Happy happy day!

I wrote a long and detailed post about the situation with my favorite boy at the children's home, telling all about what a wonderful child he is; how he was taken away from New Hope by an abusive parent; how we grieved and grasped for hope that we would see him again; how God answered our prayers through miraculously bringing the boy home; and how we are celebrating! It was an extensive post, and I decided to spare you all the details for now.

Here are the most important things I have to say about Prashanth being rescued:

Thank you. Thank you for your prayers. God moved mountains for a small boy when He heard the cries of His people. We are grateful that He answers prayers and that He protects the helpless.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned… for I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior… because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you… fear not, for I am with you.” –Isaiah 43:1-5

He is great. He is worthy of our praise. I have a new song in my heart because of the new work He is doing. Really, we danced and sang and were silly over this child's return! Be joyful with us!

“Oh sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth! Sing to the Lord, bless His name; tell of His salvation from day to day. Declare his glory among the nations, His marvelous works among all the peoples! For great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised.” –Psalm 96:1-4

Hold on to hope. There is no situation beyond salvation, no circumstance that cannot be redeemed. 

“’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for wholeness and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope… then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me. When you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations.’” –Jeremiah 29:11-14

With hope, life is beautiful, even through the pain.

I will leave you with a song that played on my laptop during an iTunes shuffle session on the day before Prashanth came home. I had forgotten about this song completely and was grateful for its reminder that life is indeed full of beauty. It’s called Life is Beautiful and was written and recorded by some talented musician friends (one of whom--Dane--is also on a round-the-world adventure and will be teaching English in Indonesia soon). It spoke to me, so maybe it will speak to you:

 P.S. –If you do want to spend a bunch of time reading about the little things I find charming about Prashanth (like how he flips his hair out of his eyes when he translates from Telugu to English for the smaller kids) and all the messy details of his departure and return, leave a comment or send a message. If there’s interest, I’ll post it. It’s basically the size of a novel so I need to do some careful editing… but I’m lazy and don’t want to fix it up for people to read unless you actually want to wade through it. :)

My scarred heart

I was going through some old documents the other day and found a bit of writing I did about love. I think I meant to post it on my old blog back in the day, but I never got around to it. Today it resonates with some of my current circumstances, so I wrote a little more; and now I'm posting it here. These are the thoughts of a girl who finds herself heartbroken over the pain she sees in a small child who she loves. (The girl being me and the small child being my favorite little boy at the children's home.) I'm trying to encourage myself to not be afraid of the pain I'm experiencing. Instead of giving in to fear and withdrawing, I want to continue giving my heart fully to the people around me who need love, especially the children.

---

Have you ever wondered if the pain is worth it? Loving someone, putting yourself out there, being open, tying your heart to another human being... it is all supposed to be so freeing and sweet and fluffy. At least we assume that.

The truth is that human love is indeed beautiful. But it wrecks us too. As we learn to love others, we open ourselves up to the pain of disappointment, suffering, betrayal, loss and the scars they leave behind. These scars are constant reminders of life lived and lost, and some of the wounds cause pain long after the emotional skin closes. Phantom limbs haunt us, tingling and crying out in agony. Infections taint the once-strong fortress of our bodies. We hurt long after the hurt is past.

They say time is the great healer. They say that.. But the way I see it, time is not enough.

I experience enough pain on my own, I think. Do I really need to take on someone else's pain too? My scars from past relationships (platonic or otherwise) terrorize me. I cover them, ashamed of their ugliness and wanting to fit the mold of beauty. But no matter how I try to hide them, they are there. I can't hide or forget the past, so I do everything in my power to prevent further injury. I try to not care too deeply. Often I take myself out of the game altogether, placing my heart and emotions far out of reach from any careless human hands. Any hands.

Unexpectedly, against my carefully laid defenses, I find feelings warming my heart toward other people. Do I give in? Do I open myself up to the potential for more heartache, or do I keep the doors firmly closed? Loving others does bring joy; but always at some point the pain returns and I wonder, is it worth it?

The pain is NOT momentary. It lasts, lingers, lengthens my days. But I've seen the fruit of that pain with my own eyes, touched it with my own hands. I have tasted its sweetness. The truth that lies beneath the pain of identifying with another person's sorrow is greater, and the knowledge of love--the attribute at the core of God's very being--is made only that much more valuable by my experience with suffering. I would choose agony over apathy at every turn. Every. Single. One. It is worth it, even on my worst day, because love is of God. It is what He has given to me, and it must be exercised.

I'm not waiting for time to heal me. Now I know that even time cannot remove the scars I wear. I count those scars a gift, a reminder of His great and unimaginable grace, that He loves even me, with my scarlet letters tattooed upon my skin. He doesn't erase those marks. I do not pretend to know exactly why, and perhaps I will never know. But I do know that those scars make me love--Him, friends, children, lovers, criminals, enemies, the unlovable, the untouchable--more. And if I can get past my fear of vulnerability, my experiences with suffering only richen and deepen my appreciation for the opportunity to love someone in each moment that passes me by today. This one, and this one, and this one. These moments I'm living are precious. Because of pain.

Sleeping soundly

A while back, I came through the hall in the evening to find four small boys asleep on the floor. They had pulled their little mats over into a corner together and assumed various positions for repose.

The smallest boy, Pavan, was all sprawled out, as only a child could be, with arms and legs thrown every which way. His mouth was open, and he snored softly.

The tallest boy, Gopi, was cuddled up next to his friend, Sai. The two were resting on each other more than on the thin straw mats, and they were silent and still except for the soft rhythm of their breath.

And my favorite child, Prashanth, was very carefully positioned on his side, hands folded under his head. His hair was all crazy like my little brother's used to be when he too was 10. His face--which is normally so expressive of either mischief, delight, or a pervasive sadness--was absolutely, almost purposefully still.

It only took me a moment to take in this scene as I quietly passed through, but that visual snapshot was printed on my mind like hieroglyphics on stone. My heart just about burst for these little ones who--not long ago--were beaten and used by their family members; cast out; rejected; starving; left behind; begging in the street.

I am so grateful that they were brought here and now sleep soundly, with full bellies and peace of mind. Please pray that Kristin and I will be instruments of love to these little ones who--I'm sure--still struggle with the rejection they've faced. I hope that they will all rest in the knowledge that they are beautiful, unique, gifted, and loved.

Dying for Love

I follow a pretty set routine here. My schedule is flexible, with times being on a variable "Indian clock" that shifts with the weather, mood, or a variety of ever-present unforeseen events. But the basic elements remain the same. Quiet mornings. Classes throughout the day. Games and prayer with the children's home kids. And always--among much other daily reading material--a copy of The Deccan Chronicle, "the Largest Circulated English Daily in South India." I like reading the local news because it reminds me of what's going on in other people's daily lives.

At New Hope, we live a very peaceful existence. I teach. I play with children. I write. I teach some more. I attend church and various outreaches. The compound where we live is clean and bright. The children are happy and loved. And mostly I write about the ways people are helping each other and about the amazing things happening here.

But the orphaned children and The Deccan Chronicle are a constant reminder that a very sad, harsh world lies outside these compound walls. 

The children, because they all came here after they were abandoned, abused, discarded, or victims of disease (many of the parents died of HIV), or because their parents were unable to care for them. Life is hard for these families, and we only see small glimpses of their great pains.

The Deccan Chronicle, because the news is always pretty bad. The same can be said for most papers in the US too, I know. I worked for several newspapers, and I've read my share of them. But there's a disturbing pattern I've noticed with The Chronicle lately: In almost every paper there are reports of killings over inter-caste relationships, and always, always, always at least one murder or suicide by a lover in anguish. 

People are killing themselves, their families, and each other because of love, either for the lack of it or because it didn't work out as they planned.

Yesterday, one of the stories that caught my eye was about a girl whose family tortured and murdered her along with her lower-caste lover to defend their family honour. They believed that her relationship with a boy from a class below her would stain their family reputation. They believed it so absolutely that they set aside basic human decency and love for their own child to brutally murder her. Because her relationship choice didn't go according to their plan. These "honour killings" are sickeningly common here. I've seen at least four stories like it in the past month.

A couple of days ago, a young girl jumped in front of a train to kill herself after being rejected by her lover. 

There was a rash of local murders in which boys were slitting the throats of girls who rejected them. 

Not to mention a story about a narrowly-avoided child marriage; a man who murdered his son because he suspected he was illegitimate; a woman who was shot in the head by her brother-in-law, who was in love with her, because she refused to commit adultery; and a young Romeo & Juliet couple who killed themselves because they knew their parents would not approve of their alliance.

With the complex social system in this country, involving intricate caste hierarchies, religious elements, ancient traditions, and the twist of the modernization and Westernization of the giant cities, it's impossible for a young Western girl like myself to offer any conclusions about why this is happening. But I know that it has something to do with darkness, evil, and the deep-rooted hold that sin can have on people. It is truly tragic.

I know that all human beings crave love and intimacy. We yearn for it like we yearn for food, but with more intensity and emotion. We daydream and we cry over it. And many people are so desperate to find that one person to love forever... so desperate to be satisfied with love that they are killing and being killed over it.

Love--and the endless pursuit of it--may be all we need... but we have to look in the right place. Human love can never fully satisfy. Not permanently. Our world is too broken for that. 

"Some wandered in desert wastes,
finding no way to a city to dwell in;
hungry and thirsty,
their soul fainted within them.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
and he delivered them from their distress...
Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love...
For he satisfies the longing soul."
                                           -Psalm 107:4-9

My heart breaks over these terrible deaths. But I am grateful for places like New Hope, where true love is lived in a way that brings hope into hopeless lives. Pray with me for the victims of these killings. Pray that the love that overcomes darkness will find its place in India.

The Best Parade

I've never liked parades. My family and friends know that this has been true since my childhood. At parades I sit quietly and don't make too much of a fuss, but inside I'm yawning. Sometimes I roll my eyes a little. I'm not sure exactly why... maybe it's that I don't like to sit and wave at everyone...maybe I don't buy the feigned excitement...maybe I get easily bored. The theme doesn't seem to matter: Fourth of July, Christmas, Fiesta, even Disneyland parades--which are elaborate and entertaining--just don't do it for me. I've always thought it would be boring to sit on a float and wave at everyone from the other side, too.

But this week I was in a parade like none I've ever seen before... a parade to end all parades... a parade that I'm pretty confident I will remember forever. It didn't have special effects or fireworks or elaborate dances. It was simple and happy and beautiful and exuberant, and it taught me something. Fun and educational! ;)

This week New Hope Church held its first Vacation Bible School for children! Nobody knew how it would go, what it would look like exactly, or how many children would come. Kristin and I were unsure if we would be anything more than onlookers to the process, as we hadn't been given any responsibilities for the week or any lesson plans. The church leaders didn't know if any children aside from the children's home kids would even show up.

But come Monday morning, there were 460 children at the church from 18 neighboring villages! There was singing! Dancing! Bible stories! Puppet shows! Games! It was a perfectly Indian, last-minute event that blessed a small army of children and their families. The church called it a "Children's Blessing Festival." 

Kristin and I were asked the first day if we would tell a story (not a Bible story, as they were already learning Bible stories) and teach some songs to the children. Songs are no problem, we can sing anytime. But a story... hmmm... we begged leave to retire and brainstorm for a while. Recruiting our other American friend, Ben, we decided to tell a version of The Three Little Pigs, casting Ben as the Big Bad Wolf. Voices, actions, and all manner of silliness earned the approval, bated breath, and interest of the children, who even paid attention to the moral at the end. So each day we converted a classic children's story into a Biblical lesson about God's love for us and acted it out, complete with crazy costumes, makeup, and volunteer involvement on stage. I wish you could have seen the reactions we got from the kids as Ben the lion chased Kristin the mouse, wagging his tail and roaring. I'm not sure, but it may have been even more fun for us than it was for the kids. (for photos of this and more, visit my Facebook page)

It was so sweet to join the children in worship, learn their action songs, pray with them, and see them soak up the word of God. So many children came up to us after each session for prayer, and it was humbling to place my hands on their little shoulders and lift their needs up to the Lord. The faith of children is simple and beautiful.

On the final day of VBS, we held a parade through Chillakallu. With 460 dancing, singing, paper-crown-wearing kids, we trooped through the streets of the village, carrying banners with scriptures declaring the truth about Jesus and the love of God. Volunteers and children alike were so excited. The atmosphere was purely joyful. Faces with radiant smiles sang and shouted Jesus' name. Parade leaders danced and sang at the front with a bicycle-rickshaw pulling a small speaker to broadcast the vocals. Drums beating, hands clapping, there was a lot of glorious noise! And wouldn't you know it, the whole village came out to see the happy commotion of these child-evangelists.

Walking through the streets, holding the hand of a small boy and joining my voice with 500 other little voices in song, I was struck by how happy we all were to be declaring Jesus' name to the community. There was no shame or embarrassment. There was no real plan or strategy. There was no eloquent preaching. There was just a group of people so happy about their salvation that they wanted to dance and sing for all to see. 

I felt lightness and joy and privilege. What a happy thing it is to tell others about the blessing of life in Christ! What a special gift we have, this ability to declare who He is! Why do I hesitate so often to talk of His works, when all of them are good? How can I fail to see what a blessing it is to share that joy with others?

The Christians in this overwhelmingly-Hindu community have so few material comforts and so little worldly love. They have much more to lose than I do by declaring their faith: they face persecution, discrimination in the job market, the loss of family, even violence. But they are so happy to be saved that they count those risks as nothing compared to the joy and privilege it is to share the one true God with others. They can't keep quiet about it when so many around them are living in ignorance of the salvation and joy available to them! It's a beautiful task to share Jesus.

I like what Indian pastor Theodore Williams said about evangelism: 

We face a humanity that is too precious to neglect. We know a remedy for the ills of the world too wonderful to withhold. We have a Christ too glorious to hide. We have an adventure that is too thrilling to miss.

May we all learn to recognize the privilege it is to evangelize wherever we are, whether that means opening the Bible to share scripture with a friend at work, inviting someone to church, living uprightly in a fallen world, or parading down the street dancing for the Lord.

I know every day can't be a parade, but I want to live my daily life reflecting the precious and wonderful task before me: to happily spread the news about the true source of joy wherever I go. It's an adventure too thrilling to miss.

Wild rain

Have you ever gotten caught in a monsoon? Rain here in India at this time of year isn't just rain... It's a monsoon.

It is such a wild, exotic rain, hot and full of electricity.

Even as I write this from the front porch of our home, the sky is quickly turning from blue to to grey, from blazing sun to darkness. The wind picked up, the girls are running to gather their clothes from the lines. The rain begins to pour down like a curtain of water, droplets so close together that there appear to be rivers in the sky.

The change is sudden... so sudden that it all happens within only a minute or two. The sun was here, now it's hidden behind a thick layer of cloud. The heavens are unleashed in a torrent.

Lightning strikes. Thunder claps like the most physical, tangible noise you've ever heard. The once-blue sky is a contrast of black and white. The heavy air is wet and smells green and  earthy. The water that the land so desperately needs is granted in abundance like a generous gift.

The sudden nature of the storm reminds me of the way God blesses us. Sometimes the blessings of life are in the little things, and we can find soft, small happiness in the beauty of His provision even in darkness. But there are moments in life--usually moments when we have completely submitted to His will with full abandon, like the people tithing in Malachi--when He opens up all of heaven and completely drenches us with His love.

"Bring all the tithes into the storehouse so there will be enough food in my Temple. If you do," says the LORD of Heaven's Armies, "I will open the windows of heaven for you. I will pour out a blessing so great you won't have enough room to take it in! Try it! Put me to the test!  -Malachi 3:10

Setting out for India was a little scary... very out of my comfort zone and not part of my personal plan. But I knew it was the right thing to do. And jumping into it was like jumping into the biggest monsoon ever. The thunder roars, inspiring awe and fear.. but the blessings have been so abundant that I cannot take them in. God is providing, equipping, teaching, loving... showering us with His grace, mercy, beauty, peace. 

In only two weeks, Kristin and I have seen so much and been so encouraged by the people here and by the beautiful work that's happening at New Hope through the Spirit of God. It is amazing, inspiring, and humbling. We are so incredibly full of joy to be here, fulfilling God's plan for us as we care for orphans in their distress.

Try me! God said. Put me to the test! He is no liar. When He promises blessing, He fills the whole sky with it. I don't have room to take it in.

Bring on the rain. 

Jubilee

When you see a child walk free,

It makes you dream of jubilee.

Keep your eyes on the prize.

Hold on.

                      

                          -Sara Groves

I think of these song lyrics a lot while I'm watching the kids play at the children's home. My heart just soars to watch them happy and carefree because I know what they've been through, what horrors they have endured in their small lives.

Many of the children here lost their parents to HIV. Some of them ended up starving on the streets before they were brought to New Hope. Some actually witnessed the murder-suicides of their parents. Some were abused and bear the scars to remind them.

But they walk free here. They know they are safe. They know they will be fed and clothed. They know that they are loved. They have peace and can play freely, resting in that security.

Watching these children play and thrive in this family makes me thankful for the perfect peace that I am granted by my heavenly Father. I know the cares and hardships of this world are great, but my God is greater. He has a plan for me like He does for each of these precious little ones, and knowing that jubilee is coming helps me keep on in the midst of difficulty or tragedy. He is good. His will is the prize. Hold on.

A warm welcome...

Welcome to India! 

They use this expression---Welcome to India!--quite frequently here. I've heard it so much that I find myself saying it too. The Indian culture is a community-based one, with much importance given to welcoming people with warmth. We have been welcomed into the homes of all the people we meet. They generously give of their time, feed us to excess, and lavish hospitality on us.

I am especially blessed by the wonderful family we've been adopted into and feel as though I have returned to a second home. Prabhudas and Ruth specifically don't discriminate with their love... they give it freely to all and spend themselves to the utmost serving others. They inspire me to be more like Christ, receiving everyone with true welcome.

But sometimes "Welcome to India" is said more in a witty spirit of sarcasm. Like when you discover a contrast in culture that boggles your western mind. For example: 

Not having access to clean or running water, but having WiFi. Welcome to India!

Girls not being permitted to show their shoulders... but a bare stomach is fine. Welcome to India!

People treating cattle like royalty and low-caste people like dirt. Welcome to India!

That happens a lot here in India, this boggling. It seems like every hour there is something new to perplex, baffle, astonish, astound. Being relatively new to the culture is a precarious place to live, always on the edge of your seat (sometimes literally, as you cram hip-to-hip into a tiny tuk-tuk rickshaw and careen through the busy streets). *Don't worry, mom, I've never done that. Nor have I ever perched warily on the back seat of a motorcycle while riding sidesaddle with nothing but a tiny handle to hold onto, feeling as though any minute I might fly off. Never.

But being jostled culturally can be a very healthy thing. It helps me think outside my little box. It helps me figure out what's really important to me and why. It helps me hold a microscope up to my heart and find out why I react the way I do. It helps get me out of my comfort zone.

I am so incredibly happy and humbled to be here. Spending time with these people has already encouraged and challenged me immensely. 

So far most of our days here have been spent resting, getting used to the extreme heat, and participating in church events, but tomorrow we begin teaching. I'm a little nervous but also excited to establish relationships with more of the kids and assist them with their English, hopefully in a way that furthers their education and makes a difference. If I can help just one of these precious children in some tiny way, then I will be blessed, and blessed, and blessed... and the work goes on.

I am not afraid.

It's official! Kristin and I purchased plane tickets from SFO to Hyderabad, so it is full steam ahead to India!

My fingers just went to type "I'm scared," because that's what they--the fingers that know me well--think my reaction should be. That's what it normally would be. But I am actually not afraid.

I am happy to be going back to Chillakallu. Thrilled to see my Indian family and friends again. Humbled to serve them in some small way. Expectantly looking forward to what difficult, amazing things are ahead.

Mostly I am brimming with peace, trust, and love for God. He has been with me, directed me, provided for me, corrected me, and been good to me every step of the way... even when I didn't believe that He was watching. And looking back at all that He has done, I know He will not abandon me now.

So I do not have to be afraid. Instead I feel like like a child, secure under the watchful eye of my Father, ready for adventure. Here we go.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." (Deut. 31:6)

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