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).

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Fragments, Part One

I sensed the need to write something tonight. This blog feels like an out-of-touch old friend. It's been a little more than a month since my return from India. I've been meaning to write for so long, but something always kept me away. Maybe it was hesitation or fear that I wouldn't have the perfect words. But now, perfect words or not, I'm going to write.

The last days at the Children's Home, my time spent with the Stephens in Pappanaikanpatty, and with the children at the Accept Home in Bangalore, still remains unwritten. I would like, by God's grace, to remedy that now. The best way I think, to capture that time, is to copy down snippets of journal entries. So here they are …

March 26 – I am writing by the light of a single candle in the darkness of my bedroom here at the house. There is no electricity on the compound right now. When I went to the hostel tonight, the rain was pouring down. I had to pull the loose end of my sari over my head and carry my bible in a bag close against me. It’s difficult walking on muddy, wet ground in a long dress! I spent some time with the girls and Mary Amma, as the Lord lead me. Selvi in ninth standard and I played a game. I shared a storybook with the children: A King is Born (Jesus’ birth). Then the girls ate supper in the semi-darkness. The only lights came from a few torches, and the frequent flashes of lightning.

March 27 – Yesterday when we drove to Vasudevanallur (where the ladies’ meeting was), I was looking out the car window in great delight. Everything was so beautiful. Sometimes we passed a forest of palm trees where as far as you looked there were trees, green grass growing in between them … and nothing else.

March 29 – This morning at the hostel with the girls was lovely. Today I braided Veera and Sangeetha’s hair as usual. Marimuthu, the little boy at the girls’ hostel, was standing close by, trying to tickle me and being so cute. I will miss so many things about this place. I will miss the red dirt roads. I will miss bending over Rahini to kiss her goodnight, her little fingers reaching up into my long hair. “Shampoo?” she says, as she smells it. So precious! I will miss the laughter of the girls as they splash each other during bathing time. I will miss their little voices calling, “Sister! Sister!” I will miss their beautiful eyes, chocolate brown skin and raven black hair. I will miss Mary Amma and her kind, mothering ways. I will miss serving rice with twelve-year old Benitha. I will miss Susheela’s jokes, Jothi’s smile, Gayathri’s shyness. I will miss Antony Amma’s sweet singing voice, her dancing … I will miss the palm trees, eating fresh coconut, riding in a rickshaw, sitting and talking with Florian, prayer times, tea times …

Today as we were in the bathing room, the girls suddenly pointed up at one of the towering palms outside the hostel wall and shouted, “Ceeli! Ceeli!” We looked up and there was a beautiful green parrot perched on one of the branches. It was so bright and delightful, with an orange streak near its beak. Then another one came, fluttering down beside it. After a few minutes they both flew away together and we watched their vivid green wings flash against that blue blue sky. Why did God have to send two parrots to us today? It was completely unnecessary. Yet it told us of His indescribable beauty and wisdom.

March 30 – There is LOVE between the girls and I. Every one, all one hundred of them, are so precious  … my heart is so full, and my God will continue to fill. He cannot leave me empty. The rains always come. During breakfast time I came and sat with the girls on the verandah while they were eating. Then they started to feed me! I must have eaten from ten different plates! I motioned to them that all that eating would make me fat, as a joke, and we laughed together.

God brought me to India. Now He’s taking me away again. I don’t know when I will come back. Only He knows. Everything points to my leaving. There is no chance at all for me to stay longer, so I know it's His will. My visa will expire soon and I cannot extend the visa. Four new helpers are coming to the Home. One of them, a young man named Edgar from Germany comes today actually. Florian and Paulsam are in Madurai right now picking him up at the airport. Paul Stephen is coming for me this Friday … There are so many needs that I’m leaving behind, and I can’t do anything about it. Today I gave Komuraj and Sandos, two of the hostel boys, each a tennis ball, with their names written on them, as God directed me. Then a whole gaggle of boys came eagerly to my door, asking for a ball also. I had to turn them away because I don’t have enough for all of them …

Rengith: the boy God gave me a special love for.
April 1 – Yesterday was such a difficult day – full of sorrows and joys. Now I feel emotionally drained. Saying goodbye to the children was so hard. So many tears … I don't have words. How I love them. How I will miss them

April 2 – Here I am in a brand new place, with village and the family far away. It doesn’t seem real yet that I’m really gone from there. It was my home for nearly three months. I miss it already … My mind is in a whirlwind. Right now it’s hard to write about anything and the pain of goodbye is so fresh. All I could think of last night was Rengith’s tears when he realized I was leaving. I will miss that precious little boy so much. There’s a picture in my mind that won’t go away – it’s of his face crumpling as he cried. I cannot hold him in my arms anymore. Please Lord, comfort him and sustain him. Just hold him … especially at night when he’s sleeping at the hostel …

This is Paul Stephen’s house. He graciously invited me to stay with him and his family for a few days (before continuing on to Bangalore). Paul Stephen is a friend of Appa and a brother in Christ. PS’s wife name is Debbie and they have a fifteen-year-old daughter, Joan. Their house is in a small village called Pappanaikanpatty, in Salem District. We are up on a hill, surrounded by mountains. The mountains are so close all around, I feel I could touch them. When I look down the steep hill at the edge of the property, there are paddy fields (now brown because the rice has been harvested), which are separated by little dirt paths. Hundreds of coconut and banana trees are growing here also. The paddy fields are built at different levels in the land, so it looks like steps. The house (called a bungalow) is very small, with a red-tiled roof. It has two rooms only, a kitchen and a living room / bedroom. The bathroom is a separate building outside.

The family is very kind. When Debbie saw me she took me into her arms and kissed me! This morning we prayed, sang a hymn and read from the Daily Light (in English!!) It almost brought me to tears – it was so good to fellowship with them and understand the language. I can scarcely believe my time at the ---- Home is over, but I’m so thankful to the Lord to be here in Salem. It’s much quieter than in the village. The breeze is so fresh. Now I’m sitting in the chapel building, which is just diagonal to the house. The door is wide open and the wind is rushing in. Far away I can hear bleating sheep. Earlier I saw a young woman and little girl winding down the dirt path under the banana trees. The little girl’s anklets were jingling as she walked and the woman was carrying a load of washing.

Uncle PS came up to me today as I was peeling shallots for Aunty Debbie. He had a book in his hand, the story of Evelyn “Granny” Brand. “I have a project for you,” he said. “Try to read this book in the three days you are here and give it back to me.” So I am reading the book. It tells the tale of a woman who was a missionary for sixty years here in India, in these very hills

This is Salem District. It was here Evelyn and her husband Jessie worked with the “hill people” on five mountain ranges, telling many of the gospel of Christ. Evelyn and Jessie married in India. On their wedding night they had to trek up the steep mountain path in the pouring rain. Her wedding dress was ruined …

April 4 – Here I am sitting on Granny Brand’s verandah at the mission outpost in the Pachai Mountains. Paul Stephen and Debbie are directly connected to Granny Brand’s work. Today they are cleaning the house because of an upcoming ministry to be held here. The house is almost hidden by overgrown trees and scrub brush. It is set upon a rocky hill, a quiet, solid place, overlooking a valley below. We drove up the mountains in a rented car. Up and up and steadily up, around sharp corners and hairpin turns, the mountains rising majestically on all sides.


So I'm sitting on the verandah steps. Uncle and Aunty are busy cleaning. Aunty is crouched in front of piles of dishes, which she washes and then lays out to dry on a rack in the sun. The bright, shiny tin cups and plates glimmer. Prabu, Uncle’s friend, and another man, are inside sweeping and tidying. The house smells of mildew; it is very old. I asked to help, but they will not let me. “Much better you sit somewhere and read,” Uncle said kindly. And since I brought Granny Brand’s biography with me, I have a chance to finish the “project” he gave me.

During the drive this morning, I talked on the phone to Appa, Amma, and Florian. Just hearing Amma's sweet, inquiring voice on the other end made my heart ache. They keep telling me they miss me and I miss them so much too! I have left my family behind …

This is a lovely place to sit – with little butterflies of all colours flitting through the sun-dappled leaves and branches of gnarled old jackfruit trees. There are dragonflies too, and breezy mountain air, and fushia-coloured roses on tough, twisting boughs. Dead leaves are scattered everywhere, curling fragments on patched stones. No sounds except the tins banging, the broom sweeping, birds singing and the occasional voice of Uncle or Aunty. There is a sign nailed to the wall of the building opposite the house, that reads in Tamil and English: Jesus is coming soon.

A man, a woman and a goat are crashing through the scrubby path below. Where are they going? Now they are hidden in the trees. A wind rushes in and there is a tinkle of cow bells. Oh, I could stay here for weeks. There is so much peace … no hustle of the sweaty crowd in S---, no incessant honking of motorcycles ... or worse, buses. Not even any voices running off in full-speed Tamil. Just quietness. Almost.

April 5 – On the way from Salem to Bangalore. Enjoyed a beautiful few days with Paul Stephen, Debbie and Joan. What Christlike kindness and love they showed during the short stay. I will miss their little house, and those lovely mountains. God graciously provided three days of rest. And now onto the last leg of the journey: Bangalore. Raju and Joyce Mathew. Raju at least will meet us at the station. It will be delightful to stay with them again. We are sitting on the train, even as I write. Debbie packed lunch for us in little foil boxes – so sweet of her. A man sat with us, a Hindu, and probably from a high caste. After he got off at the stop, I thought, “Why didn’t I tell him of Jesus?” My heart was suddenly burdened for this man, a man who didn’t even talk to us because he was on his laptop … yet he is a lost sheep. I pray for him.

Right now we are entering Bangalore. I couldn’t tell when we crossed over into Karnataka because the landscape wasn’t very much altered. But now there are great differences. I forgot Bangalore was such a huge city. Tall buildings you wouldn’t see in the farther south. Even Madurai was much more subdued than this booming metropolis. Just now we passed an outer city slum. Dirty little shacks pressed together with tarps for roofing. Garbage everywhere. How can this be possible next to clean, modern sky rises and beautiful domed cathedrals? Still there is God’s beauty – in the bright flowers and gathered trees …

More to come.