Dishes, Doctors, and Discipline

Breakfast at 8am. Tea time at 4pm. Songs and prayer twice a day. Play time and bath time. This is a glimpse into the daily life of the home, which has two seven year old girls now--one from the Red Light Area, and the other from a very at-risk situation without parents who can care for her. We took them to a park yesterday and played tag until the adults almost fainted from self-inflicted asthma attacks. "Bus" (Enough). Inside the house, the most over-played games are the plastic bowling set and the memory game, or "match-wala." But it's not all fun and games. We had to take them to the doctor too for some injections. Poor Moni--she was terrified; the doctors had to hold her down and she screamed and screamed. So what do you do? Buy her a lollipop and you're forgiven. Now chores: The kids are very good with cleaning up one game before starting the next. They're also required to ask to be excused from the table as well as wash their own dish and cup after eating. Moni is a perfectionist-- she would take ten minutes on this one task if we were not constantly calling out, "Jaldi karo!" (Do it fast!) She squeezes out, like, a liter of dish soap each time and then firmly scrubs the plate in numerous circles, round and round and round. Teeth-brushing time, with them standing on a little pink stool in front of the mirror, is also a longer-than-it-should be charade, never without some giggling. At times the fooling around has been too much (as it should be with sisters!), like during prayer. So the other day we had to institute the first disciplinary action: we made them each stand in their own corner facing the wall in silence for twenty minutes! The scene was so cute and funny that Adono and I had to leave the room to let out some laughter. Eventually their tears emerged, but we stood firm! Finally, they had to apologize and they could continue. In closing: I just want to give credit to the two Indian staff girls I'm crashing here with, Adono and Anu--they are running the show and doing awesome. Pray for them!

A New Birthday

Praise the God who “acts on behalf of those who wait for Him”! Many of my friends and family back home have been interceding fervently this week for two specific girls to come from the brothels into the Home of Hope. To our disappointment and heartbreak, on the scheduled day, the mothers backed out. Moni’s mom simply felt apprehensive. You might think that these ladies would jump at the chance to put their daughters into safety, but trust is a big issue for people who have only known exploitation. Arpita’s mom deferred to the authority of her “husband,” who said “No, she can’t go.” For him, it’s an issue of losing future income.

We gave them space. We visited different people the next day. We took up the cross again. We fought the urge to just curl up in bed and cry, but reached out to friends, gathered for worship and were greatly encouraged. In faith we said, “we will go again on Thursday.”

Today, the Home director/school principal came along. Vinita introduced herself to Moni’s mom like this: “Since you were not able to visit my school, I thought I would come and personally introduce myself.” She then showed a photo album of school activities that she’d put together. This act of love made a big impression. Doesn’t it just mirror the way God pursues us where we are when we don’t know how to look for Him? Slowly, through more discussion and questions, Moni’s mother was able to gather her resolve. It was finally decided that she and Moni would come to the school with us right then and sign all the papers there. Moni’s bags were packed, and we piled into the car—4 adults and 1 child in the back of a Hyundai Accent.

Moni was ready to go. She was all smiles. She hopped in like a kid boarding a roller coaster. It must have been pretty exciting because I’m sure she hasn’t taken any car rides in her life. Which is why she and her mom both got car sick. Now, adults know it’s coming. Her mom asked us to pull over and made it to the bushes. But kids? One minute their gazing wide-eyed out the window like an excited puppy, and the next minute, BLEHHH. That’s how it was. Still, I couldn’t stop smiling. I was a smiling fool. I thought to myself, “I look like an idiot. Think of something bad!” The vomit helped…

As Moni’s mother put a thumb print on each page of the affidavit (thumb and ink because she can’t write her name), I wondered if she fully grasped the significance of such a moment and how it will change the fate of her family. But Praise God for giving her, a twenty-something who has been in “the business” for eight years, the strength, courage, and sense to let her daughter go. When it was time, she got teary eyed and gave each of us a hug. We were cheek to cheek and she mumbled something in my ear; though I didn’t understand, I’m sure it was along the lines of “thank you” or “take care of her” :) I said, “Aap meri behen hai.” (You are my sister.) She said, “Tum bhi,” or you too. When Vinita, Moni and I got in the car, she came up to the window and called out to her daughter with a wave and some restrained tears. “Moni! Aram se.” Aram se is the equivalent of us saying “be careful” or “take care.” Then, we drove away. It was a beautiful moment of love, sacrifice, sadness, and hope all mixed together.

After a shivering bucket bath and a hearty plate of khana (food), Moni began to explore the house like a kid in a candy shop, opening and touching everything. I kept asking how she felt, but her attention was on all the cool new stuff she couldn’t believe was for her. And all these new didi’s (big sisters)! But finally, when things had settled down a bit, I asked again, “how are you feeling here?” To my delight she suddenly ran over, threw her arms around me, and kissed my cheek. How incomparably precious!

While Adono and Anu, the other current home staff and volunteer, went to the market for some supplies, I spent 2 hours alone with Moni. In those two hours, I discovered that she might be the coolest person in India. She is so funny, so smart, and so full of joy. We played a round of nearly every game stocked up in the cupboard. Every five minutes she’d point to a new one and say “ye wala kailengee” (We will play this one). We cracked up as we blew up balloons and then let go and watched them deflate in crazy circles around the room. I had to chuckle when I took her to the bathroom and she stood up on the toilet seat—she is used to a hole-in-the-floor squatty-potty. But she knew other stuff; i.e. when brushing her teeth, she said to me, “you brush 10 times up and 10 times down.” [My uncle Doug would be so proud.]

Above Moni’s new bed hangs a colorful Welcome poster. On the bottom, left-hand corner, I wrote today’s date: 21-1-10. I also hung up the picture she drew while her mom went over the paperwork. 21-1-10 is written there as well. Since Moni’s mom does not know Moni’s date of birth, this date will be her new birthday. And she picked up on it quickly. When Adono and Anu presented her with some new clothes, she said “this is for my birthday!” One day she will understand that this date symbolizes a much more profound kind of birth, into a new life.

It is my prayer that this good testimony will begin to ignite hope for other mothers in the brothels. I also pray that you would taste the joy of this victory. Though the battles are not over and we have a long way to go, know with conviction that we are on the side that always wins!

Anyway…kids usually get up pretty early. I might regret staying up so late to blog… :)

Are you nervous? A little… Are you? Yes, quite!

This was the conversation between Vinita di (the home director) and I as we sat on the bed after I unpacked, bundled in fleeces and scarves, warming our hands in our pockets. It was a sober moment as we contemplated that within another week or two we could actually have a few children living in the home, with all the controlled chaos that comes with it—the cooking, cleaning, the daily routines of getting them bathed and dressed, to and from school, enforcing homework, play time, prayer time and bed time. Not to mention the emotional struggles the girls will go through. So here is Vinita, a strong, go-getter woman of God, a progressive pioneer of ministry to whom many look up, a wise spiritual leader through whose hands the Lord has done miracles…and then there’s me. In that moment I felt the awesome kinship that exists in the body of C, a reminder that before the Lord we are all the same—wholly dependent, working things out “with fear and trembling.”

On Sunday night before I came to this new home, I sat in my living room surrounded by four friends. It was dark except for the glow of a computer screen that played worship music. While the girls prayed over me, I realized that in my first three months here I hardly knew any of them. So many people came out of nowhere when I needed them the most. Afterward I said, "You girls have been God's way of taking care of me this past month." During this time, He gave a family to host me, a family for Christmas, and some new roommates and lots of fun social time. Now things will be totally different, but His care will be just the same.

Last night I cooked in a kitchen that some ladies and I had scrubbed mud out of for seven hours. Adono and I had a cooking quiz. We made sabjee (a veggie/potato mix) and chipotes. The first time I tried to flip the flat, round dough straight onto the stove’s flame with my hands, I got scared of the fire and ended up flinging the chipote across the counter. Anyway, the meal got positive results along with some constructive criticism. Next time, less salt and oil (my stomach is paying for it now.)

Living in this home will be another round of culture shock for me. I’ll learn to live with Indians, with Indian habits, an Indian diet and an Indian ministry budget. I’ll sometimes ride the busses and metro. I’ve been instructed to conserve electricity (limited entertainment) and water (i.e. taking a shower and doing laundry via bucket). I definitely plan on hiding a stash of what I’ll call “sanity snacks” in my room. But I’m thankful for the challenging simplicity and the opportunity for spiritual focus that it brings.

Adono and I are trying to get into a routine—eventually we’ll have to wake up at 5:30am each week day. Last night, Vinita di took us for a walk around the neighborhood markets to learn where we can get things. It’s quite safe and convenient. (But some days I just wish I could walk into Target.)

Yesterday during outreach, my colleague actually talked to Arpita’s “father” on the phone. She is ready to go any day. It seems the Lord is ready to begin this exodus into the Suraksha [Protection] Children's Home. Is the house ready? Are we?

Well, ready or not……

The Holidays: A Summary

On Christmas, I didn't feel normal.
I didn't lay under the lit up tree with my cat.
I didn't pretend to help my mom and aunt make ribbons and honeybows.
I didn't go see "the tree" in NYC.
I didn't eat fried pizza dough, linguini and fish at midnight.
I didn't lay around in my pajamas all day with my family and watch old home videos.

Instead, I was in a mountain "city" called Bimtal, with some great friends. Upon arrival, I met the goat that would be served for dinner. Abnormality #1: seeing your dinner run around the yard first. The Indian live-in help for this family was very upset about the goat; she let it stay in her bedroom. Throughout the day some guys came to set up a tent and terrace. All I knew was that we were having some friends over. Then I saw a spot for a campfire being put together, surrounded by chairs. Abnormality #2: Chesnuts roasting on an open [camp]fire. Beautiful. I hope the smell of campfire gets on my clothes and never goes away, I thought. I love it. I thought the party was just getting started when in marches a gang of children from the Bimtal Children's Home all bundled in their winter coats. We kept warm by having a dance party. The DJ played some classical Christmas music like Shakira. Abnormality #3: dancing with Indian children to music that reminded me of a Hoboken Club.



All missing family, old friends, and normalcy aside, my Christmas was prettttyyyy darn awesome.

I'm freezing. We don't have heat. It's freezing in Delhi. Ok, you all have snow, I know, but you also have HEEAAATTTTT.

I'll admit, of 7 days in Bimtal, I only took 3 showers. It was such a dreadful experience.

For New Years, I felt very normal. I got together some other SWF's (single white females). Over the course of both nights, we went to a mall, ate at a TGIF's, cooked a huge American breakfast, went to the movies, banged pots and pans outside, sang the traditional new year's song "Auld Lang Syne," made ice cream sundaes and watched Aladdin. (We all felt we could connect so much more with the movie now.) The movie theater is such a uniform place. Sitting there I imagined that I could simply walk outside and be at the SONY in East Hanover, or walk into the parking garage at Headquarters Plaza, get in my car, and be home. I think a big part of me was longing for that. The internet and phone tower in Bhimtal didn't work on, of all days, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and I seriously almost bugged out for want of communication with my family!

[Insert: shout out to Tim and Liz for giving me a family for Christmas]

[Insert: shout out to Avatar for being awesome]

I've been thinking about what in my "old life" parallels these exact dates. Right about now I would have just gone back to school after a nice lengthy break. I remember how that last Sunday felt. Your good sleeping pattern is gone by then, and your procrastination in grading and lesson planning is now getting its reward. You feel like you've forgotten how to teach, and you look ahead to the longest stretch of school year without a break. This year, on that same Sunday night, I was more eager and excited to get back to work then I ever had been. I was eager to see the children of Delhi's red light district again. To connect with those mothers who are looking to send their daugthers to our home. To team up with my Indian colleagues in getting that home ready.

I have two thoughts about the new year:
1. The event that marks the real meaning of Christmas brought the fulfillment of many prophecies. So, the holiday is a reminder that God fulfills promises. We need to know them and claim them and live like they are true. So Happy New Year.

2. Restoration is addictive. You can never encounter it enough. So let's give a New Year's toast to all that the Lord will be restoring in 2010, here in Delhi, and wherever you are.