Monday, February 22, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Dream cont...
We had a Project Rescue Delhi staff meeting the other day: one director, two home staff, one outreach worker, and Rebecca and me. We began the meeting by sharing one by one in a circle any reflections on what's been happening or thoughts for the future.
The home staff talked of the challenges and blessings of being new mothers and watching the kids grow in the Lord already.
Tilka, the outreach worker, who visits the brothels four days a week, who is sometimes welcomed and sometimes turned away and always stared at, choked up as she began to share:
"Going there every day...this is very hard work. But we are their only hope right now. Who else will go?"
She has spoken to at least two mothers who have expressed the desire to "come out" if given the opportunity. Yet they always say, "but what will I do? Look at my life."
Some of the other Project Rescue sites around India already have options for such ladies, like a vocational training center that offers alternative income, or a rehabilitation home for the women themselves. In every city, the ministry began and evolved differently.
And so PR Delhi begins with this Suraksha (Protection) Home, a prevention and saving grace for children at risk.
Though this dream has come true, our dreaming has not stopped. Because what about the mothers? What about the boys in the district?
And so at the end of our meeting, our director Vinita, her eyes focused and wide with passion, shared her ever-evolving vision: an outreach center in the red light area where we can meet with children and ladies for tutoring, prayer, counseling, Sunday school, and other needs. Eventually: a vocational unit, a place for church services... and one day, a home where mothers can live with their children.
Dream with us, because He is able to do more than we could ever ask or imagine...
The home staff talked of the challenges and blessings of being new mothers and watching the kids grow in the Lord already.
Tilka, the outreach worker, who visits the brothels four days a week, who is sometimes welcomed and sometimes turned away and always stared at, choked up as she began to share:
"Going there every day...this is very hard work. But we are their only hope right now. Who else will go?"
She has spoken to at least two mothers who have expressed the desire to "come out" if given the opportunity. Yet they always say, "but what will I do? Look at my life."
Some of the other Project Rescue sites around India already have options for such ladies, like a vocational training center that offers alternative income, or a rehabilitation home for the women themselves. In every city, the ministry began and evolved differently.
And so PR Delhi begins with this Suraksha (Protection) Home, a prevention and saving grace for children at risk.
Though this dream has come true, our dreaming has not stopped. Because what about the mothers? What about the boys in the district?
And so at the end of our meeting, our director Vinita, her eyes focused and wide with passion, shared her ever-evolving vision: an outreach center in the red light area where we can meet with children and ladies for tutoring, prayer, counseling, Sunday school, and other needs. Eventually: a vocational unit, a place for church services... and one day, a home where mothers can live with their children.
Dream with us, because He is able to do more than we could ever ask or imagine...
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Back to "Normal"
A photo of one of the Home of Hope girls running in a park, with more open space and freedom than she has ever known:
Of course, the night Rebecca is supposed to land, Delhi invites a monsoon thunder storm over itself. All day I'm thinking, oh no! Will her return be delayed even more??
But all is well, the Rescue Arts boss is back from her Visa "run" (more like the length of a marathon), and we are settling into some old routines at the apartment, like banana pancakes and Friends episodes.
In these first days we have had many ministry meetings and personal reunions over chai/tea/coffee. As we map out the spring season, which consists of visitors, teams, and trips, I reflect on how thankful and delightfully surprised I was with our forced two months apart. I look ahead now with a new sense of confidence, a new appreciation for the life I have in Delhi, and some irreplaceable memories.
Some of those memories come from my time staying in the Home of Hope. I won't be staying there from now on--better for them not to depend of foreigners or get so attached to someone who is going to leave-- but during that time, besides really growing to love North Indian food (I'm serious!), I got to participate in so many of those precious, behind the scenes moments of caring for these beautiful three children
Such As...
When we go in the bedroom to wake them up for school and find one child's feet sticking out from under the quilt, another child lying sideways in the bed, and the third fully hidden under the blanket, her head out of sight.
Three kids on two stools crowded around a tiny sink, and someone always gets toothpaste on someone else.
Their complaining about the top button of their school uniforms, and watching them shine their little black shoes so seriously, like little old men.
Girl drama, how they get mad at each other and then love each other 20 times a day.
Teaching them to say "excuse me" before leaving the table, and the power struggle of what they want to eat versus what they should eat.
We took them to the mall, and as we drove into the parking garage and the road spiraled underground, all three girls grew wide-eyed in their seats and screamed, "whooaahh!" Moni propped herself on the dashboard to get a better view.
One time Moni insisted that my ears were dirty and stuck a Q-tip inside, assuring me that she learned how to do it from her mother, and don't worry.
All of these mundane things are beautiful and sacred because I first met these girls a few months ago in a very different place. Arpita and Moni, for example, have been reunited in the home after having been former residents of Delhi's largest red-light area and schoolmates at a dilapidated daycare. Those days I got to comb their hair after a bath, or tuck them into bed and tickle them, I just studied their faces and thought WOW.
During prayer time one night, Moni said with her hands folded and eyes closed, to this God she is just getting to know, who is already revealing Himself to her as real and living and responding and good...she said: "Remember my mom and my sister. And thank you for bringing Arpita here. Thank you for these all these didi's (big sisters) who play games with us and do so much for us. Please bless them. And please take care of us."
Vinita, our Home leader, wiped the tears from her eyes. "How blessed I am! How blessed!"
How blessed.
Of course, the night Rebecca is supposed to land, Delhi invites a monsoon thunder storm over itself. All day I'm thinking, oh no! Will her return be delayed even more??
But all is well, the Rescue Arts boss is back from her Visa "run" (more like the length of a marathon), and we are settling into some old routines at the apartment, like banana pancakes and Friends episodes.
In these first days we have had many ministry meetings and personal reunions over chai/tea/coffee. As we map out the spring season, which consists of visitors, teams, and trips, I reflect on how thankful and delightfully surprised I was with our forced two months apart. I look ahead now with a new sense of confidence, a new appreciation for the life I have in Delhi, and some irreplaceable memories.
Some of those memories come from my time staying in the Home of Hope. I won't be staying there from now on--better for them not to depend of foreigners or get so attached to someone who is going to leave-- but during that time, besides really growing to love North Indian food (I'm serious!), I got to participate in so many of those precious, behind the scenes moments of caring for these beautiful three children
Such As...
When we go in the bedroom to wake them up for school and find one child's feet sticking out from under the quilt, another child lying sideways in the bed, and the third fully hidden under the blanket, her head out of sight.
Three kids on two stools crowded around a tiny sink, and someone always gets toothpaste on someone else.
Their complaining about the top button of their school uniforms, and watching them shine their little black shoes so seriously, like little old men.
Girl drama, how they get mad at each other and then love each other 20 times a day.
Teaching them to say "excuse me" before leaving the table, and the power struggle of what they want to eat versus what they should eat.
We took them to the mall, and as we drove into the parking garage and the road spiraled underground, all three girls grew wide-eyed in their seats and screamed, "whooaahh!" Moni propped herself on the dashboard to get a better view.
One time Moni insisted that my ears were dirty and stuck a Q-tip inside, assuring me that she learned how to do it from her mother, and don't worry.
All of these mundane things are beautiful and sacred because I first met these girls a few months ago in a very different place. Arpita and Moni, for example, have been reunited in the home after having been former residents of Delhi's largest red-light area and schoolmates at a dilapidated daycare. Those days I got to comb their hair after a bath, or tuck them into bed and tickle them, I just studied their faces and thought WOW.
During prayer time one night, Moni said with her hands folded and eyes closed, to this God she is just getting to know, who is already revealing Himself to her as real and living and responding and good...she said: "Remember my mom and my sister. And thank you for bringing Arpita here. Thank you for these all these didi's (big sisters) who play games with us and do so much for us. Please bless them. And please take care of us."
Vinita, our Home leader, wiped the tears from her eyes. "How blessed I am! How blessed!"
How blessed.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Mighty to Save
This week we received the second brothel-born girl into the Home of Hope (we have three girls all together.) A few months ago, I had written about this girl, Arpita in an earlier post:
"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 Arpita 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.
By grace, her mother went from disinterest in a hostel for her daughter to eventually saying yes. However, on the scheduled day, her mom said No again. Four more times we followed up, and the confusion, doubt, distrust--and even her mom's substance abuse-- seemed to push Arpita further and further away.
"There are unnatural forces in that place which will not allow you to take the child."
We reached out once again to our supporters all over the US and even the world. People fasted and prayed, glued to the updates. When this kind of alignment happens, you can feel the answer coming. Exactly two weeks after our first attempt to take Arpita, we woke up feeling powerful and peaceful. Arpita came home with us that day.
Many people have shared that the recent testimonies about Moni and Arpita have encouraged them in their personal lives. Whether feeling disappointed or struggling with circumstances, these stories have reminded them just how big, loving, mighty, tender, and faithful is our God. Stories like this change our tiny worlds, don't they?
It struck me how this domino effect is the awesome product of prayer partnership. It is both personal and collective. Intercessors are woven together; your involvement is no coincidence.
The chorus of "Mighty to Save" by Hillsong has flooded my heart these days: Savior, He can move the mountains / Our God is mighty to save, He is mighty to save Sometimes in church, you might sing along with a worship song and just vaguely agree with the words by faith; your emotions are dulled by the mundane, your near-sightedness, or a current struggle. But the longer you live a life of faith, the more experiences you have that testify to the truth of those words. What happens then is this: The song starts, the lyrics appear on the screen, my heart burns, I close my eyes and lift my hands...because along with the words are real memories, tangible evidence. The same thing happens when reading Scripture. You think, I have known this, I have seen this. This is actual. In my case the past few Sundays, they were sitting right next to me.
This is how you fall more in love with God. Faith grows with the interaction of what you read, pray, and see. Starting with the first step of accepting the Lord, you continue to walk in faith and He proves Himself over and over. Your convictions are lodged deeper still, and these are what you hold on to during times of dryness and doubt.
I am so proud to serve this God, who hears and answers, who loves and saves, who judges and forgives, who fights and wins, who pursues the lowliest of people to hell and back. To HIM be the glory.
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