. ramblings of the heart on a hard afternoon .
- - - don't worry. it was days ago. my life is put back together for the next few hours. but I thought I'd share, in belief that someone will relate. & I cut the profanity in hopes not to offend. be encouraged. - - -
Life is not about faking it till you make it. It’s real, and it hurts. My logical mind can never control my emotional heart, and I hate that. I hate the loss of control. But life has nothing to do with how well you control it, it’s how well you experience it.
It sucks to say the hard is good. It doesn’t make the hard any easier. It doesn’t bring any comfort at all, except in hindsight.
I write vaguely. It makes things easier to theologize and generalize, but impacts few. Let’s ungeneralize a little.
I’m in love, and it hurts more than anything I remember feeling. It is the hardest thing to control, and the easiest way to cut into me. I am in one country, he’s in another, and the only way I can reach him is through the moon.
I cry in the middle of the afternoon. Independent, world traveling girls do not cry over distant lovers. But I do. So what does that make me?
Broken. And feeling every poke and prod that life has to offer.
If I fake perfection, will that eventually make me perfect? Or more empty than when I started?
I don’t want to fake my way through life. I want a real story - a blood, sweat and tears kind of story. I want to make people turn the pages so quickly they can’t wait to find out what happens next.
I win their attention with how great I am.
But then I hook them when they discover how screwed up I really am.
Will I choose to write a comedy or a tragedy? I think the transition begins as soon as I start faking it.
Life is real. Love really hurts. And God is the most beautiful thing I can attempt to wrap my mind around.
Every day is a learn-as-you-go shot at creating a remarkable story.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
more questions than answers
I’ve come at this trip from a different angle than ones before, and because of that have seen the country from a very different perspective. I’ve come with more questions than answers.
Writing has opened up a lot of different opportunities for my team here in India. A main role for me has been interviewing. I’m in charge of collecting stories. If people aren’t met, and questions aren’t asked, what will there be to write about? My preconceived ideas about this country have been shattered.
Well, except for the traffic - it’s all I imagined and more.
I’ve talked with some pretty incredible people in the last two weeks, and have felt honor and humbled to be entrusted with their stories.
o Daisy has a heart for street children, and as a 24yr old single started a ministry reaching out to kids in the most dangerous parts of Chennai. Now her and her husband have a home that cares for 35 children, to rescue them off of the street and restore them into the children God created them to be. Their giant family is a blessing to be apart of, even if only for a week. In the last 20 years Freddy and Daisy have changed the face of their city - ministering in the slums, caring for abandoned children, teaching, training, and serving with their whole hearts. I’ve been living with this family and am praying a vacation is in their near future - it would be their first in 18 years.
o Wilson prayed to God that he would never work with people with AIDS, which is exactly what God asked him to do. He spent the first years with his team cutting bushes, cleaning sewers and chasing wild pigs out of a hospital before the Hindu owner allowed him to talk to the patients. Now he has ministered to over 5,000 people, building friendships, caring for their children and starting support groups for people living with AIDS. I was amazed at all of the ministries that have come out of this project, but cut the deepest when he told me the hardest part of his job, “burying your friends every day.” Working with the sick and dying means Wilson does funerals 3-5 times a week. “The hardest was doing four in one day,” he said in a soft, shaky voice.
o Jayaseely was born and raised in a leper colony, losing both of her parents to the disease at a young age. She made a goal to help the people her country was ignoring, and dedicated her life to holding medical clinics in every leper colony in Chennai (a seven-million population city). I sat and talked with her as her team scraped deformed and decaying feet, washed and wrapped them in bandages. My heart broke as I thought of her service day after day, year after year, to the people most call “untouchable.” But her purpose through it all, she told me, is evangelism. “In a world of suffering, that’s all that really matters.”
These are a few of the people I’ve met. Just a slice of their stories. And it can be overwhelming for me to know just how to capture them in words. But what I do know is that India is not broken. They’re not helpless people, waiting on street corners for hand outs. They are strong, smart and intuitive people who dedicate their lives to service. They are teaching me what it looks like to love the way Jesus spoke of. Without glamor, without attention, without recognition. Without a giant salary that dictates their commitment level.
Coming to a country full of questions means an immediate openness to learn, and a humbleness to realize (yet again) that I don’t have it all figured out. Not even close. But living here, I think I’m getting closer. Closer to understanding love, faith, and God.
One small step at a time.
Writing has opened up a lot of different opportunities for my team here in India. A main role for me has been interviewing. I’m in charge of collecting stories. If people aren’t met, and questions aren’t asked, what will there be to write about? My preconceived ideas about this country have been shattered.
Well, except for the traffic - it’s all I imagined and more.
I’ve talked with some pretty incredible people in the last two weeks, and have felt honor and humbled to be entrusted with their stories.
o Daisy has a heart for street children, and as a 24yr old single started a ministry reaching out to kids in the most dangerous parts of Chennai. Now her and her husband have a home that cares for 35 children, to rescue them off of the street and restore them into the children God created them to be. Their giant family is a blessing to be apart of, even if only for a week. In the last 20 years Freddy and Daisy have changed the face of their city - ministering in the slums, caring for abandoned children, teaching, training, and serving with their whole hearts. I’ve been living with this family and am praying a vacation is in their near future - it would be their first in 18 years.
o Wilson prayed to God that he would never work with people with AIDS, which is exactly what God asked him to do. He spent the first years with his team cutting bushes, cleaning sewers and chasing wild pigs out of a hospital before the Hindu owner allowed him to talk to the patients. Now he has ministered to over 5,000 people, building friendships, caring for their children and starting support groups for people living with AIDS. I was amazed at all of the ministries that have come out of this project, but cut the deepest when he told me the hardest part of his job, “burying your friends every day.” Working with the sick and dying means Wilson does funerals 3-5 times a week. “The hardest was doing four in one day,” he said in a soft, shaky voice.
o Jayaseely was born and raised in a leper colony, losing both of her parents to the disease at a young age. She made a goal to help the people her country was ignoring, and dedicated her life to holding medical clinics in every leper colony in Chennai (a seven-million population city). I sat and talked with her as her team scraped deformed and decaying feet, washed and wrapped them in bandages. My heart broke as I thought of her service day after day, year after year, to the people most call “untouchable.” But her purpose through it all, she told me, is evangelism. “In a world of suffering, that’s all that really matters.”
These are a few of the people I’ve met. Just a slice of their stories. And it can be overwhelming for me to know just how to capture them in words. But what I do know is that India is not broken. They’re not helpless people, waiting on street corners for hand outs. They are strong, smart and intuitive people who dedicate their lives to service. They are teaching me what it looks like to love the way Jesus spoke of. Without glamor, without attention, without recognition. Without a giant salary that dictates their commitment level.
Coming to a country full of questions means an immediate openness to learn, and a humbleness to realize (yet again) that I don’t have it all figured out. Not even close. But living here, I think I’m getting closer. Closer to understanding love, faith, and God.
One small step at a time.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
a day in the emergency room
Yes, the rumor is true. I have an addition to my headdress - 5 pretty little stitches, just a few inches above my right ear. How did this happen, you ask? I would love to tell you the story of how I fell off an elephant in the Indian jungle, or was chasing down a rickshaw to rescue a stolen child. But the truth is, my friends, in simplest form:
I fought the fan...
and the
Fan won.
(best if hummed to the tune, "I Fought the Law")
My team has been incredibly blessed since we arrived in India Monday morning. We have delicious rice dishes prepared for us everyday, a freezer where I make my own ice trays, and a huge open roof perfect for worship and writing in the night air. And to top things off - us girls found an AC box above one of the bunk beds! It doesn't get much better than that.
The first night it was about 103 degrees in our room as we tried to sleep. Turning on the AC the next night was glorious, but soon froze us as it dropped lower and lower in temperature. Being the smart, intuitive person that I am, I knew there was a way to set the temperature. I crawled up on the bunk bed, searched around the sides, poked buttons, and finally came to the conclusion that the controls had to be on the top. As I stood up, I was immediately whapped with a few hard blows from the fierce, iron ceiling fan.
Of course my roommates start to panic, when I assure them,
"I'm fine guys, really. It's not like I'm bleeding." Just then I reached up to find my hair covered in blood, and dripping down my forehead.
They proceeded to take excellent care of me while I bled all over the bathroom, and decided this might be a case for the pros. I argued, but my persistence was low. I have never had stitches in my life. Never gone to a hospital in any of the 10 countries I've traveled to. And I'd definitely never been taken out on my 2nd day of a trip. By a ceiling fan.
But rest assured. The fan is fine.
and so am I.
(me in the ER holding cotton gauze on my open head wound)
There's the story of my day in the emergency room. Do not fret - I am doing well. Finally able to shower and wash the blood out of my hair, 24hrs later, with little to no pain at all. Ministry started today, and my team is excited for what's to come. Hopefully that doesn't include any more hospital visits :)
I fought the fan...
and the
Fan won.
(best if hummed to the tune, "I Fought the Law")
My team has been incredibly blessed since we arrived in India Monday morning. We have delicious rice dishes prepared for us everyday, a freezer where I make my own ice trays, and a huge open roof perfect for worship and writing in the night air. And to top things off - us girls found an AC box above one of the bunk beds! It doesn't get much better than that.
The first night it was about 103 degrees in our room as we tried to sleep. Turning on the AC the next night was glorious, but soon froze us as it dropped lower and lower in temperature. Being the smart, intuitive person that I am, I knew there was a way to set the temperature. I crawled up on the bunk bed, searched around the sides, poked buttons, and finally came to the conclusion that the controls had to be on the top. As I stood up, I was immediately whapped with a few hard blows from the fierce, iron ceiling fan.
Of course my roommates start to panic, when I assure them,
"I'm fine guys, really. It's not like I'm bleeding." Just then I reached up to find my hair covered in blood, and dripping down my forehead.
They proceeded to take excellent care of me while I bled all over the bathroom, and decided this might be a case for the pros. I argued, but my persistence was low. I have never had stitches in my life. Never gone to a hospital in any of the 10 countries I've traveled to. And I'd definitely never been taken out on my 2nd day of a trip. By a ceiling fan.
But rest assured. The fan is fine.
and so am I.
(me in the ER holding cotton gauze on my open head wound)
The hospital was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. After traveling by 20 min via bumpy rickshaw (holding cotton swabs to my head to stop the bleeding) we made it to the ER. I laid on an oversized plastic serving tray as dozens of doctors and nurses came in to look at me, bobble their heads hello, then exit through the dull gray curtains. After a couple hours of waiting, they agreed that stitches were what I needed - but would not do anything until I first purchased the materials. My leader Brooke graciously took my shopping list to the pharmacy to buy ethilon, needles, a syringe and rubber gloves. Then we were in business. There was an American doctor who stopped in, whom I graciously appreciated, for he insisted that the doctor didn't need to shave my hair off. They stitched me up for little more than my pharmacy bill, and I was out the door feeling good as new.
(my pharmacy shopping list - in the emergency room)
There's the story of my day in the emergency room. Do not fret - I am doing well. Finally able to shower and wash the blood out of my hair, 24hrs later, with little to no pain at all. Ministry started today, and my team is excited for what's to come. Hopefully that doesn't include any more hospital visits :)
Saturday, April 3, 2010
all my bags are packed...
I'm ready to go!
What an incredible semester it's been here at YWAM Resonate (http://ywamresonate.com). It's hard to believe how fast the school changed into memories past. I know I learned a lot, but still don't feel like I have a strong grasp on what my writing will look like, sound like. But that's about to change.
I'm putting my skills to work - for a three month internship - in India. My flight leaves this afternoon, and will land me right in the center of the most unbelievable stories. But they're not just stories - they're people. I'm going to meet them, play games and drink chai, and listen to them share about their lives. I know I'm going to fall in love with these people, and have my heart broken over and over again by the stories they tell. My goal is to be a voice for these people. Even a tiny voice - so at least for a moment, the world notices them.
Legistics:
I’m working with Streams of Mercy (http://streamsofmercy.org/) and their contacts throughout a number of orphanages and ministries in India.
- My team will be living in Chennai until April 29th – working with an AIDS ministry, leper colonies, multiple orphanages and in remote villages.
- The second half of our project will be based out of Pune, getting to know the street kids, orphans, and the women and children living in the red light district.
- I fly back to Texas May 19th, and will finish the remainder of my internship here. A lot of our time in India will be spent collecting stories, doing research and adjusting to the culture. The three weeks in Texas will be extremely valuable for writing, finishing projects and debriefing the trip.
- I’ll be home in Nebraska June 12th, for those still trying to keep up with me :)
I'm so thankful for everyone who has been praying for me and encouraging my team. We really need it! This ministry has been praying for a writing team for years, and there is a huge opportunity to change this community through our works. But that also means there are a lot of challenges ahead of us to face - and we really, really need a team of intercessors to stand behind us.
I plan to post weekly updates - so stay tuned for more stories!
Never doubt that a small group of committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. - Margaret Mead
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