In Which Summer and my freedom begin to wane

A mere two weeks of freedom remain before I effectively begin my adult life. A full time job at our local middle school, teaching special education as a paraprofessional. (Praise to the One who provided this opportunity after a tough interview and a pool of very qualified candidates.) It my deepest joy to have finally realized, after months of prayer and wandering of mind, where the next step of the Journey has lead me.

My childhood and teen years long ago gave way to the inevitable adult reality in which I now dwell. But there was something in those brief years of love, chaos, and adventure known as my undergraduate life that was, in fact a mere dipping of the toes into icy water. Those simple years in which I was shielded from the angst of looming student loan payments, a search for a full time job, and the awkwardness of being an absolute minority as a mid- twenty something college graduate in a small university town.  I knew many of the realities for which I was destined, but I chose to live in the season I was given and thought very little about them.

Many of my dearest friends, about to embark on the new journeys of post graduate life themselves, have asked me if I was prepared for “real life” after graduating.

To which I respond, resoundingly and without hesitation, with a “No.” But I was right not to be.

If I learned one thing when I lived in South Asia last year, it is that one can never be truly ready for diving headfirst into an entirely unknown place, a new stage of life. It was in those precious days that I Iearned to lean on the Father, for all our preparations usually came to nothing, or had to be changed in the light of constant cultural misunderstanding, language barrier, travel difficulties and political uprisings.

Our obsession with preparedness as Westerners has led us to believe that we may not proceed unless we are ‘ready.’ And yet, my soul rests assured that the readiness that the Lord has called us to is simply to trust and obey him, wherever He leads.  I want to be, as those simple fisherman were when they followed Christ without abandon, leaving all certainty forever behind (though I, like they did, will most certainly drag my feet and often disobey). I am certainly not prepared to walk the dizzyingly crowded halls of angst filled teens. I am not prepared with the great deal of responsibility associated with loving and leading them well. I am not even prepared to teach, which is something that the Lord has so designed me for and bent me toward.  I am not even equipped to push back the darkness in the lives of dozens of children who are constantly abused or from homes where there is little to eat and sufficient money to sustain life is impossible to come by, or where addictions and struggles have dominated family life to the point that normalcy is a far off dream.  Yet I am determined to trust the Lord. I will fix my eyes upon Jesus ‘til “the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.”

And I confess, most brutally, that I have no idea how to do this. Pray with me as I learn continually to surrender and give away control.

I am thrilled to begin this season of life. As a working woman, diligently earning my bread, budgeting and living a bare bones, simple, community filled life.  Daring to dream great, impossible dreams and live as the Lord leads. Daring to believe that I might one day find my home among a people far away, among children who have great physical and spiritual need, among a community who has not yet heard the Truth.  

May I never lose sight of the precious goal—to know Him and make Him known.  Amen.

"Surely this is our God..."

Is this real life?

One year ago this, my not yet broken in leather sandals touched the dust of a beautiful land in the throes of a subtropical Asian summertime. That six month journey, traipsing over ever what seemed every hill and province of our faraway home changed everything. It's impossible to describe how we were altered. I a wcannot eat rice anymore because boxed rice is disgusting. I can no longer drink things with ice in them. My heart twinges every time I hear the faintest strain of music or a word of news from that foreign land. What a beautiful, broken place we were called to. Every day my heart aches to be back there again. It is now my weighty responsibility to do everything in my power to prepare every facet of my life for a career in permanent overseas service. So many debts to be paid (love those student loans). Graduate school (again). Become a certified educator. Take care of a few other not so minor things. Shouldn't be difficult, right? Above all, I want to preach the gospel faithfully in my every action and word.

Today my leather sandals now worn and packed with the dirt of many miles are resting in my new home in Bolivar, Missouri.

Where I graduated and recieved my diploma from Southwest Baptist University...

Where I moved apartments...and then moved once again....

            Where I began (and ended) a short, wonderful term as a substitute teacher for the Bolivar schools.

                         Where I continued to fall deeply in love with the profession of caring for children   with special needs.
                
 Where am currently on some version of a summer vacation...working part time as a nanny...volunteering...attending weddings...and loving on friends and roommates.

          Where I have taken up the part time profession of an "innkeeper" as various friends travel through and stay for a day, a week or a month at a time.

Where I am enjoying so many sweet, quiet moments of prayer, reflection and fellowship with my love, Jesus.       

 Where I will make my home, as a wonderful new opportunity has come up in the fall. (More about that soon...!)

I am staying. There were so many factors involved in my decision to remain here (until the Father calls me elsewhere or I am able to return overseas).

      --I have a wonderful church family. I am learning and growing so much with them and I love them deeply.
     --I have a wonderful group of girls who I have been leading in Bible studies for three years...they are now going to be in high school this fall and I want to see them through this time of transition.
--I have a deep love for the people of Bolivar. There are so many who are lost and hurting here. I believe the Father has placed me here as an "m" for this season of time...
--I have a deep love for the students of SBU. I am continuing to live with them, to walk in deep friendship with them, to pray for them and support them in every way I can. One of my deepest joys in that avenue has been to send out my dear brothers and sisters on their own journeys to six months in service all over the world. What a privilege it was to encourage and pray over them, to answer questions, and to assure them that I'll walk with them through tough transitions as they return.

The last six months have been a cataclysmic roller coaster of emotion.The first two months home were anything but ideal...unemployed, often ill and full of darkest doubt and fear about where I belong. There's nothing like being overseas and then returning to what can only be described as an alternate reality in the states to make you feel homeless. I had no idea until very recently that it would be possible to stay in Bolivar. I have longed to belong somewhere, as so many friends have gone on to jobs, schools, and other amazing opportunities around the world. I felt abandoned here. Why had He left me behind when everyone else got to move forward?

I think are a few things that I was to learn during this season. One, that my wild, traveling gypsy of a self needed to learn to be in one place for a change. And not just geographically. I needed (and still need) to learn to be still in every ounce of my being, and know that He is God. Not to be planning the next overseas trip or other adventure...but to learn how to remain here and trust Him while I watch others go during this season.

Some anointed conversations with dear friends in the last few months have led me to remember that we are not to feel at home in this world. We are citizens of another place entirely...and never will we feel comfortable until we return to our Father's side. I love getting excited with friends from the family of faith about how AMAZING our restored earth will be...everything that was good and wonderful about earth will be perfectly filled with the beauty of the Father.

When was the last time I paused to really think about that? To live in the reality that the kingdom is coming, and before we know it, we will be sitting at this feast, beautiful beyond our imagination, alongside restored people from all nations, living together and praising the Father all our days.
I think I'd like to go tomorrow. Those flashes of the kingdom to come are so tantalizing sometimes.
So why remain engaged here? Why not just strap in, sit back and be along for the ride until the Day comes?

For me it is because I want so badly for others to know what I know. I want my family to know. I want my neighbors to know. I want my coworkers to know. I want the residents of Bolivar, Missouri to enter the kingdom with me. I want every man, woman and child I met in South Asia to enter the kingdom with me. I long to say that my life has been focused in every aspect toward that goal. That all might know. That all might celebrate. That all might overcome depression, addiction, hurt, lust, and deepest pain to abide in True Love. I long to be able to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant" and take my place at the great feast.

“On this mountain the Lord Almighty will prepare a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine— the best of meats and the finest of wines. On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations;  he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove his people’s disgrace from all the earth. The Lord has spoken.  In that day they will say, “Surely this is our God; we trusted in him, and he saved us. This is the Lord, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.”  Isaiah 25:6-9

A Weekend Retreat...

Last weekend we had the opportunity to spend two days with the wonderful national women we partner with as well as the wives of many of our partners. I went into the weekend feeling tired and a little stressed because we were in charge of leading this retreat for the women, and I wanted it to go well so badly. I had no idea how much fun we actually would have! The theme of the weekend was Masterpieces: Created by G.o.d. We wanted to give the women some good teaching from the word and encourage them to relax a little bit away from their busy home lives. 

I was really excited to see that my friend R., a Cousin friend had come along with her sister in law to join us. On Friday night we learned a story from the word using henna storying. During this type of storying the leader tells the story to the group and then shows them a henna design that corresponds to the story. Our story was the story of the lady with the alabaster jar of perfume. After telling the story, the leader asks questions about what the listener thought about the story like what it teaches about the Father and the Son, what it teaches about humanity, and how they can apply this story to their lives. R. has had followers from our team pouring into her life for about three years. I think she knows that she needs to believe, but reluctance from her husband and mother are a huge barrier for her. It's really difficult for a Cousin woman to defy the wishes of her husband, and following definitely does just that. R. was fascinated by the henna design and quickly picked up the story to retell it again. She and I had a good conversation about what it meant that the lady with the perfume would make such a sacrifice for the son. R. was also able to participate in a small group session and hear about what the father is doing in each lady's life as well as spend some time in prayer with us. Unfortunately, she had to leave early the next day to visit a sick relative in the hospital. I know the father is working in her life, she has a lot of questions and a lot of knowledge about the truth. Please lift her up.

On Saturday night, it was my turn to lead a session. My topic was creative arts. I'm not a particularly “creative” person, at least when it comes to leading people in being creative. I had no idea what to do for an hour and a half. But the Father really blessed it... I talked to ladies about how the Father is so creative, which we can see in the beautiful way he makes everything. He gave us that same creative personality, a desire to make things beautiful, imagine and invent. The ways we exercise our creativity can be an act of worship. One of the primary ways people here enjoy being creative is through song. It's one of my favorite things about this culture...people love to sing and they're not afraid to do it in public, during the middle of a meeting, walking down the street, or whenever. So first, I had the ladies share songs of praise to the Father that they had either written themselves or just wanted to share with us. Our language teacher, B., who became a follower just a couple of months ago shared a song she had written herself. Another sister, whose family is from a Cousin background, shared a beautiful song that she had helped to write in the zakir style, the traditional Cousin music style. She and some other cousin background followers had a music workshop at our office where they wrote ten of these songs. Each of these zakirs are each translated stories from the word, from creation to the return of the son, told in the musical style of the Cousin people!

After sharing songs and testimonies, I had a small surprise for the ladies. I let them know that one of my favorite ways to be creative (and to exercise) is to dance. We moved all the chairs and had them line up to learn two Zumba dance (an American aerobic dance style) styles. I will never forget watching thirty three women laugh hysterically, their faces full of joy as they danced to Shakira and Ricky Martin, even those who were dressed in sarees. One of my closest national friends told me afterward that it was amazing to her to see women just let go and enjoy themselves to such a degree. “I've never seen them do that. (Women here) just don't do that,” she said. After we finished our dinner, a large group of them informed me that they wanted to dance more. Exhausted, but thrilled, I agreed. One of my teammates and I taught the electric slide, the macarena and the hokey pokey on a rooftop terrace. We stayed up late into the night on both nights, talking, laughing and sharing. Barriers of language and culture seemed almost nonexistent. I particularly enjoyed a hilarious conversation in our local language with a young sister who was talking about wanting to find her "life partner." She was genuinely concerned that she would not be able to get married before the son comes again. I jokingly assured her that if she sees the son coming, she might ask him to wait a little bit!

It was one of those times that you know you're never going to forget. Living here has not been perfect or easy by any means, but there are those moments that make everything so worth it. Being with dear sisters here who feel like family, crying with them, bearing one another's burdens is so worth it. I hope I have encouraged these dear women even a fraction as much as they have encouraged me! With graduation just two weeks away, the question I inevitably hear from national friends and others is, "What next?" I'm learning to be okay with saying, "I don't know. The Father knows." Living here has helped me to trust the father with my future because I have been living such an uncertain life out here. Nothing ever goes according to plan in South Asia. It's our way of life. Yet uncertainty requires us to place radical trust in the father for his provision, comfort and safeguarding. 

I'll be among you again soon, dear friends and family. Please be patient with me as readjust and occasionally answer you in a language other than English! It will be interesting to see what sort of reverse culture shock occurs. I'm trusting the father!

With some of our close friends at the Ladies' Retreat!

The group on the last morning...it's a closeup because I like the babies.

The view from my national partner's house...at a Thanksgiving party for her newborn niece.

A Tale of Three Villages...

A Saturday Teacher Workshop...
"Only three of you? Well, that will have to do." This was the response we heard from a slightly bewildered elderly headmaster, clad in a traditional white kurta. He frowned from behind his spectacles. They had been somehow told that eight teachers from America would be leading the teacher workshop. I laughed to myself, since these kinds of miscommunications are really frequent. We entered the small room with dirt floor and bamboo walls to begin our teacher workshop with about 25 men and women who teach kindgergarten through tenth grade. It's been good for us to see a variety of school settings, from those who are very well established with teachers who all have a bachelor's degree to those where teachers may not have gone past tenth grade. When we do workshops, Melissa and I trade off lecturing along with our national partner M. and our expat coworker. Our purpose is to facilitate dialogue among teachers about challenges they face and how those problems can be solved as well as introduce new topics like learning styles.  M. became really sick before the training, so for the first time, we went alone... It was so different than being at a training in our homestay village where we were well known, and people hardly bother that we're foreigners anymore. When you're going into a village for the first time...people are more than a little excited. Melissa and I took dozens of cell phone pictures with almost every teacher at their insistence. The training itself went well. This particular school was once run by believers, but is now a government school. When we came to the character education part of our lesson, we gave an example of how a character lesson can be taught using the story of the Good S.maritan from the Word. We instructed the teachers to listen to the story and then divide into two groups to act it out. Whoever could tell the story most accurately would be the winner. They became so excited, and immediately decided that the contest would be men vs. women. The men hurried outside and within minutes were acting out the scene of the robbers accosting the man on the road (their favorite part, because they got to hit each other I think) and the women went to a separate room to make sure none of the men stole their strategy. (For video of these short skits, ask me when I get back.) We gave the men the award for being most entertaining and the ladies the award for being most accurate (They even had someone act as the Son sitting under a tree telling the story as the action happened, I was impressed.) We hope that this is a good way to share the truth indirectly with those who may have no chance of hearing it otherwise. As far as we know, there are no believers in that village anymore... Our purpose in every village we visit is to make connections so that our national partners can continue to build good relationships there in the future. We do have something to provide in the form of teacher workshops...but we want people to know the Truth above all.
A Sunday Visit to our People Group....
Early the next Sunday morning we set out to the village of G. to visit the people from our high cast.e Neighbor people group. We were quietly recieved by Dr. S., who is one of the most respected astrologers in our state. He enthusiastically answered our questions about his people in broken English. We spent over an hour learning about the various remedies he prescribes to people who come to him with problems. Everything from difficulty finding a spouse to family problems to illnesses can be "solved" by the provision of a certain stone. Rubies, for instance, correspond to Jupiter, which is good for marriage difficulties. A stone can be worn in a ring or tied around the forearm. Other remedies might be prescribed, but wearing a stone is considered the "easiest," and thus is the most common remedy to any problem.

We took lunch in Dr. S.'s home with his very excited family members. We were happily accompanied by two of our national partners, wonderful older brothers in the Father who have been an indispensable source of love and encouragement for us as we navigate the extremely complicated high c.ste Neighbor culture. V. and his wife R. are a young couple from a neighboring country who have a vision to reach their high c.ste brothers and sisters with the Good News. B. is an older man who manages our office in the city and also and partners with V., R. and others to reach out to dozens of neighbor communities. Many have come to know the father because of these men, and we are honored to participate in the Kingdom's work with them. Please lift them up as they are often traveling and are busy with so many projects, they are often away from their families and are in need of more time to rest than they have!

After lunch, some community leaders led us on a tour of G. village. There are literally dozens of tiny mundirs or small temples dedicated to various gods around this community. At our final stop, we visted a large nom ghor (name house) where large groups of devotees gather to recite mantras (worship verses that are sung or chanted) to the gods. As we turned to leave the nom ghor, we were suddenly accosted by over fifty community members of every imaginable age, from tiny babies in their mothers' arms to a a sweet, very aged woman with very little hair and no teeth. They watched us at a distance, as if a little bit afraid as we waved and greeted them all. This tiny, stooped elderly woman was the only one who dared to approach us, as she stroked our white skin and chatted to us about where we were from. We are becoming very accustomed to such large crowds gathering to watch us, because foreigners simply do not travel to the interior villages in this region. We are not in a tourist area by any means and it is not uncommon for people to stop their work or stop in the middle of the street simply to stare at us. While the staring is a bit unnerving, and never ceases to be so, we understand that in this culture, staring is not rude, but simply an acceptable means of learning about a person. We were thrilled to be so warmly received and gain so much information about our people from Dr. S.
A Thursday Seminar...
 The next day, my expat coworker L. and I learned that we had been invited back to another village community nearby where we had held the teacher workshop the previous week to teach a session at a seminar about the importance of technology and the importance of learning English in the South Asian context. They sent a car for us and paid for all of our meals, and we decided to go in order to further the relationships our national partners have in that community. All we were told was that we would teach for about 30 minutes each on these two subjects. We had no idea what to expect (which is the usual thing living here). We arrived a little bit late, to find over 70 students of this technology school waiting for us. We were given a seat a table at the head of the room and served tea and snacks, and given the traditional gamosa, a red and white towel that is a symbol of honor for any respected guest. Our co-lecturer was an older Asian man who is a professor at a nearby college. The seminar was mostly conducted in our local language, so it was pretty awkward when we began to teach in English and realized that 99 percent of our audience did not understand what we were saying at all! The seminar had something to do with developing one's "soft skills." Everyone seemed to understand what these were, but no one ever gave any definition of what "soft skills" actually were. We tried to relate what we were speaking about to "soft skills," but that was nearly impossible since we have no idea what that term means.

I was then literally begged and half forced by our program's emcee to sing a song. Since L. refused to sing, I was required to sing "just two lines, please madam!" The only song I could think of to sing was "Your Love is Strong" a believer's song by artist Jon Foreman. I was highly embarassed, as I absolutely never perform anything, especially a song alone in public, but being asked to sing or give a speech without warning is a really common part of our culture, and it is always impossible to say 'no.' Yet later, when we were taking lunch with some of the school's staff at a local restaurant, one of the men asked me whether or not I was a 'professional singer.' That is by far the funniest question I have been asked while living in South Asia...and there have been some good ones ("Are poor people available in America? Are you friends with Justin Bieber? Is Barack Obama your father?) I am reminded as we are rushed off from town to village, seemingly all over the state we live in, that every single relationship we build is significant. We are bringing the presence of the H.S. into these people's communities in an area where the enemy rules people's lives. Even if we are not able to speak a single word of Truth, we know that the people we meet, from small children to old men and women were created to worship the One who lives inside of us. Who else will battle in pr.yer for these people and their families? We constantly intercede for them and ask that the father will send many more in our place when we have gone in just a few short weeks.

I love the people of this nation. So many of them have become members of my second family. They have cared for me in illness and great difficulty, they have helped me to navigate a totally unfamiliar place and helped that unfamiliar place to become a home for me. It is going to be unimaginably difficult to leave them behind. 

He Masquerades as an Angel of Light...

October 12, 2011

Greetings from (still) hot, humid, South Asia! The weather has changed a little bit, we're having our version of fall, which is still really warm before we begin to wear our jackets later next month. We're hoping not to have our AC on at Thanksgiving this year. So much has happened in this first part of this month. I got really ill for about a week and a half at the end of September and ended up in the hospital (now that's an interesting cultural experience!), but thanks be to the Father, I'm fine now. The work has been incredibly busy with research, making more connections in our community, and preparing for teacher workshops (more about that in my other post). Next week we're hosting two volunteer teams at the same time, and all of us are taking different roles in facilitating that. I've been assigned, along with a national partner to lead several middle aged doctors on a tour of our city and shopping this Monday. I also have the wonderful opportunity to organize three creative workshops two weeks from now- an expat woman with a journalism degree is arriving to help conduct them. Lift us up, as this month is busy nonstop!

We've been diving into research on our people group, who are an unreached, unengaged high caste group. In addition to traditional religious practices, this group is heavily involved in astrology. Astrologers from this group attend school to be trained in learning the movements of the planets and what they believe those mean for human life. If you are ill, if you're doing poorly in business, or if any calamity occurs, it's because of the way the planets are aligned. When a baby is born, an astrologer will prepare his or her horoscope on a scroll of paper as long as a grown man with a detailed version of the events of their future life- which years will be good, and which years will hold problems, and what rituals can be done to avoid the consequences. We've been meeting with a national here in our city, who is something of a historian for the people group, yet much of what he knows has never been written down. He recently published a short book about the history of his people and chose to translate it into English for us! He and the members of his family are really people of peace, and we're learning a great deal from them! Melissa and another expat partner were able to visit a village where several noted astrologers live and were really well received by several families there. We hope to stay overnight with one of those families soon. We're doing visit to a different village this weekend in order to begin building relationships there so lift us up in regards to that. Our coworkers are looking for practical ways to engage these villages by meeting them at the point of their need. This might look like Melissa and I leading a teachers' workshop in a village, or bringing national partners to train locals about water purification. Ask the Father that we can meet their needs in an appropriate way that builds relationships that lead people to Truth.

We have just finished two weeks of “Neighbor” holidays known as pujas. Children are released from school for these two weeks, and retailers all over the state have a hayday with special puja sales. Every family goes to buy new clothing and gifts for friends and relatives. Huge tents made of bright orange, pink and purple fabrics begin to line the road. These tents are where the idols to the goddess of power are housed. Each neighborhood has a puja committee that is assigned to create the most elaborate idol display possible, and people come by the hundreds of thousands from all over the state to travel from tent to tent. Each tent has food available for everyone who comes, such as payok, a sweet rice pudding with raisins and cashews. The atmosphere is hugely festive throughout the week, with music blaring from loudspeakers and thousands of smiling faces. During the day, people sit at the tents and watch the worship rituals taking place, led by temple priests who bless worshipers who offer incense, food, money and marigold flowers. At night the city is full of thousands of colored lights and bright displays in businesses and homes. It's hard to describe because nothing like this exists in the West. People's lives come to a total stand still for two weeks to participate in this worship celebration. When the puja is finished, huge crowds flood the streets to carry the idols to the large river in the city, where they throw them into the water. The idea is that the idol will eventually disintegrate and the goddess will become one with nature again. One man explained that people believe this goddess literally comes to dwell inside the idols of her. They believe that she, the goddess of power, comes and dwells inside of them, and cleanses and purifies them. His words sounded disturbingly similar to what a believer might say. Yet we know from the lack of peace we see in our Neighbor friends' lives that they are in fact serving that which is evil. It is heartbreaking how unaware they are.

As I saw the smiling faces around the city, I was struck by how the Enemy deceives. To a casual observer, the puja celebrants are gloriously happy as they eat and sit with their families in their beautiful new clothes. Children are thrilled to have the time off school and everyone is traveling to other areas to be with family. All our friends were asking us whether or not we had enjoyed the holiday, but I struggled with what to say. (I settled on saying that I thought the lights were very pretty.) One day, I visited a worship tent in a neighborhood where a young friend of mine lives. She led me by the hand inside to see the elaborate display of life size idols against a large diorama and hundreds of candles. Someone thrust a dish of rice pudding into my hands and instructed me to remove my shoes. She folded her hands before the idols and closed her eyes and said “We'll pray now.” My heart broke again. I explained to her that I couldn't pray, because my god doesn't stay in that place. Our language barrier prevented me from saying much more at that point. If I knew more of her heart language, I would have told her that I worship One who does not live in temples built by human hands, and He is one who is jealous, and will not share our adoration with any other. That is what keeps me going here. The enemy's power is strong, and these people, whom I have grown to love, holds them in chains. How I long for my young friend, and her family and the people in her community to be free! They are enslaved to rituals that will never save them. There are 30 million people in our state, and less than a million call themselves believers. The workers are so few. Moral relativism runs rampant, and most of my Neighbor friends believe that the Son is just another among many. “It's all one power” says a friend of mine regularly. I truly believe that hearts here will never change unless the father sends dreams, visions and miracles to many. Additionally, Neighbors need to see others who have committed their lives to the Son and are maintaining their community identity. Most come to faith and are forced or choose to leave their communities, and are considered to be traitors. Family and community ties here run stronger than I as a Westerner could ever possibly imagine. All major decisions must be consulted upon by your family and the wise members of your community. The Neighbor's holy books say that the purpose of a person's life is to strive to be united with G.d. Yet most have never read these books and do not believe that such a unity is possible. Ask that the Father would open eyes and hearts to see that it is possible to know Him and that he'd raise up thousands of more passionate Followers who are willing to set an example. 




Beautiful kids at the local Salvation army school...



My latest Henna design...not done by me. This is Creation to Son!





Our gatekeeper's niece and nephew, sweetest kids ever!





With my Cousin friend R...girls' day out!

One of my coworkers' sons...10 months old. I might be a little baby obsessed.



Teachers in action at the workshop...



Teacher workshop participants!



Our second official teacher training!

I don't know why, I just really love rice fields...

Oh South Asia, You Never Fail to Surprise Me.

(Wednesday September 7^th)

Today was literally the craziest day I have had here. With three months' experience in dozens of different homes, towns and cities, that's saying something. The day began innocently enough, with a skype date and printing off some education surveys to distribute at my friend Swata's school, which is down the street from our office. I walked into the large, really new looking green ediface, not really sure I was at the right place. I explained to the man at the admissions desk who I was and where I was from. I had really just wanted an excuse to see my friends and to see what the school they taught at was like. I then met the Vice Principal. The last school Melissa and I visited has an extremely skeptical and questioning vice principal. This man was her utter opposite. From behind his large black spectacles, his eyes widened as I gave my explanation about wanting to observe some classes to learn about the education system here, “Oh! You're from America! Our friendly country! Yes, of course. Come!” I was soon announced as a “surprise” to a group of class 12 boys studying physics. They all stood, as one, and smiled broadly as I entered. Their teacher graciously allowed me to observe her lesson, and, for the most part, the boys seemed to be paying attention other than occaisional stolen glances at me. No matter how long I live here, it never fails to surprise me that the color of my skin should be a novelty. I have often wished that I could simply blend in, but my nationality and race also open the doors to relationships that I would never be able to have if I were a national. So though I don't wish to be loved and instantly accepted because I come from the “friendly country,” I realize the value of my work here for opening doors for nationals to do the same work I'm doing long after I'm gone. That's the goal out here, to work ourselves out of a job.

Forty five minutes later, I was placed into another class, this time class 11 trigonometry (again, totally out of my league in terms of subjects I understand). I was pleased to see five girls in this class, and I sat on their side of the room opposite about 19 boys and observed the lesson. After the lesson, the teacher asked me if I had “any speech to give” for the students. As usual when put on the spot in this culture (an almost daily occurrence), I turned the question to the students and asked if they had any questions about schools in America. They were incredibly excited to hear what I had to say. Later, two of the girls were awarded a prize for getting perfect marks on their last exam, and of course I had to hand them the gift. Two of the girls sitting behind me quietly asked if I celebrated Christmas in America. When I responded that I did, and was starting to tell them what we do on Christmas, they said “We know. We are also believers. What fellowship do you go to?” I have never had a stranger apporach me and respond that they were also a believer, so needless to say I was excited. However, just as I was about to join the girls on their lunch break, the teachers pulled me into their lounge for tea and conversation. All of them are well educated and speak excellent English. I answered questions about our work here and my own background. After realizing that I spoke their language as well, the chemistry teacher and the Economics teacher ganged up on me and insisted that I sing them a song in the national language and our local language. (Being asked to sing a song for someone you've just met is also a really common thing. In fact, many people here tend to burst out into song spontaneously and without regard for their surroundings. It's one of my favorite things about this culture.) I sang them a believing song in the local language that our homestay mother taught us, as well as another that I know in the national language (which I do not speak), praying as I sang (and as my chemistry teaching friend recorded my voice on her cell phone) that they would somehow understand what I was singing and know Who I truly represent. Singing believing songs is a great opportunity to share the truth in public settings when speaking it directly is nearly always forbidden.

I bid my friends goodbye and left our phone number and contact information for the vice principal in case he wants to invite us back to the school for a training. I have the feeling I'll be welcome again there any time. I headed across town to a local department store to meet some of my friends for their lunch break. A few days ago, Melissa and I met for a coffee there with Liz to discuss our education work, and stopped in the grocery section. I asked one of the female employees if they had any liquid milk (most people use only the powdered kind), and her face brightened as she asked me if I spoke her language. We talked for a few minutes as other workers began to surround us, also smiling widely. Within a few minutes, we had exchanged contact numbers with two of the women. I love how the father brings us new friends out of nowhere, even when we're not expecting them. (I met my teacher friends when I was eating lunch alone at a local restaurant before a meeting one day. They looked like they might speak English, so I smiled and greeted them in their language. Of course, the continual response is total shock that I know their language, and I instantly have a new friend.). So on Wednesday, I went back to the department store to join Ritu and her friends for their lunch break. We had a hilarious time, sharing chicken chow mein and egg rolls (not typical local cuisine, but many people eat other types of Asian food as a snack). There was so much laughter as we attempted to communicate. Melissa joined us and we took photos together before they had to return to work. Ritu seems to really enjoy my company, as evidenced by the fact that she now calls me several times a day. She's so funny and full of life, and I really want her to know the Father. It's a little difficult to understand her over the phone, but we're trying to make plans to hang out again because I told her I want to spend a lot of time with her. I feel that Dad has shown me several ladies he wants me to invest in, all of whom are unbelievers who I met randomly. As crazy as our days always are in the city, no meeting or interaction ever seems to be without purpose. Even the auto drivers who are consistently rude and try to charge us double the fair price every day teach me patience!

After lunch with the girls, Melissa, Liz and I headed over to meet our new language teacher. It took us several weeks to find a good helper here in the city, but B. is really good and willing to teach us what we want to know, rather than giving us a list of things she wants us to know, which was the method of our home stay teacher. B. and her husband are from a Neighbor background, but B. is really seeking the truth. We believe that she'll probably make a decision to follow within the next month or two. What she really needs most is to talk to another national woman who has made the same decision to follow from a different background. Ask that the father would provide through the women at our NGO and others we know who can invest in her. Her husband does not have any interest in the truth at this point in time. While Melissa had her lesson, I did some exploring around the neighborhood. I ended up across the street from B's house in front of a small, one room bamboo house with some women who were sitting in their yard with their small children. We chatted for about forty five minutes. As I was sitting in the yard talking to these women, B's husband came from across the street and asked what I was doing. I had met him just an hour before, but I somehow didn't recognize him. Thus, I politely looked away and said hello and he walked away. B. later told me that he had wondered what I was doing talking to their neighbors, who are strangers to me, but was too embarassed to keep talking to me when I didn't recognize him! One of my favorite things to do is follow random people into their homes to take tea after talking with them at their shop or in their front yard. In America this is an incredibly bad idea, and would surely be unsafe, but it's how we make friends! Once you have been granted entrance to someone's home, you are really a part of their life. Culturally, they consider you to be a close friend, even a member of their extended family, once you've spent time in their home.

So, naturally, Melissa and I ended up in these womens' home for tea. We were greeted inside by a goat and a chicken, and were led to the sitting room, which for most people is also their bedroom. It was growing dark and we needed to leave, but it's hard to say no when kind people are offering you tea, biscuits and fresh fruit. It was so good to spend so much time investing in nationals and building new relationships, I'm more than glad we have a day like this built into our schedule. I love being at the point where I can walk down our road or down the street by our office and have friends up and down the road greet me as I go. We may live in a city of three million people, but we are still, undoubtedly, a part of a community.

**An update on our language teacher. She chose to believe this week! Praise Dad for His unending faithfulness.**

At lumch with our national partners celebrating Melissa's 22nd Birthday!

I'm really obsessed with all the cute children here.

Celebrating Eid at my friend's house! Note the saree. 

Hanging out at youth group!

Aytu Moor Jibwon (This Is My Life)

Hey dear friends and family,
It's been about a month since I've written, but not for lack of trying! Our internet connection is really terrible here. Luckily for you all...I typed my blog posts. Today you get two. We're doing really well. Still really healthy, neither Melissa or I have gotten seriously sick, and I am beginning to feel at home here. We've been living in a city of three million people since early August. So, without further ado...this is my life.

Moor Jibwon (My life)

I live in South Asia. I work at an NGO with some of the most amazing national believers in our state. I train teachers. I live with three hilarious and amazing American women. I take a bicycle rickshaw to work every day. I eat more white rice than is healthy for any person to eat (and my portions are still only about a quarter of what a national person would eat!) I walk several miles on a daily basis. Sometimes children follow me down the street. Sometimes I take beggars out for lunch. I spend a lot of time in people's homes eating rice and taking tea and trying to speak the language. I make new friends on the street, in restaurants, in shopping malls, wherever Dad brings them to me. Some speak English really well, some don't speak a word. Every day is a totally different adventure.

You may ask if we have any sort of routine out here.. my answer is yes and no. In a large city that is constantly in motion where traffic jams, power outages and political protests often completely alter the schedule of your day, nothing is typical. I am rarely surprised and usually try to expect that things will not happen as I want them to. My friends will probably not be on time for a lunch date. My meeting at the office will probably not start until an hour or so after it was slated to. The bus I'm waiting for will probably not arrive on time. This is simply not a time oriented society.

On Sundays, we attend local fellowships with our national friends. Recently, a few of us have been participating at my coworker Madonna's fellowship. We're even performing in a drama and singing songs with the kids on Youth Sunday next week. The service is very different than what I'm accustomed to, but I love the way we all gather for tea and don't just rush away when the service is over. Sunday afternoons are always different. Last week, for instance, Melissa and I went to the home of a shopkeeper who lives on the road next to our office. Melissa met them on our community day last week (see her blog if you want the full, hilarious story on that!) This man is really a person of peace, and he has really adopted us as his daughters. He has repeatedly defended us. For instance, when I arrived at their storefront to meet them for lunch, my rickshaw driver wanted extra money because it was hot. As I was about to give it to him, our da-da (older brother) rushed up, handed the driver his own money for my ride and berated him for asking for money. Another particularly hot day, Melissa and and I were walking by and couldn't find a rickshaw home. He insisted we sit down in chairs on the sidewalk in front of his store until he found a ride for us. He then instructed us not to give the man any money, because he would pay him when he returned that way. I can't emphasize enough how once you're in someone's home, you're really a part of their life from that point forward, whether you ever visit again or not. Our dada's language is really difficult to understand because he's from a different state, but his wife is a local and I understand her well. They have three primary school aged children and are so sweet.

On Monday mornings, twice a month, we have big meetings with all of our national partners about the work that is going on. There's health work. Water sanitation. Community development. CP-ing. Education. Soon there will be work in anti-trafficking. Our partners focus in different villages all around the state, and of course in our own city. Melissa and I each attend one of these meetings every month. It's incredible to see the progress that's being made and the way that different teams are working together to promote Dad's message in every community. Even our teacher trainings will mostly be conducted in areas where other teams like community development have gone before. It's a really cool strategy, and so encouraging. People are getting dunked and house fellowships are springing up all over the state. In the last five years, approximately 5,000 new fellowships, typically averaging around 20 people per group have begun!

On Tuesday mornings we focus on our people group research. We've asked many of you to lift up our work with this group. They are totally unreached and unengaged. They're upper class orthodox Neighbors who also believe strongly in astrology.We're currently working on gaining a meeting with a community leader in a nearby village. Our partners believe he is the key to reaching this group, because he knows everyone and is so well respected. As our supervisor says, there's a reason that groups like this are unreached- they are hard to find and really difficult to gain access to, and countless others have chosen different, easier groups to reach. We're partnering with a couple of nationals at our NGO who have visited this village and shared the truth before. They know who we are and are fully aware of Who we follow. Yet they are really interested to have foreigners come and observe their culture and promote tourism to their areas. As modernization touches even the most interior of villages all over our country, young people are leaving their homes in favor of education, well paying jobs and city life. They do not want to go back to life in their villages, and leaders in this particular village fear that their heritage will be lost. Since Dad is the creator of every unique culture, we're all about helping them realize that goal as we declare the truth. Ask that the people in this village will realize that the Son is not foreign, but the very one their hearts have been longing for as they seek truth. On Tuesday afternoons we meet with our supervisor for mentoring. We're studying the word together, and it has been really encouraging as we can share struggles and be transparent with her.

Wednesdays are our community day (see one example described in detail in my other post). The idea is to stay away from the office, our teaching work and our “official” duties for an entire day each week and be out practicing language, meeting friends and building new relationships. Wednesdays never fail to be exciting.

On Thursday mornings, twice a month we teach home school to two enthustiatic four year olds and two six year olds. They are the children of our supervisors and another American who lives here. Lately, we've been teaching P.E. It's absolutely hilarious. It's a great opportunity to practice what we're teaching teachers in our trainings...things like transitions between activities and behavior management, like when one of your preschoolers gets really upset because they've lost a game. I love the opportunity to be able to refresh our friends in this way, so that they as busy moms can get out and enjoy a little of their own community time. On Thursday afternoons we meet as an education team to plan curriculum and develop resources for the teacher trainings we will lead throughout the semester. The idea is to have a file of information and a ready to go lesson plan file for each subject so that anyone after us can come and teach what we have taught. Schools here are unbelievably different than Western schools. From kindergarten onward, every ounce of information is learned by rote memorization. One way that we're trying to insert the truth into what we teach is by talking to teachers about character education lessons and using stories from the word to illustrate these qualities. Recently, Melissa and I went to teach a character education lesson for class 9 and 10 girls at a local school where most of the children are unbelievers. We taught about love. After asking them what they thought love is and receiving answers like “Love is magic!” I read them the best definition of love I have ever heard- from the love chapter in the Word. We then told them the parable of the good samaritan and had them act it out in small groups, making it a competition to see which group could tell the story most clearly. The girls loved it. They laughed hysterically the entire time, but they really seemed to understand the point. We talked about how love is not a feeling, it is a choice we must make every day. What an incredible opportunity to be sharing truth in an indirect way, with girls who have probably heard other stories from the word but are not from believing backgrounds at all (their school is run by a believer). Ask that we can be creative as we seek more opportunities to share truth with students and teachers.

Fridays are our days off, which are wonderful times for renewal with the the father, as well as a good chance to sleep in and do something like go out for coffee. On Saturday mornings, we enjoy house fellowship as a group of expats. It's been so good to be challenged and held accountable by one another as well as intercede for each other and for the relationships we're building in the community.

All this semblance of a schedule is obviously intermixed by relationships. There are so many people who want to know us, who want our time. Yet I have noticed that Dad directs me to certain people... on Melissa's birthday, we were leaving a meeting at a local school when a boy and his brother, who were begging held out their plate for money. I don't always ignore beggars, but it's usually unwise to give them money. Sometimes we carry food to give. Something stirred me about these small boys for some reason, and Melissa and I ended up taking them out to lunch. When they led us to a small restaurant, we walked in with them and they asked if there was rice. The shopkeeper proceeded to shoo them away, and I told him quickly that we would pay. Their lunch of fish, rice, potatoes, vegetables and soda cost a little over three dollars. The older boy, about seven years old, conversed happily as he devoured his entire large plate of rice. We parted ways after lunch and Melissa and I headed back to work. Dad reminded me that day that I need to allow my "schedule" to be interrupted by His people in need. What kind of believer am I if I'm always rushing off to a meeting or to the next thing I have to do and ignore the hurt in the people around me? A simple thing...but kind of revolutionary for me. 

Our first teacher training participants! (In early August)

Class seven girls at a school I visited last week. They made me sign autographs.

The beautiful BP, we took a boat ride for our national partner's birthday!

Isn't this the most ridiculous thing you've ever seen? What's more, these men were all posing for us.

My buddy, A. She's the best.