I love this phrase. Let’s take a snap. It means let’s take a picture, but every local that I have met here in Manipur says it this way. It probable comes as no surprise that I have taken quite a few “snaps” in the month that we have been here. But, as I got ready to go to ministry several of of the first mornings that we were here I felt like God was asking me to leave my camera behind. This was not my preference. I mean, my first India blog was about beauty. I wanted to capture everything. Over the course of the month God has allowed me to get out from behind a lens and to really experience and capture moments in my mind. I gradually started pulling my camera out for special days and free time adventures, and it was even more of a joy to shoot image sod this amazing place after I had a chance to experience it “in person” first. I am so excited to share them with you someday soon, but for now I wanted to give you a glimpse into my mental album of “snaps”:
As I am typing this I am swinging in a hammock outside of our meeting tent at a place called “the Bangla”. The hum of the generator that powers the electricity for home on this hill and the huts that they built specifically for us is buzzing steadily in the background. I look up to see a dear friend, Alayna, nestled into the hammock next to me while she snuggles five-year old Aaron, and Indian little boy whose dad is one of our chefs for the month. He rides a motorcycle up the hill with his dad (he said his dad’s name is “daddy”) and is such a joy to run around with each day. Alayna is writing a blog, too, but we keep getting distracted as Aaron sticks his little dirt-covered bare foot into my hammock to play “this little piggy.” “One more time?” I ask. “Ummm…six more times.” he says. Ok. Six more. He hops out after round six and kisses us both tenderly on the cheek.
*Snap*
I wake up to a rooster. An actual loud, slightly aggravating rooster. It’s 5 am. Go to bed, rooster. But alas, the rooster has now woken up the dogs and the dogs have woken up the bell guy. The bell guy rings the village bell ten times at 5:30ish each morning. I say “ish” because it never seems to be at exactly the same time. Curious. I go ahead and stick my messy-haired head out of my mummy sleeping bag hood and fumble around for my glasses, which have somehow gotten tangled in the abyss of my princess-like mosquito net. Seeing that the sun has indeed begun to her the rooster’s call, I wander out of our room and into the commons between the rooms at the seminary where we are staying. Huge windows with several missing panes open up to a beautiful sunrise over the hills. I know that atop one of these hills is a place called Prayer Mountain. In this sacred space the churches from many surrounding villages have built small, but lovely, prayer huts. Many of these huts are nicer than the homes of the villagers themselves. Our guide took us up there once. As our team filed into an octagon-shaped hut we noticed a very large book on a very small desk. We pulled the book to the ground where we were seated and opened the first page to find the first chapter of the book of Genesis – handwritten and in Hmar. “You will help.”, Sawnpek told us. Help? We can help with this? He handed us a pen and we got to continue handwriting the book of Leviticus.
Someday there will be a complete handwritten Bible sitting in a hut on a hill that I can see from this window in this Seminary in Manipur, India – with a few English chapters in Leviticus.
*Snap*
We are finishing lunch quickly today so that we can race back to the sponsor building. We pile back into the ambulance – yes, the ambulance – and hold on for the bumpy 2-minute trek. I hop out the vehicle and grab my camera. As I walk back to my spot from earlier in the morning I realize that there are about thirty children in my way. They each hold a pile of books, a fleece blanket with no seams, and a little white slip of paper. These are sponsor children. On this paper is a number, their name, and the name of a sponsor in America who has made it possible for them to get an education. I will be taking each of their pictures, holding their little white paper, so that their sponsor can see how much they have grown this school year. I wonder about the sponsors. Do they have any idea the impact they have made? Do they think about the smile on the face that I am seeing firsthand as this child is handed a pile of new, colorful workbooks? Do they pray for the parents, who radiate joy and thankfulness as they help me move their little one to exactly the right place for this picture? I hope that they do.
(For more information about child sponsorship, please visit www.bftw.org)
*Snap*
This glove is so small. Seriously, you know those photoshopped pictures online about the one tiny hand? Google it, and then realize that this is what my right hand looks like right now. I am painting the bottom half of the wall in a school room with the thinnest, bluest, fumiest, lead-based paint that I have ever seen/felt/smelled. I am not very good at painting, and to be honest I was not super excited about this particular day of ministry. I keep dripping it on the floor, little blue drops trailing behind me as I move down the wall. I also keep somehow dripping it on my arm. Maybe I will send my mom a picture and a caption about a mysterious blue dot Indian ailment. I brought my fun green speakers and we’re rocking out to Bethel worship music as we paint. It’s actually not so bad. Maybe it is just the fumes, but I am enjoying this day of repetitive strokes and talking to Jesus. Kind of crazy, actually, that I am here, painting a wall in a Christian school in India. It’s a place where 2200 kids will file in next week and receive a Christ-centered education in an area surrounded by non-believing cultures. All of this because one man, Watkin C. Roberts, brought the Gospel of John to the head-hunting Hmar people 110 years ago. A little boy at the time, Rochunga Pudaite was introduced to Christ and spent his life studying, travelling, and eventually translating the entire Bible into the Hmar language. Dr. Pudaite founded the organization “Bibles for the World”. His efforts and desire to see the people of Northeast India come to a knowledge of Christ and his work to better the community have grown to a hospital, many churches, schools, and even and Indian children’s choir. The land where we are staying this month belongs to him and we often get to sit with him during dinner as his home backs up to our tent! His son, John, was our host for the month and is currently in the U.S. visiting and studying. They have been incredible, servant-hearted hosts and I am so grateful for the opportunities that we have had here.
*Snap*
I would love to hear about the “snaps” that you all have captured this month! Comment away or shoot me an email.
