Woke up early today. But early isn't
that early when the world around you starts buzzing a few hours
before. I get up and walk out to the living room that doubles as a
dinning room. Nicole's up, naturally. But she's doing her own thing.
I walk over to the window and look down at the courtyard. Deb and Val
are sitting at a table talking. I turn around and sit down on the
couch trying to decide what I should do first. After a few minutes of
exhaustion, I decide on a shower. I go through the mundane routine of
morning preparation. Choosing an outfit has never been easier. With
only 5 choices, life feels pretty simple. After I've woken up a bit,
I grab my coffee cup and go downstairs to the restaurant to get some
breakfast.
I fill my cup with the delicious chai that's available everyday. I think in the back of my head how Liv and Samm would be loosing their minds without coffee for two months, and I smile to myself. I fill my plate with the different foreign foods that are available. Seeing that Emily was already down there, I head her way and sit across from her and eat. Talking through an array of various topics, she finishes first and heads up to her room to finish getting read for the day. A few minute later Lilian and Sarah appear. After a little talking I finish my food and head back upstairs myself. By this time our room is buzzing with the familiar witty chatter among Nicole, Sydni, my Mom, and I. I kill time listening to some worship music, and filling myself spiritually for the day.
Today's the first day for the Balwadi school, so we head downstairs around 9:30 to wait for Pastor Emmanuel to pick up Nicole, Grace, Mona, and myself. On the drive to the school, all the sites are the same. By this time, the fact that the Indian culture is a complete opposite from our own has become a numb reality. I stare once again at all the pain that lines every inch of the streets, and my compassionate heart starts exploding inside my chest. We reach the destination, and walk through 10 minutes of slums till we reach Pastor Emmanuel's house. Inside are almost 50 two to five year old kids. Some are startled by our arrival. All you see are dozens of beautiful brown eyes staring at you everywhere you go. A few kids break out in sobs because they've never seen white people before, and though they are intrigued and interested, they're also terrified. This range of emotion overcomes them, so they simply cry. We take our seats and participate in the songs the kids are singing. We spend about 2 hours with the kids. At the end, they have their lunch. Some are so malnourished, they eat and eat and eat till their parents finally come get them. When one kid gets picked up though, several of the kids are longing to go. And all you hear through the sobs is a plea for their mommy. There was a familiarity in this. Kids are kids everywhere. And I felt a little comfort as I was able to hold one of the crying kids.
When we drove off, I have that same jello feeling I do everyday after oozing so much compassion for so many sad situations. I just sit in the car with my eyes forward. I don't even want to look out the window at the beggar woman knocking on my window trying to get money. She's spotted that I'm a foreigner, so she doesn't leave. We're stuck in traffic, and after several long minutes of determination, I break, and my eyes meet her's. All I do is pray silently. Everything else in my being is deflated at this point, so I beg God to fulfill her needs.
We drive off.
When we get to the hotel, I drop my stuff upstairs, then head downstairs for lunch. Things are becoming a blur. I try to eat quickly, then I go and pass out for a nap until our team meeting. The rest of the day goes by without any heart investment. All I see in my mind is the rotted teeth, dry skin, and skinny bodies of the kids I saw that morning. That night I go to a house church. Once again God provides me with a message to share with His people. In my weakness, He shines through. Like He always does. I speak on The Body, and Many Parts. At the end, He uses me to deliver personal messages to several of the people there. I'm floating around on a Holy Spirit cloud with scripture popping into my mind like popcorn in a bag. When we finally leave, a frail old lady refuses to let go of me. I have a hard time pulling away, and when I do, she follows me as far as her small body would take her. I wave goodbye, and stumble down the stairs. My Holy Spirit joy is the only thing carrying me right now. Physically and emotionally, I'm completely exhausted.
We take the 40 minute Rickshaw ride back to the hotel. When I get to the room, our family swaps Jesus stories of the evening. We float a few more minutes in gratitude of what He did that evening, and the ways He stretched up. Then stumble into bed.
If I'm lucky, I get to sleep quickly. Then I wake up, and do it all again the next day.
I fill my cup with the delicious chai that's available everyday. I think in the back of my head how Liv and Samm would be loosing their minds without coffee for two months, and I smile to myself. I fill my plate with the different foreign foods that are available. Seeing that Emily was already down there, I head her way and sit across from her and eat. Talking through an array of various topics, she finishes first and heads up to her room to finish getting read for the day. A few minute later Lilian and Sarah appear. After a little talking I finish my food and head back upstairs myself. By this time our room is buzzing with the familiar witty chatter among Nicole, Sydni, my Mom, and I. I kill time listening to some worship music, and filling myself spiritually for the day.
Today's the first day for the Balwadi school, so we head downstairs around 9:30 to wait for Pastor Emmanuel to pick up Nicole, Grace, Mona, and myself. On the drive to the school, all the sites are the same. By this time, the fact that the Indian culture is a complete opposite from our own has become a numb reality. I stare once again at all the pain that lines every inch of the streets, and my compassionate heart starts exploding inside my chest. We reach the destination, and walk through 10 minutes of slums till we reach Pastor Emmanuel's house. Inside are almost 50 two to five year old kids. Some are startled by our arrival. All you see are dozens of beautiful brown eyes staring at you everywhere you go. A few kids break out in sobs because they've never seen white people before, and though they are intrigued and interested, they're also terrified. This range of emotion overcomes them, so they simply cry. We take our seats and participate in the songs the kids are singing. We spend about 2 hours with the kids. At the end, they have their lunch. Some are so malnourished, they eat and eat and eat till their parents finally come get them. When one kid gets picked up though, several of the kids are longing to go. And all you hear through the sobs is a plea for their mommy. There was a familiarity in this. Kids are kids everywhere. And I felt a little comfort as I was able to hold one of the crying kids.
When we drove off, I have that same jello feeling I do everyday after oozing so much compassion for so many sad situations. I just sit in the car with my eyes forward. I don't even want to look out the window at the beggar woman knocking on my window trying to get money. She's spotted that I'm a foreigner, so she doesn't leave. We're stuck in traffic, and after several long minutes of determination, I break, and my eyes meet her's. All I do is pray silently. Everything else in my being is deflated at this point, so I beg God to fulfill her needs.
We drive off.
When we get to the hotel, I drop my stuff upstairs, then head downstairs for lunch. Things are becoming a blur. I try to eat quickly, then I go and pass out for a nap until our team meeting. The rest of the day goes by without any heart investment. All I see in my mind is the rotted teeth, dry skin, and skinny bodies of the kids I saw that morning. That night I go to a house church. Once again God provides me with a message to share with His people. In my weakness, He shines through. Like He always does. I speak on The Body, and Many Parts. At the end, He uses me to deliver personal messages to several of the people there. I'm floating around on a Holy Spirit cloud with scripture popping into my mind like popcorn in a bag. When we finally leave, a frail old lady refuses to let go of me. I have a hard time pulling away, and when I do, she follows me as far as her small body would take her. I wave goodbye, and stumble down the stairs. My Holy Spirit joy is the only thing carrying me right now. Physically and emotionally, I'm completely exhausted.
We take the 40 minute Rickshaw ride back to the hotel. When I get to the room, our family swaps Jesus stories of the evening. We float a few more minutes in gratitude of what He did that evening, and the ways He stretched up. Then stumble into bed.
If I'm lucky, I get to sleep quickly. Then I wake up, and do it all again the next day.
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