The Small Way

"Lord, how can we know the way?"
Jesus said to him, "I am the way..."

Pastor Ray once told me, "God's will for you is not a place, not a destination, it's the person of Jesus Christ."  God's will for all of our lives is described perfectly in the person of Jesus Christ. To know what God wants you to do, open the gospels and read what Jesus did.

When St. Francis of Assisi was first beginning his order of monks, the Franciscans, he would use an unusual way of finding an answer to problems. Whenever there was a decision to be made, he would tell one of his monks to open the gospels and start reading at random. Whatever Jesus said to do in that passage was the answer to the problem and they would do whatever He said to do in the passage, no questions asked. Preach to the world? Ok. Sell everything I own and give to the poor? Ok.  

I'm starting to love St. Francis and his unconventional ways. He once told one of the brothers to preach naked because the brother had not listened to his first command to go preach to the people. Then, when the brother was standing naked in front of the congregation preaching naked, St. Francis felt so bad for having commanded him to do such an embarrassing thing that he himself stripped off his clothes and joined his brother, preaching naked at the pulpit! The entire group there was so convicted by their message about giving up worldly possessions, following Jesus, and the way the monks lived out this gospel, that the whole lot of them were converted and many joined the order of Franciscans. (I am not, in any way, advocating naked preaching...)   

Right now at my guest house there is a group of about 40 Spaniards all here to volunteer at Mother Theresa's homes. Each night they get together and share stories about how God used them that day, how He taught them a lesson, how He moved them. Yesterday, they invited me to this session. It was all in Spanish, but a guy next to me was kind enough to translate their stories about cleaning lepers' wounds, holding the hands of the elderly men at Prem Dan, and other beautiful amazing things.  While these stories were being shared (and, in my case, translated) I thought, "What kind of story do I have to share about sitting in the basement of Mother House every day writing down volunteer's names, addresses, and phone numbers in a big volunteer book for hours?" I felt so small, so insignificant with the little I had to offer. 

(In case you did not know, I have had several sicknesses over the past two months that have kept me from volunteering at any of the homes with sick patients. I've had fevers, vomiting, diarrhea, colds, and right now I have a skin condition called scabies in which little bugs crawl under the skin and lay eggs. It is very itchy and I need to apply a really annoying oil-like lotion to my skin at night for several days to get rid of it. I skipped a night of the lotion because I thought it was gone, but it was not and now I think I have to start all over.)

Then one of the priests in the group told his own story of peeling potatoes at one of the homes. Just peeling potatoes, that's all he did. "Mother Theresa didn't do great things," he reminded us, "She did small things with great love."

And I remembered my prayer that I have been praying with fervor for weeks: Lord, make me small, humble, weak, foolish enough to be used by You. I thought He would accomplish this by having me work at one of the homes, taking care of the elderly patients. But I'm realizing I may go to the homes and be full of pride for what I am doing. Look at me, taking care of the poorest of the poor all the way in Kolkata. In some ways doing this for the praise of people in the States, for the stories I think they expect from me, to make people feel like they've donated their money in the right place...instead of doing it simply because Jesus tells me to. 

My job is so small, sitting in a basement, often by myself, writing down information in a big book and I have no other reason to be there besides the fact that Jesus is keeping me there. I have no incredible stories of leprosy patients or the elderly women at Prem Dan. I have nothing to tell people about why they are justified in giving me their money to come all the way to the other side of the world so I can write down information for the Sisters. But I have to trust this is the path and that God is doing a great work. I'm feeling like Jacob right now after he woke up from the dream about the stairway to heaven, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it!" God is in the basement of the Mother House, sitting next to me, whispering words of love to me while I complete my little task. 

 I'm thanking God for the sicknesses that have kept me from going to the homes. I would rather have scabies than be led astray by pride and acclamation/praise of others around me. To make me small, humble, and weak, God in all His wisdom has chosen to keep me in a small job that does not get much recognition (except by the two Sisters who have given me the task), with diseases that keep me reliant on Him. My God is so good to me. 

"Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also..." John 14:1-3

The Blog I Never Intended To Write

On the cross Jesus said, "I thirst."

What is Jesus thirsting for from you right now? 

This is the question a Sister asked me the other day. I asked Jesus what He wanted from me, what was His thirst for me, and one word came to mind: Surrender. He wants me to surrender. He wants me to stop fighting, to stop clinging to worthless things, to stop chasing after the things of this world, and to just surrender to His love, His mercy, His grace, His will, His freedom.

"We must learn to be free because that is what we are," said Sister Michael.

I thought about the American slaves just recently freed from their owners, from the laws that held them as property. They were free, but they had been slaves for so long that many of them just went back to their former owners and worked for them anyway, for little or no pay, because that is what they knew. They knew the ways of slavery. They did not yet know how to be free.

"For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1 

Slavery is a burden. Sin is a burden. When we are ruled by our passions, we are slaves to them, like an addict to a drug, driven by anger, lust, greed, power, selfishness. Only Christ can set us free from the power of sin in our lives, from the overwhelming forces that push us down, make us apathetic, turn us toward addictions and selfishness.

"Formerly, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to those that by nature are not gods. But now that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more?" Galatians 4:8-9

We are all serving someone or something. We were made to worship the true God, but we have all turned away to idols. What do you worship? Relationships, addictions, sex, power, money, pride, attention...yourself? It creeps up on us sometimes, and we don't realize how selfish we have become, how much we have begun to serve ourselves rather than God. My own materialism, greed, and selfishness has taken center stage since being in the poverty stricken area of Kolkata. My desire to hold on to what is "mine" has become repulsive to me...and yet, I cling to "my" things as if I am afraid I will never replace that thing in my life.  I'm not talking about "big" things here. I'm talking about a shirt, a pair of pants, a blanket, some food. What am I so afraid of? Deep down, I am afraid because a seed of doubt has been planted that tells me God is not really good and does not have my best interest at heart. If I truly understood how much God is in love with me and wants to give good things to me, I would freely give everything I have because, as He says in His word: "If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will you Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" Matthew 7:1. And "Therefore, do not be anxious, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?'...But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you." Matthew 6:31,33

This was not where my blog post was going tonight, but apparently I had to do a little confession. Maybe it's being around all these darn Catholics...

Lord, free me from the burden of selfishness, greed, lust, and unbelief. Help me to understand the depth of Your love for me, so I will be free from this world and its desires, free to love and serve without hesitation.

And now I leave you with a funny little Kolkata story:

It was my friend Theresa's last night in Kolkata and we had just dropped off one of our friends at her house (no walking alone at night!).  We were on our way back to my guesthouse when we ran into a traffic jam so bad we had to stand on the side of the road and just wait because there was no way of getting through the cars and motorbikes. We waited and waited and noticed that everyone was honking at this white car that was holding up traffic. Motorbikes are crowded behind this car, two to four men on each bike, viciously honking their horns. The man in the white car gets out and begins pushing his car from the driver's side door. We watch for a minute as the man struggles to push the car by himself, the dozens of men all around watching and continuing to honk their horns.

"Really, no one is going to help him?" Theresa asked incredulously.

"Well, let's go help him!" I said.

We begin pushing the car and, noticing the car easily moving forward, the driver looks behind him to see the only two white girls on Ripon street grunting, drenched in sweat, pushing his car down the street as the Indian men all around smile with amusement and continue honking their horns. As the car gets rolling, we pick up the pace and begin a little jog as we push. After a few speed bumps, a young Indian man comes to join us, asking me what happened. I tell him I'm not sure. We slow down and the man goes to talk to the driver. We are at a standstill, so Theresa and I take the opportunity to turn around and walk back home, leaving all the entertained men behind on their motorbikes. I'm sure we made quite a scene ;)

Foolishness

"But God chooses what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong...If anyone among you thinks that he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise."
-I Corinthians 1:27,18

"May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done"
- Franciscan Blessing

A few days ago I had a dream. In my dream I walked into a dark office full of filing cabinets. At the bottom of one of the walls was a safe built into the wall, which I happened to have a fey for.  I opened the safe and it was a door which led to stairs going down into an even darker place. I did not hesitate and walked boldly through the door to whatever awaited. In the basement were more filing cabinets. Over time I brought visitors down there, people I knew who I wanted to show this fascinating place to. On one of these visits there were strong men moving the filing cabinets. I knew these men were supposed to be evil, but I didn't pay any attention to that and thought they were nice for moving those cabinets. A voice spoke, whether it was my own voice or someone else's, I do not know: "Evil that appears good is still evil." 

When I woke up, I went to Mother House and told Sister Mercy Maria about my dream. 

"The journey within is the most difficult," she told me. 

This is part of the layer-peeling process God is putting me through. I am delving deep within myself to discover the dark places, the places hidden behind locked safes and filing cabinets, the place I allow evil disguised as good to dwell. 

"I am frustrated with the men who constantly look at me with evil intentions and yell out to me and try to touch me. I'm frustrated with the poor, the street families who may or may not be living on the street by choice, by the constant begging I walk by everyday," I told Sister. "I don't even look anyone in the eye because all they do is ask from me and all I do is tell them 'no'. How do I deal with this? How do I give, what do I give, what do I do?" 

"Look them in the eye," she replied, "Bless them with God's blessing. Find moments of solidarity with the poor. Use the squat toilet instead of the western toilet. Use water instead of toilet paper. Those are moments of solidarity, understanding the life of the poor." 

Don't laugh (well, ok, you can laugh, but don't tell me you laughed at me), but as an experiment in solidarity, I left the house yesterday without anything except the clothes on my back. My friend wanted me to go souvenir shopping with her, and I knew I would want to buy unnecessary things, so I left my purse at home. The poor carry very little with them around here. 

To every person who asked from me I showed them I had nothing to give them, I said a prayer, and kept walking. They would usually lose interest in me after they saw I had nothing on me and turn to my friends with bags and beg from them. 

My friend did her shopping, and it took us such a long time that by the end of our shopping, I was extremely hungry. I hadn't brought any money though, so the only option would be to walk the 25 minutes back to the house to get food. As shopping in India is relational, the men at the shop continued to chat with us even though my friend had been ready to pay for a while. One of the workers saw I was tired and asked why. "I'm just hungry," I told him. "We need to get going so we can go eat." "No! I'll give you rice!" He said, and he ran off and brought me a plate of rice and daal (spicy sauce that goes on rice). The Lord provided for my small gesture of solidarity. It may be small and silly, but it was a step. 

I have started reading quite a bit about St. Francis, who is quickly becoming my favorite saint. I have started reading The Little Flowers, about the beginnings of the Franciscan order, men who forsook all for Christ, living in community or in hermitages to lead lives of contemplation and prayer. 

"...aim at converting yourselves and you will then find you understand things better." - from I, Francis by Carlo Carretto.

I still do not understand how to relate to the poor here. There are so many facets of poverty that it is hard to know what to do. Some street kids/families are run by the mafia, others choose to beg instead of work (even though they are capable) because they make more money begging than working, and yet, still others are truly poor, truly in need of charity and generosity. 

Yesterday coming out of church, my friend Theresa and I were bombarded by a group of what could have been street kids, yet they seemed too well dressed and chubby to be such. Nevertheless, they overwhelmed us, grabbing my waterbottle, trying to yank it out of my hands, nearly knocking me over. One of them reached into Theresa's purse and grabbed out the keys to her apartment and ran down the street with them.  She stood looking at him, dazed, holding out her hand, hoping he would bring them back. Eventually, he did. They continued to clamor around us, demanding we buy them ice cream. They pushed and pulled us, grabbing our clothes, hanging on to our arms, trying to drag us down. We reached the other side of the street and a security guard shooed them away telling us they were pickpockets. 

Yet, while those kinds of stories make up the majority of my experiences with the poor on the streets, there are other, less frequent moments that remind me of love and compassion.

On our way to dinner, we passed an old woman sitting on the urine, feces, insect ridden sidewalk, begging. As the group walked on, I stopped and reached into my bag for some biscuits (Nilla Waffer type things) which I kept there for just this type of occasion. I reached down and handed her the biscuits. She pressed her palms together as if to pray, and brought them to her forehead in the sign of blessing/greeting. I did the same and walked quickly to my friends up ahead. On our way back from dinner, she still sat in the same place, but when she saw me, her wrinkled face lit up and she began waving enthusiastically. I waved back, smiled, and bowed my head and hands in her direction. If only serving all the poor were that simple, that gratifying.  

Pray for me friends. I obviously need it. 

Pray that I become little, foolish, and simple. I am convinced that is the way of Christ, God in human form who was born to an unwed teenage mother in a barn, who chose ordinary fishermen and tax collectors as followers, who had dinner with prostitutes and thieves, who entered his death not with a shout of victory, but silence and agony. I am convinced God wants me to be little to understand His greatness. 

"The Gospel is the madness of a God who is always losing, who gets himself crucified to save humanity. The Gospel is the madness of people who, in the midst of tears, need, and persecution, still cry out that they are blessed...so I called on madness to save me. And I was happy to have found the true madness, the saving madness of the Gospel." - I, Francis

Compassion is Costly

Litany of Reconciliation
St. Paul's Cathedral in Kolkata, India

"All have sinned and come short of the glory of God" - Romans

The hatred which divides nation from nation, race from race, class from class
Father Forgive 
The covetous desires of men and nations to possess what is not their own
Father Forgive
The greed which exploits the labours of men, and lays waste the earth
Father Forgive
Our envy of the welfare and happiness of others
Father Forgive
Our indifference to the plight of the homeless and refuge
Father Forgive
The lust which uses for ignoble ends the bodies of men and women
Father Forgive 
The pride which leads us to trust in ourselves and not in God
Father Forgive

St. Paul's Cathedral

1 Corinthians struck me this morning:

"But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God...If anyone among you thinks that he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise." - 1 Corinthians 27-29, 18

Then I heard a beautiful sermon on the story of the good Samaritan.

"Compassion," said Pastor Sam Johnson, "does more than pray, more than analyze, more than write articles. Compassion does something. Compassion is practical and meets people where they are. Compassion is practical, universal, and costly... it COSTS something...We can't boast about what we've done, the programs we've made, the people we've fed, until every person in the world has heard about Jesus! God is not impressed with anything we have: our home, our car, our intellect. Mother Teresa is not remembered for her beauty, her intelligence, her house, her riches. She is known, around the world, for her compassion."

My email Daily Devotional today was about forgiveness.  Compassion and forgiveness have been the themes of my thoughts the past few days.  At church yesterday the lady behind the podium asked us, "Who do you need to forgive?" At first I thought there wasn't really anyone. I was good with everyone as far as I knew. But then I asked God about it: Who am I harboring anger or bitterness against? Who has wronged me? And the answer came to mind--Indian men, the men who walk by me and stare, the men who walk close to me so they can rub up against me, the men who ask me to take pictures with them even though I have never seen them before in my life, the men who follow my friends and I calling out to us, the men who cheat me because I'm a foreigner.  Lord, help me forgive. Change my heart toward the culture, toward the men of this culture. Help me to understand how to deal with this. Help me to look at them with eyes of compassion, with Your eyes, Lord.

The above pictures are from Victoria Memorial. I would give you the history of the building, but I have no idea what the history is. I know it has beautiful grounds full of Indian families who only had to pay 4 rupees to get in while I was expected to pay 150 rupees. This is also where men walked up to me and asked me to take pictures with them and their families, and where I got sunburned. I really shouldn't be bitter about any of that, but some days it gets to me worse than others. Today the honking horns, the crazy traffic, the imposing men, the poverty, the street kids...everything got to me. I came home after the day out and laid in bed for three hours, just soaking everything in and trying to let it all out.

Keep me in your prayers! Pray for my heart to be changed, for God to humble me, to make me small and foolish enough for Him to use.

You are all also in my prayers. Thank you for your love and intercession. 

Just a Glimpse

"Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised, and His greatness is unsearchable." -Psalm 145:3

The simplicity and complexity of this city astound me.

Everyone lives day to day: enough food for the day, washing clothes everyday by hand, buying medicines and vitamins one pill at a time. Yet, the daily scramble of life here in order to live that daily simplicity is quite complex: multiple trips to the pharmacy, curd shop, fruit stand, grocery store, water store, etc.  I try to plan out my walk so I don't have to backtrack, but backtracking is usually inevitable.

When I leave the gates of my guesthouse, I carefully pack all my belongings in my purse, out of eyesight of the street children who will cling to me, begging for my water bottle or whatever I happen to be holding. I step over the puddles of mud and feces, sleeping babies sprawled out on their own pieces of plastic, and dogs curled up nearby full of ticks and fleas. I keep my head down, my eyes on the uneven pavement under my feet. I stay to the left to pass others on the sidewalk.

I come to the major street and quickly glance both ways before weaving my way through taxis, tuktuks, rickshaws, bicycles, and motorcycles to get to the other side. Once I reach the other side, I am verbally hounded by the men that congregate on the street corner selling fruit, t-shirts, or tobacco: "HELLO? How are you?" "Hey baby!" "HELLO! Which country?" This would not be so frustrating if these phrases were said with good intentions, and not yelled out to me at least 30 times a day.

I avoid their eyes, keep my head down, ignore their calls, and continue walking straight ahead, brushing past the man talking to himself and the woman who jingles a tin can at me saying, "Auntie, food. Auntie, water."

I reach the alley Mother House is on, notice the man who has been following my friends and I lately, keep my head down and quickly walk to the entrance. I am greeted by the Sisters' smiles and know I am safe.

I have learned a lot of discernment in this city. I have learned to not smile at the men who smile at me because smiling is an invitation to talk to me, to brush up against my arm, to grab my hand.  I can feel their eyes on me as I walk past them, their intentions like lasers to my soul.

It's refreshing when I meet people with good intentions, who aren't talking to me simply because they want to ask something from me or are trying to woo me into marrying them so I can take them away to America.  There is so much good in this city, drowned out by so much bad.

But God is still great; His greatness is unsearchable. This is His city and He is in the midst of the chaos, spreading peace, quietly.

Please continue praying for discernment, for wisdom, for peace.

Also, Jungok, our volunteer in the hospital, (see previous blog for details) is doing miraculously better. Everyone in the hospital is saying God's intervention is what is healing her so quickly. She is awake, eating, walking around by herself, which is completely incredible after the head injury she received. Thank you for your prayers! And thank You Lord for glorifying Yourself in this situation!

Unite My Heart

"Teach me your way, O Lord, that I may walk in your truth; unite my heart to fear your name." - Psalm 86:11

Sorry it's been a while since my last blog.  There have been so many things happening, but with the lack of my personal computer (still not working), and not having time and a desire to be in an internet cafe with teenage boys leaning over my shoulder watching everything I'm doing on the computer, I've been lacking in the blog department.

A major prayer request: one of our volunteers was severely beaten and found unconscious at a train station. She is in critical condition and is in desperate need of prayers. We don't know what happened since she is in and out of consciousness, but her family is here and she is able to recognize some of them when she is awake.  Her name is Jungok.

Another development: The street family outside my guesthouse had a new baby on Sunday.  I knew this because I walked by them a few nights ago and noticed a new little bundle on his own mat. I leaned in to look and Asmeirah, one of the daughters, came over and said, "New baby!" I asked his name. "Raju," she replied. Little Raju, from the hospital to the streets in two days. The family keeps saying they're going back to their village with the new baby, but the guard at my guesthouse said that will never happen. "They make so much money on this street they won't ever leave. They don't want to work for their money and they are teaching their children to do the same...poverty here is a business."


More prayer requests: I have two friends with scabies, and while they seem to be getting better, the down time is getting to them. Pray that they see God and grow closer to Him through their struggles.

It is a bittersweet time for me right now, as most of the people I met when I first arrived are now leaving. Every night is another going away dinner for some new friend.  The other night we said goodbye to a few friends with a party on the rooftop-- ukuleles, Bengali sweets, egg rolls, good times. Pretty soon the summer will be over, and I will be left with a few straggling volunteers who are crazy as I am to stay in Kolkata. Some of them are staying a year or more on a student visa. One of the girls is here for a year because she used to be an orphan at Shishu Bhavan, Mother's home for children, and was adopted out to an Italian family and is now back to volunteer at the place she was cared for. So awesome!

I have gotten another cold, this one not nearly as bad as the other sicknesses, but more frustrating. I'm tired of being sick.

Today at orientation I will be asking Sister if I can begin volunteering for a few weeks at Kalighat, the home for the dying and destitute, in preparation for working at the train station.  At the station is where you will find scores of elderly poor, sick, dying.  They come themselves or are carried there in hopes that some good Samaritan will take care of them since thousands of people come through that station each day.  The volunteer's job at the station is to bandage the wounds that can be bandaged, buy food for those who really need food, and take those who are dying to Kalighat to be cared for in their last days by the Missionaries of Charity. My friend who works at the station has told me stories of people who died the very next day after being brought to Kalighat.  They died in peace, with dignity.

I am still volunteering at orientation, where I give the English speaking orientation to the newbies. I love this job and will hopefully be keeping it while I am here.  There may also be an opportunity for me to volunteer at Mother Teresa's leprosy clinic, not the one most people know about located near to the heart of Kolkata, but one a few hours away, where I would be living with the Sisters while I serve the lepers by bandaging wounds.  Please pray for this opportunity to remain open! It would be for a few weeks in September.

I am still trying to put up pictures, but it is proving difficult at this internet cafe.  I want to write so much more as well, about the people I'm meeting, the conversations I have with the Sisters, the beauty God reveals to me through Adoration, prayer, and service. But there is limited time to write, and even more limited time to be on the internet at the cafe. Please keep praying.

Thank you all for your love and prayers.

One Question

Journal entry July 17, 2012

Things I do now:
- Volunteer at Mother House every morning until noon
- Volunteer at orientation every Mon, Wed, Fri from 3-6
- Teach Ahad English lessons whenever possible
- Hindi lessons
- Bible study
- Pray when possible


Things I want to do:
- Pray more
- Read my Bible more
- Volunteer at Good news school teaching little kids to read and write
- Go to Holy Hour at 6pm each night
- go to Mass at least a few times a week at 6am


There's just no time for it all. 


It all boils down to one question: Why am I here?


If I could answer that question more specifically I would know how to spend my time. Some missionaries come to India and just spend the first year learning language and culture. Others go right into volunteering with some organization. Others teach. What do I do? 


I guess the goal is always the same; Draw nearer to Jesus and bring others along.   


Lord, make this a reality in my heart. 


Journal entry July 18

I sat down with Sister Mercy Maria to let her know my prioritizing/time issues.  I told her I would know how to prioritize my time if I knew why I am in Kolkata: to teach, volunteer, learn language. She listened quietly to my problem, closed her eyes to pray. 


"Sister, what is my goal?" I asked. 


Gently she opened her eyes and said, "Your goal in India is to draw near to God."


I guess that answers that question. 


So I sat down and wrote a daily schedule, oriented around prayer and bible study, giving up my Hindi lessons, keeping English lessons with Ahad. 


Lord, let my daily schedule be pleasing to you. 


Today

Today was volunteers' day off, so of course on my day off I got up early to attend daily Mass at 6am, where the Priest read from Matthew 11: Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. 

"Come to Me, anytime. You are most welcome."

Those who are free must learn to be free.

Come to Me

Learn from Me

Thank You, Lord, for refocusing me on You.

Thank you, friends, for your prayers.

My stomach issues are definitely improving and are not keeping me from my daily activities, so that is good.

Please continue to pray for my health, for my focus on God, and for God to use me as salt and light to the community around me.

Also, my friend here, Jes, needs to make some big decisions soon and is not hearing clear direction from God. Please also keep her in your prayers.


God bless.     

Om Shanti

May the Lord of Love protect us

May the Lord of Love nourish us

May the Lord of Love strengthen us

May we realize the Lord of Love

May we live with love for all

May we live in peace with all.

OM shanti shanti shanti 

[Katha Upanishad intro]

For a while, my internal monologue acquired a British accent, like the voices I was surrounded by daily. Now, the Americans and British have left, and the French and Spanish have taken over. My internal monologue speaks to me in Spanish and I understand only fragments. 

It is 11pm and still the taxis roam the streets, honking their horns incessantly just to make themselves known, just to prove they exist and have a right to be. Occasionally prayers can be heard from a passing loudspeaker attached to a van, sometimes a Hindi song. On my rented bed in this Kolkata guest house, I contort my body into different yoga poses I learned in the Arizona metropolis, wringing out my body like the salwar kameez I wash daily. Someone sprays something sweet and the room fills with a fruit-like aroma. I think of the books I am reading, Three Cups of Tea and Cycling Home From Siberia, about how they are both about going places, being somewhere else, somewhere unknown, foreign.  I think of how suitable that is.  Interrupting my thoughts , an English expletive screams through my mind as another sharp pain shoots through my stomach. The only comfort afforded tonight is the cool breeze being blown into the room by the fans. For this, Lord, I am thankful. Otherwise, I would be covered in a sticky layer of sweat all night, making the ache in my stomach seem so much worse. 

I call Ahad to let him know I will not be making it to church tomorrow.  He lets me know he can't go either because he has also been in bed with a fever. We chatted about the day and how we were feeling and as we said goodnight, he interjects, "Wait! Wait! I practiced today!"  He asked me to repeat the words I had taught him as he spelled them out slowly, carefully: "Bed. B...E...D.  Dad. D...A...D.  Fed. F...A...wait, no no, E...D." I told him he is doing a wonderful job and we said goodnight. 

That was Saturday night, the middle of my bedridden stupor. I stayed in the house from Thursday night until Monday morning, not able to eat or really drink anything because of this stomach bug, when I finally had the strength to go outside.  Now, on Tuesday evening, I still have no appetite, but I am making myself eat and drink plenty of water.  Yesterday, Sister Mercy made me drink two liters in front of her, and I told her I'd drink at least six by that evening.  I drank five and started my sixth, but didn't finish by the time I fell asleep. 

My computer has also been on the fritz.  I think it's the charger, but I haven't had the chance to get anyone around here to look at it. I don't even know if they will sell this kind of charger here. I'll keep a lookout. For now, I will have to settle with internet cafes with sticky keyboards, which is why you may find several spelling errors in this blog. 

I am now off to give Ahad another English lesson. I may introduce him to the letter G today. 

Prayer Requests:

- Improving health!

- Daily guidance

- For Ahad's heart to be open to the Gospel

- For the Missionaries of Charity to have all their needs met so they can continue ministering to the poor of Kolkata 

Adoration

The Muslim call to prayer cries out from the speakers.
The Sisters bow their heads, singing to their Savior at Adoration.
The Hindus receive a blessing from the many sidewalk shrines.

I fall deeper and deeper in love with this city.

View from the very top of my guest house.

Today was absolutely beautiful.

Let me give you a little peek into my daily routine: 

6am: Alarm goes off, but I snooze it until 6:45...

7am: breakfast in the cafeteria

7:30: Mother House for announcements and helping the sisters clean up after the volunteers have left

8-12: Do whatever Sister Mercy Maria asks me to do at Mother House, usually something artsy like making posters.  I haven't been going to Prem Dan, the house for the elderly, because my cough is still lingering.  Sister has been allowing me to stay with her at Mother House until I am completely healthy again.  And I just love being there, so I think she lets me stay there for that reason too. 

12-3: Lunch, maybe a nap, maybe some bible study

3-6 M, W, F: Sister has asked me to help with registration for the English speakers, so that is my new job Monday, Wednesday, and Friday

6-?: Maybe give an English lesson on Sudder Street, maybe have a Hindi lesson in Salt Lake (a really nice part of Kolkata), maybe go to dinner with friends

9-12: Wash my clothes (in a bucket in the shower). I do this daily because I don't like piling up a bunch of clothes to wash since it takes a while to hand wash everything. Then it's time for a shower, some Facebook, then bed. 

Today was a little different. 

I went to Mother House as usual to work on some Volunteer Day crafts until noon.  Then I headed across the street to a little restaurant to grab an egg roll (soooo delicious), but apparently they were not serving certain menu items until 5pm.  So, I wandered to a restaurant nearby and ordered some chicken momos (dumplings). I sat down and began copying my Hindi lessons into a new notebook I had bought on the way to lunch.  A lady sat down across from me since there was no other places to sit, and we began talking.  After we got acquainted and decided to be friends, she told me she had seen me the other night at a restaurant with a guy friend, and then told me all the cultural boundaries I  had bent with that meal. She is seriously an answer to prayer and I told her so. I asked her to tell me more about the culture, male-female relationships in the culture, and how to avoid social fauxpas.  We exchanged phone numbers and headed off to our homes, which happen to be very close to one another. Thank you Lord for some local girlfriends!

My evening plans also fell through, so I went to the hour of prayer (Adoration) at Mother House and listened to the Sisters sing over the Muslim call to prayer, journaling my thoughts and prayers as they sang. I also had a delicious dinner (or snack, really) of lassi (yogurt-type drink), curd (yogurt), and sweet bread.  I was really craving some dairy!

Now it's almost 11pm and I am settling into bed, ready to sleep in a little before church tomorrow at 10:30am. 

Goodnight. 

Fourth of July, Kolkata Style

Two days ago I learned about Jainism, a religion 90% Buddhist, 10% Hindu, based on three concepts: sacrifice, truth, and non-violence. I learned this because I was talking with a guy name Rishabh, whom I asked to hold my chicken egg roll while I grabbed my water bottle.When I took my roll back, he said that was probably the first time he had touched meat.I was perplexed. He explained that in Jainism, non-violence is realllly non-violent, meaning you cannot eat (or touch, I suppose) anything that has been killed, or anything like eggs that is considered to have life in it.

Ahad was super intense on his lessons learning English.  He went over and over the first five letters he’s learned.  I love that he’s trying so hard and really making progress.

 But we also had some fun ;)

Yesterday on Fourth of July, Teresa and I went to meet Rishabh at Mother House so we could go and get fireworks for our American holiday.  Before Rishabh arrived, Sister Mercy Maria came hustling by with a group of volunteers in tow.  Obviously in a hurry, she asked us, “Can you help with orientation today? My usual English speaker is sick!”  I called Rishabh to tell him to meet us at Shishu Bhavan, where we would be doing orientation. We got to orientation and there were about 200 volunteers waiting to be placed in a volunteer home. Rishabh arrived, but we were so busy giving instructions, answering questions, helping file paperwork, that we couldn’t leave to get fireworks.  I told Rishabh I was willing to spend 1000 Rupees and asked if he could go buy the fireworks. He agreed and left.

We finished orientation three hours after it began and headed back to the guest house to grab something to eat before I had to meet Rishabh.  We met up again at around 7pm and waited until Adoration (Catholic prayer hour) was over and all the tourists came out of Mother House.  As always when dealing with groups, there is massive indecision.  Some people wanted to go eat, others wanted to go party, some just wanted to sleep, and yet others, like myself, wanted to light some fireworks. After 20 minutes, everyone dispersed and the group I was with decided we would walk to Sudder Street, grab some food at Blue Sky Cafe, then do fireworks.

We walked to Sudder Street, and Rishabh and Nikhil had to leave for a bit for a birthday party. Myself and three other girls had a light dinner of curds and lassi, more of a snack really, and they all decided they were going their separate ways.  I was now on my own to figure out who to light fireworks with.  My plan was not going so well.

I walked to Ahad’s store where he had just closed up.  He waited with me for Rishabh and Nikhil, but they were taking a while to get back. Ahad started to get mad, telling me he was willing to wait with me because I was by myself, but that he didn’t want to hang out with those guys.  I told him I didn’t want to hang out with those guys by myself because I didn’t really know them. I had planned to be with a group of Americans by this point, but the best laid plans… He kept emphasizing how much I trust people too much.  He said “bye” agitated-like, and walked away.  I knew some of my roommates were at the Spanish Café right next to me, so I walked over there and let out my frustrations of how much tonight was really starting to be a bummer and I spent all this money on fireworks that no one was willing to light with me.  They were being completely goofy and hilarious and cheered me up right away saying they were willing to light fireworks with me. 

Ahad then called me asking where I was now.  I told him I was at Spanish Café with some friends.  He told me he was coming back.

When he arrive just a few minutes later he told me had seen some “bad” guys on the street and didn’t trust them.  Essentially he came back because he was worried about me and wanted to make sure I wasn’t getting into any trouble. “Stay with the group,” he told me, pointing to the ladies at the table.

A few minutes later, Rishabh and Nikhil showed up and we told them we’d be lighting fireworks but were going to sit for a bit.  They said they had to get going since it was getting late.   

We then headed to a park where I had heard some booms coming from earlier, figuring there were others lighting fireworks there.  We entered the park and were greeted enthusiastically by a mob of teenage boys who, once they found out I had fireworks, crowded around until I began passing them out. They took turns lighting them, showing off to the other boys and the foreign girls. 

We went through all my big fireworks then headed back to BMS (the guest house) to light the sparklers with the other roommates who had not joined us. However, for some reason, the sparklers wouldn’t light, so we ended up just taking goofy pictures with unlit sticks.

I ended up spending American Independence Day with a Spaniard, an Italian, a Canadian, an American, and several Indian boys in Kolkata. How awesome.

However, I am getting the feeling more and more that I should not be so trustworthy.  It’s so difficult when I don’t have anyone to travel with, I’m not meeting any local women, and the men that work at the touristy shops are the ones who are easiest to talk to because they are used to talking to tourists in their shops.

This morning (the morning of the 5^th) I prayed that God would bring me some female friends.  Just a few minutes ago on Facebook, my friend Jessica (whom I met at church a few weeks ago) messaged me and asked if I would like to hang out with her girlfriend from Kolkata, currently on holiday from her job in Dubai. Thank you Lord for answered prayer.

“God will make this happen, for he who calls you is faithful.” – 1 Thessalonians 5: 24

Thank you for your continued prayers, friends.  They sustain me and remind me that God has a plan for me in Kolkata; I just have to pay attention and listen, drawing closer to Him through everything.  

Prayer requests for myself: Please pray for wisdom and discernment, for local girlfriends, for guidance.

Prayer requests for others: Pray for Ahad, that he continues with the same fervor in his English lessons and that God would speak to him, give him visions of His love. For BMS (my guest house) that they would continue to provide a refuge for missionaries and travelers, a safe beautiful place to rest. For the Missionaries of Charity, that God would provide for every need and draw the sisters and brothers closer to Him through everything.