Sunlight picture

Sunlight picture
Some of our hostel girls gathering for a picture at sunset. "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ" (2 Corinthians 4:6).

Friday, January 28, 2011

Light in Dark Places

First off, I apologize for not writing sooner, but the electricity was out in the computer room for several days. So much has happened since my last update and I’m not really sure where to start.

The one thing that comes to mind, is the passage God gave me about a year ago, when He placed on my heart a desire for India:

“Now get up and stand on your feet. I have appeared to you to appoint you as a servant and as a witness of what you have seen and will see of Me. I will rescue you from your own people and from the Gentiles. I am sending you to them to open their eyes and turn them from darkness into light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in Me” (Acts 26: 16-18).

This verse has become an actuality. God has put me here to be a servant and a witness, to bring the light of Jesus into dark places.

There is such a tremendous need at the Home. The girls’ hostel houses about 100 girls, with only one “house mother” to take care of them. Her name is Mary and she shoulders a huge responsibility, taking care of the girls day in and day out. When I first met Mary, she came across as cold and harsh in the way she treated the girls (sometimes she can be very strict with them), but I soon discovered she has a soft heart full of love for them. She said to me, “These children, my children.” She knows about every single girl, what situation she came from and what her needs are. Mary meets with Sornakumari every day and they pray for the children together.

The needs are overwhelming! Many of the children come from broken or abandoned families. Many of them are very poor and have been funded by the government to stay at CMML. Some have alcoholic fathers. Some are fatherless, or motherless, or completely orphaned. For many of the girls, the Home is like a boarding school. On holidays they return home to their families, which means seeing their parents or relatives only a few times a year.

It is evident that the girls are starving for love and attention. One little girl is always sucking her thumb. Whenever I catch her doing it, I’ll gently slap her hand. She laughs because she thinks it’s funny, but I sense something deeper behind it. At nine-years old she should be way beyond that habit. I suspect she does it to comfort herself because her mother is far away. Sometimes the girls are homesick; they cry and try to hide it.

Every minute of the day I spend in the hostel, the girls are crowding around me, clamoring for my constant attention. One is crying because she has a sliver in her toe, another is offering me some treats in newspaper wrapping, another is grabbing my hands and trying to get me to play a clapping game, another is showing me her English homework.

Each girl, from youngest to oldest, is so special and beautiful. I love them very much. Each day I pray that God’s perfect love will reign in my heart, filling me with compassion and patience for them. Sometimes this is very difficult but somehow God always provides the strength. He says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

At first my biggest challenge was trying to learn the names of all the girls. Indian names can be very long and difficult to pronounce! By God’s grace He’s helping me learn the names, and I’ve begun to cultivate friendships with the girls. The little girls need a mother, someone to take care of them and play games with them. The older girls need a friend, an older sister, someone to encourage them and make them feel valued. It’s amazing because I came to India, asking God to make me a blessing to others and everyone here has been a blessing to me! A day doesn’t go by without kind words and deeds from the girls. They are constantly trying to please and be welcoming towards me. The one thing they always insist upon is bringing me a chair to sit on!

The first week here, I slept in the room the Sornaraj family gave me in their house. But then Sornakumari told me of the need for someone to stay with the littlest girls in the hostel. Sometimes they wake up crying in the middle of the night and want someone to comfort them. This really pulled at my heart. God was whispering something there. The room in the hostel is dark, stuffy and lice-infested; the mattress is thin and it’s definitely not as comfortable as the room in the house, but it's exactly where I need to be.

When I first told the girls I would be staying in the hostel, they were delighted. The little ones jumped up and down, clapping their hands. Some of the older ones helped move the bed into the room (they are so sweet!) The room is for standard 1, 2, and 3 (here in India they say “standard” instead of “grade”). There are 12 little girls in the room. Manithai, a fun-loving, mischief maker. Magesvari – bubbly and so so cute. Chithra – very needy, wants constant attention. Selvi – Manithai’s sister, quiet, a very sweet smile. Radisvari – always wearing pigtails, cheerful and polite. Vigithra – she has the biggest, most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Kamalla – a tiny little thing, can be bossy. Mahalaksmi – always insists on kissing me goodnight, several times! Muruheswari – her younger sister, huge, adorable eyes, very shy. Manju – constantly sucking her thumb, so sweet. Kaviya – Manju’s sister, an energetic little imp.

This does not describe my precious girls in the least! They are so wonderful and full of life. I just love being with them. Each night before we go to bed, we gather together on the floor to pray.  I’ve grown accustomed to covering my head during prayer because this is what the Indian women do. The other night I put my shawl over my head, and the little girls, wanting to imitate me, pulled bedsheets over their own heads. It was so adorable! After prayer they all lay down on their mats and one by one I kiss them each goodnight. Then I sing to them as they fall asleep.

The first night doing this, it really hit me: the Lord brought me here … to India … to this place … to this little dark room in the hostel … to be a mother to these girls. My heart aches for them, yet I am filled with so much joy as well. God is the Father to the fatherless. He carries these children close to His heart like lambs.

My prayer is this: to somehow, in the smallest way, communicate even a fraction of His perfect love to these, who I am called to serve.

"To open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light ..."


Clothes hanging to dry.
A rickshaw parked outside the Christian Mission Hospital.
Some of the hostel boys after school is out.
Two of the hostel girls, Venmathy and Valarmathy.
The assembly building.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Children's Home

My first morning at the Home, I awoke to the sound of eerie music drifting into the room. Initially everything felt strange and different. The house was silent and I soon discovered that everyone had already gone to the assembly building for church. I went outside onto the round, stone balcony and looked out. What I could see of the compound was a winding red dirt path, low spreading trees and weathered buildings. Hundreds of little white butterflies danced over the grass, and chickens pattered through the dirt. Across the path stood the Christian Mission Hospital. A dark-skinned man in a towel skirt sat there, staring at me. All of this, mingled with the weird strands of music made me feel like such a foreigner. It seemed I had suddenly been transported into another world.

Later I found out that the music was coming from a radio, which transmits all over the area. The past few days the Tamils have been celebrating a harvest festival called Pongal. The Hindu gods are worshiped, and people make designs in front of their houses with coloured powder. Now I understand why the music was so unsettling. What I have seen of Hinduism so far is so terrible. The people are enslaved to fear. There is a spiritual battle here and I feel it potently in this village.

Anyway, despite the darkness, there is so much light! God’s glory and majesty really is displayed throughout all the earth. His presence is evident in all the beautiful things He has made. The Christians are wonderful and joyful. The family I am staying with, "Appa," "Amma," Paulsam and Priscilla are AMAZING. I am treated as their very own (which also means helping in the kitchen by washing dishes and cutting vegetables). Appa, the headmaster, is very kind and friendly, completely devoted to the Lord. Amma is probably the most beautiful Indian lady I’ve met so far. When I first saw her she was wearing a gold sari and bangles, which looked lovely against her dark brown skin. She has a beautiful smile and eyes that speak volumes of joy. Her beauty is not skin deep, but the “unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight” (1 Peter 3:4). Sornakumari spends most of her time in the kitchen, concocting delicious meals for everyone. She is entirely selfless, waiting to eat until everyone else has had their fill. I hope to get to know her more. Paulsam (their son) is quiet, but very kind; he’s a teacher at the high school. Priscilla is the sweetest! Despite her disabilities she goes about cheerfully, uncomplainingly.

The Home is comprised mainly of the mission house (where my host family lives), the Christian Mission Hospital, boys' hostel, girls' hostel, primary school and high school. There is a little store (which is actually a shack) where the children can buy treats, and many little houses where different families live. The village is actually outside of the Home. Amma goes into the village often to share the gospel with people. Most of them are Hindus, and most of the children at the hostel and school come from Hindu families as well. Only a few are Christians. Oh yes, and I forgot the assembly building. It is only a short walk from the house, and it’s where all the Christians from the area gather to worship God. It is a beautiful little building with arched entry ways and a thick wooden door.

Everything is beautiful here, albeit dusty and dirty. At first I felt I was in the middle of nowhere, but after being here several days, I've become better accustomed to the life -- the comings and goings, the animals, and of course the dirt. There are many different kinds of trees: mango, papaya, coconut, and others I don’t know the name of. Many trees have sweet-smelling flowers growing on them.

The children. I love the children SO SO SO much! They are everywhere ... playing, sitting under trees or on stone benches, flying by on bicycles. When I first met them, the boys just stared shyly and waved. The greeting around here is "vanakkam" (meaning hello), which you say while putting your palms together like a steeple. Many of the boys have these wooden tops, which they spin to the ground and then catch with a string. They were very eager to impress me with their skills. 

Sornaraj brought me to the girls’ hostel. We had not walked very far when suddenly a gaggle of girls swarmed me shouting, “Sister! Sister!” They instantly starting touching my arms, and slipping their small dusty hands into mine. One little girl Valarmathi, who was the first to hold my hand, just stared up at me adoringly with her gorgeous black eyes and very long eyelashes. I know I am being very descriptive about everything, but I can’t help it. Everything is so interesting and lovely, I can’t help but try to capture it with words. Sometimes pictures just won’t do.

“Sister, sister, come!” Within seconds, they had pulled me over to the playground and we played probably five different games in five minutes! I couldn’t help laughing at how cute they all were, and how delighted they were to see me, a complete stranger. The little girls don’t stare as much, they just instantly accept and love you. The older ones are a bit shyer, but they soon become very friendly too. 

The difficult thing is giving them all the attention they desperately need. They were all talking to me at once, (in Tamil no less!!), grabbing my hands to do clapping games, running to find a skipping rope, dancing and prancing all around. They are very wild and sometimes hit and slap each other. All I could manage to communicate was “Ille!” (meaning no) and try to make them apologize to each other.

I love them all so much. One girl in particular, Manju, just melted my heart. Every time she looks at me, it’s with hungry eyes and I just want to bawl. These love-starved children are no longer an idea in my head but reality, right before my eyes.

Later some of the girls showed me where they sleep. The older girls sleep in one long room. The little girls in a few different rooms. The rooms are empty except for rolled-up mats. The children sleep on the floor without blankets or pillows. They don't have toys, except for maybe a ball here and there, or a skipping rope. They also brought me into the box room, where they keep their belongings. Each child has a small basket or suitcase, containing everything they own – which isn’t much at all … a few sets of clothes, perhaps a flashlight or penknife, a few treats. The room I have all to myself back at the house seems so luxurious compared to this.

Please pray for these little ones. As I wrote before, most come from Hindu families. Here they learn about Jesus and seeds are being sown into their precious hearts.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Camp Meeting

Thoughts from the morning:

“I’m sitting in the entrance of the house. The door is open a crack and I can see people milling about. So many sights and sounds in this place. Birds chattering, machines rumbling. The smell of cow dung and jasmine flowers. The rustle of workers and walkers. Through the netted window behind me I can see cows in mounds of mud. Everything about this place is different. I love the cool earthiness of everything, the feeling of bare feet on dusty marble …”

------

We are in Salem for a three-day camp meeting. It’s an annual family conference, where Christians from different assemblies gather from all over Tamil Nadu, sing, listen to messages and fellowship. It’s been a wonderful experience.

We sat in a big assembly room (which was actually a marriage hall). There was one aisle down the middle which separated the men from women. All the women had their heads covered. Different preachers went up to the front to speak, sometimes in Tamil, sometimes in English. All the speakers brought forth the message with power and conviction. A lot of times it sounded like they were shouting. I can sense that the faith of these people is so solid. Their dark piercing eyes and the way they carry themselves communicates the depth of their inner life.

As Christians, we belong to God, so we should imitate Him in everything. He calls us out of the world to be set-apart for Him. In a country that is predominately Hindu, Sikh and Muslim, here is a simple little body of believers singing His praises, listening to the Word spoken and “working out their salvation in fear and trembling.” These people are like shining lights in the dark. They do not rub Shiva’s ashes on their foreheads or put a bindi between their eyebrows. They are faithful to the one true God. 

“To the angel of the church in Smyrna write: These are the words of Him who is the First and the Last, who died and came to life again. I know your afflictions and your poverty – yet you are rich! … Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you life as your victor's crown” (Revelation 2:8,10).

Each morning before leaving for camp meeting, we read the Bible together, sing and pray. It is beautiful. When we pray, everyone bows, some with their faces to the floor, even the children.

In the bedroom upstairs I share a room with a lovely 18-year old girl named Rhoda, who speaks English very well and lives in Bangalore near the Mathews. We became fast friends. Joyce told Rhoda to “take care of me” so we have been together for most of the time spent at camp meeting. She’s an amazing roommate and friend, though teasingly I call her my “babysitter,” because I need guidance wherever I go.

One night before bed, I asked Rhoda about her socks. She pulled them off, revealing the massive scarring on her beautiful brown feet. She explained that her family's house caught on fire when she was a baby. It amazes me how some of these people have been through so many trials, yet remain faithful to their Saviour, Jesus Christ. I've observed that Rhoda goes through life joyfully with little thought to herself.

My heart has been so full of praise during these few days in Salem. God gave me the opportunity to meet some of the Indian women there, specifically a young girl named Vasugi. When we first met, the language barrier made for a very funny conversation. Sometimes we would just stare at each other awkwardly and smile. Then Rhoda came over and started translating for us and made it much easier. On the last day, Vasugi communicated to me that she’s had a very hard life. Her deceased father was Hindu and her mother is a Christian. She explained how she re-dedicated her life to Christ during this camp meeting. I felt led to give her the little card my mother had given me  --- “The Secret to a Glorious Life” --- in which I wrote a little message in English and a few Tamil words I know.

The last message of the day was in Tamil and I wish I could have understood it. Joyce’s father went up to pray and all the women bowed low in their seats. One lady, Amudha, knelt on the ground crying. Vasugi was praying earnestly too, hands clasped. These Indian Christians know the truth, and they live it, seemingly with every breath they take.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner and tea were served at camp meeting. (By the way, Indians seem to set their clocks by tea. Morning, noon, night ... tea time seems to be all the time!) The moment I walked into the dining hall, everyone turned around and stared. The servers kept asking me if I wanted a spoon to eat with, but I declined, wanting to eat just like they do. Some people started speaking in Tamil to me, but soon discovered I did not understand. We ate at long tables, and afterwards rinsed off our plates at the washing station (which is a cross between a huge sink and a bathtub).

It was sad to say goodbye to the people I met in Salem. We all went to the train station and parted ways. Raju and Joyce, Rhoda and her family all traveled back to Bangalore, while I joined up with Paul Stephen, a missionary in Salem, who accompanied me to the Home in TN.

The train took us first to Madurai. We arrived in the dark, but I was able to see its uniqueness. Very old, with ornate buildings and many Hindu temples. A dark, unsettling feeling seems to permeate the very air. The headmaster and his son Paulsam met us at the Madurai junction. It was a 2-hour drive to Vadamalapuram and by this time I was utterly exhausted. We pulled into the compound and it was too dark to see anything, and I wouldn’t have been awake enough to appreciate it anyway.

Now I’ve been at the Home for a few days and I LOVE it! I don’t have anymore time to write, but I promise to update soon. 

Photos from Salem:

The view at the back of the house where I stayed.
Salem camp meeting.
My friend Rhoda.
Three other friends: Amudha, Vasugi, and Kanga.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

India!

I’m here in India! The journey went smoothly; all the connections were made and Raju and Joyce picked me up at the airport in Bangalore. God was so faithful the whole way there, showing me exactly where to go and what to do. His presence was very near. He really does guide those who trust in Him! On the flight from Toronto to Frankfurt, I sat beside an older man from Pakistan and we had a great conversation. Then from Bangalore to Frankfurt, I sat beside a young man from Kolkata, West Bengel. In both cases, I really felt that God had completely orchestrated the seating arrangements.

My first glimpse of India was seeing the glittering little lights way down below from the plane. I think we may have entered over Goa, but I’m not sure. The airport in Bangalore wasn’t much different from Toronto and Frankfurt, just lots of Indian people everywhere! I was able to make friends with a girl named Mahdavi – we took the same flight. She was very helpful and kind. We ended up waiting together at the baggage claim … it took forever for our bags to finally come through! I was so nervous that my suitcase would end up in another country, but it all worked out fine.

Raju and Joyce are wonderful. The drive from the airport to their home is fairly a blur. All I could see in the dark were city lights, silhouettes of buildings and a very long highway. Raju is a fast, unpredictable driver. Driving is much different here … the stoplights seem to be all over the place, people swerve and honk and cut in front of each other. The steering wheel is on the right side, and people drive on the left side of the road.

Someone told me that when you get off the plane in India, there is a certain smell in the air. I found this to be true! I can’t explain exactly what kind of smell – it’s something like sweetness mingled with dirt.

The Mathew’s house is very clean and comfortable. After calling my parents to inform them I had arrived safely, Raju and Joyce showed me around the house, and helped me get set up in the guest room. It was very simple and plain, but comfortable, with a wide bed and a glassed-in bookshelf. The mattress felt very different. It was thick, and very hard, but perfectly fine. After we said a prayer together, we all went to sleep.

The next morning I woke up with the sun streaming through the window. The windows of the house have bars on the inside, with a unique diamond-looking pattern, which lets the sunshine in quite beautifully. The first thing I noticed when looking out the window, was the massive palm tree growing right out of the stone marble of the courtyard. The view from the window was beautiful … as far as I could see were trees and shrubs of various beauty, and homes of different sizes and shapes. The colours are so bright and vibrant here, especially the vivid greens!

For breakfast Joyce served me black tea (which was delicious) and toast with Indian jam (also delicious). She’s very sweet. I feel so blessed to be allowed to stay with them.

There are Bible verses on plaques all over the house. In the living room there’s a painting of a waterfall (probably somewhere in India) and it has this verse on it:

“You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit – fruit that will last -- and so that whatever you ask in My name the Father will give you” (John 15:16).

This verse spoke to me a lot, but I have yet to fully understand its significance. I find myself feeling slightly overwhelmed, not in an anxious way, but in a puzzled sort of way. India. It’s here, all around me. It's no longer a National Geographic picture on my bedroom wall – it’s a living, breathing reality – people, animals, trees. I can’t really explain it.

There’s a large balcony on the rooftop. It reminded me of when Rahab hid the two spies in flax on her roof. It was a lovely view. But looking closer, I noticed something else. Down below was a little shack with a corrugated tin roof and clothes hanging haphazardly outside. A woman in a bright pink and yellow sari was bent over a rock scrubbing clothes. Her little children tinkered around the house, sometimes calling to each other, or playing in the dirt. My first thought was, “Do they live there?” Nearby were some young men building a concrete structure. When I asked Joyce about them, she said the shack is a temporary home for them, until their new house is built. When I first ascended the balcony, I brought my camera to take a picture, but suddenly it didn’t seem very important when I noticed the family below. These aren’t just people, nameless faces on a magazine, they are real, they have names and lives and problems just like everyone else … and they are deeply loved by Jesus. It’s hard to express, but I'm beginning to find it hard to take pictures. To me this is all so new and different, but it is common everyday life to these people.
____

At about 2:00 in the afternoon, we were picked up by a friend of Raju and Joyce’s and taken to the train station as planned. The car ride through Bangalore was very interesting, my first real view of the city. Traffic is crazy – no one follows any rules of the road and people are constantly honking at each other. It actually made me want to laugh at how crazily we bumbled along. Bangalore city is very crowded and congested. Buildings of all shapes and sizes, garbage strewn at the edges of the streets, towering palm trees, people everywhere. Animals roam the streets as freely as people do. Cows wander everywhere (they are considered sacred in India) and mangy stray dogs burrow through garbage piles. Everything seems squeezed together randomly. Tons of different shops clumped together on the edges of the roads, where items are piled up inside and outside the stores. Women sitting on mats on street corners, selling fruits and vegetables. Drug stores, grocery stores, hardware, clothing, technology, toys. A vendor offering wreaths of fresh-smelling jasmine flowers. Dirty little shacks pressed against white-washed buildings, glamorous jewelry stores next to a family selling bananas. The city is a mixture of modern commercialism and farmers' markets. Beauty and sadness and poverty and wealth all mingled together.

People are everywhere. On buses, sitting on sidewalks, talking in doorways, walking, selling, buying. Many people travel on motorcycles – sometimes entire families, a child sitting up front, the man driving, his wife behind him. The Indians are so beautiful. Women are dressed in bright coloured saris of all different kinds of patterns. Colours you wouldn’t think of putting together: mint green and beige, pumpkin orange and brown with sequins, mustard yellow, peacock blue, fushia and deep purple, lavendar silk edged in gold, turquoise and white. Their shiny black hair is often oiled and put into one long braid, or coiled at the back of their head, sometimes adorned with jasmine flowers. Many women wear gold bangles, necklaces, earrings and nose rings. The men are usually thin and muscled with very shiny hair. Usually they wear regular shirts and pants, but sometimes you’ll see them wearing a towel-like skirt called a dhoti. The children are sooooo adorable, little boys and girls with huge black eyes and brightly coloured clothes. Little girls with very short hair, school girls in ribboned braids, boys in shorts and bare feet. One thing I really noticed about the Indian people, is that most of them are thin and small. The majority of children are very tiny with stick-like legs. Seeing that made me realize that many of them are malnourished.

The train ride to Salem was very interesting. Noisy and crowded. Men and women were selling things right on the train, walking up and down the aisles shouting their wares: “Tea!” “Coffee!” “Samose!” One young women in an orange sari, had a huge tin bucket on her head, which she managed to balance very well, despite the jostling of the train. The sellers are very pushy, repetitive, and they stare at you a lot! At first I found this a little intrusive and irritating, but then I realized that they are trying to make a living the only way they can. Many of the wares are vegetables and fruits they have grown themselves.

Once we were out of the city, I was thankful I was sitting by the window, which offered a wonderful view of the countryside. So much beauty to be seen. Forests of palm trees, paddy fields, endless green. Children herding cows or goats down dirt paths, men and women hunched over in fields. Every so often we would come to another village or town. Street crossings, with herds of motorcycles. At the junctions, people wait for the exact moment when the train stops and then hustle themselves on, pushing and shoving inside. One women outside my window shoved a package through the bars of the window, motioning for me to take it, which I did, not knowing what to do. Then she came on and sat beside us. I guess it was a way for her to secure a spot. Joyce told me to avoid that next time. 

Two of Joyce’s friends came with us on the trip to Salem: Israel and Dorothi John. Dorothi (which is pronounced “Doro-ti”) is the sweetest older lady ever. The moment she saw me, she smiled very warmly and kindly. Everyone is so loving; they treat me as their very own. It’s such a blessing to be with them all ... there is no room for loneliness!

The drive through Salem was another bumpy, crazy one. Salem is busy, noisy, crowded … doesn’t seem to be much different from Bangalore. One thing specifically caught my eye during the drive. We were winding through a crowded street and I noticed a little girl wandering barefoot around a dump. It’s hard to tell if children are orphaned, because there are so many children everywhere, sometimes there are adults nearby, sometimes not. My heart lurched when I saw this little girl and I couldn’t help but wonder, “Is she an orphan? Does she have parents? Where will she get her food?” Then we turned a corner and I lost sight of her. I suppose I’ll never know.

In Salem, we stayed at Joyce’s parents house. Joyce’s mother is a tiny little Indian lady with streaked grey hair and a friendly smile. She cooked us a supper of chapatti (flat bread), chicken curry, rice, and dal (lentils). The Indians eat with their fingers. I tried this for the first time and it was very odd, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it.

There are SO many things to write, I can’t possibly describe it all. So far everything has been wonderful. God is faithful and near to me always, showing me what to do and say. How can I thank Him enough for His goodness? It’s so strengthening being around people of such great faith. The Indian Christians are so strong and faithful. Their faith is not just a part of their life, it IS their life. Before we went to bed the second night, we all gathered in the living room to pray. Joyce read from the Scriptures and then her father prayed. In the middle of his prayer, I struggled very hard not to cry. His love for the Lord and others was so evident. At one point he said, “…and thank you for bringing our dear ones from Bangalore.” It was so beautiful.

That night as I lay wide awake, unable to sleep (the ceiling fan made a constant racket), I tried to make sense of everything and found that quite impossible. I was filled with an inexplicable feeling of joy and humbled thankfulness and surprise and sadness ... And my thoughts kept going back to that little girl, who was probably an orphan, scampering alone through the dark street.

Monday, January 10, 2011

"Come With Me"

The long-awaited day is finally here. In a few short hours I will be boarding the plane which will connect in Toronto, Frankfurt and finally Bangalore, India. The trip will take two days in total -- which could be exhausting -- but I've never been on a plane before, so everything will be interesting to me. The verse I read this morning was from the Song of Songs (one of my favourite books in the Bible):

"Arise, come, my darling; 
my beautiful one, come with me" 
 (Song of Songs 2:13).

We are the Lord's beloved and He calls us to come away with Him. There can be nothing sweeter than following Jesus wherever He leads, knowing that He and He alone is our heart's desire. So off I go to India, not really knowing what's ahead of me, but trusting in the One who does. Goodbye Canada!

"You will keep in perfect peace 
those whose minds are steadfast, 
because they trust in You (Isaiah 26:3).

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Blessings, and an Update

"O Light that followest all my way
I yield my flickering torch to Thee
My heart restores its borrowed ray
That in Thy sunshine's blaze its day
May brighter, fuller be"
~ George Mattheson

Tomorrow I board the plane bound for India, following the Lord's leading. There is no doubt in my mind that this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. It still feels so strange right now, surreal even. Today at church the elders prayed over me. I felt so loved and blessed by everyone -- people flooded me with hugs, heartfelt words, prayers, and donations, more than I ever expected to receive. Jehovah Jireh ... He indeed is my provider!

My little girls Hannah and Naomi were at church today too, with their parents Danny and Avy. Thankfully they're too young to understand that I'm going away, which makes the goodbye a bit easier. They were so cute. Naomi was in her daddy's arms but when she saw me, she instantly reached her hands out and I took her into my arms. She's the cuddliest baby I know and likes to curl her little body against me and rest her head contentedly on my shoulder. It's amazing how at only sixteen months she recognizes and knows me. Her words and babbles sound like this: "Oh!" and "Ada, ada, ada."

Hannah, 2 years old, still calls me "Eesee." Her big dark eyes just stare up at me from her little brown face (she's shy in big crowds of people). Her black hair is long enough now to be put up in a ponytail. Both girls wore matching red and white striped dresses which made them look like little candy canes. I'm going to miss taking care of them. So many countless hours of diaper changing, bottle feeding, playing, reading stories, cooking, wiping up messes, singing them to sleep ... all in all so wonderful.
And I can't wait to meet all the precious Indian children at the Home! What an amazing privilege to teach them and take care of them, meet their needs and just love them, love them, love them with God's great big love!!

Here is a little update on what's happening with India. Lord willing, I'll be arriving at the airport in Bangalore, Karnataka at 1:30am on January 12/11. Raju and Joyce Mathew, a missionary couple who run an AIDS clinic in Bangalore, are going to meet me there. I'll be taken to their house for rest, and then we will all take the train to Salem, Tamil Nadu, where the Mathews are attending a camp meeting for 3 days. Salem is a smaller, beautiful city where hopefully I can rest more before heading to my final destination. Right now it looks as if it will take a week to get there.

These were not my original plans, but God's thoughts and ways are higher than mine (I'm so thankful for that!) It may have been just part of God's sovereign plan to move me out of Bangalore so soon. I was originally hoping to visit the AIDS Clinic run by the Mathews, but we are heading to Salem almost immediately. Recently I watched a news report about current terrorist threats from a Pakistani group in Bangalore. We can never quite know exactly how God shelters us from harm and gives us refuge under His feathers (Psalm 91:4).

There has also been an opportunity for me to visit another orphanage, besides CMML, while I am in India. The state beside Tamil Nadu, called Kerala, which runs along the southwestern coast, has a home in Thrissur called "Rehoboth." I don't know a lot about it except that they run a girl's home, boy's home and Bible college. At some point during the trip, I am interested in visiting and helping out in any area needed, if God so leads. My main focus and time spent in India however, will be at the Home in Tamil Nadu.

I will try to write a little more tomorrow before I leave. Until then, thank you everyone for your prayers and support -- they are blessings from our Heavenly Father!

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows" (James 1:17).