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.
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