My Father

Know what's worse than missing someone when they're not with you?

Missing someone when they are with you.

That's how I felt this past weekend whenever I looked at my dad.  Sure, he's there physically right in front of me.  But, I feel like he's missing.  Cancer has a way of doing that to people.

He has to sleep propped up on a recliner in the living room now because he can't breath well at night.  Poor mom, all alone in that big bed.  Wouldn't be surprised if she's sleeping on the couch next to him.

Dad doesn't talk much now.  His talking is usually interrupted by fits of coughing.  He can't talk loud or long.  What's worse... he can't sing.  Singing is our love, our family tradition, our ministry, our joy.  When dad sings with his girls, he just beams.  But now, he'll have to just play the guitar for us while we sing.

The Lord's prayer is not quite as good without dad's strong male voice ushering a sense of awe.

It's just hard to go home now to see my family and feel like part of the household is missing.  A piece is gone.  Dad is still here, but he's not the same dad that I've always known.  He shows more pain, admits his frailty more readily, and surrenders his tasks more often to the able hands of his wife or daughters.

But, he's still dad.

He was outside in the chilly morning air planting bulbs.  He can still impress even himself with his guitar playing.  He gets the heartiest laughs at the dinner table.  He would pause a moment to lovingly pet one of the cats.  He is still shy around people.

Some things never change.

Although a part of my dad is missing, he is still the wonderful father that God gave me.  God did a an amazing thing when He wrought my father in the womb.

He shall be a man of quiet strength.  He shall know when to speak and when to be silent.  He shall "provide things honest in the sight of all men."  He shall have a high sense of morality, responsibility, honesty and unwavering loyalty.  He shall have a faith as solid as stone.  He shall be a man of integrity.  He shall have and impart wisdom.  He shall be called, "beloved."

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Please join me in praying for my father, that God would provide a quite peace to flood his soul.  It would be our greatest desire for God to heal him, but we also know that God's thoughts are higher than our thoughts.  He is in control.  

I remember a night many years ago, when I complained to my father about a lingering hip displacement that was causing me much pain and agony.  I told him my woes and asked, "why do I have this problem?  Why won't God just fix me?"  My dad paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, then carefully replied with, "though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.*"

That made a profound impression on my young mind.

And now, as my dad battles his worst enemy, he is a living example of the very words he uttered that night so many years ago.  Although his modesty compels him to stay silent, I speak from witnessing him, that he believes those words.  He has that kind of trust.

And again, I'm profoundly impressed.

*Job 13:15

God Used Me

Who would’ve thought we could get so close and love each other so intensely in only a short 3 ½ weeks?  I find it hard to believe.  Yet, I could see the proof.

  A program just for me.  A poem written with me in mind.  Special musics done by the shiest of the girls.  Words of gratitude from young and old.  Gifts given lovingly.  Tears shed.

  I didn't know they had all this in mind.  I didn't even know the girls and staff all felt this way about my leaving.  Yet, looking around the group, I could see tear stained faces.  One was even bawling with her head in her hands.  All because of me?

  I wondered what was going on when I was told we were going to the church for worship that evening.  We usually had staff worship in the kitchen.  And why did all the staff come trotting giddily up behind me as I entered the church building?  Then I found out.  This is what I saw.

Singing

Tears sprung to my eyes especially after reading the first one.  I turned around and faced the girls, who sat there looking at me with expectant faces.  I called them to come give me a group hug.  The tears started flowing, falling on the heads of each girl I hugged and it started mingling with their own tears.

  "Of course, I want to come back," I said with trembling lips.  Funny thing is, I never really felt that way until that moment.  But at that moment, I realized that I would give the world to come back and see each girl.

Sandra Miss giving her appreciation

  I was then asked to sit at the front of the church as they gave their program planned just for me.  I couldn't stop the tears that kept falling down my cheeks.  I noticed several in the same predicament.  A special music was sung about the 6 seasons of India, which they all knew I had been intrigued about.  A poem was given that, through translation, said something about how amazing it was that we had grown so close over such a short period of time and that we were sad to say goodbye yet we knew that we would meet again.

Poem by Namuna

  Testimonies were given.  First it was Sandra Miss.  Then it was Bipana, the shy girl who would erupt in hysterical laughter with even the lightest touch because of her overly ticklishness.  Then Mrs. Horner spoke.  Then Chandrakala, the girl who arrived only a few days before my leaving.  Then Joseph (the only guy there that night).  Although not all of them could speak English, I caught bits and pieces (through translation)... you won our hearts... you have such an infectious smile... you encouraged me to be cheerful and always smile... thank you for cleaning my teeth... thank you for teaching me how to clean my teeth... thank you for teaching me how to lead VBS... thank you for teaching English... you were so helpful...I will miss you... we love you.

Special music by the shy Assamese girls

  Who wouldn't cry?  I realized that I was loved.   I realized that these people were more than friends... they had become a part of me.  I realized that I would miss them and I also realized that I didn't want to leave.  I let my tears flow.

Receiving my gift

  Another special music, then I was asked to sit back at the front of the church in my special spot.  I was then given two gifts.  One, Sandra Miss carried behind her back.  All the girls giggled excitedly.  A beautiful black lacy scarf was placed around my neck and then Sandra hugged me.  My next gift was carried by two girls (Rebica and Sajanna) and placed carefully on my lap.  It turned out to be a gorgeous picture that the girls said was my "home."  I felt like laughing and crying, so I did both.

The picture

  What had happened during these past 3 1/2 weeks?  Where had time gone?  How had I drawn so incredibly close to these girls in only a short time that would cause them to put on a whole program for me?

"God be with you till we meet again..."

  And I can't help but think, what if I had stayed longer?  What if I hadn't stayed 3 1/2 weeks but 3 1/2 months... or years?  How much would I affect them then?  If I could affect them this much in only 3 1/2 weeks, what could happen in a longer period of time?  What amazing bonding had taken place in these short weeks!

  And God used me.  Me.  Tall, blond, awkward, humorous, clumsy me.  If God could use me to create an impact on these girls' lives, then what can He do with you?

God used me.

  

Sabbath Sermon and Sadness

I did the sermon this past Sabbath.  Turned out better than I thought.  I was very lost at the beginning of my studies for it.  I couldn’t seem to bring it all together and it was really bothering me.  I thought I’d share from parable of the sower and the seed, because I’d been studying Christ Object Lessons and was getting a lot out of it.  So I started preparing my sermon notes (which thankfully, I was warned I’d be asked to preach, so I had a week to prepare unlike many others who are told the day before that they have the sermon the next day) and was getting stuck on the different soils.  Seemed like I wasn’t getting anywhere.

  But I kept praying for God’s guidance, and He impressed me to take a totally different approach from what I had planned, so I did that.  And it all came together perfectly (why wouldn’t it?  God is awesome!).  So I preached on the different soil types and how they relate to different heart conditions.  I appealed to my listeners that they have one of these heart conditions (soil conditions) and which one are they.  Then I went into how to prepare the soil of your heart using the 3 steps of a true heart conversion coupled with the 3 soil types (heart conditions) that needed help.  And I believe God blessed it. 

  It’s nice having a translator!  While he’s speaking, I can be looking over my notes to see what comes next.  When he’s done, I can speak to my listeners without looking at my notes.  Then we start the process all over again when he translates!  It’s pretty cool!  Plus, Joseph is an excellent translator!  He doesn’t get stuck on words like some of the others here and he speaks Nepali fluently.  He also mimics my voice fluctuations and dramatic movements (which I frequently use).  It’s fun working with him!

Okay, changing topic...

  It's weird... although there are so many hard things to deal with here in India, I think I'm actually going to miss it.  I'm going to miss the girls, who I've grown to love.  I'm going to miss the cold nights, cuddling close to my hot water bottle hearing Indian music playing in the distance.  I'm going to miss cleaning people's teeth, watching the delighted looks on their faces when I show them the "after" picture (yes, I've taken before and after pictures!  I'll post sometime!).  I'll miss Krystle, who's been such a fun roommate and friend.  I'll miss my baths, oddly enough.  Yes, there will be a lot I'll miss.  

  When the girls here found out that I only have one more week left with them, they all pouted and made crying noises to show their sadness.  I joined them in the fun, pretending to cry, and they thought it was hilarious.  We had a good laugh.  But under all the levity, I could see they truly meant it.  They're going to miss me... and I them.  It will be sad to leave.  I've grown so close to all these dear people in such a short amount of time. 

I'll miss them a lot.

A Positive Attitude Makes Everything Beautiful

A kerosene lamp stood in the corner of the room on a small table; it’s faint light dispelling only a fraction of the darkness that enshrouded the tiny room.  But I could see everything.  I took it all in.

  A one room home, barely bigger than my bedroom in America.  No kitchen; just a stove top.  No bathroom.  No living room.  No closet.  Just one room.  And a growing family calls this home.

 Linoleum covers the cement floor.  A hard bed lies in the corner.  Handmade curtains cover the windows.  Plastic roses sit poised in an orange vase next to the lantern, giving what cheer they can muster.  The ceiling looks like someone painted it… maybe a blue sky with white clouds… I can’t really tell.  If it is what I imagine, I find it rather fitting since these people hardly see the sky this time of year.

  I take this all in.  I see the husband and pregnant wife.  Sadness is in their expressions.  You see, they left to go to the hospital when they though she was having labor pains.  While they were gone, a thief broke into their small one-room home and stole their money.

  My heart nearly breaks.  These people have hardly anything.  They live in one room.  The wife doesn’t even have a proper kitchen to cook from.  They don’t have a fridge, a washer and dryer, or a microwave.  And yet, someone thinks it profitable to rob these dear people of the little they have.

  Then I think of myself.  Just the day before I spent nearly 5000 rupees on souvenirs in Darjeeling.  5000 rupees could buy this family food for probably over 4 weeks.  And I spent it all in one day.

  Suddenly, I want to jump up from this home and run back to my room.  I feel like grabbing my souvenirs and rushing to the market.  I feel like selling every bit of my goods and stuffing the cash I earn it into the couple’s hands and running off before they can object.

  Why am I so privileged?  Why am I so spoiled?  What does it matter if I don’t have enough money for all the souvenirs I want to buy for my friends and family?  If only I could help this dear family.

  And then, I’m struck with the realization, that most families in these 3^rd world countries live like this… or worse.  Some children don’t know what it’s like to have a loving mother or father.  Some people have never felt a pillow.  Some think one meal a day is luxury.  Girls and boys get excited about getting a pen.  Still others think they’ve seen the world when they travel a few miles away from home.

  As I think of all this, my heart aches.  I agree with Katie Davis who described the need like “trying to empty the ocean with a dropper.”  It seems like we try so hard to help some, just to realize that there’s millions still who need help.  It makes you feel helpless, like using a dropper to empty the ocean.

  As I continued looking around the tiny room, a poster on the wall caught my attention.  It showed majestic mountains, red flowers and some butterflies… a good description of Mungpoo (minus the butterflies).  There were some words in English on it.  They said, “A positive attitude makes everything beautiful.”

  Looking at this family here living in this small domicile, one can’t imagine anything beautiful about it.  Not when we have our homes in America to compare it with.  Yet, the saying is true.  Having a positive attitude can transform this tiny dwelling into the grandest of palaces.  Having a positive attitude can make the trials here pale into insignificance.  A positive attitude can make emptying the ocean with a dropper possible… as long as God is overseeing.

  I found that I left that home, not with a feeling of discouragement and disheartenment, but with a renewed purpose…with a purpose to do what I can to empty the ocean, one dropper-full at a time.  It may take me a lifetime, yet if I keep a positive attitude, everything will be beautiful.