“Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears our burden, the God who is our salvation.”
Psalm 68:19-20
I’ve got butterflies of transition in my stomach as I lay down on my sleeping mat in a building I’ve referred to as “home” for the past month.
I write this post as I prepare for our last day of ministry in India, & my heart is heavy.
I’m already preparing myself to weep as I leave this country.
If the way that I reacted when we left the village of Pallamalli the other night is any inclination of how I will react to leaving India…I am prepared to mourn, but also rejoice in the privilege of being here at all.
I’m preparing for that bittersweet cry with the Lord…
I am overwhelmed with how He’s engineered my life, with the opportunities & privileges He has given me freely & nudged me towards. I’m overwhelmed with His goodness, hardly believing that the soil of India is on the soles of the feet of a small-town loner like me.
He has allowed me to meet the most beautiful people in strange, faraway lands.
He has allowed me to laugh with them, hold their hands, love them actively, pray over them, eat with them, attempt to communicate with words & thank them for loving me so well.
Which is so insane, I am so honored.
And I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget what He did here, & I don’t want to forget what I witnessed & felt & heard. So almost daily, I ask Him to help me remember.
To remember Benson, the super smart & mature 13 year-old who wants to become a robotics scientist.
And Vijaya, the seamstress down the road who me & Erin became close with over the course of the month. Vijaya made me feel beautiful here, making us gorgeous handcrafted Punjabis, & sarees that are still in the works. She is so kind & such a beautiful soul. A few days ago Erin & I took her out to lunch & spent some time just hanging out with her & the two other seamstress’ that work in her butik, we laughed & loved & they asked me to sing for them, I always end up making the pretty generic selection of Amazing Grace for some unknown reason, & I almost started crying as I sang it in her shop with her arm around my shoulders. I don’t know, just realizing the weight of God’s goodness in my life is enough to break me down. Please be praying for her salvation!
I want to remember when B said to me, “Sister, I find you always laughing & smiling…” because it was such a testimony of God’s transformative power, & it made me so happy to know that my joy is evident.
And the little girl who I carried on my hip last night, who would smile every time I looked over at her, & keep her arm around the back of my neck. I want to remember her tattered dress & shining, dirty face & how my heart breaks…I don’t want to forget just because it hurts.
Akil-Babu, the best little comedian I have ever met in my life. My gosh he brings me joy, his energy is contagious. Lord don’t let his raspy little voice fade from my head.
I want to remember standing on the shores of the Bay of Bengal, feeling so happy I could hardly contain it.
Going out into the ocean on a fishing boat with two random fisherman for 400 rupees.
Reckless Tuk-Tuk rides through Ongole.
Sweating buckets non-stop.
Sweating body wash off before I rinse in the shower.
The lack of toilet paper & soap.
Church in India in general, the genuine worship & prayer of the women.
The idols & temples everywhere, the futility of glorifying gods that don’t exist.
The children leading us through the village, being the most skilled navigators I have ever seen. They have every household memorized, every trail is familiar to their feet.
Walking through the village with Sham, & him looking up at me & saying “Sister, you are so beautiful…” NO, I almost melted into a puddle of my own tears because of how genuine he was. This is the same boy who says he wants to be a pastor in a sea of boys with dreams of being policeman & engineers…he said he knows it doesn’t pay much at all but God will provide.
Little old ladies in sarees.
Little old men with their staffs.
Always telling the women I had had enough to eat but always being given just one more piece of Chapati.
Admiring the emotional & physical strength of the women here as they haul huge metal urns of water home from the well, on their heads.
Long Tuk-Tuk rides to ministry sites…& random Britney Spears songs unexpectedly blasting from the CD player.
Sujy’s deliverance.
Flowers from children.
Watching the little ones fervently pray for one another.
Cold rain falling on me on the rooftop.
Waking up one morning with 15 mosquito bites to the face.
ALL THE FOODS.
Male BFF’s holding hands. I don’t know what it is but I love it, it’s literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Maybe because masculinity is so expected but they’re like, “To heck with gender normative expectations, I love my bro.”
Guys sticking close to our Tuk-Tuk doing motorcycle tricks to impress us.
The kids laughing at me as I attempt to speak Telugu.
All of the faithful, diligent & selfless servants of Christ here, Lord they have taught me so much.
Laying hands on the belly of a woman on the cusp of labor, praying for the baby under the Indian night sky, & feeling it kick our hands.
Learning deep things from the Lord, coming to terms with suffering & reconciling it with His sovereignty.
Being flattered by the people here, as they point out beauty in me unseen by me.
The night Michelle & I talked for hours on the rooftop & got locked out of our room until 4:30 am.
I know I will remember even the things I should want to forget…cows roaming around & pooping everywhere, the livestock that we eat spotted eating garbage, the smell of burning garbage & sewage, men peeing on the street casually, seeing children begging knowing that there is a perpetrator behind their begging, a pimp they must answer to…I don’t want to forget these things though. Because they are real. Seeing them meant that I was awake & alive here. I don’t want to forget even the things that suck & terrify & hurt.
And there is so much more…so many things that I can’t or won’t state publicly, gentle whispers & shattering revelations, people who’ve greatly affected me that I will keep sacred.
The people of India have filled my belly in their loving tendency to care for others, & they have known this as I have gestured about how full I am, & tried to communicate how delicious the food has been with my clumsy Anglophone tongue.
What they don’t know, & probably will never know despite my endless smiling, hand grabs & gestures of affection is the extent to which they have filled my heart…to overflowing.
So I’ll say to India what India has said to me with the realest glee & gratitude ever in about 30 little voices every evening as we leave the village: Bye Sister! Thank you Sister!
(And I hope to see you again, Sister.)
