Anita

Anita likes all things American! She wants to know every detail about flying on a plane: is there a restaurant, how do you brush your teeth, can you walk around? As I'm describing it I think it sounds more like a health spa than a trans-atlantic flight in coach.

Anita is in class 5 (6th grade) and her favorite subject is English. She hates Hindi class - but she did well on her mid-term exam last Friday. She likes the color red and she wants to go to America and France. Patti - her personality is a mini you!

What have I learned?

So Debbie wants to know what I have learned. I'm sure that in the upcoming weeks and months this list will become more focused and hopefully more eloquent but at the moment this is what I have:

Self evaluation comes at a cost – be prepared to pay.
I'm a do-it-yourselfer (imagine that), and often come up with grand projects for home improvement. Once I begin to peel back the layers of paint or disrepair I find a larger mess that requires far more work than I am capable of. The laundry list of areas that need attention in my life is far greater than I thought it was. But there is a certain peace in the chaos because I don't feel like "doing it myself" anymore. I'm a mess, but get in line because so are you. For so long I've looked at others around me and seen only what I was meant to see. Based on that I judged my worth, my success, my value, my priorities, even my honesty with my self. I'm here with no one to judge me but me, no one to look at my hair (I don't have a hair dryer – you can only imagine), no one to critique my every word, no one to impress. Sure, each of you will say those things were never important to begin with but we each place enough value on those things that we consider them to different degrees before making choices each day. I'm not suggesting that propriety be thrown to the wind, but I'm more aware of how much I stifle myself by judging myself based on what I think others perceptions of me are. Without that to consider, God's laundry list became far clearer and much louder than the voices in my head. Nice part, He's going to do most of the work.

Independence is good, but being reliant on another is not a sign of weakness.
I'm ready to come home; not because I miss the creature comforts (although today I could almost taste a diet pepsi) but because this is not my life, because I need my family and I miss my friends. I think I hide behind independence because it keeps me from being vulnerable – and vulnerable means getting hurt. Not necessarily so. Being vulnerable means trust. I didn't think twice about being available here because I didn't expect rejection. Of course they will embrace me, isn't that what kids do? The sweetest rewards come from taking a chance – and there are no guarantees you will be met with warm embraces. It isn't rejection when it isn't returned, it isn't a failure on your part or theirs, and not everything is so black and white. You make connections without even knowing it and to expect a return on your investment is so cheap. Two different kids today told me how sorry they are to see me go and can't I stay longer; we've never spoke before and I don't even know their names. If I had just sought them out when they didn't embrace me after my initial try what could the blessing have been? I think I take the good as it comes and don't always reach farther because the fear of rejection, or not being embraced whole-heartedly to reach my expectations, makes me feel weak. I missed out, I know that now, and the sense of loss is far greater than a formal rejection had I pursued them. I need to pursue more and not wait for things to come to me.

I need to know my Savior more intimately.
"And He walks with me and He talks with me and He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known." I would say everyone is familiar with the traditional hymn "In the Garden" but with the resonance of praise music on Sunday mornings that statement may no longer be true. The first line is true, but only two of the three could I have honestly acknowledged previously. That He walks with me I am certain; there is simply no other explanation. I know I am His without question. But He talks to me? I just wasn't listening. And the joy, there truly is joy that I can't begin to describe to you. Psalms is full of David's failings and God's forgiveness. Listen to Peter or John and you see real people, people full of "failure" with the most fervent adoration for Christ. Just read the words in red. The message is uncompromising, but you can hear the undulation in His voice, hear the exhale of His breath as Jesus waits for the words to sink in, and almost see the smile on His face as He laughs that while the people understood, they still knew so little. And even as we understand now, we grasp only the simplest of details.

Will "re-entry" as Patti puts it be easy? No, but it will hopefully be easier to settle into a changed mindset with so many other new things on the horizon. A new job (you can start praying for that!) and a new daily schedule mean the opportunity to set and rearrange priorities. I do know it isn't something I can do on my own because Patti is right, "I got it, no problem" is my mantra (don't know where I heard it). Really, what would happen if I completely released control – where would I end up? Can I even do that? But I think there is real independence in following a path created specifically by design for me and not one that is dictated by my skewed opinion of society and other's expectations. There is satisfaction in depending on others and being rewarded by a relationship. There is a cost to making a change but the change can be cheaper in the long run. And missed relationships, especially those who are right there for the taking and waiting for you to make the move, are the most treasured.

Go ye into ALL the world....

I visited a leper colony today. The World Health Organization (WHO) and Indian government has declared that leprosy has been eradicated in India. This is true when you consider that 1 infected person in 10,000 is considered acceptable. A few points: Indies population is over 1 billion which means there are over 100,000 known cases of leprosy, it is transmitted through contact and is highly contagious with open wounds adding to the rate of contagion, it is a completely curable disease for which the government will gladly provide the necessary medications.

So what's the problem? Where to begin; education, social stigma, superstition, ignorance - I can't even begin to list them all. I thought I was covered with all the vaccinations I had before coming. I never expected to be exposed to this. In all honesty, I don't even know that much about the disease, how it progresses, or the ramifications. The man who took me directs a facility providing not only medicines but education and physical therapy as well. These people truly are looked on as the lowest of animals and to see how completely beaten they are, not only physically but emotionally, might be the most heart wrenching sight yet. Help is there, this man is begging them to take the free gift that will save their lives, take away the pain and rebuild their futures. I don't understand why they refuse it.

Sound familiar?

The message is the same though the gift is different so he goes again. Tomorrow he will visit a different camp, and later this week he will return to the colony we just left. He keeps going, never giving up, and maybe once or twice a month someone will leave with him. I'm in awe of his dedication and his unwavering service as well as the steadfast confidence that his success is 'not driven by the number of patients I drop at the clinic doors but by honoring Christ in His call to heal the lepers for the glory of His kingdom'. (Matthew 10)

"Fine" Arts in India

Local schools and churches celebrate their anniversaries in grand style. Programs and plays with music and dancing are the norm. Tonight a local school was celebrating their annual day and invited the open school children to attend. I had no idea what to expect and no expectations either. Once seated and the opening music sung by the younger choir, the play began. The subject: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I don't know why I laughed, the books and movies are known world wide. It was funny for some reason, their interpretation of the story melding their culture and flair for spontaneous bursts of music and modern dance.

Following the play was a fashion show glorifying the diversity of dress found in the different states throughout India. I can't even begin to explain the feast for the eyes it was. There were upwards of 80 different saris on stage in a variety of fashions, colors, embroidery, sequins and metallic threads. It was impossible to choose a favorite but I know I was completely drawn in, mouth open, oohhing and ahhing at each one.

Saturday afternoon the kids took a quick break during study time. They pulled out some card stock and markers and Jessy said they were making Christmas cards to send people. I'm expecting elementary drawings with a little local flair. What they produced was far better than I imagined. Maybe 5 minutes a card, the scenes are classic American Christmas snippets, wreaths, candles, local flowers, holly, all in bright colors simple sketch in pencil and colored with markers and wax crayons. They are obviously home made but of such a quality that it is obvious they were done by someone with training. I told them I would like to purchase some to send out this year. Each girl signs her name and I though I would include a picture and short bio about the home. I told them I would pay for them and they politely declined. When I offered 10 rupees each (25 cents) they almost fell out of their seats. I had to put a limit on how many I would buy or they would be drawing every waking moment. I thought it would be a good way to put a few faces to the stories. I hope you like them.

Today, we had a local school for the handicap come and teach us a version of origami. Let's begin with how not artistic I am. After 3 attempts, he decided I was hopeless and took my scissors away. Of course there was much laughter at my expense but the experience was so typical of home. I'm glad I'm here, but I'm looking forward to being home. I'm sure this week will go fast as it is my last few days here. I can't imagine not coming back, not seeing these faces again and sharing in their lives. In my head I'm already planning a return trip.

Thursday, 11/23 - Market in Delhi

I know it’s been a long time since I posted – yes I’m still alive.

Things have set into a routine: up at the crack (5:00) of dawn, breakfast, study, study study. When in doubt as to what’s going on assume we’re studying.

Friday Jessy and I went in to Delhi and visited the market there to do some shopping for the children. The market is far different from the mall. Goods are displayed outside and bartering is expected. Since it has gotten cold the girls needed leggings to wear under their skirts, everyone needed socks, there were some kitchen utensils to pick up and a pair of shoes for growing feet. It was easy to find everything. The difficult part was getting through the crowds and the street sellers desperate to sell me twine and collapsing laundry baskets. (go figure?) I didn’t buy anything; it was all a bit overwhelming. There is so much to choose from, if you like vibrant colors and fabrics, that you have to be selective or you’ll end up bringing home enough fabric to transform your home into a harem. This week Jessy is going to take me back to make a few purchases – anyone have any requests?

Riding in a taxi through the center of busy Delhi is far different than a rickshaw in the suburb of Gurgoan. While I wasn’t as entertaining a spectacle as I was last time, this was a far more harrowing experience. Taxis are bit smaller than golf carts with only three wheels and a go-cart motor and the drivers drive as if it were the Indianapolis 500 and they are racing for the finish line. At times it was just easiest to close my eyes. There was a bus so close to us I could feel the vibrations from its wheel against my leg.

It was an exhausting day. I think that the pollution is so dense it really does effect how you feel. It’s harder to breath and while you don’t feel stressed it is sensory overload. I would have loved to come back and sleep but exams for the children continue for the next week and a half so every minute to study is precious. I’ve studied more in the past two weeks than I think I did my entire senior year. Maybe I should have paid more attention then so I could help more now.

Wednesday 11/22

Today Jessy and I went to purchase vegetables and plants from a local farmer. All I've seen is dry land; even the stretch between Delhi and Noida is a highway that follows a dried up riverbed. So I was surprised when 15 minutes after leaving the home to see fields covered with green grown. These were not wilted stalks but full heads of cabbage and cauliflower, rows of pole beans and peas, tomatoes and cucumbers and with the pungent smell of manure a welcome reprive for the dense fog of polution that has clouded my senses for the past two and a half weeks. (I can't believe it has been that long, it hardly seems a day has past.) After driving for what seemed miles, but couldn't have been too far because the road (and that title is being generous) wouldn't allow us to go over 30 mph, we cam to a small village. The village is a simple collection of huts. The farmers are migrants working the land till the hot summer months drive them north to the cooler mountains where they work the orchards.

Jessy and the farmers began discussing what we would be buying and I was soon surrrounded by a dozen or so todlers dressed only in rags with the red distended bellies of malnutrition. This is the first time the home has purchased outside of the market, our trip there was soley to purchase plants for the garden some of the children are starting. Bartering being a required process of purchasing almost anything it took some time to settle on a price. It turns out the cost of purchasing from his is far cheaper than the market in town and allowed Jessy to not barter as aggressively as she might normally so that there would be a greater benefit for the farmers. When we arrived home with a load of food and the kids began bringing it in they asked where it had come from in that it was not the usual day for vegetables. We told them about the village, handed out the plants. had lunch and a short free time following. After study hour at 3:30 the kids have an hour outside from 5:00 to 6:00. midway through they brought clothes and socks and a few blankets to take to the farmers next time we go. Of course I've already decided to sneak down to the market tomorrow and make some purchases for them but the 3 bags of clothes and the blankets given out of complete unselfishness have a far higher value than the thouands of rupees I could spend supplying all five families without even thinking twice. What a living example of the widow offering her last mite selflessly to honor her Lord. I know guilt shouldn't be a factor but it is, regardless.

So today the blessing was all mine today despite the gifts of the children. Who is the one being blessed now!

Monday Night 11/20

Today was St. Agnel's day, the man for whom is the patron saint of this home. In honor of his day, the children put on a play for the local religious society to whom their current benifactor belongs. Father Bento, when you first meet him, has a curt measure to his voice and is very much a man accustomed to being in charge. Once you get past the initial interview you find he is simple an overindulgent grandparent, accustomed to getting his way. So it is that I found myself singing in the choir last evening. The children thought is was the funnest thing to have me on stage with them. I rather enjoyed the literal translation of the lyrics and the off tempo beat to the music and hymns I know so well. There was a large feast following that would rival our grandest weddings and the kids eat until they could hold no more. From Delhi it is an hour ride home and most were either ill or asleep by the time we reached the compound.

The final song of the eveing was "Through it All" and sounds just as it does at home. The one change is in the chorus. They sing: Through it all, through it all, I've learned to trust in the Lord, I've learned to trust in God. I mentione to Brother that we sing Jesus in place of the Lord and he became uncomfortable. Brother will be attending seminary upon completing his required year of service before taking his oaths with the church. There are a couple of questions I've had but not wanting to bring up the non-pc topic of religion, have kept my big mouth shut. On occasion, I'm actually able to show some restraint. You know it couldn't last forever and last night on the ride home the dam broke. Evidently, there is a large divide among the Catholic church, if it is world wide or simple an issue here I am not sure, but the division revolves around accepting and incorporating other religions into the Catholic faith. At mass on Sunday they read the Koran as well as a passage from a Hindi text. It completely shocked me but explains the division amoung the church that I've meet here. Our conversation was not a meeting of learned minds discussing ideas in mutual respect; it was more of a polite debate with each party agreeing to not insult the other but standing firmly to their ground. (I think I won.)

It was an exhaustive day and this posting is late because I fell asleep during the half hour nap time and woke up 3 hours later. So for those of you who read this with your morning coffee my apologies but I've had a few late nights the past couple of days and they finally caught up to me. And now I'm off to sleep again.

Monday Morning 11/20

The girls gave me a bracelet last night they made from beads and seeds/seed pods that they have collected or purchased with their small savings. I woke up this morning with a bright red rash circling my wrist. The guy in the kitchen made me a salve from who knows what to apply and alleviate the burning. I have a different theory (this is for you Joyce): my body is rejecting it because it is blue and orange!

Computer class is going very well with the boys. They're are home schooled and are constantly sneaking away during the day to type and play with the new things they've learned. Marcus, Francis & Gaining are much faster learners than the girls. We've covered Word except for columns and tabs and will be finishing that this week. They are a lot of fun and being the older group are easy to talk to and love to ask questions about America.

The girls are a bit more placid. (Gingham is the 4th girl's name - as if you are remembering all these people.) Far more timid they won't take the exploritory chances the boys will and are content to simple play with pictures and colors. Still, we're trudging through.

Language is not a problem since they all speak English. English is taught in every school and the 5th class is learning sentence structure with possessive pronouns and proper verb tenses just like in the US. It is a much more formal language and some of our common phrases are lost on them. It has certainly made life easy.

The weather has changed and I'm glad I packed some long sleeves. The wind gusts during the day so hard you have to lean into it to make headway. While it is in the high 60's low 70's during the day it really drops at night. The kids walk around with blankes in the evening because the winter clothes which are used for such a short period of time have not been donated yet. I'm going to try to get into town on Thursday to buy some sweaters and socks. I looked in todays paper and sweaters were advertised for 120 rupees - that is $3 each. There are only 59 children here (if I counted correctly) so the question will be can I get it all on a rickshaw and what will that scene look like!

I'm going down to the kitchen now where I've convinced Bolo, the cook, to teach me to make this dish I absolutely love. I'm glad I didn't ask what it was before I ate it or I would have probably let it pass by. I looked and tasted like small meatballs in an orange sauce. It is dough balls made with curd and soy seed. I don't even know what curd is. Joey, you can bet on having it when I get home.

It's amazing how just being here, being quiet clears your mind. I'm constantly hearing that still small voice whisper words I know so well but haven't listened to in so long. It's easy to remember God's unconditional love when being squeezed in an embrace by dozens of sticky fingers. Its even easier to remember that grace is yours for the taking after correcting a willful spirit, wiping the tears and then holding them close. If it feels so good with these children who I barely know why don't I do the same with my Father who knows my most intimate thoughts? It seems pride and sin know are not as easily sacrificed as diet pepsi and a hairdryer.

Questions & Answers

No one will let me lift a finger, I have to sneak a glass of water or I'll be scolded for not allowing someone to fetch it for me. While the formal caste system is no longer in place there is a quiet, or not so quiet, social order that dictates who does what job.

The students study a lot. This is not the home I was planning on working with. Here there is a different philosophy. I can feed 6000 for a few years. I can feed and give minimal housing 600 till they are turned out to their own devices at 16. Or I can change the lives of 250 and possible change the world. A little idealistic but so am I. I'm not saying I agree one way or the other, that I think this system should be the standard. It is what is in place at this location and their work is good; very good.

In the home that houses the older children there are three full time, live in staff. they not only care for the kids from morning till night but oversee home schooling, household staff, and the finances and business details for the entire organization.

Additionally there are three full time staff. Please don't balk at this. They make $2.50 a day and are thrilled with their high wages.
This is a family for them also as they have no one else and live in an adjacent building on the property. They cook, clean, do laundry, etc. It may not sound like much but they are invaluable as the kids spend most of their free time studying.

Education is the onlu way out for these kids and their school is a bit different from ours in format. Notes aare copied from the board, lots of notes, notes in place of explanation. The kids teach themselves at least 65% of the information. They do tend an assigned garden. have household chores etc. and do much the same as ~merican children as far as work is concerned.

They are so curious about my life so we finally sat down and I explained a typical day in the American family - it wasn't the glamour they thought it would be.

"Have you seen a movie star?"
"Do you have houseflies?"
"You cook and clean?!"
"Do you know the Backstreet Boys?"
"Does everyone have a mobile phone?"
"Do you have/watch t.v.?"
"Are their lots of gangs?"
"Does everyone own a gun?"
"Have you ever dated an Indian man before?"
"Do US students all have blond hair?"
"Do students wear uniforms?"
"Does your powere go ou?" (The power gord out twice a day for no apparent reason and stays off for 2-3 hours. It happens city wide, not just at our site.)
"Do you only eat fried chicken?"
"Can you drive a car?"

Part of the lesson was getting them to look past the caste system and see they have opportunities with the education they are being given. Also that I cook and clean as well as work - no job is too menial contrary to what society says.

Culinary Delights

I haven't written much about the food, it didn't seem necessary. But that has now changed and its time to regail you with a story.

The kids are well fed. They line up cafeteria style to fill their plates and sit comfortable in the dining room at tables of six. Lunch and dinner are rice based with a meat gravy of sorts and fresh fruit. The adults share the same meal with the addition of a meat dish, two vegitable dishes and fruit. There is a local five star hotel that supplies sweets 3 to 4 times a week which is a nice treat for the kids.

Most of the dishes taste the same to me; a dull burning that has seared the taste buds from my tongue and keeps me from feeling any true pain. Yet all in all I do enjoy the mutton (goat) which is quite tender compared to the chicken that is a bit on the rubbery side.

Going in to dinner today Meenahshi, Sonia and the older girls were huddled in a group looking suspicious so I slowed as I walked by to see what they were up to. They had a small bowl of food and quietly whispered, "Maam, Maam, Bolo in the kitchen gave me cheese. Come taste." The cheese was a soft cheese in small cubes covered in a red powder. She picked one from the bottom with hardly a speck of seasoning. Ten seconds later I could feel my eyes watering and my ears burning. Evidently one speck was enough to bring forth the fires of hell. Water didn't help although I certainly tried. They felt so bad as we went in to dinner and my insistence that I was ok did little to make them feel better.

After the blessing and the kids were finished being served the adults sat down to dinner. I commented that things seemed a little more chaotic than usual. I was told this was one of their favorite meals and they are always excited to see it.

So as the dishes were uncovered and we begin passing them around. Rice no problem: but the spaghetti sauce with whole hard boiled eggs wiggling like blobs was more than I could take. I felt the smile spreading across my face as I looked at my plate which seemed straight out of Dr. Seuss. You laugh but I'll offer you a challenge: you want to 'share' this experience and 'embrace' the culture vicariously - go home and serve that for dinner and see how adventurous you feel! I had said that for the duration of this trip I would try anything; as long as it wasn't bananas, was cooked, and was dead beyond a shadow of a doubt. (I reserve the right to change my mind at any time.) If this is a bad as it gets I think I'll be fine.

I ate it, it won't become a staple in my home, but it's done. It wasn't as bad as it sound; or I'm simple oblivious to the taste of food at this point. What I'm enjoying far better are the exotic fruits: hybrid pears, passion fruits and melons that are similar to the standard varieties we are accustomed to but far more enjoyable. If I have to eat boiled egg in tomato sauce to have a purple colored oblong pear with a yellow striped center it seems an equitable trade.

Today I felt like Austin Riddick (Now didn't THAT get your attention!)

The girls here love basketball and this evening they finally dragged me onto the court. I am a head taller than most men here and felt like a giant on the court. It hardly seemed fair. After a few attempts they smartly decided that I should stand in the key under the basket and rebound only - can we pause a moment to applaud my basketball knowledge?! Sitting through all those games finally paid off: in vocab only, I can't shoot to save my life. There is where the similarity with Austin ends. But even if only for a brief time it felt great to be tall.

I hate math!

these kids study more than any I've ever seen. Sure, they would rather not but since it is in there schedule they do it with minimal complaining. What do they have the most questions about? Math. I hate math. My mind doesn't think that way, (hold your comments Rogers, yes I think). and just because I know how to do the problem doesn't mean I can explain the process. Need an example, when you're done reading explain the concept behind the 12 hour and the 24 hour clock, why AM only gets morning and PM gets afternoon and evening, how to convert from standard time to military time, and lets not even discuss decimals. When the final study session is over at 9:30 in the evening my brain physically hurts. (Yes, Bob, I have a brain.) Here is a typical day.
4:30 am wake up
5:00 am exercises
5:30 am breakfast
6:15 am leave for school
10:00 am break/snack
1:30 pm school dismissed
2:30 pm arrive home
2:30 pm lunch
3:00 pm rest
4:00 pm study
5:00 pm compulsory outside games
6:30 pm shower & wash
7:30 pm chapel
8:00 pm dinner
8:30 pm study
9:30 pm Dormatory
10:30 pm Lights out

Aged 11 to 16 it is a full day. They have gardening duties, kitchen help and the big ones help take care of the little ones.

They're a great group, so kind to each other and have treated me with such kindness. I'm having the time of my life.

Sonia, Meenahski, Kashme and the other girl

These four girls, & three boys who I'll meet in an hour, are the Open School students here at the home. Today we had an introduction to the computers. (U, C & L it is painful to call these machines computers but somehow the little running mice inside manage to power Windows 2000 on on three bof the four machines. I'm thinking of the countless mcahines I've termed as garbage and casually thrown away. I'm also desperate to see in the market is as cheap for computer parts here as it is for everything else.) At first the girls didn't want to touch anything. Little by little their reserves melted away. I turned my back for a few minuted and they had changed the background, figured out wordart, experimented with paint and found the game folder. Kashme has a real gift for this and enthusiastically dove in.

Meenahski is more difficult. She is a slow learner and will be graduated from traditional schooling in March. With university not being an option and having been through 3 trade school to date, it is time for her to begin making choices for her adult life at the ripe age of 15/16.

It was good to spend the afternoonwith these girls while the rest were away. They are older, well loved here but very much alone. A few well placed questions and we had covered school, family background and even romance. You should have seen the look on Sonia's face when I asked about her boyfriend. She said she would be scolded if Father and Brother knew - how did I know? (Men are so blind - how could I miss it!)

It's almost 3:30 and still 7 more hours till bed time - I've been up since 4:30. If nothing else I'll sleep well when I get home.

Monday Evening

I'm running out of catchy titles so I'm resortong to days of the week in their place. Today was the day I was to leave Delhi and go to the suburb of Noida to work with a small orphanage of 35 girls. There's been a change of plans. The volunteer who I was to replace has extende her stay. So I have been sent to an alternate location, still in Noida, but the set-up is quite different.

This children's home house all grade levels. The younger children, approximately 200, are housed in the main building and are taken care of by a group of Indian nuns. The complex is quite large having been built prior to the development of the area. Next to the main building, which is three floors, is a soccer field, basketball court and volleyball court. On the far side of the property is a three story building housing 25 boys and 25 girls between the ages of 11 and 17. I will be spending the next three weeks with this group.

I am already so impressed with the organization. They have utilized every contact they can find, have pushed education to the point that most of the children attend classes at a private school in New Delhi, and have found counselors to donate there time for those kids who have histories that would break your heart. For those students who struggle in the traditional classroom they have begun the Open School program, a type of independent study. There are two girls attending beutician school, one attending design school and hopefully there will be a girl beginning an apprenticeship at a local five star restaurant by the end of the month. Two boys have begun a woodworking craftsmanship class to learn a marketable trade in lieu of traditional schooling at which they struggle. Just today they had 8 computers donated by a local IT firm delivered and set up. So where's the downside? There are only two men caring for all 50 children. While the kids are at school they are making the contacts and arrangements for many of the other projects. But they have such a pasion for and are so ecited by what they have been able to change for these 50 kids in just the past 4 months.

Four months ago the children were taught here on site with the highest level of education being sixth grade. Tonight I worked with a girl on solving for 3 variables - I wasn't sure at first I could even remember all the steps!

This wasn't what I had planned but after my postulating this morning why am I surprised God did his own thing with no regard to my expectations. He is simple awesome. I've been here 7 hours and know already that I'm hooked, I'm coming back with Joey, and I can't imagine a more perfect place for me to be.

Why me?

In Him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of Him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of His will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of His glory. And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in Him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God's possession—to the praise of his glory.

Ephesians 1:11-12

There are so many faces. They are all beautiful in their own way; for their uniqueness, their flaws, their life. It's so hard to look at them and not make every conversation: "let me tell you about my Jesus!" Why does it take poverty to bring the urgency that the world needs to be saved? I don't walk through the mall and pray endlessly for those around me. I don't have that ache. I don't even know what I would say if one small voice piped up and said "me, I'm want to have Jesus". I don't feel like this month is a failure if I don't save just one, that isn't something I can do. But it just hurts so much to know they are lost. What makes me choose who to passionately pursue? I look at people in my life who are constants - some are daily relationships and others are relationships kept current through prayer. It is a conscious choice who I include, which means some are being excluded. It's just one more thing I don't understand. It's just one more version of control that I have to give up. It's hopefully one more thing to be free of.

So what made Him choose me. When God looked at all of creation and was filling the spots available in Heaven, how did I make the cut? It wasn't on my own merit - of that I am most certain. How did he decide what my lot would be vs. Others. I think, "I could take this, I'm not so weak that given the station in life I could not live as these people do." That is such vanity. I can hardly make it through a day at home without thanking God for intercepting and smoothing out the rough patches.

I think the challenge comes in accepting that there is absolutely nothing I can do. I can go to school and challenge, love and build relationships with the kids but it really doesn't make a difference. Very few really get to see all of me - I wouldn't want them, or most of you to really see "me". I need them to see who Christ makes me - if they don't then none of it is worthwhile. It is only when I think of this in that context that it becomes ok. Who He's made me has to be enough because otherwise I'm just a smile - and the smile fades.

Jeff touched on that Sunday morning a few weeks ago. He told a story of a woman who told him, and I'm sure I'm going to mix up the details but you'll get the drift, that her marriage was not well and she couldn't tell anyone of her friends because their lives were so ordered, so perfect. The church was so perfect. It was everything she was not and it made her feel more alone than ever. Jeff was surprised, I think, to hear that she was feeling this and couldn't reach out for shame of what she saw as the imperfection of her life. How many people do we really let see us. It's so hard to find those few who you feel are safe. It's as if they have to prove through their track record with others that they can be trusted. Then and only then will we open up. Even then there is guilt in thinking that we are burdening their ordered lives with our mess. And at some point you find yourself in a situation similar to being here. Everyone should have this freedom. There is no baggage, there are no expectations, no appearances to keep. It is the truest way to being completely who you are in Christ alone with no feeling of self. (Except at night when left alone with your thoughts and the questions start to come. But the questions are good because it's quiet enough to think.) I like myself far better in this place - when I see me through His eyes. The picture is far more simple, I see beauty and grace, and an acceptance of peace. I have three weeks to figure out how to bring that person home. (Or I could just stay....)

So I'm rambling. It's the middle of the night where you are and by dawn I'll probably have erased this post as gibbering chatter and nonsensical folly. But I don't think I'm the only one who has every asked the question "why me?".

Decisions, decisions, decisions

(For those who aren't interested in the shopping details skip to the bottom for the details on rickshaws.)

You all know I like to shop. Ladies don't laugh, most of you are just as bad. If one is good, two is better and three is best! It isn't as though I'm looking to do the typical shopping I could find at home. I want to see what's particular to the area. And for anyone who knows me the Indian textiles are like my 5th Avenue! (Don't get me wrong, I love coutoure but there is a drastic price difference.)

There is such a wide variety here, in quality as well as color, that choosing where to shop can be as difficult as making a selection. We started in the market because that is what 8 wanted to experience - the barter system and ethnic flavor of India. Less than 20 minutes into the day I felt just aweful for two reasons. First, the quality wasn't anything that would be useable at home and frankly novelty idols weren't something I was interested in. Second, I was going to have tell Rajan he was right and you know how much I hate that! Nali could see my 'disappointment' and suggested we try the mall. I really should listen to those who know more than I.

Most of the stores were western in style; probably 80%. This was most likely best were I was concerned or I may never have made it past the first floor. (The malls are 4 floors - we should be importing those!) Shop keepers are the most pleasant people you've ever met. Please sit down, have a drink, let me unfold for you 3 dozen items. You dont't want to buy anything then thanks for coming and have a good day. The dollar is so strong I could have bought everything I wanted and not thought twice. Most items are simple textiles: embroidered pashmina, saris, and glass bangle bracelets. How much of that is practical for use at home? It would sit in my closet and never be seen. (Don't be fooled, there will be plenty sitting in my closet - I didn't avoid all temptation.)

Let me tell you the biggest disappointment. A little history first. I have noticed all week that I am rather tall here. Most people, men included, are shorter than I. This was great in the crowded city because I didn't feel quite so overwhelmed. Here comes the problem. Short people have small feet. So you guessed it: problem finding shoes! Let me just tell you the richly embroidered shoes in every style and color are to die for! That is my one dissappointment for the day. (Don't think for a minute I walked away with nothing! It just took a little persistance to find the right shop that had more than just the reject shoes stocked in my size.)

We took a rickshaw home. I don't even know how to expound on that sentence because there is just so much to say so see if you can create the visual picture. (Whatever you come up with can't nearly be as funny as we must have looked.) The rickshaw is the typical small two seat bench on the back of a three wheeled bike. Of course it's painted in a rainbow of colors with no cohesive design but it does a flair. The man peddling the bike is lucky if he weighs 100 lbs fully clothed and soaking wet. There are three of us, with bags, and I'm the smallest of the group. We pile in, me sitting on the back to the bench in the middle, the two other ladies on the seat, bags every which way and the poor man begins peddling through the hellatious trafic in the center of the city. If I forgot to mention earlier Delhi has the largest speed bumps I've ever seen. They are more like small mountains; especially since they are not gently rounded in any way. We are swerving through traffic, being passed by millimeters on either side, horns are blowing and all the while grasping at anything and nothing as we bouce over these concrete land mines. I hope people were enjoying the sight because everyone deserves to laugh that hard at least once in their life.

It was a memorable day and fun to choose a few things to bring home and pick out colored bangles for the girls as well. These are the experiences that make diving in head first not quite so daunting.

Birthday Celebration

Today may have been the best food day yet! (I've been thinking that when I return my eating habits may be quite changed. In one week I've embraced the idea of how to ONLY eat what is absolutely necessary to stave of hunger.) Today however was a different story. Lunch was fried potatoes and collard greens. No rice, no oil based gravy, rather a green vegetable and crunchy potatoes. Dinner was rice pudding. I don't want to hear anything from you health freaks out there. It's my birthday and if I want to be thankful for the dietary reprive and enjoy the 'bad for me stuff' it's my prerogative!

We went to a movie this evening, Unjau Jaan, a hindi love story that recently was released. Ok, I may not understand the speaking but how hard can it be to follow a traditional love story set in 17th century India? I was right, my version of the storyline was mostly on track. Problem was, I found that out at the intermission of the three hour movie. Avoid Indian movies out of Bollywood if you don't understand the language. It's hard to keep focused for that long.

Still, it was a great treat for the kids and a very different celebration for me.

Saturday Morning - November 11

Last night was the first time I didn't wake up in the middle of the night. Am I finally getting comfortable? Up before the alarm, there was a lot of noise in the house. Some of the kids had come by and wanted to ride with us into the city. No problem, right? I'm not exactly a morning person and on top of it I was feeling not so fabulous. So in true Patti Shivers style I put on a little brighter lipstick and figured if I look good I'll feel better and headed out the door. (Dressed and gone in less than 10 minutes, how's that for adapting!)

Breakfast was corn flakes and warm milk - I don't recommend it. We went out to play soccer after that. Foolish me may have mentioned that we play soccer not cricket. I guess they took it literally. I may be an avid sports fan, at least to those few sports I enjoy, but this was not an activity I was prepared for. I watch soccer because of who,s playing, not because I love the game.(Quickly before anyone is offended: Yes, soccer is wonderful. Soccer is fabulous. Don't we all wish we could be as great as the OCS soccer team! By the way how was your game? And you didn't think I'd remember.) I decided my best bet was to stand relatively stationary and haphazardly kick if it came close. Anything else and my life may be in danger. Thankfully my presence was only required for a few minutes. I found a nice(?) tree to hide under and watch.

So the boys are in doing their chores now and after lunch we're going to have a question and answer time. That should be fun!

Mithan & Bulaun

Today we were back at the Delhi orphanage and Mithan and Bulaun were assigned to me for the day. Mithan reminds me of a monkey. He bounces when he walks, has a semi toothless grin and these ears that stick out from the sides of his head like wings. He also might be the quintessential native guide. I can’t decide if today was a great day because of him or the sights we saw.

First stop was Baha’I House of Worship – a type of non-denominational, love, peace and happiness coexistence type “religion”. It’s the building that we were there to see. (See the previous post on theology for more on the sect and their temple.) The temple was designed, I think by the same architects, as the opera house located in the Sydney Harbor. It is a beautiful building and grounds, a little happy happy for me, but I’m glad I saw it. The marble was particularly beautiful; it looked like mother-of-pearl, almost opalescent. But moving on….

The next stop was Humayan’s Tomb made up of not just one building but a complex of 2 large tombs (buildings) a few mosques, as well as outlying garden porches and pagodas. I could never have imagined anything this breathtaking. It is in such good condition, aside from the looted jewel and marble insets, I can’t even begin to describe it and unfortunately can’t post pictures from here. Look it up online, it was magnificent. The boys practiced telling the history of the different people buried on site, the historical significance and commented on the architecture and construction. I was in heaven; this is the detail I live for. For those of you, like my brother who can peak in say “I’ve seen it” and leave, you would have been miserable! We were there at least 2 hours and if I had a book with me would gladly have spent all afternoon.

We stopped for lunch, and there is little to tell here – more chicken and rice with oily gravy – but I had garlic nan! Let me tell you about the most blessed thing this country has to offer! A kind of flatbread brushed with butter and garlic baked in a brick oven over firewood. I could eat it for every meal for the rest of the month and be happy. (Don’t I wish!)

Next stop was Qudab Minar, a tower structure build by the ruling mogul in 1150 AD made of sandstone and inscribed with the most intricate characters and script. Reminiscent of the Roman ruins, it is an ancient Muslim site. The sandstone is multi colored and changes with the shadows and sunlight. The joints are so smooth it’s amazing to see the craftsmanship and wonder at how something so tall was built. (It rises an easy 7 stories.)

Before heading back to the orphanage we stopped to meet Bulaun’s aunt for tea at her home. Her home is a shack of cardboard and matchstick on the side of the road leaning against other ramshackle huts. She greeted us with such respect. It’s hard to understand the concept of the caste, one person being better than another simple because of their station in life. She had purchased sweets and made tea for us and I didn’t have the heart or courage to decline. Please pray that I don’t get sick because the water was from a bottle that was anything but purified! But sitting there with her smile, her nephew so proud was worth whatever is to come. The first thing Bulaun told everyone when we got back was that we had tea in his aunt’s home and he was so proud to have hosted his guest.

It’s an amazing culture, so accepting and hospitable, with a natural serenity, (despite the chaos) that really smoothes over the rocky places. Dinner is almost ready, I can smell the oil cooking, so I’m going to go smile and nod some more, eat more than I can possible hold, and laugh at who knows what – but I’ve yet to laugh alone.

Someone please email me with the volleyball scores when it's over!

To Diane & Mila and all the girls (and Alan) - I'm so proud of you, excited for you and wish I could be there! Play hard, kick butt and GOOD LUCK!

Go Lady Rams!

Calling all Theologians! Doug, Jeff, Pete & Leslie (and anyone else with an opinion in this area) please weigh in

Theology has never been my strong point. I’m certain of what I believe, my faith is strong, but the specifics and finer points of reformed theology are not my strong point. So, for all you theologians, I have a question. I went to a temple of sorts today, a ‘house of worship for all faiths’. Is it okay to pray there? It wasn’t that I felt it was appropriate to offer a slight prayer to Heaven, I just needed to have a conversation and I was finally sitting down and had a moment’s peace to complete what I had already been saying in my head through interrupted sentences throughout the day. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it but Bulaun saw me praying and later asked if my god was represented there. Later at his aunt’s house she offered us sweets and he explained that she had them blessed at the temple today because she knew I was coming. I didn’t think twice about eating it. I don’t have any faith in that blessing. It was simple words spoken over some food. But the more I thought about his question I began to doubt my rationalization. Am I defiling the temple of Christ? Maybe it’s better if I don’t know I’m now on a one-way path to hell since it’s been done and I can’t take it back!

Philosophy of Life

I visited an orphanage in the city today that is a haven for street children. Mostly older boys, there was no way I could have prepared myself for their eyes. Yes they smile, these shiny black gems that can only be matched by the toothy grin that overtakes their faces when they see you. The idea is simple; let them be your guide. To guide tourists at the local sights you have to have a license. These orphans already have several strikes against them in a culture that still functions under the caste system. With no family backing and limited connections it is difficult for them to catch a break. In a society that craves most things western, language and mannerisms can be their greatest asset. First we practice greeting; the fine line between a cultural "namaste" that I as a tourist would find enchanting and a bad Hollywood commercial where the bowing goes on for ages. As we leave the program house my guide tells me to have a good time and he'll see me later that afternoon. Definitely did not expect to be diving deep into the city with total strangers but here goes. So with that fake smile plastered across my face we head out. Saheeb and Goomesh are to be my guides. Saheeb has is 15 years old and has been at the orphanage for about 4 years. His father and mother have died and his only other living relatives are aunts. Being of a poorer class, their husband’s families were not willing to accept the boy and he was found living on the streets by one of the workers. Surprisingly, the kids do not necessarily flock to the home even with the promise of food and a roof over their head. Goomesh they tell me, just showed up one day. No story, no explanation, and he has been there ever since. Both are nearing the age where they will be expected to begin building a life of their own. There is no particular age when they are asked to leave it is simple a natural part of their culture to move on.

We head to the Birla temple. First off, this is not a grand edifice to take your breath away. Trimmed in orange and yellow it looks more like a cheap circus attraction than a house of worship. There is a line outside but as a foreigner I'm waved over to the side door, shown into a room where my shoes and camera are left as checked items. There is a sign at the entrance requesting guests to remember that this is a house of worship and not to take pictures of the idols. It said idols. No place other than the Bible have I seen that word in print and it took me quite off guard. The interior is filled with hundreds of idols; some in statue form, others as tile plaques on the wall or in small alcoves. There is a god for everything: wealth, rain, sun, fortune (different than wealth), health, peace, happiness and on and on. The major gods have larger shrines with priests on hand to give a blessing in lieu of your offering of flowers or incense. It’s such a different idea to worship than we are accustomed to. Deposit your sacrifice, take a spot of red on your forehead and walk away. No more than 2 seconds required in reverence and you’ve worshiped your god. People worship a god depending on their mood or what is happening in their life. It is oddly comical and only becomes more so when you see the fair skinned foreigner in their black socks and sandals with a red dot between their eyes. I’m glad we went so I could see it first hand. As this is a place tourists are drawn to it was good for the boys to tell the stories of the gods which have a lot of foreign words they may not use regularly.

Back at the home I was allowed to cook. This took some convincing, as it is improper in their culture for a guest to work in anyway. My fingers are still stained yellow from whatever spice we used in the gravy. I don’t know that I’ll ever complain about cooking at home again. They showed me around, we sat down to eat and then went to play cricket in the back yard. I use that nomenclature loosely. There is no yard, simple compacted dirt. Not knowing anything about cricket, (and you thought baseball was boring!), I swung that bat (paddle?), let them laugh at me and tried to throw the ball which I’m certain was not a pretty site.

They’re so happy, or so it seems. They smile so freely. They look away shyly if you show them any attention but beam in the process. I brought a small needle and thread kit in my bag for my own use, the planner in me can’t leave home without being prepared for every eventuality, and loosely sewed a few buttons and a hole in the big toe of a sock. You would have though I was the wizard of OZ. If you ever need an ego boost I know just where to send you.

Tomorrow we’re coming back and I get to spend the day with two other boys. I don’t know how they pick who, I would never be able to choose. It’s going to be ok. This isn’t hard it’s just different. Right now different is very good.

India vs. Nineva

I'm beginning to feel a bit anxious - the task seems so large and my drop in the bucket seems to be growing smaller and smaller.

I've read the story of Jonah a few times now. Not that I in anyway compare my efforts to his calling but there is a bit of likeness in the foreigness of the task. Where did he finally get his conviction from? At what point did God 'kick in'? Do he move out of fear? I don't want to move out of fear. I don't want to shrink from my faith but it is so hard to be persistant standing in a temple with over a 100 idols and blank stares saying, "but who cares". How can Christianity compete with a religion that allows you to adjust the rules to suit your needs. I feel like I'm the one competing and I know that isn't true. Was this whole effort just a lesson in evangalism because that wasn't what I had in mind.

I know the book answer to everything I've just said but I'd really like to feel those answers right now.

Everything AND the kitchen sink

Yesterday I sat through phase one of language class and have 16 pages of nouns, verbs, objects & pronouns to show for it. But wait! There are also verb conjugations for simple present, simple past, simple future and present continuous (whatever that is). In all honesty so what if I don’t learn it. What are they going to do – send me home? Little did I know what was coming today.

My host Rajan is a nice guy. He has a master’s degree in British Literature and a second degree in Philosophy so there is plenty to talk about. I am the only person here for training right now, this being the slow period, and we are moving through the paces quickly. This morning he tells me we’re going sightseeing. Sounds great, right? All was not as it appeared. His goal was to introduce me to the way the city works, force me to speak the language, figure out city transit, maneuver the busy streets, learn how to barter an shop in the open air food stalls all while visiting the common sites I would be taking the kids too. I am exhausted and it is only 4:00. I’ll try to explain but there is so much it may need to be spread over the next couple days. (Today was the first test. Is till have to learn how to cook, wash clothes & clean. Then we will do the city one more time. Lucky me!)

The city is such chaos. But the people are so comfortable in their skin that sort of order begins to come forth. There is a degree of patience and acceptance that brings a calm to things. Traffic is a nightmare. I’ll never look at rush hour the same again. There are cars, bikes and horse drawn carts all sharing the same road – but with deference to the holy cows! Auto part to vegetables, books to animal feed, anything you can imagine is piled high on a cart hanging from a window or strapped 8 feet in the air to a bike. I actually saw a woman walking down the street with a kitchen sink, drain trap and all, balanced on her head.

The city is covered in a fine layer of dust. Even the trees don’t look green till you see their muted leaves up close. You come across the fruit & vegetable stands and even in the worst of conditions the colors are so appealing. There is such an incredible variety it’s easy to see why much of the cuisine is vegetarian based. But try choosing. The longer you take the more pressure to purchase. Once you’ve chosen you can’t put it back. Now remember you have a daily budget and need to provide for 35 mouths. Still sound like fun?

Regardless, it was good to learn the system and the children are more than able to help. We went to the Red Fort, which at one time housed British soldiers in barracks, and was formally the complex used by the Maharaja. The palaces have incredible vaulted ceilings and every inch is covered with intricate carvings which were inlaid with gold, silver and precious stones. Only in the highest corners can you see a shadow of what the walls would formerly have looked like wearing their decorations. The majesty isn’t lost however plain the surfaces currently appear. Every doorway frames the next. The windows serve as picture frames for the design of the next room Symmetry abounds and the multi domed roofs cover vast vaulted caverns beneath that, even in their current state are simple breathtaking. The science and engineering behind these inventions remind you that long before the Renaissance there was an empire dedicated to science and the arts.

The palace grounds as well the tomb of Mahatma Gandhi are public parks used extensively by the people fore relaxing and finding a moment of peace in the shade. There are groups of children everywhere, families picnicking and people mapping. This would be a typical outing the kids would enjoy. I’m sure once we are there it will be great but the getting there and back has me a bit concerned.

I’ve asked Rajan several times about the amount of western advertisement and if there is a market here to support it. Tonight we are going to the mall so he can show me the modern side of India. (I think he just doesn’t want to cook and the housekeeper who prepares meals isn’t back yet.) Anyway, we’ll see just how opposite the two worlds are.

Settling In

I finally have a chance to sit down and put some thoughts on paper. Flying over Delhi the first thing that struck me was the layout of the city. There were no city planners involved in developing a roadmap for this place. Streets run any way they choose. There is no grid format. Some run in complete circles. Others haphazardly dead-end at the back of a large building. But the city is huge and once you’re on the street the fun really begins.

I was met, as planned by Rajan who oversees the program here in India as well as those in Nepal, Sri Lanka & Thailand. Praise God, because on of my greatest fears was being stranded in the airport with no idea where to go and an obvious target for anyone and everyone. Customs was a formality – I don’t think they really care what you’re bringing in or who you are; just so long as on the way out you pay their tax. The doorway was crowded with taxi drivers and others hoping to give you a ride. Thankfully, Rajan has a van and we were able to leave quickly. As expected, most of the cars are not the luxury automobiles we are accustomed to in the US. While the cars are older and the paint is dulled, they were in fairly good shape, all one color with very few showing any damage aside from banged-up side mirrors. After driving to the hostel I am floored that every car on the road is not missing a bumper and smashed beyond recognition.

The roads are paved, they also have lanes painted as we would expect, there are traffic lights following the same cues as the rest of the world. None of this matters. If you have a horn you’re good to go. Step on the gas, maybe you’ll use your brake, and don’t worry about the rest. My favorite is the signs at every intersection. There are large 4-sided boxes in the middle of the intersection that reads “obey traffic signals”. First note that the sign is in English which means that the sign doesn’t matter. Even those who can read don’t pay attention. You’re best bet is to look out the window and enjoy the scenery.

India is stuck in the past and desperately trying to make it’s way into the current world market. Trapped by a caste system still unconsciously practiced, the modern world is growing up around it. There are large, modern, state-of-the-art 30 floor office buildings with names that are readily recognized: Citibank, Cynergis, & MasterCard. Surprisingly, most of these companies employ locals as the majority of their workforce. There is new construction everywhere but the old practices are still in place. The workers on the building site live in hovels around the project with their families – no hardhats necessary. Women are free to go to school, hold down jobs, vote and own property. But arranged marriages are still commonplace. The TV is flooded with western style adapted by Bollywood and the programming reflects its influence. Still, the majority of women dress in traditional saris while idolizing the runway fashions they watch non-stop on TV. You can see the struggle to advance in the western style, more so than I thought it would be, but the struggle is against their own culture not the lack of support from the western world.

I had the most interesting discussion with Rajan today. We were discussing Hindu and the impact it has on the local culture vs. the small Muslim population that is a thorn in their side. Hindi has many gods, sort of a god for every season philosophy. You don’t need to worship any one in particular. As life changes and evolves, the religion adapts to keep pace. Women have the right to vote - the religion gives women more significance and lifts the previous restrictions. It’s an every changing system that allows for no personal responsibility. That’s a hard thing to contradict when you’re talking about a God that requires submission, obedience and fidelity. I asked what the followers of Hindu receive in return from the god(s) of their choice. His reply was simple: if you pray to the god of weather asking for rain and it rains then you are blessed. If it does not rain than that god is not happy with you – find another. That is the reason behind the many shrines; you are continually changing allegiances. So I asked, where is the comfort in knowing that you are protected and cared for? You aren’t – the gods don’t bring you comfort only fortune. Rajan has studied philosophy and is familiar with many schools of thought. So as we talked about God, His providence, His plan and the purpose of His Son on Earth it became more of a debate than an outright witness. When was I prepared for this! Suddenly, the simple plan of grace/man/God/Christ/faith from the Evangelism Explosion lessons years ago was not enough. I was becoming flustered with the frustration of not being able to convince him of how right I was and all I could hear was L & P – God has already given you everything you need. So stop debating and just talk. Not how from a theological perspective can Christ actively move in ones life but this is how I feel Him directing my heart. Not how does it make sense but where is there peace without it. I don’t think he’s convinced but I am more so than ever. Listening to the idea of struggling each day to carve out your own way and seeing the helplessness and struggle in doing it alone makes me wonder why I insist on trying it by myself and failing before finally turning to beg for Christ to take control. I don’t know if Rajan got the message but I did.

I’m staying this week in the city for cultural and language training. I have this philosophy that past a certain age learning is more difficult. The words all seem to blend on the page, I can’t form a coherent sentence to save my life and I don’t think I’ll ever get all the verb tenses. Also, this time is supposed to adapt us to the culture and time change so as not to be a burden on the orphanage. I thought that was silly until I spent the entire day sleeping yesterday. Things move at a much slower pace – life is not as rigidly kept to a schedule. If it gets done, great.; if not, there is always tomorrow. The food is not terrible although I have lost the outer layer of skin on my lips. I don’t particularly care for spicy food and my mouth is on fire. Starch is a staple with rice at every meal. Last night it was rice, potatoes and gravy made from chickpeas. I feel like there is a boulder in the pit of my stomach. The plate is constantly full and it is rude to not accept a second portion. Thankfully I have not been sick which is not the case with most of the other volunteers arriving this week. Please pray that I remain in good health – I really don’t want to deal with that issue as well as adapting.

The woman who serves as housekeeper and cook here has gone to see her husband this morning and will be gone for two days. She has two children who live in Calcutta with her sister. Her husband works in Delhi, a few miles away, and she has not seen him in five months. I asked if this was common, for families to be split up. Rajan said that a good many are, they go where the jobs are. Life’s tough was his comment. She is such a sweet woman, probably my age, and is childlike in here attitude always laughing and showing us things that she is doing.

Tomorrow Rajan is going to take me into the city to see the orphanage there and visit with the outreach program to the street children and meet that director. A local Christian couple runs this ministry so it will be nice to spend the day with them and hear their impressions of the people and their needs.
So I’ve settled in an adapted, the food is not killing me, I’m adjusting to the odd pace of things and all in all am doing well. Thank you for continuing to pray while I see exactly how and where I’ll be used this month.

The eagle has landed

I don't have much except to say that I'm here. The flight was smooth and uneventful. Customs at the airport went smothly and Rajan met me outside - thank goodness! The drive from the airport to the place I'm staying this week was not too long. There are no traffic laws in India. There are plenty of signs emploring you to obey the traffic rules, but nobody pays those signs any heed. Note that they are written only in English. There are marked lanes on the road but you are not required to stay in them. There are state of the art high rise buildings next to slums. It is everything I expected and I've only had a moments taste.

I don't have much time now except to say hello, let you know I've arrived safely and thank you for your prayers. I have an extreme sense of peace - I know you are faithfully lifting me up - thank you.

Tomorrow begins the orientation and language class and I expect to have more time to write tomorrow. It is closing time here, Sunday at 2:30 local time, so I need to go.

Till tomorrow....

Leaving London

Another gorgeous day in London. I went to Portabello Road Market today and can not even describe the organized chaos that takes up the half mile or more of road lined on both side with everything you can image! I also stopped at Speakers Corner and am amazed at how heated the conversation is but there is no threat of people acting out. Imagine giving a soap box to every crazy in Central Park!

I'm leaving for the airport and hope to get some sleep on this flight. I think I've walked 10 miles today. The tube was shut down between my hotel and the Notting Hill sight so foolish me thinks, it's a beautiful day, I'll walk. It's a very long walk!

So the next post will be from India - I can't believe this is really happening!

So much to see, so little time...

It is amazing how much ground you can cover when you're alone. No pow-wows to decide where to go next, no discussions about what to eat, only stopping when you want to. ( I'm not speaking only of the kids. Making decisions in my family can be more work that chaperoning a group of 40 in a big city.) Yesterday, I made it to Westminster Abbey, the St. Pauls, the Portrait Gallery, and the National Museum - all before dinner. I loved the museum, more so than I thought I would. I'm not very artistic, I can barely draw a straight line, and have no knowledge regarding technique and the other aspects involoved in creating a masterpiece. Being that close to so much art was inspiring. (No, I'm not taking up painting.) Just seeing the different styles, the brush strokes on some, the highlights on others, the difference in composition and use of light begs the question "which was your favorite?". I don't know, and don't want an hour long lecture from you art people of the merits of one style or artist over another. Frankly, I don't really care why one is better than the other. I was surprised that Monet wasn't my favorite. Yes, the water lillies were gorgeous and the city scenes were interesting but they didn't intrigue me like others. I like The Unbrellas by Renoir. You can't see it in this pictures but the colors are so different, some bold and some muted, and there are two different styles in the composition. Also, I liked Michelangelo over Da Vinci.

I went down to Trafalger Square in the evening and found a last minute ticket to Chicago. I haven't seen the movie and had no idea what the story was about. I left before intermission. Either my taste is theatre is not main stream, or I was more tired than I thougt. I kept nodding off, you know - where your head suddenly dips forward and look around wondering if anyone caught that! (I'm going to blame it on being tired so that I don't offend anyone with my thinking that there was no plot and each musical number was a carbon copy of the last. Hopefully the movie will be better.)

I'm going to go wander the markets today, not for anything in particular but it seems the thing to do when in London on a Saturday. If I get bored maybe I'll stop by the Tower of London for a visit.

All the Way to State

I'm going to sidetrack for a minute because I can and say hey to the volleyball team. I am SO excited for you and can't believe I missed it. Jesse said you 'kicked butt' - wish I could have been there. Back to back titles sound so good! Miss you guys and am so proud of you- not just for the win but for who you ladies are as a team and as individuals. You are each unique and incredible on and off the court. Relish every moment - you've earned it.

Layover 1

That flight might go down as the worst ever. (It's only leg one, I should watch what I say!) The man sitting next to me was far too friendly, the call button for the row in front of me was stuck ringing for the first two hours of the flight, and there was a peculiar odor the entire way. We were delayed at the gate 45 minutes before backing away and the turbulance at times was very frightening. But I'm here, the weather is absolutely beautiful, and I'm going to go see the city. I was fortunate to find a last minute room directly across from the Marble Arch in Hyde Park for mere pennies. (Thank goodness - no hostel!) L - I'll give Harry your best & B - this is a far better place to be!