transition

Leaving Manali marked a significant event for me personally as it was the last stop before making my way back to the US. Besides having that in mind, leaving was made harder by the kids clinging to us and asking why we had to go. Without having a job or a house to get back to this was a hard question for me to respond to. Our last day in Manali was a rainy one, but once the clouds cleared we could see fresh snow atop the mountains. Our experience at DUF was one that I hope will stay with me for a long time and I pray that I will not easily forget the things I learned from the children and staff there.

Our short time in Delhi was spent shopping, seeing sights and getting our last taste of India before we went our separate ways. The Taj Mahal was every bit as magnificent as you would expect it to be, and was rightly chosen as one of the new 7 wonders of the world.

Upon an extremely early arrival to the airport, we were directed to a waiting area until our check-in counters were opened. Once inside the terminal, we discovered that the Delhi airport system had gone down. The check-in procedure was slightly delayed, but the airline personnel calmly proceeded to write out our boarding passes and luggage tags...it made me think this wasn’t the first time that has happened. Thankfully, we made it through with little difficulty and went our separate ways, Katherine to Russia and Ami and I to the USA. Ami and I had a long layover in Amsterdam, so naturally we left the airport to explore the city a bit. Amsterdam is beautiful and quiet at 7am. We enjoyed the lovely architecture, found Anne Frank’s house, and ate a delicious waffle and croissant.

I have been back in the US for two weeks now and my friends are still making me decide where to go out to eat upon the basis that I must have really missed American food options. Really it’s because many of my friends, like myself, are indecisive and would rather make someone else decide. I can’t blame them I’m the same way. Even as I consider my next big step: where to work and live? I would rather not have so many options. I would rather God just tell me very clearly, what to do and where to go. I know I’m not alone in this plea. In fact, I would venture to guess that almost anyone in a similar situation would feel the same way. My experience has taught me that there are literally a world of possibilities for me, which is part of what makes this decision process so difficult.  On top of that, I have just returned from 3 fun months of adventure and living nomadically. The idea of settling down – even if for just a year – does not come easily. So, until a final decision is reached, I have resolved to enjoy every bit of my freedom, thanks to the generous people around me who give me a bed to sleep in and a place to call home while I live in the transition. God has blessed me far beyond my understanding.

story time

The story started on the dangerous streets of Srinagar in Kashmir in the early 1970’s. The young mission team was dodging persecution at every corner with one near fatal miss after another, one threat after another; and directly following each threat and attack, there was always prayer. Prayer for protection and prayer of thanksgiving. Katherine and I sat in amazement, as the story continued to tell of the beginnings of the children’s home despite persecution and of God’s provision time and time again. When there was no food, food was provided, when there was no where to go, a door opened up, when there was no money, a donation was given. Auntie’s story of how the Dar-Ul-Fazl (DUF) Children’s Home began in Kashmir is a story of faith and God’s provision. Because of persecution in the volatile region of Kashmir, the home moved to Manali in the early 90‘s. Many of her stories reminded me of stories I heard long ago about George Muller. After an hour of hearing her “short version” of how the home was started, Katherine and I went to lunch honored to be in the presence of this woman of great faith. This is one of the most prayerful places I have ever been. In the mornings each child and staff member bow their heads in prayer as they file in and take their seat for the morning devotional. After the devotional, the staff stay back for a time of prayer. Before each meal, the staff always pray silently to themselves if we have not already prayed as a group. Every night, there is prayer time with the children during the evening devotional. Whenever we get in the car to go anywhere, the driver shuts off the engine, and Mawiteii (Auntie) leads a prayer for our journey before we go on our way. Although I was raised in a home where prayer was an integral part of our daily lives, it is refreshing and challenging to be in this place devoted to prayer. The impact is evident.

Every morning, we can see the snow capped mountains in the distance as we walk to morning devotion. Typically the children have breakfast followed by a morning assembly  before school. These last two days have been a holiday, so we have had the joy of getting to just hang out and play all day (after morning devotion at 7, which occurs every day of the week, holiday or not). We play uno, pick-up-sticks, jenga, and a variety of other games. We’ve made bracelets, drawn with chalk and built towers out of the jenga blocks, but the favored activity among many of the girls is story time. Each evening they beg for stories. One of the older girls has been telling them the story of the Twilight trilogy, but before and after her story time, they come to us asking for stories. “Please, ma’am, tell us a story,” they plea. I have never thought of myself as a good storyteller. In fact I have often dubbed myself to be a poor storyteller who gives too many details, making the story too long (if you’re reading my blog, you know this too be true). But these girls don’t care, they listen intently to any story I’m willing to tell and I, as a result, am getting to improve upon my storytelling skills. We have all been reaching way back into our memories to come up with stories to tell the girls. I have told Robin Hood, Princess Bride, Peter Pan, Ever After, the Emperor's New Groove, and a variety of short stories... you might notice a trend, many of the stories come from movies, because those are the ones I can recall most easily. It is such a joy to see their eyes light up as a story begins and to hear their gasps whenever it gets intense and to see their smiles and laughs when the story is funny.  Each evening, I find myself looking forward to story time, maybe even as much as my young audience does.

Beyond just enjoying time with the staff and children at DUF, we have had the opportunity to go into town and see other ministries that the church here is involved in. Today we went into Old Manali to see the old location for DUF and to visit one of Auntie’s friends, the president of the local women’s council. It was a neat experience to be in Lila’s beautiful home, which is hidden away in a maze of narrow streets (paths really) and old houses. She allowed us to try on the traditional dress here, called a pattu. It is much like a wool blanket pinned together and worn with a belt. It seems people in India enjoy dressing foreigners up in their traditional clothing. We also visited a coffee shop in old Manali that is run by a believer as a very active ministry in the community of hippie travelers. Every where we went with Auntie, she was received with much respect. It is evident that she and the home have a positive presence in the community.

A longer than anticipated journey

I was not intending to blog about our journey to Manali, but I also was not anticipating the adventure that follows. The plan was for our the three of us, Katherine, Uma (our host) and myself to travel by bus to Manali, leaving Delhi at 6pm, and arriving around 9am. We boarded the bus with our dinner and prepared for a long and uneventful trip. The volvo bus was fairly comfortable with reclining chairs and foot rests, however, Katherine’s footrest did not work, and my seat reclined gradually at it’s own will. I found myself apologizing to the passengers behind me and setting it upright again every so often. As we headed north, Uma pointed out sights along the way: old Delhi, Ghandhi’s memorial, the Red Fort, slums, and off we went with darkness quickly setting in. The driver put on a Bollywood comedy which was funny, but somewhat hard to follow. Of course, it was a pirated copy so it froze up a couple of times and we never finished it. After our first rest stop, the three of us fell asleep, I with my chair fully reclined, not by choice. The next time I woke, the bus was pulled over to the side of the road and both drivers were working on something with the engine. I’m not sure what was wrong, but scenarios of us having to transfer to another bus began to run through my head. I was taking it all in between dozes and eventually we were moving again. After passing Chandigarh, the road began to wind up through hills, and we would occasionally wake to a turn taken too quickly or a sudden brake. In the early morning hours, Katherine and I woke to see one of our drivers beating up the driver of a truck that was parked in the road in front of us. Another driver ran out and a full on fist fight was taking place before our eyes (we were in the second row). Eventually the fighting stopped, but the yelling continued until the truck driver moved out of our way. We’re not exactly sure what happened to begin with, but we were relieved to be on our way again. We made an early morning rest stop for chai and toilets around 5:30 at which point we were already enjoying the cool, fresh mountain morning. We dozed a little more and then again, I woke to a stopped bus. This time we were behind a line of parked trucks. As it turns out there was a landslide up ahead that was completely blocking the road. We waited for about 2 hours before traffic started moving again, and very slowly at that. It was about another hour before we made it to the land slide 3 km down the road. At least it didn’t look like anyone was hurt and we were in a beautiful spot to be stranded.

The mountains here are so steep and green and there are rapids that cut through them. After we were finally on our way, at least 3 hours behind schedule, we still had a few traffic hang ups, but for the most part were moving. After each sign for Manali our anticipation for the journey’s end grew. We passed several apple orchards and apple markets, as it is a big industry here. Wool shawls are also a popular product. About 20 km outside of Manali the bus came to a jolting stop. There was a bus in front of us that had scraped against a minivan. As was expected, both drivers got out and began to fight...not argue, just fight. Thankfully, no one from our bus got out to join in, and after a short while we were on our way again. Only 20 km left, what more can happen in 20 km!? We’ve dodged cows on narrow mountain roads, made a few close passes with other trucks and busses, passed through a couple of cleared land slides, witnessed two fist fights, had car trouble, and my seat will not stay up! "Please, Lord, let us arrive there quickly and safely,” I prayed. We were all the more eager to arrive in Manali and convinced that after surviving the journey, God must surely want us here! Thank the Lord, we have arrived at last, 4 hours behind schedule. We have been welcomed in to this beautiful home and we can hear the children outside playing on the blacktop as they wait for dinner. We are surrounded by mountains, and we can see a waterfall from our window. Thank you, God for brining us here safely, please use us to serve You through serving the children here.

Heading north

We've spent two refreshing nights in Delhi, doing laundry, shopping, packing and just relaxing. Tonight we leave on an overnight bus to Manali, a tourist spot in the Himalayan Mountains, where we will be at an orphanage for 8 days. There are pictures from our time up to this point on my facebook (http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2141131&id=71000791&l=63f89e2f1c) and on Katherine's blog: http://musingsofaglobetrotter.wordpress.com/

sugar and spice and everything nice

My journey to India has been a humbling experience. This is a story of grace. To begin, I had not checked to see what the luggage allotments were before leaving, so at the check-in counter I was shocked to find out that not only was one of my bags over weight, but only one bag was allowed and the fee for additional baggage is $25/kg! In my close-mindedness I had just gone by the US international standards without thinking through the fact that I would be flying within Asia before returning to the US. After some tearful pleading, rearranging and elimination of a few items, I was able to carry on one of my intended check-ins and check the other. Once in Guangzhou for a change over I found myself humbled again. I tend to pride myself on airport navigation, not really because I have a special ability, but because airports in my experience tend to have very good signage. Either I was blinded by my frustration or Guangzhou truly is one of the poorest marked airports, but I had a particularly difficult time finding my way. To their credit, however they do have volunteers posted throughout the terminal. At the security gate I had, for the first time ever, an airline personnel tell me that I was exceeding the allotment for carry-ons. I could not deny it, but he generously let me through anyways. At the airport in Delhi, I once again was graciously let through security. So many flight regulations have been broken on this trip, but by the grace of God and helpful people that He put in my path I made it through with more than I needed. My short overnight in Delhi was an adventure including dropping my bag in storage, a motorized rickshaw ride, a visit to the 24hour tourist service office, and sleeping in the airport. Thanks be to God, I arrived in Anand to the welcome of my dear friend Katherine and the director of the girls home here, brother Mainesh. 

 

Anand is a smaller town that lies at a major crossroads in Gujarat State. It is also home to the first dairy in Asia which remains a major supplier of dairy products for the country. This and the Hindu-dominant local government account for the vast number of cows that roam the streets freely. Throughout the day we are reminded to pray by the call to prayer from the nearby Mosque. This particular village is predominantly Muslim and Christian and neighborhoods are roughly divided according to religion. The Elwyn Parekh Children’s Home is a home for orphaned girls in a village just outside of Anand. Mainesh lives on the upper floor with his wife and two children, and they run the home of 10 girls with the help of one staff lady. They have been more than gracious hosts for Katherine and I since our arrival at the beginning of this week. The girls have been so delightful to be around. They keep a fairly regimented schedule each day, rising at 5:30 for homework, breakfast and morning devotional. After school they have some free time, do their chores and homework before dinner and evening devotional. Katherine and I have been asked to lead the evening devotionals while we are here which we hope is at least as much of a blessing to them as it is for us. The girls love to sing and dance and they are very talented. They love to laugh at our attempts at speaking Gujarati, but they still try to help us improve our pronunciation between their giggles. The girls call us didi, which means “elder sister” and a chorus of sweet voices always greet us with “good morning didi” or “good afternoon didi” or “good evening didi” when we enter the room. We taught them to play duck, duck, goose and red light, green light, and they have taught us some games as well. Their favorite game though, is musical chairs, played with a tambourine and everyone running around the chairs. They have also loved making bracelets with the thread that I brought for them. Every day there are bits of string scattered around the house that they have to sweep up.

Every evening we eat diner together on the floor in a big circle. The children sit in order of their age. We sing a song and someone prays before we eat. Two things that I love about that is country: everyone goes barefoot inside and you eat with your hands. Following our hosts’ examples we mix the rice with whatever meat or veg dish that is served and mash it together until you can form a good clump to put in your mouth. We also eat a lot of chapati (flat bread, almost like a wheat tortilla) which aid in the absence of utensils. Nearly every dish is spicy to some degree, but so far nothing has been too spicy for Katherine and I to eat. Thankfully we have had no stomach problems, but we’re taking our acidophilus just in case.

Today we made a visit to a nearby village where some of the girls are from. It was basic, but not impoverished. The families welcomed us graciously and served us chai. By the end of the day we had 6 cups of chai and several biscuits (cookies). We also ate lunch with a family in the village. The hosts do not eat until the guests have left so we ate while they served. It is a selfless custom, but seems odd to me when I think of a meal as something to be shared. 

The pace of life here has been a nice change from my usual full schedule. We have had a good balance of time with the girls, time with our hosts and time to rest. Tomorrow is our last full day here before we head back to Delhi. Please pray for the girls home here, for the girls and for Mainesh and his family in the work they do. They are nearly certified to accept infants into their home as well, please pray for them as they expand their ministry, that God will continue to provide for them. In this area there is tension between the Hindu-dominant government and the Christians which makes their work difficult. Pray for peace. And please pray for Katherine and I as we say goodbye to these precious new friends and make our way back to Delhi on Friday.