mexican food for dinner! You bet we did! Had to get creative, but we made it happen. Deep fried chipatis for the chips, made some snazzy veg quesadillas, super delicious salsa (I used a legit stone grinder for this and it was so cool), typical rice and beans (with an Indian flare), and some serious queso. It was so much fun. The daughter of our host family helped us and she said "I'm never going to forget this night, cooking with my aunties." That made my evening. Almost as much as the dance that their five year-old son does when we've served chocolate in the birthday treats. But it was an absolute precious day at home with the family. They cooked us amazing food and we cooked them something that is familiar to us. Only problem was that Indians don't care for cheese, which we didn't understand how much they really dislike it until they didn't even touch the queso...they just sorta made a face at it. Haha. It was funny. But as our host mom told us the next day "we don't really like the food, but we ate it because we care for you." Haha. Made me laugh because it's just so sweet. All in all, we had some delicious food that day. I could barely breathe after dinner...pretty miserable feeling, but so worth it.
But the only reason that I'm really going to remember the Diwali that I spent in India is because our time with the family was absolutely beautiful. Our host mom will tell us some incredibly intense stories about their past while she is cooking (we've learned to run to the kitchen when she's in there to get in on the good stories), and because we spent a full day in the house, we got to hear some incredible stories and just straight up wisdom. Each time I hear her speak of their lives, I'm more and more amazed by their strength. And I know that her past bleeds directly into how bright her faith is now. I've never heard someone pray like she prays. I can guarantee you there is not a bit of pride in that woman's heart. As I passed through their room on the way to the kitchen for breakfast this morning, she was down on her knees praying out in Hindi to God. No other's ears. He heart is so precious. It was such a sweet day. Their faces lit up when we offered to cook dinner, and they repaid us times a billion with devoting their day to making us amazing meals as well. They are so giving.
And as there were fireworks going off like crazy all in the streets, we had worship music playing in the house. The Lord absolutely blessed us with a hedge of peace around the home. There's no other way besides his blessing that I could say that my soul was rested after that day. After the chaos that was happening outside. After the ridiculous amount of darkness that swallowed the city. Only through Jesus, his light, his grace, his goodness, his presence, and all else that he is, did we find that day to be calming. He set aside beautiful time for us to be with the family. To be blessed by them and to bless them. And I'm so grateful for that day.
I truly mean it when I say that this family is one of my anchors in this city. The Lord provides so much through them. For all of our souls. They are amazing beyond any words that I have. I just wish all of you could meet them.
Saturday, October 29
Monday, October 24
The splendor of the King
Blessings.
Lately, the thing I've missed most about home is a dang good worship service. My "safe place", where I pretend I am when I need to be anywhere but this city, is standing in the crowd of 5,000 students at A&M at Breakaway...worshiping Jesus. I miss that. I've craved that.
Well, on Sunday I got a little taste. I wasn't in a crowd of 5,000. More like 30. And they weren't college students, they were almost all children aging from 4-15. But it was just as beautiful...or more. The the lyrics to How Great Is Our God by Chris Tomlin were put up on the projector and my heart skipped a beat. As soon as the worship leader started strumming out the tune, I was overflowing with joy. A smile spread all the way across my face and tears filled my eyes. I'm not just a huge crier, but this just filled my soul in a way that I greatly needed. Loved that morning. Loved that moment.
We all sang out:
The splendor of a King, clothed in majesty
Let all the earth rejoice
All the earth rejoice
He wraps himself in Light, and darkness tries to hide
And trembles at His voice
Trembles at His voice
How great is our God, sing with me
How great is our God, and all will see
How great, how great is our God
Age to age He stands
And time is in His hands
Beginning and the end
Beginning and the end
The Godhead Three in One
Father Spirit Son
The Lion and the Lamb
The Lion and the Lamb
Name above all names
Worthy of our praise
My heart will sing
How great is our God
How great is our God, sing with me
How great is our God, and all will see
How great, how great is our God
What's cool is that I love this song, but this time it stirred a bit more joy in my heart than usual. As I sang "let all the earth rejoice", I was standing in a church in India. I was standing next to some beautiful children who are so blessed to know the name of our Father, as am I. For the first time, "all the earth" really made sense. It's not just America. It's not just the typical Christian I know from the campus at A&M or my home church. It's every person, every tongue, and every culture that holds a heart for Jesus. All of world rejoices. It was so beautiful. Nothing profound, just beauty. Held a bit more value. And me being in their presence was so grand. These children shouted these words. With full faith. Perfect faith.
Also, I just have to say, it was a great preface for the message that followed and the holiday that is coming on Wednesday. See the part that says "He wraps himself in Light, and darkness tries to hide" is affirming for this time of year in Kolkata. Wednesday is Diwali. This puja celebrates the goddess Kali, the goddess of destruction, which is the goddess that has been chosen as the focus of Kolkata. Needless to say, this time of year is dark. The pastor spoke of how it seems there is so much more hurt in these days than others...those faithful to Christ seem to encounter a few more hardships than the rest of the year. It's really difficult to explain, but it can be felt. Anytime a culture chooses to lay down their lives for an idol that is believed to be the face of darkness and destruction, good cannot be the result. Ironically, this holiday is celebrated with light. Fireworks go off all night. Not looking forward to that, but my sleep and schedule disruption pale in comparison to the lack of light that will actually exist in a city being lit up by fireworks all night. The pastor reminded the children that on this night, when they see fireworks celebrating the goddess of destruction, to recall that Jesus is the light of the world. That His name is above all names. He would ask them "who's name is above all names?" and they would every so joyful shout "Jesus!" I loved being present in this moment. It was so powerful.
But I will ask that you be praying for this Wednesday. On your Wednesday morning, my Wednesday evening, this celebration begins. Spend whatever time that morning and all throughout the day praying for this city. For these people. For the believers in this city. The pastor said that he and his family and other believers around them feel the push of darkness. They see it. And he asked that we so intently pray for him, so I'm asking you to do so as well. Pray that the true light be known, somehow, amidst all this darkness. The sky will be bright with fireworks praising a false goddess, but He is brighter still.
The pastor left us with this, so I will do the same:
2 Chronicles 20:15-17
He said: “Listen, King Jehoshaphat and all who live in Judah and Jerusalem! This is what the LORD says to you: ‘Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s. Tomorrow march down against them. They will be climbing up by the Pass of Ziz, and you will find them at the end of the gorge in the Desert of Jeruel. You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the LORD will give you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the LORD will be with you.
Lately, the thing I've missed most about home is a dang good worship service. My "safe place", where I pretend I am when I need to be anywhere but this city, is standing in the crowd of 5,000 students at A&M at Breakaway...worshiping Jesus. I miss that. I've craved that.
Well, on Sunday I got a little taste. I wasn't in a crowd of 5,000. More like 30. And they weren't college students, they were almost all children aging from 4-15. But it was just as beautiful...or more. The the lyrics to How Great Is Our God by Chris Tomlin were put up on the projector and my heart skipped a beat. As soon as the worship leader started strumming out the tune, I was overflowing with joy. A smile spread all the way across my face and tears filled my eyes. I'm not just a huge crier, but this just filled my soul in a way that I greatly needed. Loved that morning. Loved that moment.
We all sang out:
The splendor of a King, clothed in majesty
Let all the earth rejoice
All the earth rejoice
He wraps himself in Light, and darkness tries to hide
And trembles at His voice
Trembles at His voice
How great is our God, sing with me
How great is our God, and all will see
How great, how great is our God
Age to age He stands
And time is in His hands
Beginning and the end
Beginning and the end
The Godhead Three in One
Father Spirit Son
The Lion and the Lamb
The Lion and the Lamb
Name above all names
Worthy of our praise
My heart will sing
How great is our God
How great is our God, sing with me
How great is our God, and all will see
How great, how great is our God
What's cool is that I love this song, but this time it stirred a bit more joy in my heart than usual. As I sang "let all the earth rejoice", I was standing in a church in India. I was standing next to some beautiful children who are so blessed to know the name of our Father, as am I. For the first time, "all the earth" really made sense. It's not just America. It's not just the typical Christian I know from the campus at A&M or my home church. It's every person, every tongue, and every culture that holds a heart for Jesus. All of world rejoices. It was so beautiful. Nothing profound, just beauty. Held a bit more value. And me being in their presence was so grand. These children shouted these words. With full faith. Perfect faith.
Also, I just have to say, it was a great preface for the message that followed and the holiday that is coming on Wednesday. See the part that says "He wraps himself in Light, and darkness tries to hide" is affirming for this time of year in Kolkata. Wednesday is Diwali. This puja celebrates the goddess Kali, the goddess of destruction, which is the goddess that has been chosen as the focus of Kolkata. Needless to say, this time of year is dark. The pastor spoke of how it seems there is so much more hurt in these days than others...those faithful to Christ seem to encounter a few more hardships than the rest of the year. It's really difficult to explain, but it can be felt. Anytime a culture chooses to lay down their lives for an idol that is believed to be the face of darkness and destruction, good cannot be the result. Ironically, this holiday is celebrated with light. Fireworks go off all night. Not looking forward to that, but my sleep and schedule disruption pale in comparison to the lack of light that will actually exist in a city being lit up by fireworks all night. The pastor reminded the children that on this night, when they see fireworks celebrating the goddess of destruction, to recall that Jesus is the light of the world. That His name is above all names. He would ask them "who's name is above all names?" and they would every so joyful shout "Jesus!" I loved being present in this moment. It was so powerful.
But I will ask that you be praying for this Wednesday. On your Wednesday morning, my Wednesday evening, this celebration begins. Spend whatever time that morning and all throughout the day praying for this city. For these people. For the believers in this city. The pastor said that he and his family and other believers around them feel the push of darkness. They see it. And he asked that we so intently pray for him, so I'm asking you to do so as well. Pray that the true light be known, somehow, amidst all this darkness. The sky will be bright with fireworks praising a false goddess, but He is brighter still.
The pastor left us with this, so I will do the same:
2 Chronicles 20:15-17
He said: “Listen, King Jehoshaphat and all who live in Judah and Jerusalem! This is what the LORD says to you: ‘Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s. Tomorrow march down against them. They will be climbing up by the Pass of Ziz, and you will find them at the end of the gorge in the Desert of Jeruel. You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the LORD will give you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the LORD will be with you.
Thursday, October 20
Good days...
Today has been a pretty neat day. Just wanna tell y'all about it. Nothing super special, just a good day.
I woke up feeling at peace with this city today. Now, whether or not that is a passing feeling or not it was pleasant to have. It felt like home today. I have routine. I'm khub aste, aste (very slowly, slowly) learning the language. I don't get disappointed anymore when I go to the store to buy something and it's no longer available , when I order something at a restaurant and they don't actually make that item even though it's printed on the menu (that happens way more than you care to know), or when I buy/order food that doesn't even come close to meeting expectations. I can guarantee myself that each day will have battles and upsets - but the more I expect them, the easier I can deal. I've learned the way of the people...not fully, but I can pretty well know what to expect in certain situations, and I've learned how to cope/handle those ways. I'm beginning to figure this place out. I'm beginning to make my place here. What's sad is that I can only say that now that I'm two months in...what's good is that I have two months left. Right now, I don't want to leave at all. And it hurts thinking that day will come...even though it may bring with it make-up, hot water, baths, days without sweat, delicious cake, little to no public transportation, washing machine/dryer, a bed that I don't have to set up every night, A/C, less bugs, cleaner streets, less stinkage, a trash system, starbucks, beef, and so much more (you get the point). I'm sure a day will come (hopefully by December 29th) that I want those more than I want to be here. But this place is a blessing in a way that I cannot even explain. Watching my "needs" turn to wants has been a beautiful thing. Simplicity is sweet...and I'm not even fully tasting it.
I've been sewing my training blanket since about the 3rd week of this journey. I have 20 lines...about 1/4th of my blanket. Today, I did 6 in 3 and a half hours. That's so slow. And my fingers are aching. These ladies sew like a blanket a day or every two days. So unreal to me. I don't understand how their fingers aren't falling off. But what I'm getting at is: how cool is it that this blanket that I'm sewing, I'm sewing alongside some stinking awesome women. I realized how blessed I am to get to sit right beside these women and have a taste of the incredibly hard work that they do every day. Hard work that they have chosen for freedom. It is amazing.
By the way...if you have yet to check out these ladies' work, go now. http://saribari.com/
One more thing...I feel so taken care of here. It sorta feels like I have a handful of mama's away from home. My host mom (who I must add is only 6 years older than I...her strength and mature blows my mind) has done more than care for me when I'm sick...from giving me medicine to making hot salter water for gargling and hot water for steam breathing sessions. She's been so grand. She definitely fights for my space on the metro. That woman can hold her own...she will basically put a bubble around me. Everyone else will be squished and uncomfortable, but not me...she's got her arms up like a brick wall. I'm amazed by her daily. Also, some of the ladies at the offices are so precious. So gentle. One of them I think checks on me daily since I've been sick. She will bend down beside me where ever I am and ask "ashutso?", which means "sick?". We go through the body parts...matha (head)? nak (nose)? gola (throat)? with a few yes and no's thrown in there. It's precious. She cares...you can tell. Another lady caressed my face the other day after stepping on my foot. Feet are sorta iffy here...just don't touch anyone's feet...and definitely don't touch them with your feet...don't step over people...take your shoes off everywhere. That sorta stuff. And after she accidentally stepped on my feet, she ever so gently caressed the side of my face and smiled so large to sorta apologize for it...so I'm not offended or anything on that level. That was a sweet moment. Lastly, anytime I am crossing the street with an Indian lady, they will hold my hand and run me across...as if I'm a small child that will just stop and get ran over. Favorite thing ever.
I'm surrounded by great people here. Great women. Loving these days. It doesn't matter how much I fight to make it through the ugly of each day, I'm beyond blessed to be in the presence of these ladies. All of them.
I woke up feeling at peace with this city today. Now, whether or not that is a passing feeling or not it was pleasant to have. It felt like home today. I have routine. I'm khub aste, aste (very slowly, slowly) learning the language. I don't get disappointed anymore when I go to the store to buy something and it's no longer available , when I order something at a restaurant and they don't actually make that item even though it's printed on the menu (that happens way more than you care to know), or when I buy/order food that doesn't even come close to meeting expectations. I can guarantee myself that each day will have battles and upsets - but the more I expect them, the easier I can deal. I've learned the way of the people...not fully, but I can pretty well know what to expect in certain situations, and I've learned how to cope/handle those ways. I'm beginning to figure this place out. I'm beginning to make my place here. What's sad is that I can only say that now that I'm two months in...what's good is that I have two months left. Right now, I don't want to leave at all. And it hurts thinking that day will come...even though it may bring with it make-up, hot water, baths, days without sweat, delicious cake, little to no public transportation, washing machine/dryer, a bed that I don't have to set up every night, A/C, less bugs, cleaner streets, less stinkage, a trash system, starbucks, beef, and so much more (you get the point). I'm sure a day will come (hopefully by December 29th) that I want those more than I want to be here. But this place is a blessing in a way that I cannot even explain. Watching my "needs" turn to wants has been a beautiful thing. Simplicity is sweet...and I'm not even fully tasting it.
I've been sewing my training blanket since about the 3rd week of this journey. I have 20 lines...about 1/4th of my blanket. Today, I did 6 in 3 and a half hours. That's so slow. And my fingers are aching. These ladies sew like a blanket a day or every two days. So unreal to me. I don't understand how their fingers aren't falling off. But what I'm getting at is: how cool is it that this blanket that I'm sewing, I'm sewing alongside some stinking awesome women. I realized how blessed I am to get to sit right beside these women and have a taste of the incredibly hard work that they do every day. Hard work that they have chosen for freedom. It is amazing.
By the way...if you have yet to check out these ladies' work, go now. http://saribari.com/
One more thing...I feel so taken care of here. It sorta feels like I have a handful of mama's away from home. My host mom (who I must add is only 6 years older than I...her strength and mature blows my mind) has done more than care for me when I'm sick...from giving me medicine to making hot salter water for gargling and hot water for steam breathing sessions. She's been so grand. She definitely fights for my space on the metro. That woman can hold her own...she will basically put a bubble around me. Everyone else will be squished and uncomfortable, but not me...she's got her arms up like a brick wall. I'm amazed by her daily. Also, some of the ladies at the offices are so precious. So gentle. One of them I think checks on me daily since I've been sick. She will bend down beside me where ever I am and ask "ashutso?", which means "sick?". We go through the body parts...matha (head)? nak (nose)? gola (throat)? with a few yes and no's thrown in there. It's precious. She cares...you can tell. Another lady caressed my face the other day after stepping on my foot. Feet are sorta iffy here...just don't touch anyone's feet...and definitely don't touch them with your feet...don't step over people...take your shoes off everywhere. That sorta stuff. And after she accidentally stepped on my feet, she ever so gently caressed the side of my face and smiled so large to sorta apologize for it...so I'm not offended or anything on that level. That was a sweet moment. Lastly, anytime I am crossing the street with an Indian lady, they will hold my hand and run me across...as if I'm a small child that will just stop and get ran over. Favorite thing ever.
I'm surrounded by great people here. Great women. Loving these days. It doesn't matter how much I fight to make it through the ugly of each day, I'm beyond blessed to be in the presence of these ladies. All of them.
Tuesday, October 18
Heavy heart. Redemtive moments.
I'll start this out with what is weighing on my heart today and has been for the past few days. The story I did not tell in my earlier blog from Thailand is meeting an 11 year-old little boy that the Thailand field works with often. In addition to forming relationships with women in prostitution in Bangkok, the team also builds beautiful relationships with many of the Cambodian families that have moved to Bangkok in hopes for something better, but seem to have only found different troubles. I won't use the name of this child, just because I don't feel comfortable doing so, but do not let that defer you from praying for this kid and his family. God knows his name...no worries. My small glimpse into this child's life is that his family is from Cambodia. I say family, but I don't think a father is in the picture. He and his mom are from Cambodia. They sought Bangkok to find something better than their current situation, but Bangkok is void of the power to heal broken circumstances. Anytime we seek a location other than the feet of Christ and the throne of God to heal our wounds or better ourselves, we only cause more issues. I say this from experience, because I thought India would change me...I thought finding God would be a lot easier here. FYI...God is just as present here as he is in the states. The distance between my heart and God doesn't decrease when I fly half-way around the world. It's all a matter of how I seek him. Not my physical location. That's been a great thing to learn. But if India has shown me anything, it's how great the gap is between my worthiness and the holiness of Christ. I can see my own brokenness more clearly in the brokenness of these people. Strange. Anyways, back to the family, the kid. They wind up on the streets of Bangkok...making it somehow. On the night that we walked through the red-light districts, we also met this child. We didn't meet his mom. As soon as we walked up, he ran and latched on to the team member, giving her a great big hug. There was so much youth in his spirit at this moment. So much dependence. But as we began to speak to him, I quickly began to learn that this little boy doesn't know youth anymore. Innocence is a thing of the past. This 11 year-old has had a childhood stolen from him. Dependence on someone is not an option for him. Here he is on the street alone. It's 2 A.M. He told us that his mom had been picked up by the police and possibly deported back to Cambodia. The statement that blew my mind was "Don't worry, I'm sleeping here on the street. I'll probably just get myself get picked up by the police tomorrow so I can find her." Those are words and a plan that an 11 year-old shouldn't have to speak or formulate. I just can't fathom the strength in those words being said by such a young child. The team member spoke of days he still acted like a child, but she said that now days he is different. The streets are changing him. Life is hardening him. She told us that not long ago, he went missing for a weekend. His mom was worried because she couldn't find him. He came back; apparently, a man took him to a beach south of Bangkok for the weekend. A sick, sick, sick human being took this child and stole innocence, stole his youth. I hurt over this. I cry over this. The boy, I don't understand. I don't get why. Why the world is this sick. Why the world is this broken. And why the innocent have to also be the wounded. I don't know what happened after that night, after that conversation, but I know this child is still fighting for a day that he may not have to fight. I pray that he has that. I pray that his family has that. Do the same. Pray for them. Let the Lord hear these cries. Cries for hope, cries for change, cries for restoration. You don't have to know his name, God already does. And he's the one holding this child's hand...he's the one with the power.
On to better moments...
I've been blessed by the Lord lately to have many different moments in this city that are redeeming my broken views of this place. Restoring my broken perspectives. Peeling away assumption by assumption, and creating room for love. One of those happened the other day when I stopped at a dokan (Bangla for store, just fyi) on the side of the road home to get bread. As I walked up, so did another man who was looking to buy bread. We both had to ask for the smaller loaves and somehow that struck up a conversation between us. For the first time here, I allowed a conversation between me and a man to occur. The sweet thing in this is that I found no hint of creepiness in this man. I would have assumed otherwise. But until I tore that wall down and gave someone the benefit of the doubt, I wasn't able to see past the assumptions I've made and realize that not everyone is as I judge them...of course they aren't, because my judgements are purely based on my new-found dislike for the male gender of India. Since this I've actually said "good morning" back to a man that frequently says it to us on our morning walk to the metro. It's quite nice to feel as though I have that freedom. Also, made friends with a few of the neighboring families...at least "greeting" kind of friends. They are usually washing dishes or clothes outside their homes, and I've seen them so many times but never spoken to them. I usually walk on past, just because I...well I don't really know why. Probably because it's just the way I've done since I got here because I've never had a sensory overload like I've had here and just shut down to avoid that or in order to avoid something that might strike any negative emotions. But that's no excuse. Anyways...had a couple short Bangla conversations with them. They are so stinking kind. Tons of smiling faces...always excited to say hello. It's conversations and relationships like these that tie me to this city. It's reasons that will make leaving a very hard thing, among the sweetness of the ladies and precious, precious children at Mama T's.
And I just have to tell you about a sweet moment the other day. It was so great. After leaving our Wednesday disturbing movie/book discussion and Bangla lesson at our leaders house, we were hopping on the metro at rush hour. This does not set up for a pleasant experience, but it ended as one. Not only did we get the A/C train (which is such a blessing), but for the first time since I've been here I let myself go free and move a little to the music playing on my iPod. No, not my hips...couldn't be too risque...haha. Just had to do a little hand jive and head bobbing. Imagine that. Or maybe you shouldn't. Ha. It was contagious, and before we knew it, all three of us Americans on the Indian metro were grooving to our music. It was so freeing. I felt like I stripped the power out of the hands of the men there...by not letting them prevent me from a life-giving moment. Yes, dancing is life-giving. Especially in a city where I need to be as invisible as possible...which leads to me feeling very powerless and out of control of what I can choose and choose not to do. It was a grand moment. Restorative to our souls.
Oh man. My heart. Up, down, up, down, up, down.
Be praying for our Bangla studies. I get so excited when I get to have a small conversation with people, but it also shows me just how little I know how to speak and understand. I do have "bujhi na" down...it means "I don't understand." Haha.
On to better moments...
I've been blessed by the Lord lately to have many different moments in this city that are redeeming my broken views of this place. Restoring my broken perspectives. Peeling away assumption by assumption, and creating room for love. One of those happened the other day when I stopped at a dokan (Bangla for store, just fyi) on the side of the road home to get bread. As I walked up, so did another man who was looking to buy bread. We both had to ask for the smaller loaves and somehow that struck up a conversation between us. For the first time here, I allowed a conversation between me and a man to occur. The sweet thing in this is that I found no hint of creepiness in this man. I would have assumed otherwise. But until I tore that wall down and gave someone the benefit of the doubt, I wasn't able to see past the assumptions I've made and realize that not everyone is as I judge them...of course they aren't, because my judgements are purely based on my new-found dislike for the male gender of India. Since this I've actually said "good morning" back to a man that frequently says it to us on our morning walk to the metro. It's quite nice to feel as though I have that freedom. Also, made friends with a few of the neighboring families...at least "greeting" kind of friends. They are usually washing dishes or clothes outside their homes, and I've seen them so many times but never spoken to them. I usually walk on past, just because I...well I don't really know why. Probably because it's just the way I've done since I got here because I've never had a sensory overload like I've had here and just shut down to avoid that or in order to avoid something that might strike any negative emotions. But that's no excuse. Anyways...had a couple short Bangla conversations with them. They are so stinking kind. Tons of smiling faces...always excited to say hello. It's conversations and relationships like these that tie me to this city. It's reasons that will make leaving a very hard thing, among the sweetness of the ladies and precious, precious children at Mama T's.
And I just have to tell you about a sweet moment the other day. It was so great. After leaving our Wednesday disturbing movie/book discussion and Bangla lesson at our leaders house, we were hopping on the metro at rush hour. This does not set up for a pleasant experience, but it ended as one. Not only did we get the A/C train (which is such a blessing), but for the first time since I've been here I let myself go free and move a little to the music playing on my iPod. No, not my hips...couldn't be too risque...haha. Just had to do a little hand jive and head bobbing. Imagine that. Or maybe you shouldn't. Ha. It was contagious, and before we knew it, all three of us Americans on the Indian metro were grooving to our music. It was so freeing. I felt like I stripped the power out of the hands of the men there...by not letting them prevent me from a life-giving moment. Yes, dancing is life-giving. Especially in a city where I need to be as invisible as possible...which leads to me feeling very powerless and out of control of what I can choose and choose not to do. It was a grand moment. Restorative to our souls.
Oh man. My heart. Up, down, up, down, up, down.
Be praying for our Bangla studies. I get so excited when I get to have a small conversation with people, but it also shows me just how little I know how to speak and understand. I do have "bujhi na" down...it means "I don't understand." Haha.
Sunday, October 16
There are greater joys to be had.
Can I just say, that I'm just feeling so full in this moment. No, I don't mean as in food, actually I'm pretty hungry. Darn 9:00 PM dinners. I just have this overwhelming sense of completeness. Strange. I can't really name many times in my life where I could say this, but oddly enough a day in Kolkata has provided that. I just need to get this out there...I'm a stingy person. When I have a snack or treat or something of the sort, I want it for myself. Or at least the ones that I cannot get more of (right now), or just bought to try for the first time (that I know I will love). I do have a story dealing with both of those. I've realized in the past few days that one of my most favorite things that I am called to do, is giving up that which I want to hold on to so tightly. Right now, I mean in the small sense...snacks, treats, etc. Maybe the Lord is tilling ground for later seeds/growth. Uh-oh. But anyways...here's the stories...
I arrived in this city with a half a pack of my favorite Trolli gummy worms remaining and soon realized I needed these things...for survival I first thought. Living in a city with zero familiars leaves you feeling so vulnerable and sad (culture shock...ha). So as soon as I could e-mail, I had my parents mail a couple packages my way. I've been waiting weeks and these gummy worms JUST arrived. I have cherished them. I didn't even want to open them because I want them to last. But that's not enjoying them, so it doesn't make any sense. I opened bag one and was set on enjoying every last one of them. Well, our host family came home from their vaca and opened up one of the two bags of their favorite treat (something they can only get in Kerala) to share with us. Right then I realized that me hiding my bag of gummy worms as soon as the kids walked in the room was so not ok. Haha. Guilty. So, even though I was going to find great, great joy in consuming both bags of the gummy worms on my own, I opened them up to share with the family. Opened them to share an "american" treat with the family...share with them something that brings me joy...and something I knew would bring them joy. I felt terrible for ever trying to hide my gummy worms from the kids. When I go back I can get a pack a day if I want...they are going to be available...I will not live without Trolli gummy worms for the rest of my life; and they shared one of the two bags of the treat they can only get in a city of India that is very far from where they live. Lesson learned.
Also, my guilty pleasure is chocolate and caramel. I'll buy a bag of the Dove chocolate and caramel pieces at least once a month. Carry a couple with me every day and just enjoy them at random times. Well, here I've been without my Dove chocolate and caramel...I've survived, no worries, but I've missed them. The other day I finally discovered a candy bar that is chocolate and caramel. I bought one of those things so fast and was planning as I left the store when I would get to enjoy it. As we are sitting in the auto to drive away, a small girl comes up and is begging. For food, for money, for anything. At that moment I reach to pull out one of the chocolate bars I bought to give to kids, and realized that the day before I had given them all away and forgot to restock my bag. I was so annoyed with myself. I couldn't believe I bought them to give to kids and didn't have one when I needed it...all because I'm incredibly forgetful person. And then it hits me. I have this beautiful chocolate and caramel candy bar sitting in my bag waiting to be enjoyed. By me. I did not want to give this (in that moment). I wanted to try this new treat so bad. I wanted a taste of familiar...of my favorite kind of familiar. And all in about half a second I realized that there is no stinking way I will enjoy this candy bar at home if I'm thinking of the little girl I refused to bless with it. I pulled that thing out of my bag so fast and opened it up to pass to this sweet little girl. She was so shy to take it, but of course she wanted it. I wasn't sad to see my new found candy bar go before I ever even got a taste...I was so joyful.
Here's what happened. In both cases, I was set on enjoying something that I love. Something that reminds me of home. Something that tastes really good. Both things that I can buy again at almost any point in time. I was so determined to milk the joy from consuming those things, I almost missed out on the great joy to be had in giving. Yeah, it was hard to watch my precious gummy worms and candy bar go, but once I got over myself and saw the sweetness in the moments, I had found a greater joy.
It's funny the lessons I'm learning here. And learning about myself. It's wonderful, though. Note to self...and to you all: there are greater joys to be had. Holding on to the one in your hand may mean your missing out on a much sweeter moment. It pleases me greatly when the Father calls me to relinquish something I put too much value on...really puts a check on my heart. He is working indeed, that is not something I can say is the work of my own hands. I cannot take any credit.
I arrived in this city with a half a pack of my favorite Trolli gummy worms remaining and soon realized I needed these things...for survival I first thought. Living in a city with zero familiars leaves you feeling so vulnerable and sad (culture shock...ha). So as soon as I could e-mail, I had my parents mail a couple packages my way. I've been waiting weeks and these gummy worms JUST arrived. I have cherished them. I didn't even want to open them because I want them to last. But that's not enjoying them, so it doesn't make any sense. I opened bag one and was set on enjoying every last one of them. Well, our host family came home from their vaca and opened up one of the two bags of their favorite treat (something they can only get in Kerala) to share with us. Right then I realized that me hiding my bag of gummy worms as soon as the kids walked in the room was so not ok. Haha. Guilty. So, even though I was going to find great, great joy in consuming both bags of the gummy worms on my own, I opened them up to share with the family. Opened them to share an "american" treat with the family...share with them something that brings me joy...and something I knew would bring them joy. I felt terrible for ever trying to hide my gummy worms from the kids. When I go back I can get a pack a day if I want...they are going to be available...I will not live without Trolli gummy worms for the rest of my life; and they shared one of the two bags of the treat they can only get in a city of India that is very far from where they live. Lesson learned.
Also, my guilty pleasure is chocolate and caramel. I'll buy a bag of the Dove chocolate and caramel pieces at least once a month. Carry a couple with me every day and just enjoy them at random times. Well, here I've been without my Dove chocolate and caramel...I've survived, no worries, but I've missed them. The other day I finally discovered a candy bar that is chocolate and caramel. I bought one of those things so fast and was planning as I left the store when I would get to enjoy it. As we are sitting in the auto to drive away, a small girl comes up and is begging. For food, for money, for anything. At that moment I reach to pull out one of the chocolate bars I bought to give to kids, and realized that the day before I had given them all away and forgot to restock my bag. I was so annoyed with myself. I couldn't believe I bought them to give to kids and didn't have one when I needed it...all because I'm incredibly forgetful person. And then it hits me. I have this beautiful chocolate and caramel candy bar sitting in my bag waiting to be enjoyed. By me. I did not want to give this (in that moment). I wanted to try this new treat so bad. I wanted a taste of familiar...of my favorite kind of familiar. And all in about half a second I realized that there is no stinking way I will enjoy this candy bar at home if I'm thinking of the little girl I refused to bless with it. I pulled that thing out of my bag so fast and opened it up to pass to this sweet little girl. She was so shy to take it, but of course she wanted it. I wasn't sad to see my new found candy bar go before I ever even got a taste...I was so joyful.
Here's what happened. In both cases, I was set on enjoying something that I love. Something that reminds me of home. Something that tastes really good. Both things that I can buy again at almost any point in time. I was so determined to milk the joy from consuming those things, I almost missed out on the great joy to be had in giving. Yeah, it was hard to watch my precious gummy worms and candy bar go, but once I got over myself and saw the sweetness in the moments, I had found a greater joy.
It's funny the lessons I'm learning here. And learning about myself. It's wonderful, though. Note to self...and to you all: there are greater joys to be had. Holding on to the one in your hand may mean your missing out on a much sweeter moment. It pleases me greatly when the Father calls me to relinquish something I put too much value on...really puts a check on my heart. He is working indeed, that is not something I can say is the work of my own hands. I cannot take any credit.
Tuesday, October 11
Beautiful light.
I have so many things to say in this blog. I'm really not sure you actually want to read it. This will be my processing method, so of course it will be chaotic and probably really unorganized. This will be the only way of expressing with words what my eyes viewed, so it will be heavily judgmental and probably a bit angry. This will be pretty raw, so be prepared to hear true words...you may know me a little better after this, heck...I may know myself a little better after this. Anyways, shall we?
I'll begin at the beginning of all of this crap...
So we left for Thailand to relax (for a few days at least) and then head to Bangkok to see how that city operates. First issue: our flight got pushed back...only by a couple hours, but we weren't told. We found out once we tried to board our 9:30 flight, only to be told we fly out at 11:45. No big deal. So we sit for a bit longer (forget that we could have slept a few more hours). We fly to Dhaka, Bangladesh. Second issue...we arrive to be informed by all the frantic Indian people that our connecting flight doesn't actually have a plane to fly us on. Yep, that's right. This airline scheduled a flight for which they had no plane. So what happens? Well, our Indian friends who are very obviously perturbed, scream/yell/shout and eventually have the airport grant us ALL transit visas for Bangladesh, pay for a hotel room for each party, and provided dinner. Ladies and gents, I now have a stamp from Dhaka, Bangladesh on my passport. I dined in the city...me and the team dined at a table with three Indian men that we do not know; during this the electricity cut out multiple times. That was fun. We go back to the airport, board on the plane that now exists (10 hours late) and head to Bangkok. We arrive at 3:30 A.M. Yep. Third issue: Erin's bag is not at baggage claim. That girl has great strength and can most definitely explain this situation with a bit more agitation than I, but she was a trooper. Fourth issue: no where to stay. Don't worry this is resolved. Thanks, Scott. Some random American boy who happens to own a five story apartment in Bangkok, which he rents out to travelers. Beginning of scary story, but because I have no exciting ending besides the fact it was a super cool place, super comfy bed, and had A/C...there won't be a scary movie about that one, sorry kids. We are in bed at 5 A.M. Yay. Next day, rush around the city, find Erin some things to replace the lost luggage, and luckily have no issues getting to our bus that takes us to the beach. But I won't disappoint...fifth issue: bus breaks down. Flat tire or something. Oh joy. No worries, we did hop on another and made it to the beach. Only to have the sixth issue: our room booking was mixed up and we have the beach one less night than was intended. It's all good. We have a killer team leader who searched out and found another place with a free room. Enjoyed the beach. Enjoyed awesome food. Relaxed. Rested. Breathed. It was well. The Lord opened my eyes to a ridiculous amount of things there...lots of tears, lots of joy, lots of hurt, lots of everything. Played a few games. We all did our best to forget how hard we worked to get these days of rest and just soaked it in.
So what's something I never thought I would confess...let's begin with the fact that I don't like hurt. I don't like pain. Well duh, Taylor. Tell me something new. Who likes those things? Well the thing is, when those things come my way, I check out. I do everything in my power to forget this world exists. I exit. Mentally. Physically. In whatever way works. I coast. I just make it through life, I don't actually live it. For that time of pain, of hurt, I die. I shut down, because that is easier. Not feeling is always easier. Right? Wrong. When I've done this in life, I forget about those who are walking through that pain with me. I shove them to the side. I forget to love, because who can do that when emotions are ground level. I'm blind to the world. I'm blind to it's needs, because I'm too freaking stuck in my own. I'm blind to the ways I can serve. That's what I've been doing in Kolkata. I came here to love, but I've forgotten how because I'm too focused on keeping out the pain. I prayed for open eyes, open ears, and open hands before coming here, but on my own account I have shut them...because that seems easier. I haven't wanted to take on any of the sorrows here, because it seems there are too many. I've been so guilty of the thoughts that "this city is what it is...my hands won't change a thing." I've let the darkness of this city, of the suffering, of the brokenness here completely snuff out the light I wanted to shine so brightly. I wrote a blog a few weeks ago confessing I don't love here. That I grow angry. That I judge. I do. But the Lord showed me that it is only because I don't want to open up enough to allow their hurt to hurt me, because naturally I despise pain. The thing is...with pain brings joy. Twisted, right? But that is how it is. I will sit and have coffee with anyone and tell you that exact thing face-to-face and why I know it to be true. So why stay closed up to the suffering of this city, when I know that so much joy to be found? I don't know. Other than the fact that everything in this city does it's job to convince me that it's hopeless. It's not. The Lord showed me that he has called me to nothing more than to being present here. To exist in every moment. I can't love well, but He can. He can be the overflow of my heart, but I've got to let Him. I've got to stop hardening myself and my heart and allow the God of the universe to use my presence. And there, joy will be found. Suffering too, but that can't be the focus. Good does come from ugly. I promise you that. And if you don't believe me, let's schedule a date when I'm back in America.
What is my take away from this? I'm called to exist in this city. Not conform to it; not coast through it. Exist as I have been created. Exist as I do any other place in the world. When I conform, I put myself at equals with the darkness of this city. I think and behave like I belong to the darkness here. I'm swallowed by it. And I find zero joy; zero reasons to be joy. So, I can smile when they do not. I can be patient when they are not. I can give when they do not, and I can take (the ugly, the pain, the rudeness, etc.) when they would not. I don't always have to be on the defense. I can turn the other cheek. Providing myself permission to do these things has already brought a great joy to my heart. And a great thankfulness for the 11 weeks I have left...that I can be different than I have been. Sorta like a second chance. Haha. Jesus is kind in that. Oh yeah, it has a name...grace.
And Bangkok. That is a large city, in case you haven't ever heard of it. It's ginormous. And so very different from Kolkata. Whoa, buddy...that was a change. People wait for you to get off the metro before they try getting on. It's also safe to sit next to a man on the metro, sky train, or a bus. Imagine that. I'm so used to being fearful and aware of my proximity to men that I didn't know how to react when a person of the male gender was next to me. They also don't stare...that was awesome. Everyone was eager to help us when we looked lost. Lots of unexpected kindness. It was very, very different from Kolkata. But, I'm not going to paint a beautiful portrait of Bangkok as being a perfect city. It is far from it. As a tourist just walking the streets of Bangkok and excited to see the world - yeah, sure - it's a great place. But going to the city in the context in which we did, I saw the broken side. I saw the ugly. It's an obvious, but hidden ugly. Sad, but so accepted.
We walked through the three largest red-light districts of the city. At midnight. The working hours. My heart hurts as I start to share this with you. I really don't know how to share. I literally feel sick just thinking on this night and my hands shake as I try to chose words that will somehow convey what it is like on those streets. I can't. I'm going to try, but I promise you my words will not do justice. I'm so afraid to even try, but I'm not going to not just because I'm nervous I cannot communicate the emotions those faces stirred in me. But before I even begin to tell you the sights and my thoughts, I want you to pray for these women and men. Bangkok is not the only place like this. It's in the world. It's just visible in Bangkok. It's visible in many places. Here in India, it's so under the radar, but that doesn't make it any less present. It does exist everywhere. Know that. We began the night walking through a red-light area with bars on either side. Women very scantily dressed even on the outside of these places. Men and women were walking up to us and throwing their "menus" for the sex shows into our faces. We just had to smile and say no thanks as we passed these people. This was the walk that shocked me. The first street we were introduced to. I tried to stay composed as my heart was almost beating out of my chest. I wanted to put all the women in my pocket and run them to safety. Not possible. We continued walking into a second red-light area that was much like the first. Strings of bars that all offered obvious invitations of entry...with services and shows displayed very openly. This area also had bars that "offered" men, which is not necessarily disclosed to only the pleasure of women. It was so sad to see. And lastly, we walked to the most popular red-light area. On the streets of this third red-light area, customers were out in the open. Bars completely open to the street. All very noticeable. They were all men visiting Thailand...for one reason or another, but ended up on these streets at this time for another purpose. Business men, vacationers, tourists, all of the sort. Men I would look upon as possibly respectable, but in that context, they are the farthest from receiving my respect as is possible. Again, I judge. I think the third place was the most difficult to absorb. I could see the men. I could see the faces of those purchasing these women. I could hear their voices as they spoke to these women. I could see the ways they were moving. It all disgusted me. It was so easy to target them as the one to judge. To look into his eyes, whoever he is, and to hate him, to be angry with him, to blame him for the state of these women. After all, if it wasn't for demand, there wouldn't be a supply. I have several faces of these men burned into my memory. Ones that my heart hurts for, but also ones that I despise on behalf of every woman and man being purchased on those streets. I hate it all. It is so disgusting. This business. I'm so quick to blame the men, to be angry with them, but I have to remember they have a story, too. Just because these women who have no desire to be selling their bodies end up on the street to do that very thing, doesn't mean they are the only ones with a reason to be angry at the world or to seek an escape of some sort. I looked at those men as the enemy. Which may or may not be justified, but the Bible speaks of loving enemies. I think that's the first time those verses hit me in the manner they did...an enemy doesn't mean that I was done wrong, it means someone is oppressing another human that doesn't deserve to be oppressed. They are cherished by our mighty God, just as much as the women are. The Lord opened my eyes to the fact that the faces I'm staring into to hate, are the faces he loves. But one thing that amazed me is the different emotions that can be read on the faces of the women. So many of them looked inviting, like they are enjoying their life; they read that all is well and I'm interested...they laugh and smile, but all of that is fake. If you look hard enough, you can tell. Or if you care anything for their hearts you can tell. Others straight up read disgust, anger, fear, pain, and that "I do not want to be here", those are the ones telling the truth. The ones that were honest with their eyes, but would never say so with their words. The ugly game with this is that this isn't a choice made by the women. They are sucked into this. They are brought one way or another into this lifestyle...because they are forced/owned, because they were once forced/owned and now have no other choice, because they have a family with needs and no money, because they have ran out of options or feel like it's just how it is with no escape. So many more stories, but all have roots in something ugly. The whole process is just sick. I cannot say it enough. Knowing this game, and I do not...I've only heard pieces or been told a part of the system, is burdensome. Men walk to these streets to purchase humans who act like they actually are interested in selling themselves, but aren't in the least. And what blows my mind is that it is every night. This wasn't just something that happened the night we went out...it operates every day of the week. Every day of the year. This ugly continues, even when I'm not staring it in the face. The darkness doesn't end. Or does it? Maybe not for every girl, for every man using the girl, but for some it can. There is hope. And holding on to that hope is what feeds the desire to see another day. I pray the women on the streets of Bangkok can see a light. I pray the men purchasing these women can find freedom from whatever it is enslaving them to the desire to use another human being the way they do. It's so, so, so heartbreaking. I cannot imagine how much the heart of our Lord breaks over this...unfathomable.
Anyways...spent those days there and returned home. Not before we had issue number seven: lost/late baggage. The airline totally forgot to put all of our luggage on the plane to Kolkata. Oh man. The fight continues. Here I've been praying to be different. To hold on the truths that the Lord revealed to me, and to put them into action. Purchased 30 little chocolate bars. I know once I give one out, it's going to be addicting. Might as well have bought 30 while I was at the store. So excited. So joyful. I smiled a lot today. I even let myself shimmy in the coffee shop (when no one was watching, of course). I'm going to exist here just as I would in any other place. Maybe a bit more mildly, but I am finished conforming. No good in attempting to be a light in a dark place if you conform to the ways of the darkness. Done.
Goodnight, folks. Gonna go eat dinner. It's 9:30 P.M and some homeboy is seriously wanting on my computer. His World of Warcraft game is calling his name.
I'll begin at the beginning of all of this crap...
So we left for Thailand to relax (for a few days at least) and then head to Bangkok to see how that city operates. First issue: our flight got pushed back...only by a couple hours, but we weren't told. We found out once we tried to board our 9:30 flight, only to be told we fly out at 11:45. No big deal. So we sit for a bit longer (forget that we could have slept a few more hours). We fly to Dhaka, Bangladesh. Second issue...we arrive to be informed by all the frantic Indian people that our connecting flight doesn't actually have a plane to fly us on. Yep, that's right. This airline scheduled a flight for which they had no plane. So what happens? Well, our Indian friends who are very obviously perturbed, scream/yell/shout and eventually have the airport grant us ALL transit visas for Bangladesh, pay for a hotel room for each party, and provided dinner. Ladies and gents, I now have a stamp from Dhaka, Bangladesh on my passport. I dined in the city...me and the team dined at a table with three Indian men that we do not know; during this the electricity cut out multiple times. That was fun. We go back to the airport, board on the plane that now exists (10 hours late) and head to Bangkok. We arrive at 3:30 A.M. Yep. Third issue: Erin's bag is not at baggage claim. That girl has great strength and can most definitely explain this situation with a bit more agitation than I, but she was a trooper. Fourth issue: no where to stay. Don't worry this is resolved. Thanks, Scott. Some random American boy who happens to own a five story apartment in Bangkok, which he rents out to travelers. Beginning of scary story, but because I have no exciting ending besides the fact it was a super cool place, super comfy bed, and had A/C...there won't be a scary movie about that one, sorry kids. We are in bed at 5 A.M. Yay. Next day, rush around the city, find Erin some things to replace the lost luggage, and luckily have no issues getting to our bus that takes us to the beach. But I won't disappoint...fifth issue: bus breaks down. Flat tire or something. Oh joy. No worries, we did hop on another and made it to the beach. Only to have the sixth issue: our room booking was mixed up and we have the beach one less night than was intended. It's all good. We have a killer team leader who searched out and found another place with a free room. Enjoyed the beach. Enjoyed awesome food. Relaxed. Rested. Breathed. It was well. The Lord opened my eyes to a ridiculous amount of things there...lots of tears, lots of joy, lots of hurt, lots of everything. Played a few games. We all did our best to forget how hard we worked to get these days of rest and just soaked it in.
So what's something I never thought I would confess...let's begin with the fact that I don't like hurt. I don't like pain. Well duh, Taylor. Tell me something new. Who likes those things? Well the thing is, when those things come my way, I check out. I do everything in my power to forget this world exists. I exit. Mentally. Physically. In whatever way works. I coast. I just make it through life, I don't actually live it. For that time of pain, of hurt, I die. I shut down, because that is easier. Not feeling is always easier. Right? Wrong. When I've done this in life, I forget about those who are walking through that pain with me. I shove them to the side. I forget to love, because who can do that when emotions are ground level. I'm blind to the world. I'm blind to it's needs, because I'm too freaking stuck in my own. I'm blind to the ways I can serve. That's what I've been doing in Kolkata. I came here to love, but I've forgotten how because I'm too focused on keeping out the pain. I prayed for open eyes, open ears, and open hands before coming here, but on my own account I have shut them...because that seems easier. I haven't wanted to take on any of the sorrows here, because it seems there are too many. I've been so guilty of the thoughts that "this city is what it is...my hands won't change a thing." I've let the darkness of this city, of the suffering, of the brokenness here completely snuff out the light I wanted to shine so brightly. I wrote a blog a few weeks ago confessing I don't love here. That I grow angry. That I judge. I do. But the Lord showed me that it is only because I don't want to open up enough to allow their hurt to hurt me, because naturally I despise pain. The thing is...with pain brings joy. Twisted, right? But that is how it is. I will sit and have coffee with anyone and tell you that exact thing face-to-face and why I know it to be true. So why stay closed up to the suffering of this city, when I know that so much joy to be found? I don't know. Other than the fact that everything in this city does it's job to convince me that it's hopeless. It's not. The Lord showed me that he has called me to nothing more than to being present here. To exist in every moment. I can't love well, but He can. He can be the overflow of my heart, but I've got to let Him. I've got to stop hardening myself and my heart and allow the God of the universe to use my presence. And there, joy will be found. Suffering too, but that can't be the focus. Good does come from ugly. I promise you that. And if you don't believe me, let's schedule a date when I'm back in America.
What is my take away from this? I'm called to exist in this city. Not conform to it; not coast through it. Exist as I have been created. Exist as I do any other place in the world. When I conform, I put myself at equals with the darkness of this city. I think and behave like I belong to the darkness here. I'm swallowed by it. And I find zero joy; zero reasons to be joy. So, I can smile when they do not. I can be patient when they are not. I can give when they do not, and I can take (the ugly, the pain, the rudeness, etc.) when they would not. I don't always have to be on the defense. I can turn the other cheek. Providing myself permission to do these things has already brought a great joy to my heart. And a great thankfulness for the 11 weeks I have left...that I can be different than I have been. Sorta like a second chance. Haha. Jesus is kind in that. Oh yeah, it has a name...grace.
And Bangkok. That is a large city, in case you haven't ever heard of it. It's ginormous. And so very different from Kolkata. Whoa, buddy...that was a change. People wait for you to get off the metro before they try getting on. It's also safe to sit next to a man on the metro, sky train, or a bus. Imagine that. I'm so used to being fearful and aware of my proximity to men that I didn't know how to react when a person of the male gender was next to me. They also don't stare...that was awesome. Everyone was eager to help us when we looked lost. Lots of unexpected kindness. It was very, very different from Kolkata. But, I'm not going to paint a beautiful portrait of Bangkok as being a perfect city. It is far from it. As a tourist just walking the streets of Bangkok and excited to see the world - yeah, sure - it's a great place. But going to the city in the context in which we did, I saw the broken side. I saw the ugly. It's an obvious, but hidden ugly. Sad, but so accepted.
We walked through the three largest red-light districts of the city. At midnight. The working hours. My heart hurts as I start to share this with you. I really don't know how to share. I literally feel sick just thinking on this night and my hands shake as I try to chose words that will somehow convey what it is like on those streets. I can't. I'm going to try, but I promise you my words will not do justice. I'm so afraid to even try, but I'm not going to not just because I'm nervous I cannot communicate the emotions those faces stirred in me. But before I even begin to tell you the sights and my thoughts, I want you to pray for these women and men. Bangkok is not the only place like this. It's in the world. It's just visible in Bangkok. It's visible in many places. Here in India, it's so under the radar, but that doesn't make it any less present. It does exist everywhere. Know that. We began the night walking through a red-light area with bars on either side. Women very scantily dressed even on the outside of these places. Men and women were walking up to us and throwing their "menus" for the sex shows into our faces. We just had to smile and say no thanks as we passed these people. This was the walk that shocked me. The first street we were introduced to. I tried to stay composed as my heart was almost beating out of my chest. I wanted to put all the women in my pocket and run them to safety. Not possible. We continued walking into a second red-light area that was much like the first. Strings of bars that all offered obvious invitations of entry...with services and shows displayed very openly. This area also had bars that "offered" men, which is not necessarily disclosed to only the pleasure of women. It was so sad to see. And lastly, we walked to the most popular red-light area. On the streets of this third red-light area, customers were out in the open. Bars completely open to the street. All very noticeable. They were all men visiting Thailand...for one reason or another, but ended up on these streets at this time for another purpose. Business men, vacationers, tourists, all of the sort. Men I would look upon as possibly respectable, but in that context, they are the farthest from receiving my respect as is possible. Again, I judge. I think the third place was the most difficult to absorb. I could see the men. I could see the faces of those purchasing these women. I could hear their voices as they spoke to these women. I could see the ways they were moving. It all disgusted me. It was so easy to target them as the one to judge. To look into his eyes, whoever he is, and to hate him, to be angry with him, to blame him for the state of these women. After all, if it wasn't for demand, there wouldn't be a supply. I have several faces of these men burned into my memory. Ones that my heart hurts for, but also ones that I despise on behalf of every woman and man being purchased on those streets. I hate it all. It is so disgusting. This business. I'm so quick to blame the men, to be angry with them, but I have to remember they have a story, too. Just because these women who have no desire to be selling their bodies end up on the street to do that very thing, doesn't mean they are the only ones with a reason to be angry at the world or to seek an escape of some sort. I looked at those men as the enemy. Which may or may not be justified, but the Bible speaks of loving enemies. I think that's the first time those verses hit me in the manner they did...an enemy doesn't mean that I was done wrong, it means someone is oppressing another human that doesn't deserve to be oppressed. They are cherished by our mighty God, just as much as the women are. The Lord opened my eyes to the fact that the faces I'm staring into to hate, are the faces he loves. But one thing that amazed me is the different emotions that can be read on the faces of the women. So many of them looked inviting, like they are enjoying their life; they read that all is well and I'm interested...they laugh and smile, but all of that is fake. If you look hard enough, you can tell. Or if you care anything for their hearts you can tell. Others straight up read disgust, anger, fear, pain, and that "I do not want to be here", those are the ones telling the truth. The ones that were honest with their eyes, but would never say so with their words. The ugly game with this is that this isn't a choice made by the women. They are sucked into this. They are brought one way or another into this lifestyle...because they are forced/owned, because they were once forced/owned and now have no other choice, because they have a family with needs and no money, because they have ran out of options or feel like it's just how it is with no escape. So many more stories, but all have roots in something ugly. The whole process is just sick. I cannot say it enough. Knowing this game, and I do not...I've only heard pieces or been told a part of the system, is burdensome. Men walk to these streets to purchase humans who act like they actually are interested in selling themselves, but aren't in the least. And what blows my mind is that it is every night. This wasn't just something that happened the night we went out...it operates every day of the week. Every day of the year. This ugly continues, even when I'm not staring it in the face. The darkness doesn't end. Or does it? Maybe not for every girl, for every man using the girl, but for some it can. There is hope. And holding on to that hope is what feeds the desire to see another day. I pray the women on the streets of Bangkok can see a light. I pray the men purchasing these women can find freedom from whatever it is enslaving them to the desire to use another human being the way they do. It's so, so, so heartbreaking. I cannot imagine how much the heart of our Lord breaks over this...unfathomable.
Anyways...spent those days there and returned home. Not before we had issue number seven: lost/late baggage. The airline totally forgot to put all of our luggage on the plane to Kolkata. Oh man. The fight continues. Here I've been praying to be different. To hold on the truths that the Lord revealed to me, and to put them into action. Purchased 30 little chocolate bars. I know once I give one out, it's going to be addicting. Might as well have bought 30 while I was at the store. So excited. So joyful. I smiled a lot today. I even let myself shimmy in the coffee shop (when no one was watching, of course). I'm going to exist here just as I would in any other place. Maybe a bit more mildly, but I am finished conforming. No good in attempting to be a light in a dark place if you conform to the ways of the darkness. Done.
Goodnight, folks. Gonna go eat dinner. It's 9:30 P.M and some homeboy is seriously wanting on my computer. His World of Warcraft game is calling his name.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)