Chalo!

(Chalo! is the Hindi equivalent for "let's go!" It literally means "Let's move!")

I’m coming home! And with STYLE… I don’t just mean pretty scarves...

“I will come with the mighty deeds of the Lord God” Psalm 71:16

I come with powerful stories. Stories of rescue and healing; testimonies of spiritual authority; deep convictions about God’s goodness. Amen Amen Amen Amen!

Another girl has been added to the home since I last mentioned it. And three more are ready and waiting. Oh, I will miss their hugs. I will miss how Moni presses her little fingers along the tips of my nails when she sits in my lap. I’ll miss being called “didi” (big sister) and hearing them pronounce my name “Mishahl” in their accents.

But I’m leaving them in very good hands. What I have discovered with a sense of awe and humility is that this will all go on without me or Rebecca. (And that’s how it should be by the time you leave!). So does God need us at all? Don’t we surrender our wills and our talents to Him (which He has given in the first place), to be used for His purposes? Yes, this is true… but I think it’s more about just walking with Him on this journey. He’s blessed me tremendously by allowing me to be part of everything that happened this year. And with that came challenges, struggle, growth…and most importantly, greater faith and deeper love. That’s always the bottom line, isn’t it?

See, the Indians I’m leaving behind, who carry on the day-to-day stuff-—they are my heroes in this work. Like I said, the kids are in good hands.

In fact, we all are…

And so I will board the plane tonight with a song in my heart:

Lead, Lord, with unfailing love
those that You have ransomed
And we will sing out as we go on:
Our God is faithful
Our God is faithful

Oh, India

I have seen so many men pee in the street. Cows have peered into my car window. The baby geckos in my house make me smile. My friend got in trouble for taking Flat Stanley out at the Taj Mahal, because “paper” wasn’t allowed. I’ve lain down in a bunk on a sleeper train as a little cockroach crawled along the wall. Dear God.

The high in Delhi today was 113 degrees. Last night the power was off for half the night, so I slept on my marble floor. I WISH I could take a cold shower, but the water coming from the roof is hot.

I will miss the things that make me say, “Oh India!”

When Rebecca left, she asked me to oversee the transfer of some valued furniture into storage. The most important piece was a beautiful hand-painted cupboard. So I got in touch with the Pastor designated to help, who, instead of sending a truck like I was told, instructed my driver to fetch a bicycle rickshaw dude. So they tie this cupboard onto a rickety wooden wagon, which is attached to a bike, on which a guy is going to ride two miles along a busy highway. Well, I started having a panic attack. Hyperventilating. I called the Pastor just to “make sure” this was what he meant, and I’m pretty sure I offended him. “This is how we do it, don’t worry!” he said. “Trust the Indian pastor,” my neighbors said. My how I was frozen with fear!! I just kept thinking, Rebecca would die if she saw this. I put my head in hands and paced the room, muttering prayers of desperation until I knew the piece arrived. Oh, India!

In April, I accompanied Rebecca to the wedding of her childhood friend. I was oh-so-excited about wearing a sari, but naïve about buying one. You see, you have this long shawl that wraps around your body that is sort of see-through. So you’re supposed to buy a “skirt” to wear underneath it, as a separate purchase in a different store. I forgot about this detail until about 30 minutes before the wedding, opening my sari package in my hotel room. Definitely wanted to vomit. Definitely sprinted five blocks in 100 degrees to the bride’s house to borrow a skirt from her. (Oh, Michelle.)

This past month has taken me literally all over India. Rebecca and I toured the tropical backwaters of Kerala (almost the southern tip of India) and drank coconut milk. The next week, I got to stand above the clouds at the peak of some white cap mountains in Kashmir, the furthest north you can go. Though it wasn’t New Zealand, it served as a sufficient Middle Earth fantasy for a time. Finally, I just spent an inspiring week in British-influenced Kolkata (Calcutta) with the Project Rescue leaders.

This is the most fascinating country: Land of the Almost! Illogical Logic! Place of most extreme dichotomy and diversity! Place of the best hospitality! Where policies and prices are arbitrary, where every state has its own language, where people fit three on a motorcycle (the kid goes on the lap), and ten in a car. India, you forced me to be more polite and gracious. You made me like pretty clothes and colors, spicier food and tea. You changed me in ways I won’t fully see until I go home.

And it’s just about that time…

The Best Teacher

"The heavens hush to hear the children" - Kendra, Rescue Arts Team March 2010

I came to India hoping to teach—-English, music, art, and the possibility of healing and new life. But there are some things that others just teach better.

For example, during a prayer time the other day, Arpita kept rubbing her eyes, as if trying to make out a picture behind them. She told Vinita di later on, “Mummy, when we were praying, I saw heaven.” Taken aback and a bit skeptical, Vinita questioned, “How do you know? It could have been anywhere.” Arpita insisted, “No, the Lord was there. It was very bright.”

I’ll admit, I’ve approached some of our projects this spring feeling doubtful that they would “work” with such young children. I remember one particular day in the car, having to repent of my poor attitude as Rebecca and I prayed over the upcoming session. However, on that day and many after, what I saw was amazing—and it had nothing to do with our teaching.

A few weeks ago, we did Becca’s tried and true illustrated story-book project, where the kids choose an animal they can relate to and tell “its” (their) life story in pictures. To begin, they all closed their eyes and asked God to show them which animal to pick. Nina picked a fish, simply because “the Lord told me to.” After some discussion, she then went on to draw how the mommy fish got taken away in a net—Nina’s mom is in jail.

Moni chose a butterfly, because “they are pretty and fun and playful, and this is how God made me.” In one page of her story, the butterfly is tied to a pole while being beaten. On the last page, representing the present, the butterfly is surrounded by other butterflies and colorful flowers. Through the stories, the girls revealed painful memories, yet their endings were all the same: a bright new life. We were able to close the sessions by emphasizing two principles: 1. The bad things that happened were not your fault. 2. There is freedom in forgiveness.

This week, we’re teaching the girls the meanings of their names. With meanings ranging from “Delicate, Beautiful,” to “Loves the Lord,” their names embody their worth and value. We asked if they each felt their name was true. Most did. For instance, Sima’s real name is about sacrificing to give something valuable to others. Sima beamed as Anu didi pointed out an example of just that—the other day, Moni had taken Sima’s school book, written her name in it, and pretended it was hers. When this small act of thievery was discovered and Moni about to be punished, Sima said, “No, don’t punish her. It’s okay, she can have my book.” How is it that this young child understands the concept of “turn the other cheek” more than most mature adults? And then Moni was broken by this act of forgiveness and began to cry in remorse, experiencing the conviction of the Spirit, perhaps for the first time.

Tina had more trouble believing the truth of her name. She said with a shy, shameful smile, “but I’m bad.” We can only imagine the experiences she’s had that make her feel this way about herself. But we were able to tell her about how God washes away the bad and only looks at the good.

“I keep asking that God, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance…” –Ephesians 1

When the girls get phone calls from parents, have nightmares, or hold on to silent memories, we can see the past tugging on their hearts. With these activities, we want so much for them to understand how precious they are. Yet the Father wants this for them, too, and through His spirit, He’ll make sure it happens. The best progress is made, not because Rebecca and I are super creative, or because the home staff are skilled at leading prayers… but because, very simply, He loves them. He is their teacher.

So much to be proud of...

At 4:30am a taxi brought Jyothi and me to the Delhi domestic airport. I was so sleepy from packing until midnight the night before, that when our flight made one stop for which we did not have to change planes, I briefly saw the runway, and the next time I opened my eyes we were in the air again. I vaguely remember just a few waking moments from the flight where I found my mouth hanging wide open and an Indian lady two seats away smirking at me. Finally we landed in Nagpur, the dead center of India (and hottest), and reunited with Rebecca and Steph to run five intense days of Rescue Arts at the Home of Hope there.

Their properties house 90 kids from the red light area. Most of the younger kids live in the center just on its outskirts, where they are able to hold Sunday worship services for ladies from the district. On that Sunday, the four of us performed a song called "Conquering Lion." I loved the opportunity to play alongside Steph's violin! The song opens like this: "The Conquering Lion shall break every chain." With this hope in our hearts, we began our sessions.

For the camp, we worked with the older girls (ages 14-20) in a second home. Steph and Rebecca led song writing sessions where in groups the girls wrote original songs that incorporated scripture and the musical traditions of their own cultures. Jyothi and I taught a fun, upbeat dance to the Bollywood hit "Aal Iz Well" and also a dance drama in which they acted out many healing stories. Sessions would go for three hours at a time, and the ceiling fans could not stop the beads of sweat from pouring down. Sometimes the curry in the air would meander in from the kitchen and make our eyes water. After lunch each day, every staff and child would retire to their rooms for a nap; the four of us would strip down to shorts and a tank top and just lay motionless in our bunks. At night we'd debrief or hang out on the roof top, three stories up in the cooling air. After four days the group performed at the center; even with a few glitches and lapses in confidence, it was a wonderful night with much to take pride in, where sounds about the Father's love no doubt resonated in their hearts as well as out into the surrounding red light area.

Meanwhile, the Delhi girls had been left to work on the "assignment" Jyothi and I had given them-- to choreograph their own worship dance. Calling to check their progress, I was so touched to hear about how seriously they were taking this task. In fact, one night at dinner they were all discussing together which song to do. Once they agreed, they decided to come together in prayer to ask the Lord for dance moves, desiring that the dance would glorify Him and bless other people. Adono said that in this moment, something seemed to sweep through the room and suddenly the girls began to cry. (This is common when people are touched by the Spirit, whether they know it or not!) =)

So when we returned to Delhi, they gave us the most reverent, sincere, God-shaped performance I could have imagined. And Tina did her own solo dance to a second song, just because. Vinita choked up at how beautiful she looked. Just when you worry that some kids might be too young to "go deep" or do anything too complex, you are reminded that they are usually the ones with the pure, child-like faith which can perceive so much. I could not have been more proud, rewarded, or humbled.




The Conquering Lion
Shall break every chain
He will wipe every tear away
He will take all my hurt and pain

And He will lead me to springs of living water
He will lead me to springs of living water
He will lead me to springs of living water
He will shepherd me

And the Lord He will come to us
with a strong hand and mighty outstretched arm
And the Lord, He will shepherd us
And the Lord, He will lead us to
Fountains of living water
Fountains of living water
The Conquering Lion...

"I can see their futures"

Arpita was stuck in the village, but she figured out how to get back home. When family members missed her promised return date, she cut off some of her hair to show her anger. Then Arpita stole away her mom's phone and called the home staff: "Didi, come get me, please hurry, I don't want to stay here." Arpita fought for herself. She says now, "I'll not go back to that place." She knows where she wants to be.

Moni tells her mom, "send my little sister. I'll take care of her." Even Tina, who'd come and gone through several hostels, reports that "at the other places I always cried on the phone to my mom. But I like it here!" She also urges her mom to spread the word to others from the district. Rather than wanting to go home, the girls want their friends to join this new community.




Their bedroom is decorated with an ever-growing gallery of crafts--sock puppets that show their uniqueness, crowns of jewels reminding them that they are valuable daughters of a great King. Last week, a team of college students joined us and blessed the home tremendously with creative activities and gifts. Yet I think the ladies were touched and surprised by the joy-filled children, who on the first day, initiated an all-out dance party in the living room. Then, reflecting on a cricket game in the park one day, someone from the team remarked, "I can see their futures!" A few months ago, these lives were set on a very different course. Now, as we watch them grow, we can imagine so much more.


This week I again find myself in the awesome company of visitors who've come to partner in the work, all with a creative skill and a heart for healing. Becca's childhood friend Steph, a music therapist, as well as Jyothi, a former dancer intern, join us for HOH ministry and a camp with the teenage girls of another PR site.
I'm having a blast leading a dance workshop with Jyothi at the HOH. We're teaching the girls a totally new concept for people of their background--that you can worship God with your body. In one session today, Jyothi performed an example of a dance that was more than a dance, but a prayer and a communion with the Father. Then, I put on a beautiful Hindi worship song and instructed the girls to close their eyes, focus on their "audience of One," and simply move however they wanted. It took my breath away and nearly brought me to tears watching every single one of them apply some dance steps they'd learned but also move their arms spontaneously and mouth the words to their Father--as if He was the only one in the room. Even the home staff fell into authentic worship, and for 5 minutes, each person was lost in her own little world, forgetting about the others...yet somehow we were all connected.

What did they see when they closed their eyes and danced freely?
I believe they are also beginning to see a hope and a future.
I believe they are beginning to see Him.

weak, fragile, and strong

Along the street, three guys parade around banging a rhythmic drum beat, wanting some tips for their entertainment. The sound of kids playfully screaming and chasing each other with water guns in the park has brought me out onto the balcony. The sidewalks--and the kids-- are tinted with random splatters of red and purple dye. To my right on the adjacent balcony, a mother, father and son carefully position themselves to throw water balloons at their neighbors below. Suddenly our doorbell rings, and I quietly tip toe to the peep hole while Rebecca mouths, "Don't open it!" Since it's Asha and her little sister, the girls who press clothes in the neighborhood and whom I play frisbee with from time to time, I decide to greet them. "Happy Holi!" they shout. I see that Asha is hiding something behind her back. "No!" I jump behind the door, and they giggle. "Please, just a little!" they plead. So nervously I comply, and Asha smears a thumbprint's worth of yellow powder on my forehead. Happy Holi.

Holi, or "Festival of Colors," is a spring festival observed by Hindus, Buddhists, and Sikhs. It marks the change from winter to spring and is a celebration of fertility. In the weeks leading up to this day, I saw special stands in the markets selling noise makers and color throwers reminiscent of the 4th of July. Some of the more harmless traditions of this holiday include bonfires, and throwing water and colored powder at each other.

Rebecca and I opted to not leave the house. Even just a week ago, Rebecca and our friend Liz were attacked by water balloons while riding in an auto-rickshaw and came home soaked down to the underwear.

Sounds fun, right? Why wouldn't we get out there and go nuts? Well, first of all, the color doesn't wash out of clothes so easily :0) Secondly, some other aspects of the holiday were on our minds. We thought of the red light district, where probably double the customers poured in seeking entertainment.

It's been three days since Holi, and we still haven't left the house, because we both came down with some kind of virus. Aches and pains, upset stomach, yadda yadda. Things are looking up now, and we've made both work and leisure plans for tomorrow.

As per agreement when entering the Home of Hope, two of the girls--Tina and Arpita--were allowed to go home for Holi. We also took Moni to visit her mom, who gave her some sweets and a cute-to-die-for mini salwar set. We praise God that Tina is back with us, but we're still waiting for Arpita.

These days, our bodies feel weak; moreover, our hearts tremble at the fragility of the circumstances. Yet, we muster our faith to remember how strong our God is.

"I will bring them back to this place and let them live in safety. They will be my people, and I will be their God. I will give them singleness of heart and action, so that they will always fear me for their own good and the good of their children after them. I will make an everlasting covenant with them: I will never stop doing good to them,and I will inspire them to fear me, so that they will never turn away from me. I will rejoice in doing them good and will assuredly plant them in this land with all my heart and soul. " -Jeremiah 32

"A day that will always be marked as epic"

http://rescuearts.com/2010/02/tina-came-home/