I don't feel old, just older. The facts, or years, don't lie though. In just a few short weeks, I will be 45 years old! I can't believe it. Some, apparently, are not struggling with the same disbelief about my age.
During my recent trip to India, I worked alongside two young twenty-something gals from New Zealand. After our shift concluded one afternoon, I mentioned how much I was enjoying being with them. They enthusiastically agreed citing "how cool it is to hang out with an older woman” on a regular basis. It took me a second, maybe two or three, to understand I was the "older woman" referenced in that scenario. Seriously? I mean, why not just jab a knife in my heart and twist? It might hurt a little less. Later, one of their co-horts offered me her seat on the local bus. I wasted no time informing this sweet young thing that if her mom knew what she had just done, she would be appalled. Oh, yes I did.
I guess it is time to accept that while I may feel young at heart, my physical self is obviously telling the world otherwise! Perhaps I need to try a bit more to embrace this whole aging process. Try to do it as gracefully as I can. And, above all else, stay away from twenty-somethings at all cost.
April 21, 2010
February 7, 2010
A Heart Changed
At 6:45 a.m. our team gathered to begin our day of volunteering at Mother Teresa’s. We would make our way down the mostly deserted streets to Mother’s House. It was there volunteers from around the world gathered daily for a breakfast consisting of two pieces of bread, a small banana, and a cup of chai tea. After awhile, a little bell would chime signaling a time for prayer and praise. Next, we would commute to the home/hospices we had been appointed previously by the Sisters.
The women of our team were assigned the morning shift at Shanti Dan, a home for mentally challenged women. On our first day, I learned of an opportunity to serve at a children’s home located just across the road. My heart jumped. I knew from the beginning I wanted to be with the children. Though I wasn’t privy to the stories of how these children came to be at Shanti Dan, I knew they weren’t considered orphans. Their parents brought them to Mother Teresa’s because they could no longer care for them. So now these precious ones have a place to live, a bed to sleep, and food to eat. Needless to say, I fell in madly in love with the each and every child at Shanti Dan. It would have been impossible to have felt anything but pure love for them. My mornings at Shanti Dan were joyous, and the best and easiest part of my day.
Our team spent the afternoons at Prem Dan, a hospice for the sick and dying. It was here that God taught me the most about serving others, about why I was on this trip in the first place. I grew to love my time of service at Prem Dan despite the challenges it provided. And, there were many challenges! From the smells that assaulted me when entering, the walk through the slums to get inside the facility, to the sights of patients in various stages of suffering, I was truly challenged to go beyond myself. My heart did eventually find joy in serving at Prem Dan. I massaged the arms, legs and feet of women whose bodies bore the evidence of a life so hard; served supper to them, and assisted wherever was needed. This work was fulfilling in a way I didn't expect. It was a joy different from what I found in my morning service with the children. While I went about these tasks, I often sang hymns to myself or prayed. If you have been following my blog about my trip to India, you know that I was in a deep struggle with myself, to manage my emotions, to control my impulses to get out of there. So, I prayed harder than I ever have because doing so was all I had to get me through the experience before me. I prayed for Him to allow me to see India through the eyes of Jesus, and to be His hands to the people I had come to serve. It was a process for sure, but God answered my prayer in abundance. What I saw when I arrived in India was filth, but with God's guidance I found the beauty. Instead of people, I began to see humans no different than me. Mercifully, God taught me how to serve the least of these, how to serve with a joy I did not have in the beginning of our trip. Like my teammates, I was called at various times to step out of my comfort zone, and God gave me the fortitude to do it.
Amazingly enough, God kept the best for last. He showed me just how He had answered my prayers of the week, and how my heart had been transformed as a result. On our last day, I had taken advantage of some down time to complete my bible study. God, in His oh so perfect timing, saved John 13 for me to study during my final hours in India. This is the chapter in Scripture that describes Jesus washing the feet of His disciples. God gave me this passage to read just as I had finished days of rubbing/massaging feet of women whose life has been so much more difficult than mine. Feet that bore the results of a life that even now is unimaginable to me. I wept as I read the words of Jesus in John 13:14:
"Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you should also wash one another's feet. I have set an example that you should do as I have done for you."
Then the Lord led me to Philippians 2:3: "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves."
And, in Philippians 2:5: "Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus."
God is so good. I will never forget my time in India. And, I will forever be grateful for how sweet and faithful my Lord has proved Himself to be again and again.
The women of our team were assigned the morning shift at Shanti Dan, a home for mentally challenged women. On our first day, I learned of an opportunity to serve at a children’s home located just across the road. My heart jumped. I knew from the beginning I wanted to be with the children. Though I wasn’t privy to the stories of how these children came to be at Shanti Dan, I knew they weren’t considered orphans. Their parents brought them to Mother Teresa’s because they could no longer care for them. So now these precious ones have a place to live, a bed to sleep, and food to eat. Needless to say, I fell in madly in love with the each and every child at Shanti Dan. It would have been impossible to have felt anything but pure love for them. My mornings at Shanti Dan were joyous, and the best and easiest part of my day.
Our team spent the afternoons at Prem Dan, a hospice for the sick and dying. It was here that God taught me the most about serving others, about why I was on this trip in the first place. I grew to love my time of service at Prem Dan despite the challenges it provided. And, there were many challenges! From the smells that assaulted me when entering, the walk through the slums to get inside the facility, to the sights of patients in various stages of suffering, I was truly challenged to go beyond myself. My heart did eventually find joy in serving at Prem Dan. I massaged the arms, legs and feet of women whose bodies bore the evidence of a life so hard; served supper to them, and assisted wherever was needed. This work was fulfilling in a way I didn't expect. It was a joy different from what I found in my morning service with the children. While I went about these tasks, I often sang hymns to myself or prayed. If you have been following my blog about my trip to India, you know that I was in a deep struggle with myself, to manage my emotions, to control my impulses to get out of there. So, I prayed harder than I ever have because doing so was all I had to get me through the experience before me. I prayed for Him to allow me to see India through the eyes of Jesus, and to be His hands to the people I had come to serve. It was a process for sure, but God answered my prayer in abundance. What I saw when I arrived in India was filth, but with God's guidance I found the beauty. Instead of people, I began to see humans no different than me. Mercifully, God taught me how to serve the least of these, how to serve with a joy I did not have in the beginning of our trip. Like my teammates, I was called at various times to step out of my comfort zone, and God gave me the fortitude to do it.
Amazingly enough, God kept the best for last. He showed me just how He had answered my prayers of the week, and how my heart had been transformed as a result. On our last day, I had taken advantage of some down time to complete my bible study. God, in His oh so perfect timing, saved John 13 for me to study during my final hours in India. This is the chapter in Scripture that describes Jesus washing the feet of His disciples. God gave me this passage to read just as I had finished days of rubbing/massaging feet of women whose life has been so much more difficult than mine. Feet that bore the results of a life that even now is unimaginable to me. I wept as I read the words of Jesus in John 13:14:
"Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you should also wash one another's feet. I have set an example that you should do as I have done for you."
Then the Lord led me to Philippians 2:3: "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves."
And, in Philippians 2:5: "Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus."
God is so good. I will never forget my time in India. And, I will forever be grateful for how sweet and faithful my Lord has proved Himself to be again and again.
February 3, 2010
Innocence Taken
Held hostage. Forced to do the unspeakable. Beaten into submission. This is the story of 132 young girls, rescued from sexual trafficking, and currently residing in an aftercare facility in West Bengali. Our team in India had the privilege to spend a few hours with these precious girls. I wrote in a previous post that nothing about my life could have possibly prepared me for Kolkata, and the same was true when I looked into the eyes of the girls, one as young as eleven years old, all of whom had been robbed of their innocence in such a brutal way. I was horrified to learn that some were sold into prostitution by their own families for a meager sum, bred solely for this purpose. Others were lured with promises of a better life, a good job, while some were kidnapped, most often by a trusted family friend or member. The girls would then be taken to a house where they would be beaten and raped repeatedly until every ounce of self-esteem was stripped away. It was next they began their life as a prostitute with the youngest ones fetching the most money for their pimps. As a mother of a six year old little girl, I was sickened and outraged.
The girls we met that day in Bengali were the lucky ones. They have been rescued. They have a safe place to live, with food and clothing provided. They can attend school at the aftercare facility, and are taught a trade so they can support themselves when they are old enough. I found myself wondering though if they can ever get past what happened to them. Can they forgive the betrayal of family members that sold them into a life of prostitution? I searched their eyes for the answers. I don't know if I found one. One of our team members was given a poem written by one of the girls about her mother. It is heartbreaking, and confirms that despite the smiling faces that surrounded us during our visit, the pain of what has happened has not been erased. Here is the translation of the poem.
Mother, where have you gotten lost?
I am unable to find you.
If I extend my hand, I am unable to touch you.
Are you here on earth?
If you are, please respond to me at least once.
I have not seen you for so many days.
I am unable to tolerate this pain.
I am unable to study.
I don’t like living on this earth anymore.
This was our second day in Kolkata.
The girls we met that day in Bengali were the lucky ones. They have been rescued. They have a safe place to live, with food and clothing provided. They can attend school at the aftercare facility, and are taught a trade so they can support themselves when they are old enough. I found myself wondering though if they can ever get past what happened to them. Can they forgive the betrayal of family members that sold them into a life of prostitution? I searched their eyes for the answers. I don't know if I found one. One of our team members was given a poem written by one of the girls about her mother. It is heartbreaking, and confirms that despite the smiling faces that surrounded us during our visit, the pain of what has happened has not been erased. Here is the translation of the poem.
Mother, where have you gotten lost?
I am unable to find you.
If I extend my hand, I am unable to touch you.
Are you here on earth?
If you are, please respond to me at least once.
I have not seen you for so many days.
I am unable to tolerate this pain.
I am unable to study.
I don’t like living on this earth anymore.
This was our second day in Kolkata.
February 1, 2010
36
I'd like to say I hit the ground running in India, but I didn't. The first 36 hours I could think of nothing else but how to get back home. It is true, and not an easy thing to admit. Important though if I want you to understand my journey from start to finish. And, I do. So, it is here I will start.
After some 20 plus hours of travel, including a 7 hour layover in Dubai, everyone on our team was exhausted. We were picked up at the airport, and began our trek from the outskirts of Kolkata to the center of the city. My senses were assaulted from every possible realm. My ears deafened by the constant sound of horns honking. I tried to make sense of what I saw out my car window. People bathing themselves on the sides of streets, living in makeshift homes made of tarp, rocks and dirt, children as young as 4, sometimes carrying an infant on their hip, weaving in and out of traffic begging for money or food. Their skin was literally covered in layer of grime and filth. Nothing can prepare someone like me for something like life in Kolkata. I found myself weeping, or at best trying to hold back my tears. The thing is I wasn't crying out of compassion for these children, these people, this broken way of existence I was witnessing. I was crying for me. I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, to come home. After we arrived at our hotel, I learned we were to walk to Mother Teresa's house for volunteer orientation. Pastor Omar, the leader of our team, said it was only a few blocks away. I was gripped with fear. How did he expect me to walk down that street littered with trash, human waste, and people? Our team didn't, and couldn't, possibly blend in. I felt so vulnerable. Children and their mothers immediately came up to us begging. They were persistent, and thought nothing of touching you in their attempts to gain food or money. Members of my team were holding the hands of the little beggar children; embracing the mothers as they walked. I, however, was doing everything possible to get away, maneuver my body so they couldn't touch me. They were unclean, covered in grime and I absolutely did not want to be touched by them. It was becoming all the more clear that I had made a terrible mistake in going to India. How on earth was I to care for the sick and dying in this country if I was repulsed by the homeless on the streets? That night I cried myself to sleep. And, I spent a large portion of the night awake, praying to God through my tears. I prayed He would rid me of myself because I was definitely getting in the way. I prayed I would be able to see India through the eyes of Jesus. I clung to God, to His promises, because I knew He was faithful. And, to be honest, I had no one else to cling to that night. God didn't magically fix things for me that first night. But, He was there preparing me for a journey, an amazing journey of my heart that would take place over the next week.
I will be sharing my journey via posts on my blog this week. I invite you to share your thoughts and comments with me as you read my stories.
Stay tuned.
After some 20 plus hours of travel, including a 7 hour layover in Dubai, everyone on our team was exhausted. We were picked up at the airport, and began our trek from the outskirts of Kolkata to the center of the city. My senses were assaulted from every possible realm. My ears deafened by the constant sound of horns honking. I tried to make sense of what I saw out my car window. People bathing themselves on the sides of streets, living in makeshift homes made of tarp, rocks and dirt, children as young as 4, sometimes carrying an infant on their hip, weaving in and out of traffic begging for money or food. Their skin was literally covered in layer of grime and filth. Nothing can prepare someone like me for something like life in Kolkata. I found myself weeping, or at best trying to hold back my tears. The thing is I wasn't crying out of compassion for these children, these people, this broken way of existence I was witnessing. I was crying for me. I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, to come home. After we arrived at our hotel, I learned we were to walk to Mother Teresa's house for volunteer orientation. Pastor Omar, the leader of our team, said it was only a few blocks away. I was gripped with fear. How did he expect me to walk down that street littered with trash, human waste, and people? Our team didn't, and couldn't, possibly blend in. I felt so vulnerable. Children and their mothers immediately came up to us begging. They were persistent, and thought nothing of touching you in their attempts to gain food or money. Members of my team were holding the hands of the little beggar children; embracing the mothers as they walked. I, however, was doing everything possible to get away, maneuver my body so they couldn't touch me. They were unclean, covered in grime and I absolutely did not want to be touched by them. It was becoming all the more clear that I had made a terrible mistake in going to India. How on earth was I to care for the sick and dying in this country if I was repulsed by the homeless on the streets? That night I cried myself to sleep. And, I spent a large portion of the night awake, praying to God through my tears. I prayed He would rid me of myself because I was definitely getting in the way. I prayed I would be able to see India through the eyes of Jesus. I clung to God, to His promises, because I knew He was faithful. And, to be honest, I had no one else to cling to that night. God didn't magically fix things for me that first night. But, He was there preparing me for a journey, an amazing journey of my heart that would take place over the next week.
I will be sharing my journey via posts on my blog this week. I invite you to share your thoughts and comments with me as you read my stories.
Stay tuned.
January 19, 2010
On the Road to Kolkata - About 20 Hours In
Some twenty hours after leaving my safe, comfortable home I have arrived in Dubai. It is here (the airport) that I will remain for the next eight hours or so before boarding the next aircraft for a 7 hour flight to Kolkata. I can't even begin to calculate what time it is at home, or how long I have been in transit. I don't think I want to know to be honest. It might make me tired.
I am filled with lots of emotions. Excitement about what lies ahead, fear of the same, and a deep longing to be home again. I know that sounds utterly ridiculous since I haven't even reached my destination yet, but it was harder than I expected to say goodbye to my family. Waving goodbye to S as she sought comfort in her grandma's arms because she was crying, made it all the more heartbreaking. O was a bit more stoic though I did catch a glimpse of teary eyes when he hugged me. I know they will be well taken care of and loved while I'm gone but it was still tough. Honey was supportive and encouraging during the ride to the airport saying all the right things. He is good to me.
If all goes as planned, I will write again after reaching Kolkata. Stay tuned.
I am filled with lots of emotions. Excitement about what lies ahead, fear of the same, and a deep longing to be home again. I know that sounds utterly ridiculous since I haven't even reached my destination yet, but it was harder than I expected to say goodbye to my family. Waving goodbye to S as she sought comfort in her grandma's arms because she was crying, made it all the more heartbreaking. O was a bit more stoic though I did catch a glimpse of teary eyes when he hugged me. I know they will be well taken care of and loved while I'm gone but it was still tough. Honey was supportive and encouraging during the ride to the airport saying all the right things. He is good to me.
If all goes as planned, I will write again after reaching Kolkata. Stay tuned.
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