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Its Been a Week.

2 Feb

Its been a week since we flew home. Its been challenging.

It is so easy to get caught up in the way of the American life. Buying, watching, time consumed. My week has been filled to the brim with home work, auditions, and school. I have been struggling to have time to think about my trip and what I have learned.

Did you know that Hindu’s have over 330,000,000 gods and goddesses?

I’ve been learning that we as Americans have just as many. We call ours TV, books, computers, facebook, food, money, friends; I’ve been learning that we have just as many gods. I don’t bow down to them or sacrifice animals to them as I saw them do in India, but I spend more time thinking and spending time with them than God.

I’ve been learning  that I need to be a “spiritual firework”.

There are some pretty dark places in India from my perspective as a Christian. We went to the temple for the goddess of death and destruction and it was a very hard place to be in. A place that showed me just how much people need hope in their lives. It reminded me that this hopelessness and “darkness” is everywhere.

In India, we saw so much darkness and it weighed heavy on our hearts because of the incredible poverty and oppression. We went to a church that was in the middle of a neighborhood surrounded by religious strife. Hindu’s on one side, Muslims on the other and the  church right in the middle. Yet, despite the religious strife, the church was reaching out to it’s neighbors like spiritual fireworks to bring hope.  Seeing the kids in this project was life changing.

Then I met the beautiful girl, Rubina, who lived in a home with no roof, in a neighborhood that was violent against her faith. Her family was so joyful despite the circumstances and they were a light to their neighbors and brought hope to a dark place. Her family was like a spiritual firework.

Then there is my sponsor child, Remya, who is the most joy filled person I have ever met. She is loving, and funny, and her smile can light up a room.

But even here, there is darkness. Her brother is recovering from Polio and has a hand that he cant use. Her dad works cutting coconuts down from a tree for a dollar per five coconuts and her situation is hard, yet, because of Christ in her life she lives with joy.  She is like a burst of spiritual fireworks that lights up a dark night.

Darkness isn’t hidden India. It is everywhere.  I saw it in the streets, I felt it in the temple, I experienced it the night we went to church and the lights went out while we sat there.

We hide it in America. We hide it in our “gods”, and say its the stuff of movies or ghost stories and we ignore it.

But its real, and it’s everywhere.  At school it’s in the depression and the confusion, the lies of society and the hurt of the lonely.  We search for something real, but the darkness keeps us from finding it.

But if the light of God can shine in India, penetrating the darkest neighborhoods and the worst conditions, where the devil runs wild; why don’t I shine my light that bright here? Why have I not been the “spiritual firework”?

It’s time.

The Most Beautiful Girl in the World

24 Jan

We visited a church sandwiched between a Hindu neighborhood and a Muslim neighborhood. The children were just alive with the love of Christ, you could see it in their smiles. I was on the face painting team for the day, and what a blessing to be able to see each kid’s smiling face as I make them in to a tiger (a generous title). One little girl, after I painted her face, grabbed my head and kissed my cheek. My heart melted many times that day. I also met a girl who, with her friends, played a wrist cutting game, to see who could cut more. My heart broke many times that day.

In the midst of all this joy and pain, in a little home about a 5 minute walk from the church lives the most beautiful girl in the world.

Her name is Rubina. Her brother is a sponsored child and so we were brought to his home. Our group crouched through the 4 foot tall door into their mud walled, thatch roofed home and we were stunned that such beauty could live in a place like this. She smiled with love and greeted me with a “Hello sister!” She could take anyone’s breath away with her smile alone.

Her father spoke, he began to tell us his testimony. He told us that while working, he fell off of something and became paralized. The doctors told him they couldn’t help him. For 6 months he was paralyzed. His son then went to the Compassion project and asked the staff to pray over his dad. The staff went to his home and prayed over his father. The dad said, I then believed in Jesus and I was healed. It took six months to fully heal, but he knew it was Jesus that healed him.

We asked him what struggles their family faced, and he explained that their roof leaked because it was made of thatch. They wanted an asbestos roof instead. Rubina smiled as he told his story.

Among all of this hardship, this beautiful girl could smile and say that one day she would be a bank manager, and her brother would be a computer engineer.

I struggled with how this beautiful creation of God could live in a home without a proper roof. How she could stand and say, in perfect English, that she would not only be a banker, but manage the bank. She dreamed sky high while surrounded by complete darkness, and told by her culture’s religion that she was worthless.

Why was I allowed to be born in the United States? Why were His plans for me to live in the US, instead of Rubna? I doubt I will ever know.

We asked the father what we could pray for. He, without hesitation said, “Spiritual growth. We must grow in our relationship with Jesus. After that, God will take care of the rest of things like the roof and other needs.” I can only pray that I have half of the faith that that family has, and dream half as much as that beautiful girl.

My Special Friend

23 Jan

“Dear Remya, my daughters name is Julia, she would like to be your special friend.” That is how, eleven years ago my very first letter to Remya started, I was too young to write, so my mom wrote for me.

Meeting her was eleven years of anticipation and expectations. And that day blew them all out of the water. If ever a day was perfect, it was yesterday.

She held onto me the whole day, we went to a zoo, the kind where the monkeys ran free, and goldfish were so unheard of, they were in the aquarium. We had pizza for lunch, her first slice of pizza. Then we went to an old Buddhist temple where the monks used to live. Small square rooms carved out of a rock hill. Remya and I climbed to the top where we could see all of Bhubaneswar. We sang her happy birthday.

We went back to the hotel and talked some. As we asked questions, we found that her oldest brother had just started to recover from Polio this year. Her mother has no work, and her father cuts down coconuts for a living. He receives about twenty cents per coconut. That is what the family lives on. I had no idea that her situation was that rough, it was hard to hear.

Remya handed me a photo album. She had pictures of her family, and the first pictures I had sent her, from when I was very small. It was funny to see all of the history between us. She also had pictures of her friends the “Sixen Beauties”. I had sent her a picture of me and my best friend in a field a while back, which she had photo shopped over, so that it was her in the field with me. We got a big kick out of that. I learned that she wanted to be a teacher for computer sciences.

Remya had also brought her file with her. Every Compassion child has a file, it includes their grades, their medical records, and every letter she and I had ever written to each other in it.  It was overwhelming. It was both of our histories, all of the pictures we drew, all of the questions we asked. It was amazing to see.

Throughout the day I really fell in love with this wonderful girl. I loved how she wouldn’t let go of me, I loved how she loved my “fish eyes”, I loved how she cried as we said goodbye and she held me tight, I loved how she could only say “I love you so much” through her tears, I love how her mother grabbed my chin and smiled as she said I was like another daughter to her. I loved that day, and I love Remya. Words really can’t describe my day with that wonderful girl. God really did put us together for a reason. She has been my “special friend”, and a huge part of my life. One day, after eleven years, was worth all of the goodbye tears at the end, all of the sponsorship money. This relationship is priceless.

I have come to terms now that this will be the last time my family or I will get to see her, that we only have one more year to write letters before she graduates from the program. But I know that one day, I will see her again in heaven, my Kingdom friend. And it will be a joyous day, because we won’t have to say goodbye. I can’t wait till then.

Deep

20 Jan

I would love for you to meet a little boy named Deep Halder.

At five months old, doctors found that he was born with Thalassemia. Thalassemia is a hereditary blood disease that makes an abnormal form of hemoglobin. Because of this, every six weeks he needs a blood transfusion. The disorder is very costly, especially to a family bellow the poverty line. When he was diagnosed with this disease, his mother and father abandoned him and married other people. He has not heard from his parents since then.

His grandparents took Deep in and raised him. Every six weeks, Deep’s grandparents take him to the doctor to get his blood transfusion, which costs 1600 rupees, equivalent to 31 US dollars.

Deep’s grandfather drives a rickshaw; on good days he makes about 50 rupees.

Deep’s grandmother is a housemaid. She makes about 700 rupees a month.

If you try and do the math, Deep’s transfusions cost roughly 80% of the families income.

Deep sat playing with a little strip of fabric as his grandmother told us of their struggles. We sat on the bed in their two-room palm frond walled home and looked at that adorable little five-year-old, shy as could be, and I wondered how he was still alive. We asked the grandmother how they managed to pay for his transfusions, she replied that Compassion International paid for all his medical needs, and so in the Lords name, Compassion saved this adorable little boy’s life.

After this, we asked the grandmother what we could pray for, she said to pray for healing in Deep. So we prayed over Deep, we prayed for healing in his blood.

While we were leaving, the grandmother looked me in the eye and took my hand in both of hers and told me to come again. I can’t explain why this was so powerful to me, but I knew that it was completely genuine, and I could see the love in her eyes. What an amazing woman.

Please pray for Deep and his loving grandparents.

We Made It!

19 Jan

Well, we made it to India in one piece; exhausted, but in one piece. Today we went to a CSP project (Child Survival Program) about four hours outside of the city. The drive was an adventure in itself, one car even got into a fender bender. The area we went in is way below the poverty line, and infant mortality is very high.

We were welcomed to the rural project by the mothers of the babies, dressed in the most beautiful, colorful, saris. They threw yellow and purple flower petals at us as we came in. What a welcome.

 

The mothers sang to us and gave us coffee and a gift, it was all very touching. Then we had a chance to play with the babies. We blew bubbles and I have never seen children so giddy. They were jumping and dancing and screaming with laughter. They were all so beautiful, the mothers and the children, their smiles could melt anyone’s heart.

 

We were also able to deliver 35 pairs of baby shoes to the project! So amazing.

After long five and a half hour drive back and we are still all in one piece. Thank you for your prayers.

My mommy cries – by Julia

13 Jan

There are only three days until I leave for India now. I was talking to my mom and dad last night about the trip when I realized how weird this was for my mom. Don’t get me wrong, I know that sending your child overseas without you has got to be a challenging experience, but I didn’t know why it was affecting her so much.

Last night we sat around our dinner table and she couldn’t help herself from tearing up. I couldn’t understand, because I will be going with my dad and I will be safe with him. She knows that. So she shouldn’t be worrying. However, she explained to me that she wasn’t worrying. She was just sad that she was missing this experience with her daughter. I realize that this isn’t a small thing, I am going half way across the world to a place where darkness is everywhere, I am going to see God in ways I never have, I’m going to meet people who’s lives depend fully on the Lord, and I am going without my mommy.

Let me tell you a great memory that I have of my mom. In the eighth grade my family went to Kenya, I had refused all week to put my hair up. Well, one of those days, I found my head itching uncontrollably. I asked my dad to look at my head and sure enough, there were cute little lice jumping all around my head. My mom and dad had sat down in their room and they pulled the little creatures out of my hair and I had the pleasant job of squishing them. Yay… Well, that night our trip leader went out and found some lice medication (a lot like pesticides for your hair), and my mom sat in the bathroom that night and rubbed that nasty stuff all over my head. The next morning I woke up lice free. She helped me fix my hair up everyday on the trip. Every night for a couple weeks after that trip my mom would straighten my hair and pull the dead lice eggs out of my hair. She had been there the whole time helping me patiently, and kindly. It was an experience that we both shared and can look back with a (sort of) smile together.

Throughout the planning process of the trip, my mom has been crazy, and I didn’t know why. She constantly told me about the things I would see, and how I would feel about things, how crazy the airports were, how I would love this or hate that. I was going nuts! Everyday she asked me how I was feeling about the trip, one day she asked me at least three times within just a couple hours (believe me, after a few months of this you would go crazy too).

But my mom wasn’t trying to pester me, she just wanted to experience this all with me, like she had in Africa, or the Dominican Republic. She wanted to be able to see her daughter change, and be able to understand why. And now I see why she tears up when she thinks about me leaving. And I know now how much I will miss her when I’m gone. Because lets be honest, there is absolutely no way that my dad will ever help me fix my hair!

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