When God Builds a Family: a letter to all my kids

When God builds a family, He doesn’t always like things to be all matchy-matchy. It’s not like when you’re redecorating a bedroom and you go buy the bed in the bag because that’s the easiest and you know for sure that your comforter will match your shams which will match your valance.

When God builds a family, he doesn’t care much that the shams match the valance.

God doesn’t build a family the way some people shop at JCPenney’s for ensembles. God likes to build families like the seasoned, well-traveled buyer for an exotic boutique, who with an unlimited budget, scours the Earth for the perfect pieces that come together to tell the perfect story at just the right time.

Did you know that when God set out to build our family, He criss-crossed oceans to find us all? It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. You see, for God to build our family, He had to get Mommy and Daddy together in the same place so that we could fall in love.

Well, in many cases, it’s not that big of a deal for God to arrange a meeting between Mommies and Daddies. But, our story was a little trickier – it took a lot of advanced planning to make it work out just right.

You see, before Daddy was born, when He was just God’s Really Good Idea, your Amma & Appa lived far, far away in India – where jackfruit grows rampant and elephants walk the streets. And, before Daddy could be born, God had to bring Amma & Appa together so that they could get married.

That was a tricky case too. Things started of smoothly because Amma & Appa lived in the same town. But, when Appa got to be a little bigger, he had to go fight in the army. He traveled all around India and China and Bangladesh fighting for his country. It was very dangerous, and a long time went by when no one knew where Appa was. Everyone assumed that he had died.

This is what we call a “turning point” - because at this point in the story, Amma’s family was looking for a match for her. They looked at many boys, but they never looked at Appa because they thought that he was dead.

Now, God knew that if He was going to build our family, He was going to have to get Amma & Appa together. So, he saved Appa during that dangerous war, and one day, Appa walked back into that hot Indian village. A match was made, and your Amma & Appa got married.

Well, I’m sure that God was pleased that He’d accomplished that tricky match that almost never was. But, He still had a big job ahead of Him.  God knew that if Mommy & Daddy were going to meet, it sure wasn’t going to happen if Daddy lived all the way over in India with the jackfruit and the elephants.
God knew that Daddy had to be born in America.

There are people who will tell you stories that will make you believe that it’s easy for immigrants to come to this country. But, the truth is that your Amma had to work really had to come here, and even after all of her hard work, she still needed some miracles to make it all happen.

But, God was building our family, so He made those miracles happen. And, finally, one day your Amma flew to America with eight dollars and the hope that a letter she had written months before would result in someone picking her up at the airport.

I know it seems like the hard part was over. But Grandma & Pop-Pop weren’t easy to get together either. And, if Grandma & Pop-Pop didn’t get together, there would be no Mommy. And, if there had been no Mommy, then you wouldn’t be here either.

Grandma & Pop-Pop look like they match, which makes it seem like they were easy to put together, but back when Mommy was just God’s Really Good Idea, they didn’t match at all. You’ll have to see pictures to believe me, but basically, the point is that God had to get Pop-Pop into the churchy world if Pop-Pop was going to meet Grandma, and Pop-Pop was nowhere near the churchy world.

Pop-Pop had decided just like Appa to join the army. Like Appa, he didn’t have the opportunity to go to college, and so the army seemed like the next best thing. This was when God saw His opportunity to get Pop-Pop over into the churchy world where Grandma was. God sent a man named Bob to tell Pop-Pop that Jesus loved him. Pop-Pop eventually believed him, but Bob thought that if Pop-Pop didn’t get into the churchy world, he’d probably get himself into some trouble in the army.

So, Bob got Pop-Pop a chance to play basketball and go to college at the very place that every single person in Grandma’s family went to college.

When Grandma met Pop-Pop, he was scraggly and skinny, and a little uncomfortable having just been transplanted into the heart of churchy-ness. The odds were stacked against them, for sure, but Pop-Pop moved fast and married Grandma before she could even finish college.

So, now, the stage had been set and most of God’s preparation work had taken place. Mommy & Daddy were still just Really Good Ideas, but ideas that would at least be born in the same country.

I don’t know how old you’ll be when you realize that Mommy & Daddy don’t look the same. We’re alike in a lot of ways, but we’re different colors. For the most part, no one really notices, but there will always be people who think that’s a big deal. You know what? I actually think it’s a big deal too.

I think it’s a big, cool, amazing deal.

The fact that we don’t look alike is my little reminder that God had to work extra hard to match us together. It reminds me that we are not a bed-in-a-bag family, but that we were hand-selected to coordinate and complement and make each other shine.

You too, kids. You are all amazing, interesting products of an extravagant treasure hunt that has spanned the globe. We are not a matchy-matchy family, but we are a family a built by God.

Happy Onam!

Disclaimer: I'm not Indian (obvi), and my husband's knowledge of his motherland is sketchily selective. I get most of my info from the internet, so I could very easily be misinformed. That, and, in my experience, if you ask 10 Indians about India you get 10 different answers.

Today is Onam - the biggest holiday in Kerala, the Indian state my beloved finds his roots.

Onam represents everything I love about India. For one, it's a holiday celebrating a mythical king. The king wasn't real, but he comes back every year to visit his loyal subjects. Apparently, he was a great (pretend) king, who had many virtues and his one downfall was his inflated ego. Is it me, or is that just a nice way of saying, "I might be just a little too perfect"? Love it.

The other thing I love about Onam is figuring out when it is:

Onam carnival continues for ten days, starting from the day of Atham and culminating on Thiru Onam. Atham and Thiru Onam are the most important days for Onam festivities. The day of Atham is decided by the position of stars. Onam festival commences from lunar asterism (a cluster of stars smaller than a constellation) Atham (Hastha) that appears ten days before asterism Onam or Thiru Onam.

Does that make sense at all? Easter drives me crazy enough with its shifty lunar dates - if it weren't for wikipedia, I'd never be able to figure this one out.

The other thing I love about Onam is this:

 

It's called pookkalam, and I think it is amazing. Children make designs out of flower petals that are just incredible. 

Anyway, to celebrate Onam, we are supposed to eat some 9-course elaborate meal. My slowly-growing taste for Indian food means I may like about 2 of those courses, so no Onam meal for us. 

But, the Indian side of the family comes in tomorrow, so I'm guessing there will be some Indian cooking going on in my kitchen over the weekend.  Happy Onam to all!

Talya's Favorite Indian Delicacy - Dirt

I continue to maintain that it's good for her.

Hello

I'm back. I physically got back about 24 hours ago, but am only now feeling part of life again, as I've finally had a chance to curl up with my MacBookBaby (whose battery is mysteriously broken) and reenter the electronic life.

I've accepted my new facebook friends, updated my status, and churned through my Google Reader. I now know who's had their baby, who hasn't, who's kids have had birthdays, who has a broken heart because they should have been able to celebrate a child's birthday.

It feels good to be slightly back in touch with the lives of those I've missed.

There is oh-so-much-more to come. Pictures and stories, but here is a brief rundown of the major things that have happened in my life this month:

1. Nursing: finished. My Little Biter upped the ante and no amount of Lansinoh was going to pull us through.
   
2. My baby is one. One year of life lived (starting from conception) back and forth across the ocean. She is a beauty.
3. Taly, my beautiful baby, who's not so much a baby any more, took off walking.
4. No one who has been around me over the past 4 weeks will ever accuse me of being type-A or controlling, or a neat freak, or clean. They have watched me sit back as my child rolls on dirty floors, eats food off the ground, and have seen me take pictures of her smearing dirt into her mouth. I hope my deeply-felt conviction that it's good for her is right.
5. I'm afraid Simon has developed an aversion to Indian people. They (I don't mean to generalize, but I do think it was about 99% of people we passed on the street in India) kept grabbing his face and pinching his cheeks as hard as they could. If your skin color is a beautiful shade of brown, and Simon screams at you, that's why - he's afraid you're going to "get" him.
6. I have survived LOOOOONG plane flights and LOOOOONG layovers. I have not done it with an abundance of grace, but I've done it and we're home now.
7. My son, who looks at me like I'm speaking Mandarin when I try to get him to color in the lines, has started, on his own of course, to "color in the lines" and write letters that I've never taught him.
8. My son has started pooping on the potty. Wait, no. That one's true only in my imagination.
9. I'm thinking about becoming a flight attendant and making the focal point of my career catering to parents traveling with small children.
10. I have taken over 600 pictures, deleted half of them, and am now faced with the prospect of uploading the remaining 300 (100 of which are of Taly eating dirt) onto my computer.
11. My Indian diet plan (wherein I lose 10 pounds simply by disliking the food) backfired as I suddenly started liking Indian food, and I spent about 600 rupees on ice cream bars.
12. Our dossier made it to Rwanda, I believe, on time. A few more months baby, Mommy's coming.
    
13. Yesterday, I took a hot shower. Behind a shower curtain. Do you have any idea what a blessing shower curtains are? Do you have any idea how nice it is to be able to step out of the shower onto a dry floor? For another day or so, that will count as pure bliss in my book.
    

Like I said, more to come.

Goodbye

I'll miss you. Some of you are my friends and family, and some of you I don't know at all, but I appreciate you giving me a voice and sharing your voices with me.

I'll be experiencing some very blog-worthy moments, because God seems to love irony, I will experience them all far away from a wi-fi connection.

Shoot.

As you are reading this, I am probably somewhere on the journey, corralling 2 kids and a team of 11 through airports. I will watch the team settle into their seats. They will complain that they don't have leg room, but I will not be sympathetic at all, because they get to read books and watch movies in peace for a whole 15 hours, while I feed my kids a continuous stream of healthful-looking, but probably not very healthy, snacks.

I can confidently predict a few things:

Upon reaching the security line, Simon will freak out. He will refuse to take his shoes off or send his backpack through the "tunnel". Ben will try to force him to do it without looking like a terrorist. I will unsuccessfully plead with my eyes to the security guard to just let him through with his stupid flip-flops on already. Everybody in the line, religious or not, will begin to pray that they don't have to sit anywhere near us. I will begin to pray that I don't have to sit anywhere near us.

Talk to you soon. Have a great few weeks, and don't give up on me - I will be back!

Madness Setting In

With our dossier entrusted to the powers-that-be, and Taly's biting lessened (apparently she just need me to out her to the Internet), it is time to focus on The Next Big Thing: a family trip to India.

Tis the season for family vacations. To places like Disney World or lake houses or water parks. We pack up the kids and head over the ocean and through the woods to the Mother Land.

I am really excited. Really excited. Excited to do this as a family, and not to wait at home for a month while Ben gets to have all the fun. I am thankful that my kids, young as they are, get this experience. Simon doesn't really remember India. He thinks he does, but when asked about it, he always refers to monkeys, and I think monkeys are maybe the one kind of animal we didn't see in Bangalore.

American-ization has fully set in. Like his mama, he hates loud noises. It makes me laugh, because I remember how well he did as a baby living in the loudest country in the world (in my opinion. I haven't been everywhere). That kid slept through Diwali fireworks, dogs barking, vendors shouting, horns blaring. He never blinked, and now he freaks when I start the KitchenAid.

He hates getting dirty. When we lived in India, his favorite place to play was on a pile of dirt and gravel across the street from our house. I let him climb all over it until a rat beat me in a staring contest.

So, it's time. Time for him (and me) to reawaken the parts of us that the peace, quiet and cleanliness of America has lulled asleep.

It's hard getting ready to go back when I've gotten soft. There was a day when this freaked me out. When I would literally pray that my visa application would get denied at the Embassy so I wouldn't have to go. When I cried at the thought of the unknowns that my "country-in-law" presented.

Then a new day dawned. When I realized I was comfortable in my Indian surroundings. That I loved the adventure, loved not being able to control my day. I relished the challenges of power cuts and shady rickshaw drivers. My life was like a big puzzle, and I just had to wake up each morning and figure out how to fit the pieces together.

But, now, as I scan my lists - TO BUY - TO DO - TO PACK, I admit that that day has also passed.

Now, I live in the wretched in-between. Where I know there is more out there - more richness, more color, more life. But, I also know it's hard and dirty and noisy. I know I CAN do it, and that I WANT to do it, but...

....but, I have to adjust my kids to a new time zone. And since they're too young for Tylenol PM, it's not an option for me either.
....but, I'm pretty sure they're not going to love Indian cafeteria food. (Like I will?)
....but, it will be stinkin' HOT!
....but, we will all be sharing one room. For a month.
....but, I have to pack light. (um, I'll let you know how that goes)
....but, I will have NO internet access!!!!!!!!!!

In the big picture of global perspective, amazing experiences, life-changing opportunities, these buts are miniscule. But to a mommy of two, these buts seem pretty monumental.

We're excited. And thankful that this is our life. The logistics, however, are making me crazy.

Orissa: Some links

The week of violence that Christians endured in Orissa is heartbreaking. My understanding is that things have cooled down some, but prayers are needed even more as Christians must now choose their response to evil, hatred, and violence. I have no idea what will happen to all the people who have had their homes burned down. Pray that they will choose love - that we will choose love when faced with hate.

These are some links if you want to know more about what has happened. This one gives a bit of history of the tension over conversion laws. This one details what has happened in Orissa this week, and please be advised that it includes some graphic images.

Thank you for praying! It is easy to say we are blessed because we are not facing this persecution, but of course the Bible says differently and promises blessing for these who have had everything taken from them.

Orissa

Pray for the people in Orissa State, India, where over the past few days tension between Hindus and Christians has led to rioting, and the burning of the homes and churches of Christians, as well as the death of at least 11 people. I have been trying to sort through all of the information available to get a sense of what is going on, but it seems as though this all started when a leader of a Hindu party was killed. Hindus blamed his death on Christians, who deny their involvement. (Many other stories point to Maoists for the initial murder.) In any case, the man who was killed was speaking out against proselytizing laws, and it seems this is where the violence began.

Reports have come in of churches and orphanages being burned, missionaries fleeing to the jungle, a nun being raped, police aiding or ignoring the violence, and much else. This is the same state where Graham Staines and his two sons were burned in 1999.

Please remember that these are real people living in the midst of violence. Pray for their protection and comfort. Pray that the Christians in the state would be voices of peace. Pray that God's kingdom would be spread as He wants it to be, and pray against the spread of Christianity being used for any political purpose. Pray that the eyes and hearts of the children would be protected from evil. Pray for people of wisdom to step in an provide relief.

Here are some relevant facts (as I understand them):
India is the world's largest democracy, and freedom of religion is granted.
There are anti-conversion laws where people cannot be forced to change their religion.
Orissa is the poorest state in India, where most people live in small villages, and vigilante justice is common here.

P.S. This area is not close to where Ben is right now.

Only so much

It's hard to understand the helplessness at trying to help someone who is truly oppressed, truly hurting, truly poor. To try to tell someone about a Jesus that loves them when they are so lonely.

You might remember Lakshmi, who helped us around our house in India. She did so much, and she was our friend. We left her, heaping upon her our linens, pots and pans, mattresses, food, more than she could possibly fit in her tiny home. It broke our heart to leave, knowing she'd never find another job that paid as much as we Americans could pay her, and knowing that even that wasn't really enough.

It broke our heart to hear through a friend that she had left, knowing her home was the only way we knew to find her. With no email or phone, how to do you find someone in one of the world's craziest cities?

It broke our heart to hear more about her situation - that her husband, who has never been kind to her, and lets alcohol get in the way of providing for his family - sold the vegetable cart we bought for her, so she could make some money.

It breaks our heart to realize again and again the uphill battle that women like Lakshmi face, and to realize that there's only so much we can do. That love and compassion aren't enough in a world so broken. That fixing one problem takes so much, and still leaves so much undone...

I hope that the impossible-ness of it all never quenches the love and compassion that God wants to offer through us. I hope that our broken heart never turns bitter. I hope that our faith persists - that God always has more love to give, more forgiveness to offer, more power to provide.

I hope that there is so much more we can do.

(I just spoke to Lakshmi on the phone. A friend helped Ben get in touch with her, and though it still hurts to know how much she's hurting, it does give hope to hear her voice, and we are so thankful for friends that love her in our absence.)

Foreign

Living as a foreigner in someone else's country is surreal. You are suddenly aware of all the things that make you stand out ... white skin, loud voice, tank tops, the confused look on your face, getting ripped off around every turn....

But no difference is more glaring than the ones that pop out as you parent your children alongside those in your host culture. Ben is in India now, and I laugh as I hear his stories, and now have enough perspective not to pass judgment, and just smile at the ways we raise our kids.

He had dinner with some good friends who have a 7 month old baby. While my 7-month-old ate pureed carrots and oatmeal, they hand their baby a chicken bone to chew on! Seriously. He goes to bed at midnight! No wonder people thought we were crazy when we insisted we had to get home to put our little guy to bed at 7:00 - that was before dinner!

I love it - the differences. How the things that I do because they are "right" make me look crazy in someone else's eyes. Maybe not crazy, but definitely Foreign.

Interesting Article on Fertility

Fat, Carbs, and the Science of Conception
This is a somewhat surprising article on how diet affects fertility. Bottom line - healthy woman (and probably man) equals better chances of conception, especially if conception problems are related to ovulatory infertility, which account for at least one quarter of all fertility problems.
I found this obvious-sounding study interesting because after having a lot of trouble getting pregnant with Simon, I got pregnant twice in India, and experienced more regular cycles in general (sorry to any of my brothers who might read this and find it to be too much info). As I read this article, a lot of things clicked for me. Even though I was relatively healthy while living in the States, and tried to follow appropriate healthy advice on slow carbs, etc., there were some changes that were inadvertently made to my diet that I believe really helped me from a reproductive standpoint.
First, almost all dairy I ate was full-fat. I ate less dairy in general, but all butter, milk, cheese, and ice cream had more fat in it than the healthy choices I had made back home - skim milk, low-fat ice cream, fat-free cottage cheese, fat-free yogurt, etc. And, while these choices may be healthier in general, it turns out that if you are trying to get pregnant, full-fat dairy is the way to go.
Also, I ate less red meat (when you see the cows eating garbage, you are less inclined to eat the cow), and all of my food was "natural" (sometimes too natural in my opinion), leading to less trans-fats, hormones, and other things that could mess with my body trying to do its job.
The interesting thing about my diet in India was that it felt less healthy. Steph and I made desserts more than Sarah Lee, and we cooked with butter all the time. But, since even these bad things were natural, I think it had a positive affect on my general health - and apparently on my ability to get pregnant!

Still not used to it

When you first arrive in India, there are many sights, smells, tastes, ideas, practices, and sounds that shock the senses. After a year of living among these things, many have become natural to me, but most still cause a double-take. Here are the things that have been "different" for me, and a rating of how "used to it" I've become. (1 is What?! Are you Kidding and 10 is So What?)

The Smell 6
On my first trip to India, as I stepped off the plane, I was overwhelmed by the scent, compounded by heat and humidity. It seemed everywhere I went, I was being assaulted by a mixture of food, body odor, sewage, and animal dung. Now, unless we are driving by a particularly bad area, I don't notice it. I do notice, however, when I'm in a place that doesn't smell!

The Food 7
Wow! After 5 years of eating Indian food and being married to a man who loves it and has a mom who cooks it well, I thought this was a lost cause. It seemed that time was not helping - I still hated it! In the past few months, I've actually begun to like it, and since pregnancy crave certain dishes. This is a wonderful surprise to Ben! Now before any over-eager cooks start heaping food on me, I still like it in moderation.

People Peeing Everywhere 5
Take a drive or a walk down ANY street and you will see any number of men relieving themselves against a wall, fence, field, train track, etc. You will see schoolgirls, peeing in front of stores, while their parents help them hold up their skirts. One time I saw a boy about 6 bent over in front of his house while his older brother used a bucket of water to clean his rear end. This has at least gone from "disgusting" to novel and humorous to me, but I am definitely not used to it! Also, as much as I care about equal rights, one ask to ask, where do women pee? They are apparently not allowed to pee outside.

Poverty 2
If I ever get used to this, hit me over the head with a Bible. People are suffering here. They do not have enough to eat. They don't wear shoes. Children are bonded, exploited, abused because they and their parents have no other options. People who are born with disabilities or into lower castes have no opportunities to advance themselves. Here's just one story.

Haijas 3
Haijas are eunuchs. They are biological men who are now women, either by a genetic anomaly or mutilation. They dress as women and use intimidation to demand money from people and businesses. They live on the fear that they instill in people, who believe that they have special powers to curse them. Sometimes, if they don't get the money they are demanding, they will become rough, or expose themselves to the person they are intimidating. When I see them, I go between fear that they will gang up on me (which they never have) to anger that they thrive on intimidation, to heartache at the life that they live. I cannot imagine believing that the only respect I am entitled to is because people are afraid of or disgusted by me. Some of these people were just troubled boys who didn't know what to do with who they are, and this is the life they've ended up in. Now, Simon and I pray for them when we see them, but I wish I could do more.

Rats 1
This is the one thing that could have ended this experience for me. If I had had a rat in the house, I might have come home. They are in the streets - I've seen several live ones scampering around, but mostly I see them dead, being picked apart by birds. Gross.

Bugs First a 7, now a 2
I was doing pretty well with the bugs, but I'm done now. So is Ben. We spend our evenings together killing mosquitoes. Roaches come out at night, and so if I have to go to the bathroom or get some water, I wait until morning because I don't want to see a roach in my bathroom or kitchen. When I was pregnant with Elijah, every time I'd get up sick in the middle of the night, I'd have to take a shoe in bathroom with me and kill roaches before I could throw up in peace. Gross.

Noise 4
I am hear kids scream, American music from 10 years ago (usually UB-40), birds screeching, buses roaring, vendors shouting, buzz-saws sawing, hammers hammering, dogs barking. Between the population, construction boom, traffic and animal life, this place is LOUD. I've always hated loud, so this has been tough. Sometime I go over the edge, but I've learned to tune it out, although I think it just makes me tired to hear everything going on around me all the time.

Men holding hands 5
They say it doesn't mean anything. I have some of my own opinions about this that are substantiated in some research, but I'll leave that be. The point is that men are very touchy-feely with each other, but you won't catch them touching their wives out in public. I have gotten used to this, in the sense that I don't notice it as much, but I'm not yet used to all the reasoning for it.

Cows in the Street 10
When Americans visit here, they take pictures of every cow they see. Now, I don't notice, don't care, but I am mindful of the poop they leave behind.

The Fact that I Stick Out 9
This has been a funny one for me. I've never really noticed the stares, or the fact that I dress differently than people here. I actually only notice it if I'm wearing Indian clothes - then I feel like everyone is staring at me. One time, someone overheard me using a Malayalam word with Simon and she said, "Oh, are you Indian," to which I immediately responded, "yes." She looked impressed, and then I said, "Oh wait, I'm not, but my husband is."

Reflections on Safety

I cannot begin to think about the changes ahead of me as I return home without giving some serious thought to the issue of safety.

As Americans, we are obsessed with staying safe. Scan the headlines and you will see references to safe driving, playing it safe, workplace safety, safe sex, lunchroom safety, etc. We protect ourselves from every bad guy, monster, germ, terrorist, or miscellaneous danger by recalls, warnings, advisories, and law.

As we were getting ready to leave for India, I had just had my first baby, so I was very concerned with safety. I made Simon sleep on his back, even when he probably would have slept better on his stomach. I took note of recalls on child products. I made Ben take our car seat to the fire department to make sure it was installed correctly. As a mom, I did my best to control everything I could about my child's environment for his protection.

When I got to India, every idea I ever had about safety was challenged. You have to be a new American mom moving to a third-world country to really appreciate how shocking this was. I spent $160 on a traveling car seat that I would never use once here. Not only did Simon not use a car seat, he spent most of his transportation life bouncing around in an open-air autorickshaw. There were no seatbelts. Then, I broke all of my safety laws by letting him ride a scooter.

All of these safety infractions were compounded by the intensity of the traffic here. When we weren't riding, we were walking, and that meant pushing a stroller through traffic, nosing into intersections, where no one was going to stop and learning how to best sprint to the middle of the road and wait there for the next two lanes to clear.

And, then there was dirt. Now, mind you, even when Sy was an infant, I have never been too paranoid about dirt or germs, telling myself it was good for his immune system (which I was either right about, or God has just been protecting him because in 2 years, he's only had a cold once). But, when you come to India, you realize you hadn't seen dirt yet!

The floors are dusty. Always. There are dead bugs which get eaten. If your kid wants to play in mud, you can't be sure he's also not playing in poop. If he walks down the street, he might get curious about the dead rat that is lying there. People touch him, all the time. And, yes, they are dirty, because there is dirt everywhere, and because water is scarce enough that bathing is not an every-day activity.

As an American mom, I am taught by Oprah and by Parenting Magazine and by Good Morning America that it is my job to control all of these things. As an Indian mom, I am shocked to learn there is little I can control. It didn't take long for me to turn into what I would have once labeled "reckless," but now call "realistic."

I wonder how these changes will affect my return home. How quickly will I get over resenting the fact that I have to strap my child in the back seat? How thankful will I be that anyone who comes in contact with Sy will be expected to meet certain standards of safety?

I know I must sound like I've gone crazy over here, and I do promise that I have continued to look after Sy's best interests. I have, however, enjoyed a certain amount of freedom in the Indian understanding that accidents happen. Not every tragedy is a reason for a lawsuit or a new law. I have enjoyed letting him explore his world from a front-row seat, even if it means I need to be extra alert to grab him if trouble comes.

It was shocking to me when I moved here and security guards, waiters, and shop keepers used to pick him up and hold him so I could take care of business. While, at first, Amber Alerts would sound off in my head, now when someone is nice enough to do that, I smile at them gratefully and watch Sy entertain them. (Here, kidnapping is not a big fear.)

I have learned to enjoy the freedoms that are offered here, and be as cautious as possible, while still taking advantage of the fact that legal and societal codes give Simon more freedom here.

Most importantly, I have had to practically accept that my faith for our safety is in God alone, not in my ability to control our environment. So, while I do my best to be the wise and attentive parent that God asks me to be, I thank Him every day for preserving our lives. (I have found that I have many more reasons to do that when I'm dodging buses, stray dogs, and speeding tractors on a daily walk.)

God has protected Simon from scary germs, malaria, cracking his head open on marble floors, snakes (which he saw on a walk and if I had seen I would have probably come home 6 months ago), one auto accident that we were in, countless others that we could have been in, dogs, motorcycles driving on the sidewalk, and more. I am so thankful that he has protected us so far, and will continue to trust him for the 5 remaining days, where I will have at least 10 reasons to thank Him for protecting us.

And, when we get home, I will keep trusting in His protection. Even when Sy is secured snugly in his car seat (screaming his head off) and there is not a mosquito in sight.

Beginning my Goodbye to India

One week from today, my life in India will be over. I will be sitting by a pool in Thailand, sipping something that is safe for pregnant women to sip. And, I will not miss this. But, there will be a day, and many, many moments, where I will miss this, and so I will begin this week to say goodbye to the country that has been my home for a year. Every day, I'll try to reflect on something that I will miss or anticipate or pray for. Indulge my ramblings - it's been a long, deep, happy, crazy, beautiful year. And I'm so glad it's coming to an end.

So,

Goodbye animals - everywhere of any kind. Forgive me, American animals when I don't treat you as people, because I now consider you to be a harmless part of the scenery, not someone who should lick me.

Goodbye traffic. I know I will see you again in New York or around construction sites, and when I do, I will try not to nose between lanes just because I think I can fit. I will come home to a car without a dent because it hasn't had to share rush hour with cows, tractors, ox carts, and other improvised vehicles.

Goodbye Lakshmi. You are a beautiful creation of a God who loves you. You have been my reminder that the gospel works in mysterious ways, and in ways that don't fit in with my American Christian expectations. I will look for you in heaven someday, and I can't wait to meet all the people you bring with you.

Goodbye festivals every other week. I have been amazed with what gusto preparations are made so very often. I will miss the color, noise, fireworks, and flowers that accompany each celebration.

Goodbye poverty. You will always be around, but not to this extent, staring me in my face every day. Goodbye beggars - thank you for reminding me what the Bible says about always giving to those who ask. Christians care about "enabling," but Jesus cares about mercy that doesn't make sense.

Goodbye noise. I will not miss you, but your absence will probably leave a void I can't yet anticipate. Dogs barking, engines roaring, people shouting, water pumping. I retreat to America, land of the free and home of the quiet. I will gladly use my tv that doesn't start at a volume that could knock me out.

Speaking of tv, goodbye channels Star World, Z Cafe, AXN, and Discovery Travel and Living. You rarely had much good on, but without you these past two months have been longer than they needed to be.

Goodbye Hathway Internet. I am sorry again for the way my husband screamed at you and threatened to picket your office. He really is a very gentle, kind man, and our friends in America would be shocked at his behavior towards you. Your services were so important to us, which is why our anger flared at the many, many, many times they were down.

Goodbye home delivery. I will miss you very much, as now I will need to load and unload all of my groceries.

Goodbye going to 7 shops a week. I will think of you with sentiment as I stand in line at Super Wal-Mart with diapers, groceries, toilet paper, interior paint, a DVD, and a diet soda.

Goodbye $25/month maid service. (For you Americans, I know, what a steal. For you Indians, I know I overpaid, but it was worth it.) I will try to relearn how to clean my bathroom, mop a floor, and figure out the vacuum cleaner. I know I can't keep you forever, but I will never forget you.

Goodbye to all the old ladies that grabbed Simon's face as if they were trying to see how easily he bruised. I hope that you understand that when a child screams, you've squeezed too hard. Reign it in a bit, or try using words like, "what a cute child."

Goodbye to the Westerners I've shared this experience with - Jim and Leena, Jonathan and Jen, Kevin & Steph - I've needed your perspective, your best attempts to love this country, and your bad days to balance out mine.

Goodbye Elijah. I leave your body here, which seems appropriate, but I will see you, my son, one day. Do you know you are already a big brother? Your life in heaven will be fuller than it could have ever been here.

Goodbye tiny hot water geyser. You have raised more negative feelings from me than anything else I've experienced here. I will not miss you, but thank you for being the cause of the immense enjoyment I will get out of every hot shower I ever get for the rest of my life. I'm sorry about the global warming I will single-handedly cause by these long, hot showers, but I will try to neutralize my "carbon footprint" by turning off the lights when I leave the room.

Goodbye $3 leg waxes and fifty-cent eyebrow threading. At least here, pain is cheap.

Goodbye to the freedom my son has experienced without a car seat. Goodbye to auto rickshaws. And goodbye to our scooter. Here, getting around is an adventure.

Goodbye Dominoes Pizza. You will be in America, too, but I will never eat you again. You have, however, sustained me on many a hungry night here, and for that I am appreciative. Goodbye cheap Indian food. At home, you are "hip" and "trendy," so I will have to pay a fortune to eat you, or make you myself.

Goodbye, goodbye, I could keep going, but I'll stop here for today. I love this place!

Today I Cracked

It's been over a year since I moved to India, and I must say, I've handled it like a champ thank you very much. Oh, I've had my moments, but I have held it together very well considering I am a foreigner in a chaotic, congested city where none of my rules apply.

Like this week. Ben has to go out of town again. Normally, that would make me upset. This time, I just say, it's okay, I'll be fine. And I meant it, which is the strange part.

Well, today, my composure left me. I'm blaming it on the hormones of pregnancy compounded by the anxiety of being on my own.

I was on my way home from a nice outing with Jen and Addie (whose arrival in Bangalore has been a significant blessing for me) in a rickshaw with Simon. Ben had made me promise that I'd just call a car, but I was feeling cheap, stubborn, and like I needed some fresh air.

I agreed to pay 150 rupees to an auto driver to take me home, which is not the worst rip-off in history, but more than generous. As we headed out, it became clear that my driver did not know where he was going, which was a problem because I wasn't too sure either. But, I had an idea, so I yelled at him for agreeing to take me to Ramamurthynagar when he didn't know how to get there, and I decided I'd be fine, because I was pretty sure I could figure it out.

I began to creep over the edge when we got to the road I knew we should take and it was closed. The guy kept driving, but he didn't know where he was. I called Ben (this is where the tears started to set in) and he told me I should get out and get a new auto. So, I climb out, hand the guy 100 rupees (I thought that was fair considering I wasn't home), gather Simon and our bags and walk over to a waiting gang of autos. One guy agrees to take me, but not before driver #1 comes up to get the rest of his money. Now, I am sitting in an auto in who-knows-where, surrounded by 6 auto drivers who all want me to give the guy more money. But I didn't have any small bills, and I didn't want to rifle through my wallet while they all watched.

So, I started crying. I wasn't scared. I was mad, tired, pregnant, frustrated, and just generally over it.

That was the moment I was supposed to have in my first week here, not my last. But after a year of keeping my cool, I thoroughly embarrassed myself in the middle of a road somewhere in Bangalore. Simon found it all very curious.

As I was crying, my new driver had mercy on me and drove me away from the giggling crowd, and he got the 50 rupees I was supposed to give driver #1.

54% of Women say Wife-Beating Okay

photo by danivenn

Seriously. On the front page of our paper today ran a story with this very headline (I've linked to a similar story), about a reliable study done on thousands of women in 28 states in India. The following are some of the sobering findings:

Over 40% of women surveyed report being abused by their husbands.

54% of women think that such abuse is justified for one reason or another.

According to these women, they deserve to get beat if they disrespect their in-laws or neglect their household chores or children.

51% of men think it is okay to abuse their wives.

Reading this obviously caused me to experience many emotions, and Ben had to deal with me being a tad cranky at men for a while. But, this is one of my more predominant thoughts:

The feminist movement has gotten a lot of crap from Christians. Fine, whatever. But, take a look at what is happening in countries where there is no feminist movement. So, you have to share your jobs, money, power with women, and children have to go to day care, and Hillary is taking over the world, and I only need to wear a bra if I want to. But, my son will grow up knowing that it is not okay to hit, slap, demean, ridicule, embarrass, or burn another person. And if the Good Lord gives me a daughter, she will grow up learning just where to kick the first guy who tries to hurt her.

Home of Hope

We just had the privilege to visit Home of Hope with our dear friend, Mr. Song. I could write pages on Mr. Song himself and the way he has given his retirement to the Lord, moved to Bangalore and serves as a more-than-full-time prayer warrior, encourager, and minister to the "precious souls" at Home of Hope.

Home of Hope is a home that takes in people off the streets of Bangalore. Most of them are very sick, many are in their last days. All of them have nowhere else to go. It is a heavy experience to visit this place, which is very organized and well-run, despite the challenges of a staff shortage and finding adequate funding.

These people are precious indeed, and we arrived, many lined up to be prayed for. Mr. Song pays special attention to those whose time on this earth is short, beseeching our mighty God for their salvation. It is so humbling.

Ben said it best, "If Jesus were here today, Home of Hope is where He would be." This place isn't about complicated strategies, glamorous programs, or lofty goals - it is about providing food, shelter, comfort, love, and dignity to people who have none of those things.

Please help Mr. Song continue to minister to these people. He is praying for short-term teams to come love and serve at Home of Hope. Anybody with a medical background, or even just a compassionate heart that would like to show Christ to people by bathing, feeding, and praying with them would make a tremendous difference. Please consider putting together such a team from your church or small group to come here. You will get such a vivid picture of Christ's love if you do.

The picture above is from New Ark Mission, which has fantastic stories of people who have been rescued from the streets of Bangalore, as well as ways that you can help. Please also follow this link to see some beautiful pictures of the reality of life at Home of Hope.

Gettin' Around

After a year of taking rickshaws everywhere around town, we have been blessed with a new mode of transportation - a Honda Activa Scooter. Ok, so this has topped my list of "things I'd never do in India," namely letting my son ride on a scooter in this crazy traffic, but....

Motorcycles and scooters are the minivans of India. Whole families ride on these things, with kids and grocery bags dangling off the sides. Ladies in sarees are adept at perching sidesaddle on the back of their husbands' bikes, but believe me, I am still clinging tightly with both arms and legs! Simon loves it, of course. We are just making the imminent return to a car seat seem worse and worse.

So, here we are on our family vehicle. Thank you so much to our neighbor and Crusade co-worker, Samuel James, for letting us use this while we are here. It has added so much convenience and independence to our lives, and has saved us a lot of money now that we live way out here in Ramamurthynagar.

Ben's doing a great job driving - I know it's stressful for him, but he's doing great. And I think I'm doing a great job not freaking out!

By the way, Happy Anniversary to us! It has been 1 year since we left America to come to India - one whole year since we've seen America or our families!

Happy Birthday Gandhi!

... and Kevin!

(photo by nilexuk)

This Week's News

I'm doing my best to keep up with the news both here and at home. There's a lot going on right now - Monks in Myanmar, Maoists in Nepal, Ghandi's birthday, Notre Dame's season getting flushed down the toilet - but these are a few stories that have gotten me thinking.

Are Mega-Preachers Scandal-Prone?, Time Magazine
This interesting article explored the many scandals in the world of famous evangelists - divorce, abuse, homosexuality, etc. David Van Biema, a religion editor for Time, raised the seeming connection between these scandals and Pentecostalism. The underlying question seems to be: Are scandals hitting pentecostal preachers because of a theological disposition, or because it's the pentecostal preachers who are in the media, and all the other denominations' preachers are sinning unnoticed?

I've been running in non-pentecostal long enough to know that this happens across denominational lines, but I do think a lot of times it is a specific theological inclination that leads those in ministry down the path towards scandal much faster. Van Biema quoted the editor of Charisma magazine as saying, "There's a saying, 'Your anointing can take you to a place where your character cannot sustain you.' I'm hearing that a lot more often these days."

Well, let me explore that statement for a second. The article places the emphasis on the first part of the quote - identifying the problem with a belief in the "anointing." I think the editor touched on something much more pervasive with the following phrase: "where your character cannot sustain you."

I am a good girl who loves the Lord dearly and my character can't even sustain me from snapping at my husband or losing my patience with my son. I certainly can't trust my "character" to protect me from the world's most attractive temptations. When we place our trust in our "character" (as we ministers, church-goers, and other do-gooders often do), aren't we really asking for failure?

I'd also like to draw attention to another funny quote, this one by professor of religion Anthea Butler. She attempts to explain why pentecostal preachers can make such successful comebacks to ministry after a scandal. "Calvinism is [God's] grace, one time. This is grace after grace after grace. You can mess up a thousand times." I just feel the need to point out that, in my understanding of Calvinism, God's act of grace was a one-time event, in which Jesus' blood did away with our punishment once and for all. However, it is precisely because of the "once-for-all" nature of his grace, that we can experience His grace over and over again, as we can experience his forgiveness for every sin.

Ok, enough said on that. Please leave your comments and let me know how I've gotten it wrong.

Youth lynched by mob in Bihar, Times of India

I've read enough of the Times of India to be terrified of ever going to Bihar. It seems nothing good happens there, and there are a lot of lynchings, killings, suicides, etc. (Bihar, in northern India, is among the least developed states in the country.)

This article is particularly disturbing. It tells the story of how some idols had been stolen from a local temple. The villagers were upset and asked the local witch doctor to use his powers to identify the culprit. He indicated that the thief was a young man named Ramesh (I have no idea if anyone yet knows who actually stole the idols). The villagers went crazy with rage, and since they couldn't find Ramesh, they turned their anger towards a 28-year-old man named Rakesh, and beat him to death while he protested his innocence.

Why can't mothers be legal guardians, asks Supreme Court, Times of India

This is fascinating. While in America, mothers are almost always preferred guardians of their children, in India, women do not have equal rights when it comes to child custody. If I read this correctly, it seems as if divorced mothers are allowed custody of their children, but not guardianship, which I understand to mean mothers can do all the work but not make any decisions about the child's well-being or future.

Apparently, in 1956, mothers were recognized as natural guardians by the government, but some rulings (as is the case in this story), go by a law written in 1890. Why it took so long to recognize mothers as "natural guardians" is beyond me. Why there is still some confusion on that issue.... I have no words.

A disclaimer: I could be getting his all very confused - read it for yourself and let me know if I'm off base.

In a small victory for women's rights, however, check out this article:
HIV+ mother gets child's custody, Times of India
In this story, a woman was infected with HIV from her husband. After he died, her in-laws (the parents of the man who gave her this disease), kicked her out of the house, called her unfit to be a mother, and got custody of her child. On a technicality, the court's ruling was stayed, and there will soon be a hearing to re-evaluate her case. Thankfully, the ostracized woman now has human rights activists now working on her behalf.

Minors in flesh trade cause concern, Times of India
This is such a sad and maddening issue, but the worst part (edited out of the online version of this article for some reason), is that in this country (maybe in other places as well?) it is believed that having sex with a child will cure AIDS. So, people infected with HIV/AIDS are having sex with children on purpose in a misguided (or malicious) attempt to cure themselves. It's so sick and so sad.