Streams in the Desert

God is so good. Tonight with the girls was amazing. When I arrived at the hostel, some of them came running, grabbed my hands and took me down the road to the playground. We stood at the edge of a vast field of yellow grasses. Far away where the field ended, the palm trees, so tall and magnificent, were a stark contrast against the sky. The sky, oh the sky! It was so big and beautiful. At home there are too many buildings in the way, but here in India, it always feels like a glorious ocean above me.

The children played, climbing the monkey bars, playing tag, picking their way through the tall grasses, small dark heads against the roiling sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance and sometimes a flash of lightning streaked against the mountains. The sun was setting behind us, always a fiery orange ball. The air was heavy with the sweetness of flowers, and the coolness of the coming rain. Yogalakshmi, one of the older girls, handed me a comb, asking for a little braid. You take two small sections of hair above each ear, twist them, and braid together with another piece in the middle to make a small braid. Then at the bottom one long thick braid.

There was just something about standing in that huge, spacious place, braiding the hair of an Indian girl. There was something about the sand under our bare feet, the warm breeze, the whispering grasses, laughter. There was something about feeling so small, the field like the hollow of His hand. It was all so beautiful that I just wanted to cry with thankfulness. HE was there with us.

And He sent us rain! The second time in two days. It came in torrents, bringing freshness and relief from the heat. We ran back to the hostel before the downpour hit, and then huddled under the verandah, watching the water pool on the ground in the courtyard.

As it grew dark we gathered for prayer and Tata came. He told the girls all kinds of stories, making them laugh and smile, as a good grandfather should. As Tata spoke to the children in Tamil, I sat reading my bible and the Lord showed me this verse:

“There is no one holy like the Lord, there is no one besides You; there is no rock like our God” (1 Samuel 2:2).

By now the rain had stopped, but as I looked out into the night, this verse ran through my mind over and over. It occurred to me that we must take time to just stand in awe of God. To know His presence, to listen to His voice, to simply be still …

Later, little Kamala laid her head in my lap, crying with a fever. I wept silently as I prayed over her, begging the Lord to use my hands, arms and voice as His. It is so difficult for the children when they are sick. Sometimes they cry out, “Apa,” or “Amma,” over and over, calling for their parents. In those moments I feel so helpless. But the Lord has given me arms to hold them, a voice to pray for them, a heart to love them.

As I put the girls to bed that night, they were so adorable. What a wonderful thing love is. First we pray, then I go around to each girl, kiss her forehead or cheek and say, “Goodnight. I love you. Yesu ennai nesikirar” (Jesus loves you). The girls always kiss me back and it’s so cute. Little Murugeswari -- a tiny wisp of a thing with no front teeth and huge, haunting eyes – just stared up at me in wonder, her eyes shining like moons in the darkness. So precious. Then Manithai and Mageswari said something that melted my heart. I was telling them in Tamil they were beautiful girls, and they whispered back, “Gracie Amma alahoo.” (Gracie mother beautiful). They called me Amma! I am so undeserving of that title! To think that I really am a mother to them … it’s too much to comprehend.

Several weeks ago the Lord had spoken to me from Isaiah 35:

“Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, ‘Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, He will come with vengeance; with divine retribution He will come to save you.’ Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer and the mute tongue shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs” (v. 3-7a).

This was the Lord’s promise to me, and He made good on it. Just as He sent the rain from heaven to water the dry ground, He also sends strength, love, and faithfulness for the work ahead. We just have to wait for Him. He will come. And when He comes, those who are feeble will sing.

________

This place really does feel like home and I’m so blessed just to be here. The Lord has been faithful in more ways than I can count. There is another helper here now as well. His name is Florian and he’s from Austria. We have become good friends and work very well together as a team. It’s funny how God provided a teammate for me. Before I left Canada, I had prayed the Lord would send me a companion. I prayed for a girl and received a boy. I prayed for a Canadian or American and received an Austrian instead. God’s ways are so different from ours, but His way really is perfect. Florian and I have been able to pray together and help each other daily. What a blessing brothers and sisters in Christ are!

Here is what my daily schedule looks like:

5:30 – Wake up at the hostel, read Bible and pray.

6:00 – Return to my room at the house and wash, etc.

6:30 – Morning prayer. First the girls sing a Christian song in Tamil, then Mary Amma teaches them from the Bible. Ends with prayer.

7:00 – Chore time. The girls have various jobs in the hostel, such as sweeping, cleaning, etc. The little ones pick up garbage off the ground. One thing I find very funny is that the girls sweep the ground outside, especially around the bases of the palm trees and against the walls of the buildings.

7:30 – Bathing. Girls go to the wash station and take their baths (hair is washed on Saturday only). Each girl has a cup and a bucket. There is a long stone tub filled with water, where the girls stand, filling their buckets and pouring water over themselves. The little ones always need help with scrubbing, otherwise they are left with soap on their backs or behind their ears. There is so much splashing; many little brown feet on slippery, wet concrete. After bathing, the girls put their school uniforms on. The uniform is a red-checkered salwar, or shirt with a red skirt. Hair is oiled, parted and made into two braids, which are coiled up and tied with ribbons. The girls look so adorable all dressed for school … I love it!

8:30 – Breakfast. The rice comes from the kitchen in big buckets. The girls line up according to their grade (standard). They sing a prayer song in Tamil and then one by one come with their tin plates to be served. After I finish helping with breakfast, I return to the house for my own breakfast, which Amma prepares. All of us eat together as a family – Appa, Paulsam, Priscilla, Florian and I. Amma usually waits to eat until afterwards. (She is such a selfless woman, always serving others, never worrying about herself).

9:00 – After breakfast, I put my sari on, which takes some time, then spend more time reading the bible and praying. I am so thankful for the large amounts of time I have to spend with Jesus alone. I need to come to the well and be filled first before I can be poured out to others.

11:15 – At this time I go to the school to teach English. I teach in the first and second standard class. The first half of the class, the teacher Jessie and I do English rhymes, conversation and role play with the children. Then I take the second standard class into a separate room for reading and writing. (I will write more about my experience in the classroom in a future post).

12:30 – Lunch at the house.

1:00 – This is also free time for me. Sometimes I will spend more time reading my bible or other books, sometimes preparing things for school or Sunday class, sometimes taking a rest. The Lord directs me as I seek Him. Every now and then I go to the hostel and visit with Malathy. She’s a special needs child, who cannot go to school. She is so sweet, with such a beautiful smile. We draw pictures together, or play catch or just sit together. I love spending time with her.

4:00 – Tea.

5:00-5:30 – At this time I return to the hostel for the evening and play games with the girls, sing songs, whatever the Lord leads me to do.

6:00 – Study time. Sometimes the younger students don’t have any studying to do, so we play more games together, read stories, sing songs, go for walks, etc.

7:00 – Evening prayer.

7:30 – Supper. After serving the girls, I go back to the house for my own supper.

8:00-8:15 – Return to the hostel for the night. Prayer with the little girls, then I sing some songs to them as they fall asleep.

9:00 – Sleep.

That is all for now. I will write another update soon!

In Christ alone, Gracie.

One of the many beautiful Indian sunsets.

Sunday class: Mary Amma teaching the girls a Tamil song.

Manju!

Best friends Kohila and Suganya.

Eating snacks.

Sisters Mahalakshmi and Murugeswari drinking tea.

Selvi and Manithai.

Rahini and Manju fresh and clean after baths.

Burning Sands

     The daughter found herself in a barren place. Her Father said, “In this place I will give you the peace you are longing for. Here I will give you spiritual food that will nourish you. You are always with Me – no matter what the circumstances – and all that I have is yours.”

     Then the Father, with great gentleness, drew the daughter to Himself. Quietly, He said, “I am the One who allowed you to come into these humbling circumstances, and allowed you to hunger. I did this so that I might feed you with manna – My bread from heaven! Only in this way could I help you know that you cannot live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from My mouth.”

     The daughter said, “Give me this bread always!” And when she grew thirsty she learned to cry … “The light of Your face is my life!”

     Later still, the daughter wondered why one like herself, who is so richly fed and cared for at times, should at other times feel so poor and needy and thirsty.

     Her Father replied by asking four questions:

     “Can someone who has never thirsted know how precious is My living water? Can someone who has never discovered rivers of these living waters flowing on barren heights – can she ever lead her thirsty friend to those rivers? Can someone who has never walked the deep valleys of the spirit help a friend who is fainting – or lead this friend to the wellsprings that will save the life of her soul? Can someone who has never seen burning sands in the wilderness turn into a refreshing pool – can she speak in praise of My marvels, or My power?”

~ Amy Carmichael

This little story came to me at the perfect time and comforted me greatly during dark days. As I wrote before, we are in a spiritual battle here at the Children's Home. Sometimes … such light – the bright eyes of children as they listen to a Bible story, dozens of dark heads bowing in prayer, the sun itself burning fiery orange against the palm trees. Sometimes … such darkness – a child returning to the hostel with her head shaved from worshiping at the temple, girls acting in violence towards one another, little ones crying because they’ve been abandoned.

Every morning after gathering for prayer, little Kaviya comes to me, as I’m putting away my shawl in our room. She says, “Sister, jabam!” (meaning prayer). So we pray together, sometimes just her and I, sometimes other girls join us. First, I’ll pray in English and then she’ll pray in Tamil. The only words I understand in her prayer are “sister” and “Jesus.” Her earnestness just touches my heart.

Sathya’s father died a year ago. He committed suicide by pouring kerosene over his body and setting himself on fire. Oh, the agony these girls have suffered! The Lord led me to write a little letter to her, with the verse, “Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me” (John 16:32b). There’s an older man in our village, whom we call Tata ("grandfather"). He has been very kind to me and was willing to translate my letter into Tamil so Sathya could understand it. She is such a sweetheart. I’ve never seen a more avid listener during prayer times. She sits cross-legged, hands folded, not moving at all, her eyes fixed on Mary, the warden, as she speaks from the Bible. There is a seriousness in her eyes, but a longing as well, I think, to soak up these words of life.

Vijithra is a frustrated little girl who is constantly finding herself in trouble. She needs to be told things several times before she will obey them. My heart is burdened for her, because she isn’t saved. She’s frustrated, because she’s still stuck in her sin and she needs Jesus to cleanse her. God has given me love for her, even though sometimes she can try my patience.

One night I was sitting on the verandah at the hostel, reading my Bible as the crickets sang, and one of the older girls, Murugeswari, came and sat beside me. She took my Bible into her hands and marveled over the writing and pictures in it. Then she noticed the world map that was beside me. The headmaster let me borrow the map so I could show Canada to the girls. With wide-eyed curiosity, Murugeswari traced the countries, rivers and seas with her fingers. I don’t know why, but this small moment touched me deep inside. She was so sweet and earnest, like a flower opening its petals to the rain, like a hungry soul in need of water. I found out from Mary later that her father is a “drinking man,” and she’s the youngest of four girls. I can’t even imagine the hurt and pain this young girl has experienced.

Anitha, fourteen, is mature way beyond her years. Each day she faithfully assists Mary, as her special helper. She's always respectful and kind, always smiling, never complaining. Whenever I ask her a question she says with perfect politeness and sincerity, “Yes, sister.” Or “No, sister.” Her innocence is precious.

Oh, that they would all know Jesus! That is my heart’s cry and prayer for them. Sometimes my heart seems to ache for this. These girls need HIM and Him alone so desperately. Some of them are living in so much darkness and chaos. Places and situations I can’t even imagine. Yet even the smallest candle can bring much light in a dark place.

God gave me a verse the other day that spoke to me deeply: “The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love” (Galatians 5:6b).

Am I willing to just trust the Lord, knowing He will see me through each day?

Do I trust Him enough to know that He will fill me with love for these children, that He will show me how to help them? (Sometimes it is so overwhelming. I am only one person. There are 100 girls here).

Am I willing to accept hardship (which lately has come in the form of exhaustion) as coming from His hand, as well as the blessings?

Can I be perfectly content in any and every situation because of Christ?

Can I die daily?

Vijithra.

My beautiful hostel girls.

Vinothini and Chithra.

Reflections

Sometimes being in India feels like a dream. Everything around me is strange and beautiful: vividly-coloured saris, thatched roofs, dry papery palm leaves rattling in the wind, dusty stone floors, the crowing of roosters, cows grazing under trees, buses and rickshaws bumbling down the road, homes painted in bright colours, coconut shells, banana tree gardens, the distant rumble of the train, brown skinned and black-haired people, goats herded down the path, barking dogs, red-capped storks flying overhead, the ringing of the school bell, the chaos of the city, the laughter of children …

I’ve been at the Children's Home now for a little over two weeks. I’ve come to love this place so much! Here are some of my reflections.

Most people are very friendly – men, women, children alike, they all wave and smile as they pass by (walking, in buses, rickshaws or on motorcycles). The one narrow lane that winds through the compound and the village is constantly an avenue of traffic. I’ve gotten used to stepping off the road as a motorcycle careens past, honking loudly. It is not an uncommon sight to see a herd of goats or cows as pedestrians! 

There are both Christian and Hindu people in the area. The Christians gather twice a week in the assembly building for service. Some Christians who own cars have Bible verses painted on the back windows of their vehicles. Some people wear earmuffs at night because it is “cold”!

People refer to each other based on the relationship between them:

Aca – older sister
Anin – older brother
Thangachi – younger sister
Thambi – younger brother

Elders can be referred to as "Uncle" or "Aunty." 

Many houses here in Tamil Nadu are painted in vivid colours – periwinkle is seen often, as well as lavendar, different shades of pink, lemon yellow, mustard yellow, orange, lime green, and royal blue. The houses are upright and “boxy” with ornate designs along the porch and on the bars of the windows. There is usually a roof you can climb up to. Low-class houses range from thatched roof cottages to utter shacks – small, decrepit, and filthy, with very low doors. Everything is clumped together: garbage piles next to gardens, dirty narrow walkways squeezed between homes. 

A few times I’ve gone walking into the village. The first time I went, a group of children met me along the road. One of them was named Mounika, a bright-eyed girl in the eighth standard. She introduced me to her family and neighbours, and of course, brought me a chair to sit on. Soon a little crowd had gathered, and before I knew it, I was singing worship songs for them in English. In turn, some of the children sang for me in Tamil. It was so humbling to see how much they were delighted by the simple songs. 

Mounika and some of the other children took me on a tour of the village. We walked through some fields of corn, and a garden of yellow and orange flowers. One little girl who came with us was named Dhivya. At first I thought she was about two-years old because she looked like a toddler, but I found out she's actually seven! It was hot and her feet were sore from walking, so I picked her up to carry her. Instantly I knew something was not right; I felt something hit against me as I took her into my arms. When I looked down I noticed that she had a huge lump on her chest, which protruded quite largely from her body. Somehow Mounika communicated to me in broken English that Dhivya did not grow properly and her inner organs are too big for her body. That lump was her heart!

Mounika took me into her home. The small dwelling was comprised of two cramped rooms: a kitchen (with only one shelf – the rest of the pots, pans and dishes were piled against the wall on the floor) and a living room/bedroom. When sleeping, the family of six spread their mats on the floor. There was one cabinet for all their clothes and a few shelves for the rest of their possessions. Oddly enough, they had a television and some video games. On the walls of the humble home were Bible verses. I was happy to discover they are a Christian family and the parents are missionaries. Mounika introduced me to her mother, a lovely lady with joyful eyes. It amazed me to see how little they have, and yet how content and peaceful they are in the Lord.

Indians live simply. And I think the way they live makes so much more sense than the way we do in rich, comfortable Canada. Food is prepared by hand, clothes are washed by hand. Everything is used: banana leaves for plates (usually only for guests though), dried palm tree leaves for firewood, coconut milk for breakfast, etc. 

The food is very different, but I like it a lot! For breakfast Sornakumari makes something called idli, which are small, thick pancake type things, eaten with coconut chutney. Lunch is always rice with some kind of curry (usually vegetable, and occasionally mutton or chicken). Supper is chapatti (flatbread) with some kind of sauce, or dosai, a very thin, crispy pancake, also served with chutney. It is all very good, though sometimes a little spicy.

Indians seem to always be late. “Indian time” often means arriving an hour later than expected. 

Buses are hot and crowded. Fare is 5 rupees. You are lucky if you get a seat. 

S--- (the nearest city to the village) is very hot, crowded and busy. I much prefer the open air of the country. Like Bangalore and Salem, everything is clumped together along narrow streets. I have found very little beauty in S---; it's a dirty, dusty city with sellers everywhere. 

Amma first took me to the city, so we could go to the sari shop. I had been so excited to wear Indian clothes, but when shopping time came, I kept thinking of the hostel girls with their banged-up boxes of old clothes. The young ladies who worked in the shop were delighted to help me, and I found it a bit overwhelming – so so so many colours and fabrics, and so many pairs of eyes watching to see which ones I would choose! 

I will say that saris are very beautiful (and actually quite comfortable). They are made of three separate pieces: a blouse, lining skirt and overlay. The overlay is wrapped around you in a very specific way, with different folds. I am trying to learn how to put it on myself, so Amma doesn’t have to help me get dressed everyday, but it’s very tricky business! The salwar, or chudidar, is easier to wear: it’s a long shirt, with billowy pants, and a scarf. All the women wear a sari or salwar (usually the salwar is for younger women and girls) and the men wear shirts, pants, or a dhoti, the towel-like skirt I described before.

The countryside is breathtaking. One road leading out of CMML takes you through huge fields where the laborers work. Flat, yellow grasses, sometimes a lone tree, and in the distance there are huge towering palms and mountains on the border of Kerala. The mountains are like hazy shadows against the sky; sometimes you wonder if they are really there at all. 

Banana trees grow in gardens, hundreds of them. They have beautiful big, spreading green leaves which fan upward from a thick yellowish-brown trunk. There are vapour trees, jackfruit trees, mango trees and papaya trees.

The area is very rural, with many farmers. Everyday, women are laying out grain of some kind on the roads and beating it with a stick, or sifting it in shallow baskets. Some people own hundreds of chickens, which are kept in long, low buildings.

Several days ago, I attended an Indian wedding with the family. It was definitely an interesting experience. The drive to Tenkasi was so beautiful, I can hardly even describe it. Coming out of our village, the landscape changed from dry and flat, to green and lush as we traveled farther south. Sometimes we drove past huge green paddy fields edged with palm trees. Sometimes trees hung beautifully over the road like an archway. 

My words cannot describe the beauty … it was just so gorgeous! Lush greenery everywhere: moss, banyan trees, thick forests of palm trees, winding streams, sparkling lakes, paddy fields as far as the eye can see, and the mountains … the mountains actually took my breath away! They towered up so huge and majestic against the rolling green hills. I found myself so full of praise to my God who made all of this. His glory really does extend to the ends of the earth.

“How many are Your works, O Lord! In wisdom You made them all; the earth is full of Your creatures” (Psalm 104:24).

Sometimes we passed through different villages and towns. In one village there was Hindu music playing over speakers. For the first time, I saw some worshipers bowing down to idols, and others sitting on mats inside a temple, arranging flower necklaces for the gods. Everyone was up and about and celebrating, because it was Republic Day (when India became an independent nation).

Tenkasi is a lovely little town, less busy, less crowded, cleaner and more beautiful than S---. The wedding was held in a huge marriage hall, which was somewhat similar to the one we used for camp meeting in Salem. Outside the hall hung a huge banner with the engagement picture of the bride and groom. We walked up some stairs and were greeted by relatives of the bride who showed us in. On the floor in the entryway was a large bowl filled with flowers, and around it, more flowers shaped into a design. We were served breakfast on banana leaves in a large room with long tables. After breakfast, everyone washed and went upstairs. In the hall, one aisle separated chairs, facing a platform. The platform was decorated with flowers, and in huge letters was printed: SHANKAR WEDS ROSELIN and the date. In the middle of the platform was a huge, ornate couch, where the couple sat during the ceremony.

As I said before, Indian time means things start very late. The wedding was supposed to begin at 10:00 and actually started at 11:15. A very loud band was playing music with huge booming drums that seemed to shake the entire building. The groom stood at the front with the best man and two pastors (one to speak Tamil and the other English). Roselin came in with her father and maid of honour. She wore a fancy red and orange sari, white veil, and loads of gold jewelry. (Uncle Sornaraj later told me that her parents spent $25 000 on the jewelry!) Shankar was also loaded down with jewelry and both wore wreaths of flowers around their necks. Neither of them smiled much during the ceremony (but I don’t think it was because they were unhappy) and there was no “kiss the bride.” The cake cutting happened on the stage, right after the signing of the registry. 

The one thing that is really different about Indian marriages is that they are arranged. Shankar and Roselin had only met a few times I think, before they were engaged. There is so much of Indian culture that I love, but there are things that I just can’t understand, such as having an arranged marriage. 

All I am seeing is very eye-opening: the poverty, the customs, the way of life, the language, the people. You think they mean things when they don’t, you think they are waving, but they are telling you to come. It is a completely unfamiliar place. 

Sometimes it is hard to believe that I’m actually on the other side of the world. So much of daily life has become "normal" to me now, yet every so often something surprises me and I realize I'm a stranger in a strange land.

These are just some of my thoughts and reflections about life in India so far. I want to write all about working in the hostel with the girls, but this post is too long already, so I will close here.

God bless you, and I’m thinking of you all in my prayers!

~ Gracie