Right now, as i knew it might, India seems further away than it ever has. I came home almost 5 months ago and in the midst of the busyness of my life, the fire that burned hot enough to burn me alive when I came home exists, but in the form of embers. It will reignite when I take time to remember. Soon enough it will burn again, hot as it ever was, constant and full.
I'm almost through what I call "Christmas Purgatory", or what happens when you work the holidays in retail. I can't get a single thing done on the sales floor. The amount of things on my to-do list in any given shift seems to be directly proportional to the amount of people in the store. If I have a thousand things to do, there will be a thousand things I need to do to help the guests (instead of my actual to-do list). I only have one more shift before Christmas: The Pricing Team Overnight. This is when we come in on the 23rd, put over half the toy section on clearance (this involves printing and placing a sicker on Every. Single. Toy. that goes on clearance, then moving them to designated clearance areas and filling in the holes where they came from) and then we leave after the sun comes up on the 24th. The weeks leading up to this have been rough, to say the least, and this will be no picnic either.
I'm feeling frustrated on a very deep level, and a lot of it has to do with the amount of money people are spending on things that neither they nor the people they are buying the items for actually need. People make purchases that are larger than my paychecks. This doesn't make me jealous. Rather, it makes me remember that halfway around the world, life . . . heartbreaking and terrifying, restoring and healing . . . is happening, and in places that are more terrible and wonderful than they can possibly know. We have constructed a comfortable dream world for ourselves, and I am no longer comfortable living in it. I can no longer fit in, and that's a good thing.
I can not and I will not ever forget this. I still wear the henna on my heart, and it very much impacts everything see and do.
I have to remind myself that the day will come. I will see these kids again. I will look into their faces and hold their hands and sing and dance and get hopelessly muddy on the soccer field. I will listen to their stories. I will look them in the eyes as they tell me the horrible places they have come from and I will help to make a change. People will read these stories and change will happen in their hearts. If God so wills it, it will help to make a change not only for the boys who tell the stories, but will make changes in the lives of many other kids still in danger on the streets.
The morning after I posted my last blog (Thanksgiving Day, no less) I heard back from BTC. They said that the trip from June to August sounded fine and that they wanted to have a better idea of what I would like to do while I'm in India. I told them that I just want to hang out with the kids and be like a reporter, telling their stories so others can hear about them. I'm still reminded: as amazing as my story in this blog had turned out to be, their stories hold the true power and will blow everyone away. The little snippet of Sunil's story in here isn't the half of it. There are pieces of stories I've only heard about secondhand: the gang leader who ended up at Ashagram and then went back to get his entire gang. The little boy that was deaf until BTC got him an operation (he's in half my pictures, usually holding his hand up behind somebody's head) Alok came to the US and gave parts of his testimony in churches, but I've never actually heard the whole thing. He wrote a song about living on the streets of Bombay. Inder I honestly have no idea about, along with Kartik. I am so looking forward to looking into the faces of the kids I love and hearing them tell me their amazing and miraculous stories of God finding them and them finding God.
Next comes the working out of the budget and the massive fundraising campaign, probably launching in mid-January. This not only will include support letters, but every single other idea I can possibly employ: selling kettle corn, bake sales, selling candy bars with Aidelle, a swing dance similar to the one I had for my last trip, and any other ideas I can possibly come up with. I don't know how much I have to raise, but I'd rather not have the "I don't have enough money yet?! OMG! Imightnotgo!" week (um . . . maybe month) I had last time, if I can avoid it.
This also might end up taking on a much larger scope than I originally thought it would. I'll go to India, I 'll come home and write this book . . . but then what? Go back and write a book about the girls? Just move there? All I know is that there is currently $27,000 in student loans standing between me and moving to India. This has been a pretty heavy burden for the 5 years I've been paying them. If God says "go", I'm going. But this is a pretty good sized giant I'm up against here.
I got a Christmas newsletter from BTC yesterday. In an earlier post about our trip to Jubilee 4, I mentioned a girl sitting at a table because she was very sick. She could barely stand. Casey sat with her while we were there. I learned later that she had AIDS, and the staff at Jubilee 4 were afraid that she would not live long.
When I opened the newsletter, this is what I found:
Hello, I am Mahek. I am 17 years old and I reside at Jubilee-4.
I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude for your prayers. I was very sick and the doctors gave up on me. But the Doctor of doctors, Lord Jesus Christ, answered your prayers and healed me miraculously.
God has given me this opportunity to greet you and pray for you. I Wish you and your family a very happy Christmas and a blessed New Year. May the Lord open the flood gates of heaven and bless you abundantly. Keep trusting the Lord; His name is Jehovah Rophe, God who heals.
Please continue to pray for my health. I want to complete my studies and be a voice for oppressed women and children.
This was that girl.
How awesome is this? This is truly amazing. I'm so excited to see what God will do through this amazing young woman.
This is where I'm going. All this work and all this effort and all this purgatory is to return to the place where the kids share the very heartbeat of God.
They share it by first being the people for which God's heart beats.
They receive the love and healing that God brings them.
As He restores them, they learn to listen and find His heartbeat.
But by far the most miraculous thing about all of this is: They become the vessels, the messengers. They share the heartbeat of God with others. They share it with me.
And as I learn to listen, receive, and share the heartbeat of God for myself, I will then share it with everyone who comes in contact with me, in person or in my book.
The day will come. Lord, let it come quickly.
I'm almost through what I call "Christmas Purgatory", or what happens when you work the holidays in retail. I can't get a single thing done on the sales floor. The amount of things on my to-do list in any given shift seems to be directly proportional to the amount of people in the store. If I have a thousand things to do, there will be a thousand things I need to do to help the guests (instead of my actual to-do list). I only have one more shift before Christmas: The Pricing Team Overnight. This is when we come in on the 23rd, put over half the toy section on clearance (this involves printing and placing a sicker on Every. Single. Toy. that goes on clearance, then moving them to designated clearance areas and filling in the holes where they came from) and then we leave after the sun comes up on the 24th. The weeks leading up to this have been rough, to say the least, and this will be no picnic either.
I'm feeling frustrated on a very deep level, and a lot of it has to do with the amount of money people are spending on things that neither they nor the people they are buying the items for actually need. People make purchases that are larger than my paychecks. This doesn't make me jealous. Rather, it makes me remember that halfway around the world, life . . . heartbreaking and terrifying, restoring and healing . . . is happening, and in places that are more terrible and wonderful than they can possibly know. We have constructed a comfortable dream world for ourselves, and I am no longer comfortable living in it. I can no longer fit in, and that's a good thing.
I can not and I will not ever forget this. I still wear the henna on my heart, and it very much impacts everything see and do.
I have to remind myself that the day will come. I will see these kids again. I will look into their faces and hold their hands and sing and dance and get hopelessly muddy on the soccer field. I will listen to their stories. I will look them in the eyes as they tell me the horrible places they have come from and I will help to make a change. People will read these stories and change will happen in their hearts. If God so wills it, it will help to make a change not only for the boys who tell the stories, but will make changes in the lives of many other kids still in danger on the streets.
The morning after I posted my last blog (Thanksgiving Day, no less) I heard back from BTC. They said that the trip from June to August sounded fine and that they wanted to have a better idea of what I would like to do while I'm in India. I told them that I just want to hang out with the kids and be like a reporter, telling their stories so others can hear about them. I'm still reminded: as amazing as my story in this blog had turned out to be, their stories hold the true power and will blow everyone away. The little snippet of Sunil's story in here isn't the half of it. There are pieces of stories I've only heard about secondhand: the gang leader who ended up at Ashagram and then went back to get his entire gang. The little boy that was deaf until BTC got him an operation (he's in half my pictures, usually holding his hand up behind somebody's head) Alok came to the US and gave parts of his testimony in churches, but I've never actually heard the whole thing. He wrote a song about living on the streets of Bombay. Inder I honestly have no idea about, along with Kartik. I am so looking forward to looking into the faces of the kids I love and hearing them tell me their amazing and miraculous stories of God finding them and them finding God.
Next comes the working out of the budget and the massive fundraising campaign, probably launching in mid-January. This not only will include support letters, but every single other idea I can possibly employ: selling kettle corn, bake sales, selling candy bars with Aidelle, a swing dance similar to the one I had for my last trip, and any other ideas I can possibly come up with. I don't know how much I have to raise, but I'd rather not have the "I don't have enough money yet?! OMG! Imightnotgo!" week (um . . . maybe month) I had last time, if I can avoid it.
This also might end up taking on a much larger scope than I originally thought it would. I'll go to India, I 'll come home and write this book . . . but then what? Go back and write a book about the girls? Just move there? All I know is that there is currently $27,000 in student loans standing between me and moving to India. This has been a pretty heavy burden for the 5 years I've been paying them. If God says "go", I'm going. But this is a pretty good sized giant I'm up against here.
I got a Christmas newsletter from BTC yesterday. In an earlier post about our trip to Jubilee 4, I mentioned a girl sitting at a table because she was very sick. She could barely stand. Casey sat with her while we were there. I learned later that she had AIDS, and the staff at Jubilee 4 were afraid that she would not live long.
When I opened the newsletter, this is what I found:
Hello, I am Mahek. I am 17 years old and I reside at Jubilee-4.
I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude for your prayers. I was very sick and the doctors gave up on me. But the Doctor of doctors, Lord Jesus Christ, answered your prayers and healed me miraculously.
God has given me this opportunity to greet you and pray for you. I Wish you and your family a very happy Christmas and a blessed New Year. May the Lord open the flood gates of heaven and bless you abundantly. Keep trusting the Lord; His name is Jehovah Rophe, God who heals.
Please continue to pray for my health. I want to complete my studies and be a voice for oppressed women and children.
This was that girl.
How awesome is this? This is truly amazing. I'm so excited to see what God will do through this amazing young woman.
This is where I'm going. All this work and all this effort and all this purgatory is to return to the place where the kids share the very heartbeat of God.
They share it by first being the people for which God's heart beats.
They receive the love and healing that God brings them.
As He restores them, they learn to listen and find His heartbeat.
But by far the most miraculous thing about all of this is: They become the vessels, the messengers. They share the heartbeat of God with others. They share it with me.
And as I learn to listen, receive, and share the heartbeat of God for myself, I will then share it with everyone who comes in contact with me, in person or in my book.
The day will come. Lord, let it come quickly.
