I have so many words.
I have so many stories.
And yet, I find something to write on/with, a spot to sit under a fan and the words do not come.
I cannot tell you how many times Ive sat down trying to clue all y’all in on what has been going on.
It’s just hard describing what has amazingly become my everyday life. So it doesn’t seem like anything extraordinary that y’all would like to hear. I wake up in sweat. Actually every last one of us wake up sweating. To all you Texans who think summer is hot I double dog dare you to sleep with no AC in a small room with one window with 11 girls. My perspective on heat has forever changed. On the upside the electricity rarely goes out and there happens to be several fans that will blow the sweat off you if you happen to position yourself correctly. Ironcially the power just went out along with my “AC” (fan). This is one of thing I’ve definitely learned in my short two months how our Lord has such a sense of humor, I’m pretty sure He’s giggling right now.
The beginning of Luke 9 reads so much differently while you are actually living in another country attempting to be “sent”.
I have so appreciated having the opportunity to have house church this month. Being able to come together with some long term missionaries to sing in English and talk about the Bible in English is a luxury.
I told y’all we are working at Sarah’s Covenant Home. At SCH it’s split into like ages and like gender. The home where I spend the majority of my time is Faith Home. At Faith Home there are 6 different apartments. In each apartment there are 7 ish kids with aunties to take care of them. The ideal apartment life is to also have a foster parent(s) for each apartment as well, so far they have 2 at Faith Home with another coming soon! Sarah (of Sarah’s Covenant Home) wanted to live out taking care of widows and orphans so she employs widows as the aunties (nannies). The Indian culture places no significance on people with disabilities. They believe that a disability means you or a relative has sinned. Kids with disabilities are seen as nothing, what’s almost worst are when some kids that are completely “normal” are pushed out of families just because the mother was disabled and they were afraid the child would be as well. One of the girls is there simply because her voice is “too” low, never mind the fact that she is gorgeous and so smart. While the aunties are being trained how to see these kids as worthwhile you still see traces of the culture they have been immersed in their entire lives.
While we are at SCH one of our “responsibilities” has been to find a buddy and spend one on one time with them every day. Giving them just a little bit of extra attention that unfortunately cannot happen every day. My buddies name is Margaret, she is 4 looks like a 2 year old, she cannot walk or talk but she has finally started showing me her gorgeous little smile. One of my favorite moments every day is when Monica finds Margaret. Monica loves her, while she cannot talk she comes over to us and firmly plops herself down and communicates in the way she can, sitting and staring at Margaret. Her smile is just so sweet.
Chicken in a bag swinging from my hand outside the auto as we go flying through the streets of India dodging pedestrians, children on bikes and Water Buffalo. It’s one of those “I’m really living this life” moments. It’s so hard to explain in mere words on a blog describing our daily lives here because they have just become so normal. Not only have I not worn a seatbelt since America but it is the norm to have people or parts of your body hanging out of the auto. You grab hold onto whatever is near and watch as you miraculously not hit anything. ( Or when you do no one seems to care)
After ministry I go up to the roof where the most wonderful breeze is and watch the sun go down.
Shopping in an Indian store for dinners to cook for 11 Americans is not as intimidating as it once was and we gratefully grab white “American “ style cheese as it is the cheese in the store. The peanut butter is always gone because well, the Americans are in town and we go through peanut butter faster than Indians. Realizing you need some chicken in your diet you go down the street and have 2 chickens ( how to say it politely for any vegetarians that might be reading this) how about we just say we get the chickens in a state far far from frozen in a grocery sack. A plastic grocery sack with handles is now all that separates the non frozen chicken from me. And yet it never struck me strange.
