homelessness

     On the door of the cafe in which I work hangs a sign.  The sign reads "Help Wanted."  Nearly every day that I work, someone comes in and asks for an application.  Most are teenagers looking for a summer job.  Some are middle-aged women, some men applying for cooking positions, but today I was thrown off.  Today a man came in enthusiastically.  He had a untamed mane of hair and significant sun exposure and appeared to be in his late 30's to early 40's.  Immediately upon seeing him, my mind jumped the gun and assumed he was homeless.  You can just tell.  The hair and sun exposure were some of the signs which lead to my hasty assumption.  He also had a bike parked outside.  He mentioned the sign on the door and asked for an application.  He took the application to a table in the corner to fill out and commented that he had been looking for work over the past 8 months.  He continued to pepper me with questions such as "Do you get paid weekly or every other week?" and "How soon could I be hired?"  I was feeling a little uncomfortable because clearly he was interested and I have no say in any hiring.  I also knew that the sign was only on the door because we have a quick turnover with waitresses, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him that.  He was in such high spirits. I answered the questions as vaguely as possible and went to talk to the owner who was working in the back.  The owner said that when hiring, he calls on Wednesdays.  I reported back to the man eagerly waiting at the cash register.  He excitedly asked, "Do you think I'll get it?!" I informed him of another place hiring down the road, just a hop, skip, and a jump away.  And then wished him good luck on his job hunt.

     He then came back to the counter and asked me about the color of my eyes. "Hazel? Just like mine."  And this is when I got freaked out.  Maybe it's because I watch 20/20 late at night with my mom and hear horror stories.  Maybe because I was a peer counselor in high school and learned all about homelessness and how sometimes mental instabilities can fuel the vicious cycle of homelessness and unemployment.  He proceeded to introduce using his first name and reached out to shake my hand.  I don't remember, but I think I said my first name.  He asked again about being called on Wednesday if he was hired and then left.  Then came the racing thoughts about how he knew my first name and how he could now find things about about me and stalk me or be waiting outside work when I got off etc.  Totally illegitimate.  On his application he had been convicted of a felony: "Annoying phone calls."  So that aided in my concern, but then I got to thinking. 

     In India I loved on, held, hugged, kissed the homeless.  I would talk to them, let them lead me around, play with their kids,  sit on the street with them, smile at them and laugh with them.  If this man was homeless (regardless, he was clearly in need,) then I should treat him the same way.  Treat him the way that Jesus treated the homeless.  Love them and love them fiercely.  Granted, I need to be careful and even in India, I didn't do those things with the men (cultural probs yada yada,) but thoughts turn to actions and if I think that I don't like someone or think that they're creepy, or think that they're ________ (fill in the blank,) then that's what my actions will show!

     I miss India and I miss the simplicity of loving.

He is and I am not.

I've sat down many times since I've been back in America and tried to write, but I was just left overwhelmed. So this post just remained in my mind as a jumbled collection of thoughts, emotions, frustrations, joys, struggles, etc.

So here I am- after prayer, contemplation, crying out to The Lord-trying to find the words to share with you.

I want to preface this with I am simply an 18 year old girl who strives to pursue The One True Lord with everything and fails daily, hourly.  My knowledge of Him is so limited, but while holding onto what I do know about Him and what I'm learning, I'm doing the best I can to understand what His Scriptures say and His desires, His will and His plans. I'm not an authority on the subject-just a girl trying to understand His love and trying to find my identity in Him.

Being back stateside isn't hard. It's easy. Living is so easy. If I need some macaroni and cheese, then I grab my purse complete with credit card, grab my car keys, get into my personal car, drive down paved streets with lines and rules and stop at street lights and for pedestrians (take that India!) to any of the 603 grocery stores in my city, and then I pull into a little compact car parking spot, walk through the aisles and aisles of food, find my macaroni among the 20 varieties, proceed to a self-checkout line, get in my car, drive home, put it in the microwave and enjoy.

I won't go into the process it takes for me to get my macaroni in India because they don't have macaroni! That's the point.

Living here is easy.  Life here isn't necessarily easy.  Life isn't easy anywhere.
But living here is easier.

Coming home brought many heartbreaks, tears, and frustrations .  Tears over the beautiful, God-fearing village women that I had to learn to love from a far, tears over the 100 slum children that I kissed, hugged, cuddled, carried, threw in the air, blew kisses to, cheek-squeezed, held hands with, drew with, played with, learned with,  grew with, loved with (yes, I just ended a sentence with a preposition).  I had to leave them in the precious and perfect hands of Jesus.  And that was hard for me.  I wish that I could say that it was easy, but it wasn't.  Trusting the unseen is sometimes hard for me.  And at times when it is, I remind myself of the character of God.
He is transcendent.
He is unchangeable.
He is eternal.
He is omnipresent.
He is wise.
He is good.
He is loving.
He is merciful.
He is graceful.
He is patient.
He is holy.
He is righteous and just.
He is jealous.
He is perfect.
He is beautiful.
He is glory-filled.

He is all of those attributes and more. So much more.

And just reading over that list helps me to realize that He is all those things and I am not. And He is what can really changes those children's lives and I am not. And He loves them more than I can even imagine possible. And that's what they need most of all.  That's what we all need most of all.

I left with a new world view.  I left seeing things that I had never seen.  I left living and loving people in the poorest economic state I'd ever seen.  I left people so lost and so caught up in the grips of their lostness.  I left complacent Indian Christians.  I left Indian Christians with a fire for the Lord and a passion for their own people. I left a slum of 4,000 precious people made in the image of God.  I left a slum where families say no to their daughters having reputable jobs because they make more in one night in the red light district.  I left a slum where children are stolen and trafficked.  I left a city, a state, a country that needs the scales removed from their eyes.  I left people and places so near and dear to my heart.  And my heart does ache for them.  And for those like them that I have yet to meet.

The Lord is redirecting my same passions and healing my achey breaky heart little by little.  During the offering at church yesterday, an Indian musician was leading the worship.  He lead a song that he had composed in English and then confessed that he felt lead by the Spirit to sing a Hindi song.  He sang a song that we sang every week in my Indian church.  I knew every word.  Jesus knew how brightly my heart was smiling. And I praise Him for moments like that.  Small moments that are still so special and so beautiful.  

tata

Welp, here I am on my last night in India, tears streaming down my face.
I knew it'd be hard, but I haven't even said bye to the kids yet.
That'll happen in 12 hours.

I'm physically all ready. All packed. Clothes are picked out for tomorrow.

but I feel like I'm not ready to go yet.
There's so much left to be done here.

But the comforting thing is that it's all out of my control anyways.

God doesn't need me.  He allows me to be a part of His plan.  I'm so blessed by that.  So blessed that He allows me and wants me and calls me to be obedient.

I sometimes have a control issue.  I'm a fixer.  I like to fix things.  I like to make people happy; I like to help them when their sad.

But there are some things I can't fix.  Basically, all the eternal, important things.

And that's why this is a huge step in faith for me.
Coming was the easy part.  It's leaving the children I love so much that is going to tear my heart to shreds.  It's good that it's hard.  I truly love these kids so much.  I want to see them again and I need to trust the One who controls all time and works everything together for the good of those who love Him.

So please just pray for my heart.  Pray for the transition. And pray for those stinkin' children that have such a tight hold on my heartstrings.  

Psalm 135:13-18

"Your name, O Lord, endures forever,
Your fame, O Lord, throughout all generations.

For the Lord will judge His people,
And He will have compassion on His servants.

The idols of the nations are silver and gold,
The work of men's hands.
They have mouths, but they do not speak;
Eyes they have, but they do not see;
They have ears, but they do not hear;
Nor is there any breath in their mouths.
Those who make them are like them;
So is everyone who trust in them."

beginning of the goodbyes

I'm going to start doing this thing where I blog while the emotions are still fresh.  So here we go.

The first round of "goodbyes" have been said.

Easter Sunday I said "see you later" to another Westerner living here who left to go study language.  She has been such a huge encouragement during my time here and her positive attitude and complete assurance and reliance in and on The Lord has given me an example to emulate. I am sure that I'll see here soon because I plan to return here and her son goes to university in state where my parents live.  Though tears were shed, I know that we'll be able to keep in touch through iMessage, Skype, Facebook, etc.

Today was different.  Today I said goodbye to people that I'm not sure I'll see again on this side of heaven.  Sweet, beautiful, God-fearing ladies who have captured my heart with their fire and passion for The Lord, but also their own people.  Every time I am in their presence, I'm completely over-flowing with joy, laughter, and confidence that The Lord is alive and well in this country I love.
Today we wrote love letters to God.  We were just going to have them write the love letters and keep them as reminders for themselves, but they wanted to share their letters.  Though we don't speak the same language, I could feel the presence of The Lord and their passion for Him in their voices.  As there voices shook with their words of pure adoration, my heart was overflowing.  When it came to be my turn to read, I was in tears.  I was so overwhelmed with His spirit, His love for me, and their passion for Him.  There's also something about reading out loud that can really raise emotions.  When you write someone a love letter, you tell them all the things about them that draw them to you and all that you're thankful for.  Here's my love letter to my Lord and Savior:

"Love Letter to God,
Oh my God, how majestic is Your Name in all the earth.
I praise You because You are always good.
I praise You because You love a sinful me.
I praise You because You love those who don't love You.
I praise You for Your sacrifice for sinful man.  The ultimate sacrifice.
I praise You for Your patience.  Your love.  Your mercy.
You ARE love.  You ARE joy.  You ARE faithfulness.
Thank You for never leaving me.  Never ever.
Thank You for giving me Your loving spirit. To guide me, to lead me, to help me know You more.
You are beautiful.  You are holy.  You are just.
You are right.  You are all-knowing.  You are ever-present.  You are gracious.
You are good.  You are worthy of ALL earthly and heavenly praise-forever.
You are more than I could have ever imagined.
You are orderly.  You are perfect in every way.  You are worthy.
You're loving towards all.  You desire for all to know You.  You humbled Yourself and died for those who could not be more unworthy.
You are beauty and love and grace in their truest essence.
You give us peace.
You control time.  You give and take away in Your time.  Your timing is perfect.
You comfort us when we do not understand Your plan.
Your peace surpasses all understanding and You give it to us freely.
You give us freedom.
Your freedom.
You carried the weight of the world on Your shoulders.
All for me."


Completely humbled. I can't think of any other way to say it.  Humbled by The Lord.  Humbled by His servants here that I know I will see again whether here on Earth or in heaven.  Before we left their house,  I was sitting on their bed, tears streaming down my face and I began to think about tears and what they mean.  For the first time, I didn't view tears as a sign of weakness, but an expression of love, deep, deep love.  Though I have to use a translator to talk to these ladies about anything more than "no more rice" or "thank you,"  I love them so much and they return that love.  I love them and their overflowing hearts.  I've never realized how much laughter and a passion for The Lord can connect people.  I have laughed with these ladies.  I have prayed with them.  I have learned with them.  I have loved with them.  I have cried with them and now I am leaving them.  Not so much leaving, but loving from a distance.  My heart is breaking, but it's a good kind.  I'm glad that the good bye was so difficult because it shows investment and love.  I'm eternally thankful for each one of these ladies and for their time.  Though we were teaching them, they have taught me so much more.  I will never forget sitting on the bed and having the didi that owns the house wrap her arms around me completely and cry with me, rubbing my back and reassuring me.  Simply put, my heart is so full of love for them.  I was able to smile amidst the tears because I know without a doubt that I will be with them again soon.
How thankful I am to have something like this love that makes saying goodbye so hard.


[I could write about them and what they mean to me forever, but thanks for sticking through this longer than normal, repetitive post.]

Makin' Mama Proud

When I was young, my mother would tell me a certain story over and over.  It was always at the dinner table. And it was always when I did not like what was being served.  I'm not sure if this is how the story actually when or if this is how it was dramatized in my juvenile brain.  She would tell me about an M family that lived somewhere in the depths of Africa.  One night they were invited to the tribe chief's house for dinner and they took their small children (of course the same age as me).  The family was served an unidentifiable meat.  The children of the Ms completely cleared their plates even though they had no idea what they were eating.  They had been taught well and ate all of what was served while under the watchful eye of the chief.  My mother would finish the story with a comment something along the lines of "If you were in their situation, I can only HOPE that I would have raised you as well as the parents of those children did."

Well guess what Mama, you did as was evidenced tonight.

Tonight my friends and I visited our translator's house for a meal.  After a few house of going through old photos and sharing stories, it was time to eat.  Our translator has eaten with us on many occasions and knows exactly what we like. So when the time came to eat, our plates were served and the contents were explained.  On the plate was a large amount of fishy fun.  First was some prawn and cabbage somethingness, second was a ball of fried fish eggs made into a pakora, next were two fish filets with curry followed by some dal and rice and pickled plums to top it all off!  To make things even more appetizing, all the dishes were served cold.  Don't get me wrong-I'm so thankful for all the hard work she put into the meal and having us over.  She's such a huge blessing in my life, but upon hearing what was being served, I immediately thought of this story from my childhood and became determined to prove my mother right.

There were moments that I didn't think I'd be able to stomach.  I stopped a few times and chugged some water.  There were a few bites that had a fish/plum combo and I wasn't quite sure how I was going to manage finishing the whole plateful, but I did.  I put my big girl panties on and ate every last bite all the while with a big ole smile on my face and words of affirmation about how delicious the meal was!

I've learned a lot about accepting the hospitality of another culture.  A week ago my friends are I were in our slum and were trapped into drinking a glass of unfiltered, slum water each.  We were drinking it with huge smiles on our faces and our contented head-bobble, but the whole time we could not stop thinking about how ill we were going to be later.  Sometimes, you have to put aside how you feel about the hospitality and just accept their actions.  There's something about entering someone's house and accepting what they have to offer you, whether it's a glass of water with a 2 rupee packet of flavoring, a glass of 7-UP, or a whole meal-it's their best and they're offering it to you and if it's not something you're enjoying, you better fake it well because not only are they watching your every move, but all those surrounding are also. We have an accidental photo from when we were being offered the slum water and there are SIXTEEN people in the photo-watching.  Sometimes that's the greatest testimony to them, accepting their culture and what they have to offer-no matter how meager.

Never did I think that story would apply so directly to my life, but it sure did.  Hope you're proud Mama!

loss for words

In the midst of tragedy,
He is strong. He is sure.
He is life. He endures.
He is good, always true.
He is light breaking through.

He is more than enough.
He is here. He is love.
He is hope. He is grace.
He's all I have.  He's everything.