Christmas Census, God’s Birthday, and Brothel Kids

Just a few weeks ago, my apartment was bustling with guests and friends coming in and out. We had momo making parties, a Thanksgiving pasta dinner, and songs by a Christmas tree. This holiday season was kicked off by a joyous Home of Hope dedication and a one day conference where so many people of passion and faith gathered in one place. Then, one by one everyone went their separate ways—first the pastors, then Rebecca’s parents, then Ali, then Adono, then me (to Sri Lanka). The last person to go was Rebecca—back to the US for Christmas. Just as we all departed, the Indian government implemented a new restriction on tourist visas, so things have changed a bit. My apartment is now empty and quiet; my roommate and neighbors can’t return to India until February; I've moved in with some other friends and I've canceled my trip home for the holidays so that one of us would be here. So whether it is through spontaneous or delayed travel plans or lots of paperwork, many of us have had to scramble to act within the stipulations of our visas and ensure our stay in India.

I suppose it’s a bit like the census that was called at the time of our Lord’s birth. It was quite the hassle for Mary and Joseph, and lots of other people, to take those tedious journeys to register in their birth cities and appease the government. (I love how Caeser decreed a census to be taken "of all the inhabited earth." Uhh, Ok Caeser, you go for it.) It seems that India wants to take a better census of the foreigners in the country! I’m just thankful that I’m not nine months pregnant and traveling by donkey. But it’s a bit tough not to be celebrating the holidays with my family and on top of that, to suddenly be in Delhi without several people who have become my pseudo- family. Yet concerning community, I am abundantly provided for. That’s what I love about the Church body! In one sense, I have plenty of family here, and it is a time to foster other relationships and to grow "into my own," and for all of these opportunities, I’m thankful. But I will tell you the one thing that makes it all worth it:

Last week I visited the red-light area school with two other outreach workers as we do every Wednesday. However, this Wednesday was special—a chance for us to share about our Christmas traditions to children who live in brothels. We shared the story, sang songs, gave gifts, cut a cake and sang Happy Birthday to the Lord. We chatted with some of their mothers who stopped by. This is light in a dark place. This is God celebrating His birthday on a street of brothels (which He is delighted to do). This is a good Christmas for me. The thing about the journey Mary and Joseph had to take—the 180 or so treacherous miles—was that God was using them to fulfill prophecies! So all that's going on—the uncertainties in the ministry, the travel restrictions, the changes of circumstances—may seem discouraging, tedious and even mundane. But without a doubt, God is in control. And even if we don’t see it all right now, He is fulfilling a big plan. I would even call it a prophecy. Something like this:

Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother / And in His name, all oppression shall cease.

I feel really cool because

I'm blogging from an airport on the other side of the world in the middle of the night. I always used to feel this envious sense of awe when people I knew did that. They seemed all mysterious and adventurous. I'd be like, "You're so cool." Well, now I AM one of those people. Except, I'm still a dork. I didn't say I am cool, I just feel cool.

I just spent 5 days in Sri Lanka tagging along with my friend's VISA run. I'm in the airport waiting for my 3:20am flight to Delhi with a connection in Chennai. The terminal is lined with Christmas trees and lights, and that jazzy department-store Christmas music is playing on repeat. Some people would say that seeing a Christmas tree in warm weather next to palm trees just isn't right, but I'm pretty obsessed with palm trees and tropical settings, so I'm alright.

This little land under India is achingly beautiful. Riding in a taxi down the coast to visit one of the well-known beaches one day, Lucia and I both leaned on our elbows blissfully staring at the scenery. No sound was heard besides the wind and the frequent snapping of our cameras, trying to capture, for example, an overturned boat resting on the sand, or a row of shacks right up against the beach. Inward the land is the most lush with green I have ever seen. We also took a day trip that climbed above sea level a bit, where we walked through a heavenly spice garden (good smell) and rode an elephant (bad smell.)

But all of these experiences are overshadowed by that of my last day here, where I was taken in by a local family that a friend in India connected me with. The daugther's name is Michelle also, and we played guitar together, watched a movie, walked around town, and ate awesome food with her parents and sister. I was so touched by their hospitality, and I felt so at home with them, that leaving them I thought I might shed a tear! Despite the adventures, when I think of my time in Sri Lanka, I will think of this connection made. Praise Him that He takes care of us and gives us family wherever we go.

Oh India, so much has happened with you lately, and I've been slacking on the blog updates. Now you are overshadowed by Sri Lanka. Don't worry, I'll be back soon and do you justice.

Five Pictures of The Mother Land

Who Am I?

As Wednesdays approach, so does an increasing sense of dread. I wake up Wednesday mornings always feeling tense and easily flustered. I begin to obsess over my lesson plans and rack my brain for something better, feeling helpless (which is not actually true.)

Of all my teaching responsibilities here, the most intense is when I go to the daycare in the red light area. One reason is because based on my first week there, which was utter chaos, I just never know how they are going to behave. Another reason is that the whole neighborhood has a dark, yucky feeling. Maybe it's all in my head, but when we drive there it just feels physically uncomfortable--like a pit in my stomach. As we turn into the district, the width of the street is nearly cut in half, like we are being squeezed or sucked in. The air feels compressed. The buildings, although only three or four floors, seem to tower over us, perhaps because we know that above all of the machine part shops on the ground floor are brothels full of ladies lounging at their windows, looking casual and well-trained. The street is teeming with a steady flow of men on foot, men on motorcycles, men in bike rickshaws, men in auto rickshaws. Our driver brings us to the door of the school and we go right in.

When I see the kids sitting with such anticipation, enthusiastically waving hello and smiling wide, my dread about the oppressive atmosphere and the challenge of teaching them drains away. What replaces is still intense--something like urgent, broken love? Almost immediately, I am filled with joy, excitement and gratitude for being there. Who am I that I get to serve these kids?

From the angle of the entrance, the first child that comes into view is always *Anna.* Anna is 7. Today she was wearing a puffy button up sweater since it's getting "chilly" in Delhi (70's?). So cute. She always has her hair in a braid. She has the cutest little voice, and when she counts to ten in English, she enunciates her t's and r's so well that she sounds like the owl in the tootsie roll pop commercial. (One- two - thrrrree). Ugh.

We are praying that Anna is one of the first girls to live in the new home. Yet, the last few times our outreach workers have visited her home, i.e. her mother's brothel, her mother has been "sleeping upstairs" or passed out drunk.

I tremble before You, O God. Who am I?

Watching them repeat the new adjectives, spell out loud, write with big awkward ABC's, make and color a fish on construction paper, put stars by their names on the name chart, poke each other with pencils, steal crayons from each other, get stars taken away, and then gather around for a story book, I ache, I love, I want, I hurt, I hope. I think they are all the same thing.

God, Please!

This week many ministry leaders in India are coming to Delhi for a Project Rescue training seminar. We have the privilege of having the PR founders here with us. On Friday night, many of us will gather in the new Home of Hope, which has been newly renovated, for a formal dedication. There will be worship, prayer, remarks, ribbon-cutting and food. The name of the house will be coined: Suraksha, or, the "Safety" House.

Who am I, Lord, that I get to be part of this?

Reasons I wish I had a camera today

The kids at Karuna Children's Home were so cute working in their small groups, making shields that explained which "nicknames" of Jesus were most meaningful to them i.e. one boy said "He is my Shepard because He found all of us sheep in the slums and led us out" OH my precious and then we taught them a dance which was hard so after all the hard work we just put on some music and had a dance party kickin' it all over the room with SO MUCH JOY and on the way out I saw the cutest puppy plopped on a high mound of cement mix, and he so wanted some lovin' from me as I wanted from him, but he was scared because of the cement mix sliding when he tried to climb down, so then he just tackled his momma AFTER all of this was the drive home from Faridabad where my driver is always willing to pull over for me to take some pictures because we always see monkeys and their babies and one time a camel, but today, today was a beautiful bright orange setting sun perched over the wildlife reservation with all those short twisty trees that look squished down and remind me of the Lion King, and I watched from the car window without my camera but it felt very special, like a secret wink, something I better and will always remember close to my heart, and in the moment, quiet and personal and something more heavenly than happy, I thought "whoah, I'm in India." True Life.

You should always talk to people on planes

because you just never know what may come of it.

On my 6am flight home from Kolkata (where I:
-walked through the red light district
-visited the PR girls' home
-hung out at the PR vocational center where RLD ladies make journals, bags, and quilts out of old saris to earn a living and get discipled
-spent time with some awesome dedicated passionate people
-obsessed over a bakery called "Kookie Jar")

I sat in between Ali and a 60 year old white man. Usually I get so excited when I see a white person in India that I call out, "white person!" But I wasn't in the mood. I thought to myself, I'm not into starting conversations with 60 year old white-but-probably-not-American men right now. So then Ali in her unadulterated friendliness says HEY! I was just rolling my eyes when the conversation got good.

An excerpt from Ali's blog:
"On the way home we took a 2 hour flight instead of a 20 hour train ride. Praise him. I sat next to a white man, and right before we took off i asked him where he was from. South Africa he said. We chatted a bit and he asked me why i was going to Vijay. I said im not going to Vijay im going to Delhi. He paused. No you're going to Vijay he said. I said No. you're going to Delhi. He then bolted out of his seat and ran off the plane shouting a thank you. Im glad i talked to him. His day could have been very bad. "

So there you have it. Be friendly. Or you or someone else could end up in a Kevin McAlister-like pickle.

I used to have what I called "teacher nightmares"

where I'd jolt awake with an anxiety attack.
Example Dream 1: forgetting that I had a class when it was observation day.
Example Dream 2: screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the room with no one paying attention or listening.
Example Dream 3: kids hitting each other and starting wrestling matches in the middle of the floor while one girl pulls her pants down and pees in the corner and another girl secretly steals the art supplies we brought and starts screaming when someone tries to take them back,...Oh wait- this one was real.

This is a daycare in the Red Light Area run by a local NGO. Becca and I "taught" an art and English lesson. It was quite the lesson for us, though. My experience went pretty much like this: "'hm that's not working, let's try something else.' and then 'Hm, I think it's time for something else.' And then 'Okaaay, moving on. And finally, 'wow, I really wasn't prepared for this.'"

The class ended with one boy dislocating his toe and then screaming bloody murder as the teacher proceeded to put it back in place. It was this moment that the rest of the children were most attentive.

The class consists of boys and girls whose ages range from 4-15.
What unites them is that they live in the brothels with their mothers.
They handle conflict with each other violently because that's what they see.
What will become of them?
Well, as I tentatively observed the row of brothels from behind the car window as we passed by, I saw ladies hanging in doorways and calling down from their balconies-- and not only men but schoolboys in their teens walking in.
And the daughters?
This is the point where we stop thinking and start claiming promises. "He will beautify the afflicted with salvation." The burden is too much to bear ourselves.

Because we have our eye on two who attend the daycare: "Priya" and "Anna" - whose mothers are hesitant to send them to a hostel. They are worried about "visiting rights" and the girls ever "knowing their fathers." Yes, mothers say no. They are so conditioned that they can't even imagine a better future for their children. Or it may be that they fear violence from their pimps for giving away such valuable goods.

The new PR home opens in two months--God willing. During this time, our outreach workers will visit these ladies and try to gain their trust. The result would be a completely new destiny not only for their daughters, but generations after.

What can you do with a squeegie?

1 bucket

12 rags

4 squeegies

8 sponges

8 pairs of rubber gloves

3 Liters of Lisol
Some bright colored paint

are what we bought for the New Delhi girls' home for which --praise Him-- we have just signed a 3 year lease.

Last week we hosted a group of 8 ladies from Virginia to helps with this "new beginning."

The home was covered with 20 years worth of muck, dust, and cobwebs. Pest control had to go in and take care of a colony of rats and termites.

Each day we worked, we filled the home with Scripture, prayers and songs:

Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.
If you're tired and you are thirsty, there is freedom.
Lift your eyes to heaven; there is freedom.
Freedom reigns in this place! Showers of mercy and grace falling on every face... there is freedom!

This is the theme of the house, a proclamation over its rooms. When the girls from the brothels come to live here, they will know freedom on all levels. It is a dwelling place for the Lord, and thus, a place of freedom. The place and those who live there will continually be transformed from one level of beauty and glory to the next.


From 2 Corinthians 3 & 4: ¹⁷Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. ¹⁸And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. ⁷But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us."

We still need a live-in staff member for this new home. [Update: we got one]

And as the current PR staff heads to Kolkata this week to learn from the established girls' home there, pray that the team would be unified in mind, heart, and vision.

pa rum pum pum pum

"In different times and in different ways, our heavenly Father offers us a simple proposition: Follow me beyond what you can control, beyond where your own strength and competencies can take you, and beyond what is affirmed or risked by the crowd--and you will experience me and my power and my wisdom and my love.

J beckons me to follow him to that place of weakness where I risk the vulnerability of a child so that I might know how strong my Father is and how much he loves me.

But truth be told, I would rather be an adult. I'd rather be in a place where I can still pull things together if God doesn't show up, where I risk no humiliation, where I don't have to take the shallow breaths of desperation." - Gary Haugen, Just Courage Quote #1

The concept in this quote has been very real to me in India. Coming from a place where I was so good and confident at my job, I have had to become like a little child again. I’m learning to apply my skills within new contexts, treading through mistakes, often breathing that sigh of “desperation” mixed with determination when faced with a task.

Last week we attended a camp with a Delhi school. Back in the US, I used to get so annoyed that youth camp planning people never thought sleep was important in the schedule. Well, the Indian youth camp planning people are even worse! It was a 6am-10pm day of, literally, non-stop activity. If we had some down time, it was because we stole it, often sneaking upstairs to our stash of "western" snacks, because who eats rice and dal for breakfast even? During the days, we only had little idea of what our responsibilities were—it seemed like we were on call to lead a song, game, or activity at a moment’s notice. All I have to say is thank the Lord Ali knew some Origami. And in fact, the worship team lost its guitar player last minute, so I filled in and learned a bunch of new songs “real quick.” It is nerve-racking and exhilarating to be in a place where you kiiiinda know what you’re doing, but you have no choice then to STEP UP! Such is India.

My favorite moments were 1) when a spontaneous dance party happened on the patio, and we were swept into a crowd of Indian kids who seemed quite entertained by our attempts to imitate their folk dance moves. And 2) we took the kids on a hike to a river, and when Delhi kids see clean water, they go nuts, because go nuts they did, and I could not escape the splashing or chasing. Soon, Ali and I just lay in the shallow water in our clothes. Not that we weren’t craving to feel it zip us up--when it comes to swim-able bodies of water, we usually start drooling.

It was a pretty incredible camp, and God moved in powerful ways. I was so weak and tired when I got home =)

With my guitar, with my skills, with my feeble heart, I sometimes feel like The Little Drummer Boy. Not only is that my favorite Christmas song besides O Holy Night, it is on my list of just—favorite songs.

(Insert pa rum pum pum pum after each line if you wish)

Little baby
I am a poor boy too
I have no gift to bring
That’s fit to give a King
Shall I play for You
On my drum?
(Or my 6-string?)

Randoms.

Sitting here, Ali just asks, "How many T's in 'Matthew', in the Bible?" Two, I respond. "Two?!?!" She gasps? "Where have I been?"

~~~

One simple pleasure of my life in India is the crisp, smooth flatness of freshly pressed kurtas, folded to perfection. It costs Rs. 3 / item. That's about a nickel.

~~~

We discovered recently that chai with cinnamon is delectable.

~~~

We sang "Landslide" in the car tonight, stuck in Diwali gridlock. I like these words right now. For my life.

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Quiz

Match the person with her correct conversation preface:

1. Rebecca

2. Ali

3. Michelle

a. So...

b. Yo...

c. Dude...

Working Out / Not Working Out

At the gym we joined, a sign on the wall reads, "Make more friends: Wear deodorant / perfume while working out." You see, this is SO necessary in India.

So going to the gym is working out well so far, with our crazy schedule. We want to stay healthy and combat the stress that can quietly wrap its slimy, sneaky tentacles around you. But sometimes we go to feel less gross. Like, today Rebecca sent a mass text on her way home: "I'm bringing Cinnabon!" Rachel downstairs wrote back, "Oo can I have one?" Ali wrote, "Whattt that's weird," and I wrote, "Could you BE anymore awesome right now? Yea and gym later?" Such different reactions!

Some stuff has not been working out like we thought. We have not yet been able to help with the Oliver Twist Going Solo street kid theater project because of conflicting schedules. Also, my creative writing class kinda flopped because appparrreeenntttllllyyy dance and art are way cooler! No but, I have one girl, Hannah from downstairs, who is 11 yrs old and loves Lord of the Rings. We are going to ardently discuss JRR Tolkien's ideas about being a sub-creator, then create (via writing stories,) and then soak up in our awesomeness.

You may think I'm disappointed by these things. But wait until you hear about what IS working out!

We are currently in negotiations for a flat in the Red Light District. We want to have a day center where we could offer classes, activities, and homework help for the children of the RLD workers. The space is above people we know who run a medical clinic for the women. How perfect would that be? The landlord is giving us great rent. To give you perspective, it's about $1000/month less than prices a consultant had faced years ago, trying to do the same thing. (That is a huge amount in India). So what is wrong with this picture? Well, the landlord is refusing to put in a toilet! No, not a new toilet...just ah toilet.

In the meantime, we've been asked by the Joint Women's Program, a long-standing respected NGO in the area, to offer dance, art, and ESL classes at their school for brothel children.

We also have a possible, perhaps probable, flat that would function as the new live-in home for minors from the RLD. Plus an Indian couple that wants to live there and run it.

When our outreach workers visited the RLD recently, they were met with the pleas of some mothers, wanting to find a safe place for their daughters. How do you meet these pleas with BALANCE? i.e. balance between the urgency of passion, and the necessary patience of wisdom and faith? God has answered so many prayers this past month, so we wait expectantly.

"A man's heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps."

I am okay with things working out / not working out.

Okay. I have to be ready at 6am tomorrow to catch a train. We are going to a family camp with a school for slum kids. The director of the camp told us, "be prepared not to shower in case you are too grossed out." Either she said this because it's actually true, or because she thinks we are pampered American sissies. We'll see...

12:30am...

I'm so tired. My eyes are going blurry. It's the usual-- my roommates have long gone to bed, and I'm up, creepin' around the apartment (creepin' like a pro), my brain wired with words and ideas, analyzing and organizing and synthesizing. This seems to happen best at night. Each night here, I have mourned the end of the day. [That may have something to do with how I enjoy my roommates so much, or that I feel fervor towards the many tasks before me]-- The end of a day is the lost opportunity for even more conversing, reading, writing, thinking, eating no-bake cookies, laughing at Friends Season 5. [We just watched "the one where everyone finds out" about Monica and Chandler. Ross screams, GET OFF MY SISTERRR!!!"]

For hours today I've been researching prostitution in Delhi, skimming gargantuan documents like the 2009 Trafficking In Persons Report, and the "Report on Trafficking in India" from the National Human Rights Commission. Starting tomorrow, our outreach workers will be surveying the main Red Light Area, gathering facts and figures on the ground. Or rather, getting to know faces and stories. Best not to see the ladies as statistics.

Man I read a lot of statistics tonight! We're putting together a comprehensive report.

So I vowed to blog before bed. Usually I plan and draft, but I've been inspired by the quirky, brilliant persona of Ali's blog, so I'm just gonna let it flow.

Now it's 12:46 - oh man, my Hindi tutor is coming in the AM. Today when we went to church, I successfully communicated to our driver that he was welcome to come in with us. Usually he just sits in the car and waits (or sleeps). Anyway, he asked if the service was in Hindi. I meant to say "khabi khabi" which means "sometimes," but instead I said "abhi abhi" which means "now." So, to answer your question Sahil driver man, yes, NOW NOW the service is in Hindi NOW! Hurry inside before it's NOT in Hindi!

As I sit here at the computer desk, I constantly see the scurrying pitter-patter of ants across the floor. There is no escaping this communal living. We also live with a little gecko dude. Sometimes he stays outside, but sometimes (khabi khabi) he chills on the ceiling or the wall. We don't mind. He's nice.

BUT IN BHIMTAL, which is where we took a few restful days up in the mountains visiting friends Liz and Tim, I AM NOT A FAN of the non-human household inhabitants, aka spiders that with their long pointed legs span the size of my palm. There were some incidents. Girly screams and huddles.

Tal means lake, and we visited Bhim tal, Nhani tal, and Sat tal that weekend, elevation 6,000 and up. For want of nature, some mountains, cooler and fresher air, a body of water, I was nearly salivating. We got to hike and cookout in the woods, though 4 people had to pull a leech off of them. I'm not sad about not being in that club.

In Bhimtal we visited with a children's home. The kids are from slum/broken home backgrounds. Ali and I led an intense game of freeze dance. Then I taught them the hand movements to "Lord I Lift Your Name on High." I have one word: WONDER. There are maybe one or two people reading this who will know what that refers to. You know who you are. Enjoy this cryptic nostalgia.

Here's some other stuff I did lately:

-co-taught ESL at a Teen Challenge home for guys recovering from addiction and/or street life. I was worried that with cultural protocol and language barriers, I would not be able to "be myself" with them. But, in teaching them new vocabulary for parts of the face, I said, "does everyone have two eyes? That is very good!" They laughed!! and they were reminded of the English language's plural rule.

But hey, this is going to be a cool experience. These guys are precious, broken, and hungry for the tools for a better life. I'm honored to be a part of helping them. Pretty soon I'll be doing similar lessons for Red Light kids in our day-center.

-booked hotel and car service for a team coming in from Virginia in a couple weeks. Car service was asking for 1,000 rs + parking for the airport pickup, but I got him down to 700 rs, parking included. passhaaaa what's uppppp

Oh no it's 1:15am! I heard jet-lag can relapse...

The Formative Weeks

I feel so peaceful and blessed about being here, like it was perfect timing, like we are a part of something big. Some of you know that I tried very hard to come last spring/summer, but I’m in awe of how plans work out the way they’re meant to. With my director, Rebecca, and fellow intern, Ali, I am surrounded by true kindred spirits, and we find ourselves equally on the brink of many possibilities. I am so thankful that I get to be apart of such a formative time for Rescue Arts.

After several years of temporarily staying at Project Rescue homes around the country, Rebecca is seeking to establish a permanent presence in New Delhi. We hope for a new PR home here in the future, but in the meantime, we are working hard to network with other NGO’s and social workers in the area, specifically those who run children’s programs in the RLD (Red Light District), to see how we can encourage and help through ESL and the arts. Moreover, we have connected with a young woman who puts on theater productions with kids from the slums, many of whom work "night jobs" as prostitutes. The first "Going Solo" project will cast thirty kids in an Indian adaptation of Oliver Twist, weaving the kids' personal stories into the fabric of the play. Though we will still visit some of the Homes of Hope in other places, the ultimate goal is to leave something permanent in Delhi, and it is a goal we are willing to works towards only knowing a step or two ahead. “I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them.”

This is the most exciting yet humbling part for me! I was drawn to India for specific reasons in my mind—and while those will be realized—how much more will open up! How much more does He have for us! That is the beauty of this faith journey, but it requires us to be still, patient, and willing. Example: I am going to offer a creative writing elective to some home-schooled international kids in the area – who knew? Why? Because it’s a need that I can EASILY meet! And I’m thankful for this gift of familiarity.

This verse describes how Rebecca, Ali, and I feel right now: “Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” Right now, all of our ideas, possibilities, and contacts have been thrown into a swirling heap without shape. But there is a huge sense that hovering over it all is the Potter at his wheel. We can just feel the initial, quiet, graceful—yet authoritative-- movement of his hands.

Pray for us!

Getting Oriented in the Orient

I made it! The flight was pretty easy and comfortable, and I got to sit with fellow intern Ali (also from NJ). I think the hours spent twisting around in our seats, watching movies, and sleeping with our mouths hanging open really built a foundation for our friendship :) We were greeted at the Delhi airport with a cheerful hug from Rebecca, our 28-yr-old director and housemate. Her flat is in South Delhi, and is the 3rd floor of an apartment building. It has a few balconies and roof access, and sits in a nice little neighborhood centered by a park. When I need ironing, I can go outside to the press-wala who will “press” my clothes. AND there’s a good humor type guy with a cart of popsicles and ice cream, too. What more could one ask?

Now that most of jet-lag has passed, I am settling into a routine that looks mostly like this: kabi kabi (sometimes) go for a jog by 6:40 around the park with the roommates, officially begin the day at 7:45 with orientation; i.e. discussion and prayer. Then, run errands or study. Lunch. 3 Hours of Hindi class (it’s fun—there are people from all different countries there), dinner, hang out / wrap up work. I’ve hardly had to eat Indian food yet!

My life in list form:

Things to get used to:
When I got picked up at the airport, I went to get into the front passenger seat in the car. I walked around toward the door and had an awkward moment with the DRIVER. Oh, right.
In the morning, guys pulling wagons around the block yelling “???iiiuuuuuhh!” I think they’re selling fruit and veggies.
Being followed in the market by people selling the most useless items…like square pieces of leather.
A series of mini-heart attacks anytime we get driven somewhere. There are no lanes, or adherence to any seeming rule, except “get out of the way,” and the cows get first priority.


Special Blessings:
“bottle-nipple and fruit/veggie liquid cleanser.”
The Big Chill Italian restaurant!
that I can have the prettiest, cheapest wardrobe ever in my life! ;)
“Yuni-net” – an online group of internationals in New Delhi where people can ask questions and post info. We plan to ask where we can take Punjabi/Bollywood dance lessons soon.
The American family living below us with a wife who always offers us food, a cutie-pa-tootie toddler, and two teenage daughters who can bargain like OJ Simpson can lie. (But yes mom, I am cooking for myself too and “contributing”)
That Rebecca owns all seasons of Friends
AC window units
The beautiful singing voices of my roomies!

In other news: Mai Hindi seek rahee hu (I am learning Hindi!) Please pray for smooth acclimation and mental preparedness for what’s to come.

I am trying to have the attitude of Amy Carmichael when she came to India about a century ago:
“Where he led, she’d follow; and what he fed, she’d swallow.”

On a lighter note:

“I go to seek a great Perhaps.” Francois Rabelais (err, I don’t really know who that is.)
“And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure” - Dumbledore
“It’s a dangerous business, stepping out your front door. You never know where’ll you’ll be swept off to.” – Bilbo Baggins

He goeth before…

Some inspiration from Washington, DC

This is on a wall in the Holocaust Museum. It reminds me that God sees every act of injustice.

At the Gettysburg and Second Inaugural Address etched into the walls at the Lincoln Memorial, some words jumped out at me.

Top Six Things I'll Miss

(excluding people)
6. RHS and Bethlehem Youth Group!
5. my Ibanez guitar
4. Good Italian food and taylor ham
3. the ski season
2. the affection of my cat
1. the Jersey Shore