Compassion

Today is a holiday here and I got to take my girl who's not going to be living with us much longer out to lunch. We had a great talk and I enjoyed hearing her new perspectives on life as she's been volunteering at FS as well as some elsewhere for the last couple of months.

She and a couple of other girls who live here have spent some time at famous home started by an even more famous nun for the dying. She described how amazed she was at quite a few other other volunteers who were so moved by the place that they basically could only stand there and cry, bringing little help to those around them. Hannah and her friends tucked in and helped with the physical needs of the sick and did their best to make them smile as well. The girls have been here long enough not to be insensitive, but to be able to put their own pity aside and be moved by real compassion to do something FOR the person.

When we first got here I cried a lot but I made sure that the objects of my pity didn't see. As one local lady told a friend of mine, "You can cry when you're by yourself but you had better not cry in front of those girls. They (girls in the trade) are not allowed to cry so neither can you." Good advice.

Our hearts still hurt for those around us but now we cry less often. Yesterday I visited with someone who had just been to a rural area where a lot of girls are trafficked to our area from and he told me horror stories of what he'd just seen there. Even though he was a foreigner like myself I found myself holding the tears until he left. It's become a habit.

Hannah and I discussed today how it's a process to get there but how it's important to have something deeper in our hearts than just being moved to tears when we see pain and suffering around us. Crying with someone who is crying can be a gift, but tears for someone in terrible circumstances who is too numb to cry themselves is not kind or helpful. It's focusing on our own feelings and our pity just makes them ashamed. True compassion moves us to focus on THEM instead.

What an amazing thing for an 18 year-old to already understand and be able to express!

Happy Birthday FS!

Saturday was FS's 10th birthday. Around 350 people gathered to celebrate 10 years of Freedom for women. It was a great day with lots of smiles, laughter, food, and fun!

Highlights included hearing one women from each of the red light areas around lifting up the women in their area still standing in line. Another was spontaneous dancing during one of the items presented by a group of the women--just because they were happy!

Our Communications Manager worked hours and hours on a video of interviews and footage of the women for the women that he showed during the celebrations. A number of people who have worked at FS in the past flew in for the occasion.

I was on the committee to plan the event and one thing that the process reminded me of was what an amazing group of people that we get to work alongside here! When I asked people to help out I knew they would say 'yes'. The foreigners were up late decorating the night before, they were ready to help with whatever during the day, and they all stayed after the party was over without being asked to help clean up even though they were hot and tired. Why? Because they love the women that they've come to serve.......

All of the women looked lovely dressed in their best and the foreign women put on saris as well. Since I can't post a picture of the women here is one of some of the foreign women there (Hannah, Rachel, and Heather included).

Note: As I wrote the above I got word that the husband of one of our young women killed himself by drinking poison this morning. We are glad to see hope in the district but there's still so much despair....

Suffering

Adam's had hives for the last 5 days. This after a very painful previous week with a huge sore on his tongue (we think we know the cause of the sore). It's been hard to see him suffer and has made his mom concerned.

I've always believed that when He calls a family He has a plan for the entire family in it. Over the years I've seen people come overseas and usually go when they came with the attitude of wanting to protect their children from anything and everything that might impact them differently than their home culture. By doing that they didn't embrace the positive things that their location had to offer and refused the impact of life change through the negative in their children.

But recently I've been longing for easy access to good medical care so we can figure out what's going on with our son. He has been faithful, we've been figuring things out a bit, and I know that good medical care will come for Adam later.

But something lovely has been happening through this experience in Adam's life! He's definitely a gifted artist. (Not sure where he inherited that from!) He loves to draw but as an active boy he frequently doesn't make time for that.

This week however, he's had a pencil in his hand and art book in front of him for hours at a time. This morning he shuffled up the stairs and almost instantly asked through hive-swollen eyelids, "Where's my sketch pad?" He has Googled difficult cartoon characters all week long and drawn them all. Perfectly. At age 8.

It's been hard to watch him suffer but at the same time a joy to watch a passion ignite in him in the use of his Dad given talents. It's good to remember that sometimes suffering ushers in joy and that He has a purpose in everything. And that through everything we still have a reason to give thanks.

Recycling.....

These photos are the perfect depiction of what FS is about to me! This is the courtyard of the main building where used saris have been washed and hung up to dry. The women tear the saris into strips and pieces are used to decorate, line, or create handles for different bag designs.

These saris are like the women of our area. They might be used and a bit worn, but they're beautiful and worthwhile.
And can be transformed into something new!
(Thanks for the photos Lizzie P.!)

Safety?

Safety is an interesting concept here. From our perspective some things are extremely cautious and some things that others think are fine are really dangerous.

The Metro doesn't run on Sunday so we took a taxi home earlier. The taxi door next to Rachel seemed to be firmly latched but didn't hang totally straight on the frame. People in car after car as they passed banged the door with their hands or yelled out an alert to us that the door wasn't right. It obviously really bothered them!

At the same time as we passed, people risked their lives weaving in and out of traffic to cross roads in front of us. People passed by on motor bikes with the driver wearing a helmet while their passenger didn't. Sometimes the passenger was a small child sitting in front of them or a wife sitting side-saddle on the back in her sari.

If our kids take off running down a lane people get upset and yell at them to stop lest they get hurt. Last year Aaron was sent to the principle's office at school for getting a ball that had a gone up on a ledge. He climbed up all of maybe 5 feet off of the ground to retrieve it to the horror and dismay of his teachers.

Electricians, however, regularly wire meters with 440V live electricity while wearing flip-flops/jandels! They also lean looooong bamboo ladders up against electrical wires for support to work on the wires connected to poles on the streets. Shocking! (pun intended)

If you look closely below you will see a guy wiring right outside of our house. He's 3 stories up on a metal ladder, with bare feet, casually leaned up against a pole to work. No one is watching the bottom of the ladder with heaps of people walking right past it.

From Steve:

I am writing this from a cafe in the south part of the country. I am here dropping Aaron at boarding school to start a new chapter in his life, and indeed our own as we start to do life as a family apart from each other.

When we packed up our belongings and sold almost everything we owned to come here to serve girls trapped in slavery, I thought of it as just me serving others. I never considered for a moment that people were in fact going to be serving me. Yet this week I have reflected on and appreciated the people that are actually serving me.

This second half of the year I have chosen to do another subject towards a Diploma in 'M' and am studying "Understanding and Interpreting the B1ble." This week I've been writing an assignment on Phil. 4:15-20 where Paul is writing from prison to the people of Philippi thanking them for the money they had sent him. Prisoners back then had to get family and friends to supply all their needs.

At a meeting for new parents this morning at Aaron's boarding school, I realized that all of the teachers and dorm parents have come to this country to teach and look after our kid as an act of service to me. They will love on my kid, educate him, and instill life principles in him by a constant example of how to live life in J3sus. It is very humbling to observe the quality of staff here and know the love they will give out to my son.

Then, as I write this assignment on Philippians, I see how the people of Philippi sent a gift with a guy 1300km/800m, probably by foot, which possibly took up to 2 months (and I think he did this trip 4 times!), so that they could provide money and gifts for Paul's needs. I remember that many of you that 'think' of us and financially support us as a family have radically given that we might work here. It is you that serve us by your kindness and love. It's humbling to know that we came to serve, yet in doing this we are being served.

I would say to you the same thing that Paul said to the Philippians:

"They (your gifts) are a sweet smelling sacrifice that is acceptable and pleasing to G0d. And this same G0d that takes care of me will supply all your needs from His glorious riches , which have been given to us in Chr1st J3sus.

Now all glory to G0d our father forever and ever. Amen!"

Aaron in his uniform this morning at school.

Beautiful Flowers

As I was working at my computer a few minutes ago I was bothered by a subtle, but consistent bad smell. Bad smells float in my window often but this one didn't go away. I checked the rubbish bin/garbage can and while it needs to be emptied, nope, it's not that. Thankfully it's not the refrigerator either. I finally realized that it's the flowers on my counter.

People have been so sweet to the other kids and me since Steve took Aaron to boarding school for the first time several days ago; sending messages, texting, having us over. My lovely Irish friend, Emma, brought me a beautiful bouquet of bright pink zinnias (possibly) and white carnations. I didn't have a vase, so I put them on the counter in a plastic jar that used to hold muesli. That bouquet has made me smile every time I look at it. Something new and fresh and beautiful. (I should have taken a photo!)

But now it's starting to die. It's still pretty but some flowers are drooping. Now that I've discovered the source of the stench in the room, I'm pretty sure their days of glory are short lived! Why? Well, of course there are seasons in life and flowers don't last forever. I can also philosophically ponder the thought that if their beauty were always there would I appreciate it later? But the thing I'm thinking about now is how while those flowers were plucked for a purpose, they were disconnected from their life source. Water has deceptively kept them from wilting for a while, but they are no longer connected to stem, roots, and soil; their life.

How's my Connection today? Am I in a place where I'm looking good but it may not last? Am I wilting? Or am I firmly connected to the Stem? Like a newborn baby am I focused on drinking deeply of the Life offered, or am I just sipping water and hoping for the best?

I don't want to survive, I want to thrive!