"A day that will always be marked as epic"

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

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...

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.

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.

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……