HOME FOR CHRISTMAS?!?!

My Christmas break plans keep changing… I just can’t decide what to do! There are so many possibilities… and every time I decide on what I want/am going to do it either becomes impossible or I start to question if that’s really what I want to do. But I have to decide fast. Right now I have three options (that I like and am considering): 1^st I could just take a day train to Nepal and get my visa stamped (I have to leave the country every 190 days) and come back and be with the boys, 2^nd I could go to a Thai Island and have a little break, go to the beach and have a little adventure, or lastly I could go HOME! Ahhh….I love even thinking about going home. 

But I need to think this out some pros and cons:

Staying with the boys and just doing a same day train to and from Nepal

                        Pros:                                                                       

~It would be fun to be here for Christmas, plus the boys already think that I will be here for Christmas and were happy that I said I would.

~I love being with the boys

~ Cheapest of the options

~Ummmm…. Basically just because of the boys I would want to do it…

                        Cons:

~I wouldn’t get to see family

~ It would be cold

~All the other volunteers are going to be gone for at least part of the break…I would probably get lonely…

~The train ride would be boring.

Thai Island

                        Pros:

~I could be here for Christmas and leave after, so I would have a vacation and get to be here with the boys for Christmas!

~Beach= warm, sand, water, laying in the sun…. be like home

~Getting my tan back

~ Cheaper than going home (about $300 for the flight and maybe another couple hundred that I would need there)

~Could wear pants that don’t come up past my belly button (and YES that’s a major plus!)

~I really want to go to the Thai Islands…at some point! And I’m so close…

                        Cons:

~I would be by myself so: I would be SUPER lonely

~It would be scary to be alone

~The beach would just be a substitute for home…

~Again, LONELY!

~ I would still be missing home and family

Going HOME

                        Pros:

~Seeing FAMILY!

~Being with friends

~The Beach!

~ Eating the foods I miss…meat!

~ Hot showers, hot long baths, my clothes, not being stared at for my “white skin”

~Getting my tan back

~Getting to hug my mom

~Movies with my sister

~ Dad’s apple cider

~Seeing Paka and Ruth before they leave

~The fact that I’m crying with homesickness right now

~ Being at home!

~Being at home for the Christmas Eve service

~Making cookies with Angela

~Driving a car!

~Seeing Hope, Tyler, Jeremy, Jesse, Hailey and all the other kids back home…J

~I could bring back the stuff I need or want for the boys
~ Sleeping in a soft bed
~Waking up and seeing my family
~Beach with Madie
~Uncle Paul's Christmas bread wonderfulness
~Now this is silly and don't take this wrong BUT to be able to talk to males without worrying that they think I'm flirting and stepping over cultural lines!
~Gingerbread men with Riley
~Waking up and going to sleep with Mama's christmas music
~Christmas dinner
~STOCKINGS!
~The wonderful warmth and breeze of Hawaii
~Hearing "normal" english
~SUSHI
~A break from being teased in a language I don't understand
~Putting my toes in the sand
~did i already say HOT WATER?!
~not being called mam
~having Maile paint my nails
~not having 8 spiders in my room ALWAYS
~ I need to stop I'm in tears missing home...once I start thinking about home all that i miss comes crashing on me. 

                        Cons:

~It would be expensive (the ticket alone would be like $1,700)

~It would be so short…just over two weeks…

~LONG TRAVEL time ALONE…like two days on each side! I would be bored and lonely

~Not being with the boys for Christmas

~ Not an “adventure”

~I feel like I’m being weak for not being unable to stay away from home for the whole time

I want to come home...I mean for Christmas, I’m happy here and I know this is where God wants me. But I’m getting homesick.

I miss my family.

I want to be home for Christmas.

I really, really want to come home.

I think that I know my answer…but that means I need to buy my ticket this week!

Please pray for a supernatural amazing deal on airfare! J and to all you in Hawaii I can’t wait to see you! I’M COMING HOME!!!! I’M COMING HOME!!!!  I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!!!! I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!!! I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!

The Slums

Delhi. The ‘heart’ of India.

            Rajan Uncle use to be the Principle of Shishiya School but then God called them to start a school in one of the many slums in Delhi. They are originally from southern India, in a place that sounds very similar to Hawaii and had AMAZING food! I had only met them once briefly but he invited me down to come and see/help in the school. So we went. From Sunday to Wednesday. They were amazing hosts! The food was so amazing and it was a lovely little break from the boys.

            Our last minute journey began at three in the morning, arriving at the train station at 5am for our 6 hour-long train ride. The train was good but very long. 

Ruth and I were well prepared with biscuits (cookies), SPICY chow mein, and a bag of “french fry” chips (its amazing! They taste EXACTLY like french fries!). When we finally reached Delhi I had a bit of a scare…Ruth’s mobile didn’t work. It was too far away! I was pretty horrified; the mobile was our tie to safety. My few Hindi words would be no help if we were lost or needed help. And after much worry and confusion our taxi driver got us to the Rajans’ house. I was so happy to see them.

            The next day we went to the slums.

How do you describe poverty? What words can I say to make you understand the enormity of their lack, yet their smiles? How can I put life into words printed on a page? I wish each of you could have been there. To have to instant shock of surprise at the dirt, the piles of garbage, and dirty half dressed children. To take in the rows of “homes” made up of cardboard and tarps. 

To see the cows and goats happily eating among the mountains of trash. To see the young mother who separates the trash into piles as she holds her baby on her lap. I wish you could experience the stomach twisting, the burning of tears, when you look into the first child’s eyes and know that all of this is his life. To know that I have never been through anything like this child has. That I know nothing of hardness or pain.

But then, most of all, I want you to experience the love. The love these children desperately crave and want to pour out. Within minutes I was holding children close to me. They happily chatted in Hindi, giggling as I tried my simple Hindi words. I wasn’t prepared for the easy, loving acceptance. I wasn’t prepared to get attached. But within minutes two little sisters captured my heart. Is it silly to say that after three days my heart was breaking as I held the little sister for the last time?

            The school is three rooms, rented. Yes the slum is rented out. I was amazed, “You actually have to PAY to live here?!”. The rooms are small bamboo is used for the framing with cardboard walls and a tarped roof. There are about 35 children who come everyday, sometimes more sometimes less. 

Many of the children don’t care much about schooling and neither do the parents. Sometimes it’s even the parents that keep the children from coming—they need help sorting out trash. The big incentive for coming? A couple biscuits or a bun at the end of the day.

As I watched the children being handed a few biscuits I was broken by how little they had. And then I was amazed as several of them turned to me to share with me. Can anything compare to the generosity of a poor child?

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The first day I helped Bethany (a volunteer from Whales) with the youngest class. We sat on a mat in between rows of rooms. Moving the mat to follow the shade. We did a drawing of a cat and then worked on letters and read some storybooks. The next two days Bethany was sick so I took over her class. It was wonderful. We had fun drawing on slates (paper is a luxury), acting like animals, playing a mimic game, counting and singing songs. They love to be praised. They all wanted to show me their slates every time they had drawn one more letter, or in the case of the young ones added a new twirling scribble. They were very affectionate, wanting to sit on my lap, be by me, and be touching me. Which I loved, I had one on my lap or in my arms as much as I could. I was desperate to pour love on them.

There was this one girl, older maybe 10. She didn’t know her letters and was new to school. With her was a young girl. Her sister that she was in change of watching. But she loved learning, trying to master the chalk to form letters. Her effort touched me. I hope she continues going.

They were loving. My first day the mother of the sisters thought I spoke Hindi and tried to talk to me. I look “little foreigner” they told me. And after she realized my Hindi is stopped at “what is your name” she instead offered me chai. And within minutes she had made all of us a cup of chai. It was so lovely. They are such an amazing people. The kids’ bellies were swollen, their hands, feet and faces filthy, but they were beautiful. They have no running water, no toys, and one communal “toilet” about a half a kilometer away from us.

It amazed me how I felt so right there. I’m not sure what the future holds but suddenly working in the slums doesn’t seem so scary. It actually was very hard for me to leave. To unwrap the little arms from around my neck, to lift the warm little head off my chest and to set down the precious little girl that had stolen my heart in minutes.

 (The sisters I LOVED!)

Sorry this is messy. Choppy. I need to try to write more about it later. I also just found out that i left with a little "present": lice. So this afternoon was spent pulling a little plastic comb (painfully) through my hair (which i have now decided is much too long and way, way too thick!).  I would love your prayers! 

Living for Heaven

I was planning on taking this one-year off, to serve God. The next part of the plan was: coming back home only one semester behind, going to college meeting someone and then starting my life. But recently I have started pondering what it would mean for me to live with an eternal perspective. A real eternal perspective, not that I’m living a life that will get me to Heaven but a life where this life is a service and the eternal life is the one of enjoyment (I’m not saying that a life of service would be not have enjoyment but that enjoyment, even my happiness, would not be a primary factor). This pondering was greatly pushed along by The Irresistible Revolution, Living as an Ordinary Radical by Shane Claiborne. The book speaks about the poverty of the world and selfishness of the American Dream. About living in Love, radically changing the world through love. And those acts come at a sacrifice, there is great fulfillment but still there is the cost of a sacrifice. And it made me start to consider what would my life look like if getting married, having a beautiful house and family, and having all the sweet indulgences of living in a 1^st world country were no longer important to me. What my life would mean if I truly left all behind to follow only Jesus.

            Shane Claiborne talks about how Jesus commanded the disciples to leave all they had and go with nothing (no wallet, not even a change of clothes) to perform acts of love. Even writing it out seems so ridiculous. Surely this is not the life God has called me to! Coming to India was a very simple easy choice when there was the end line in sight. When it was a sacrifice of one year to get to live in India and work with little kids AND I could just put my life at home on pause it was an easy choice. But the thought of actually letting that life back at home go is so scary to me.

            I had a great quiet time a few weeks ago in which God showed me how he will satisfy me wherever he calls me. That he will more than satisfy me, that following him will fill me with so much joy. That no matter what I have to give up what he will give me will be so much better and I won’t miss what I had to give up. But even with that promise fresh on my heart the thought of giving up all the things I want to experience in this life is…truly horrific. 

            Now I’m not saying that God has called me to do it. It may very well be his plan that I come home next year and go to college. But I am saying that I want to be able to give all of myself up for His plan. I am opening my life up to God’s use, even if it makes me give up all of my dreams.

~I am starting to seriously pray about coming back next year.

P.S. Ruth and I aren’t going on the trek, we are instead going down to Dehli to see a couple who used to be a part of Shishya and now have started a school in one of the slums. So we are going to spend four days with them, learning about the slums and helping in any way we can. I’m really excited because I think I may want to work with slums at some point. That was my original desire in coming so this can be a little taste to see if I want to get involved! I’m really excited! It does involve another 6 hour train ride both ways…that part won’t be too fun! I know there is a video on youtube about what they do but I’m not sure about what it is called. I’ll keep you updated!

(I was sick today and didn’t go to school so that’s my excuse for having time to write!)

Worthiness

         So many times have I been told of God’s love. So many times have I been told that God sees me as precious. Told that God loves me deeply. Told by others that they love me. Told that I am worthy of being loved. Precious.

         But I have a deep secret fear: I am not. I harbor a deep, dark fear that I am not worthy of being loved. And I am certainly not “precious”.  That to be loved I need to do something, to be something. To do more, because at my core I am not enough. And that terrifies me.

         I tried to ignore this fear. With the constant whisper of not being enough hanging over me; I hid. I hid from myself, running in circles till I was too tired and didn’t have time to be with me.  Last semester I took 21 credits, worked two part time jobs, interned with the youth group, taught Sunday school, and made it so that I had NO time. Of course I also felt that if I did more than maybe I could achieve being good enough. I was terrified of stopping. I thought I could ignore the whisper. But it just silently grew until every moment was tainted with this sense of failure. I felt like I was a failure because I wasn’t enough. And I was ashamed of myself. I was ashamed of who I was. And I never wanted anyone else to see that part of me. I was terribly afraid that someday someone would walk up to me and truly see me. And see my lack of value. That they would see my failures, my imperfections, my unworthiness and they would laugh and walk away.

         I thought that coming to India and doing “God’s work” would take away that shame and unworthiness. I thought that surely if I was doing a mission that I would suddenly become worthy of being loved. I mean leaving my life for nine months to work with kids in another country seems like it should earn me brownie points. But my secret cloud followed me here. Granted it was much quieter. A cloud on the horizon I tried to ignore and not think about. Sometimes I would go for days without seeing it and then all of a sudden it was on me again. I hoped that one day I would look at myself and be someone different, someone valuable and talented…someone worthy of God’s love.

         And then today (Sunday) a group came from Switzerland and one lady, Karen, spoke about how a 500 rupee note is worth 500 rupees if the note is crisp and fresh AND it’s still worth 500 rupees when it’s mangled and dirty. And that’s how it is with God. I am worthy to him, precious to him, and nothing I do can add or take away from my value. And that is something I know but it has always been so hard for me to believe. But today I was finally able to really admit that my value has nothing to do with how much I do or how I act. My value is in Christ.