Washing

Sometimes I feel silly talking about my thoughts because, well, they seem a little silly! I'm not a deep thinking theologian and I tend to see Him in small things. But if that's how I'm made I guess that's what I'd better be willing to give:

I've been sick the past few days and this morning felt good enough to enter back into the human race--at least part of the day. That shower after being sick feels so good! While not cold yet, the weather has cooled enough that I'm glad I remembered to turn the water heater on a while before I wanted to shower. I relished the feeling of oils and grime washing away and when I toweled off it felt SO good to be clean.

Being clean where we live is a privileged because lots of people aren't. Lots of people don't have the privacy to strip down and wash, they have to make do with sort of splashing with their clothes on. Lots of people don't have access to a water supply that would allow them to do even that. Lots of people can't afford soap. You can tell who has been on the streets for a while or not by the layers of grime. Who is trying to keep up a standard of cleanliness or who just doesn't care anymore. While people here are brown, those who have been on the streets for a long time are not. The layers of dirt on their skin and in their hair make them a much lighter ashen color. But whatever their level of dedication to hygiene, people on the street never get to feel truly clean. The privilege of being clean is something not to be taken for granted.

While feeling physically clean is amazing, being clean on the inside is...........I don't really have any words! Bliss? Transcendent? Heaven?

But how often do I take for granted the feeling of buoyancy inside, the uninhibited connection to all powerful Light, the peace in the midst of the trial, the inexpressible joy when I'm fresh 'off my knees' and clean before Him? Clean BECAUSE of Him?

It's a privilege to be clean. And may I never take it for granted.

Being Overwhelmed

A couple of weeks ago Steve and Hannah took off on a motorbike and spent 5 days up north of where we live in an area where 38% of the women at FS are from. This area has the lowest rural standard of living in the country. In response, FS is doing research into the district to see what might be done to help stop the 'export' of young girls down to our city and other cities into the sex trade. It's hard to imagine being so poor that you would accept pay to send a daughter off to 'work' under clearly suspect circumstances so you can feed the rest, but that's what parents in this area are brought to the point of considering.

They had quite a few eye-opening experiences. For example, one day they sat down in a small tea shop by a truck stop. They were aware that the small hut beside them was probably a brothel, but were amazed at what they saw and heard. In the space of 15 minutes around 20 men went in and out the door. The place was small enough that there could have only been a few girls inside. They could hear the girls crying, saying they were in pain and asking whoever was in charge to give them a break, but it didn't happen. Not nice but reality.

They took lots of photos but the one above touched me the most. These were just kids playing in the water that Steve and Hannah stopped and interacted with. At the end the boys asked for candy but Steve and Hannah didn't have any. The girls shyly asked Hannah for a kiss on the cheek instead which Hannah was delighted to give.

What got me about this sweet scene? These as of yet playful and beautiful girls. They're prime aged to be stolen, trafficked, or sent to our city to 'work'.

The problem is huge. It's huge where we are and so wide reaching that it's overwhelming. But Mother Teresa who knew about the masses said this, "If I look at the mass I will never act. If I look at the one I will." One person at a time.

I like the quote phrased like this, too, "If I look at the mass I will never act. If I look at THE ONE I will." He knows about the masses, too:

"When He saw the crowds, He had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." Matt. 9:36

A Letter

At the moment I'm breathing a sigh of relief. Steve's been suffering with infections/boils for a while now. It can get into your body here, stick around, and erupt again even after antibiotics. He had a really high fever a few days ago and got a horrendous, very painful infection under the skin on his upper leg worse than I've ever seen. And I have a scar on my leg bigger than an American quarter from just the eye of a boil once in Fiji!

He's been on antibiotics for a few days and has started a second one as well. While he probably still has a few painful days ahead, it's finally moving towards healing. Thank you, Father! It's that in between phase of not knowing if things are going to get worse or not before they get better that gets to me......

The last 6 months or so while great in many ways have also been draining with sicknesses in our family; repeated viral infection on the tongue, the usual stomach stuff that happens here, a seizure, Chickun Gunya, anemia, colds and flu, asthma, boils. There have only been short periods where everyone has been well.

I'm pretty easy going about lots of things, but don't always deal well with my family being sick. Especially when it's weird, out of the box stuff and we're skeptical of the local doctors.

I had a unique encouragement yesterday, however. There's a sweet, older lady in NZ who doesn't have email but who wants to hear from us because she faithfully remembers us. A friend prints off our emails and forwards them to her. She occasionally writes us long, newsy, and always encouraging old-fashioned letters in return and sends them all the way here to us.

At the end of last week one of her letters arrived. It was a busy day and I set the letter aside to read when I had a few minutes to enjoy it. She'd been ill for a long time, but yesterday we got the news that she had died.

I still hadn't read her letter.

I carefully opened the aerogram and sat down to read. It wasn't anything specific that she said but her words of fa1th washed over me. She spoke of her own joys and trials and spoke directly to the last things she had heard about us. She reminded us that 'all things work together for the good.' And told us that she remembered us often.

Her very last words to us were, "May G0d continue to watch over you all and keep you in His care always. May your journey continue under the Master's supervision."

Sickness or health, easy or hard, stretched or comfortable, He watches and cares and we are under His supervision. And works it all together for the good.

Here's the photo of Adam and little friend that I couldn't figure out how to post below. Thanks, Jenny!

(And 'no' that's not a rash on Adam's cheek. That's just plain ol' dirt!)

Snapshots

Adam loves to play with the little ones in FS's nursery in the late afternoons after their naps. It's not unusual to see him walking around the first floor of the factory with the head of a just awoken, sleepy kid on his shoulder. Especially cute since Adam's only 1/2 the size of an adult himself! Adam also likes to play basketball in the courtyard most days as well.

The other day I walked through and had one of those, "Oh, where is my camera?" moments. But since there was no camera nearby I will have to describe it instead.

Adam was bouncing his basketball in front of the nursery right where the people, which include Adam and Steve, are in the picture on the left above. He was bouncing it between his legs along with other tricks and showing off a bit. Standing up and gripping the inside of the gate to the nursery (the doorway beyond) and watching Adam, were three diaper and T-shirt clad little boys about one year old in a row. They had gorgeous grins from ear to ear and were bouncing together right along with Adam's ball.

It was one of those moments that I was so glad that our children are here and having the life experience that they are. Life in a mental snapshot.

Usually no cameras are allowed in FS, but recently a photographer got special permission to do so. She took some amazing shots including the ones above. There's a fantastic one of Adam holding one of the tiny three musketeers, but for some reason it's the one photo that I can't download from her blog! Oh, well. I'll put a few more of her pictures at the bottom of this post.

I'm not a photographer and I'm not an artist. I don't naturally see hidden visual beauty around me like photographers do. I knew in moving to this city that one of the hardest things for me would be the lack of beauty, particularly natural beauty. I'm a "communing with Him through the beauty that He's made" person. But through photos that I've seen people take of the city at large, I'm now seeing beauty in snapshots all around me that I didn't before. They have taught me a lot about opening my eyes to the beauty within a frame.

It's not hard to find beauty inside of FS in the faces of women. But here are a few faceless beautiful images inside FS as well:

Trimming newly sewn bags.

Mixing paint for screen printing.

Braiding small bits of recycled saris to put on zippers.

Braiding recycled sari handles for bags.

Some of our neighbors (not in the trade)

Why?

When we have groups come it's always interesting to see this city again through their eyes. Everyone experiences the sensory overload at first that just can't be explained until you've been here or somewhere similar. So many people, sights, sounds, smells all at once. Some people love it. They love the excitement, the constant action. Some people, particularly artists or photographers, are awed by the hidden beauty in fabrics, old architecture, fading paint on a wall next to a brightly painted door. Some people can't get past the dirt, smog and filth.

But if here long enough most people end up asking this question, "G-d, how can you let this happen? How can you let people and children live like this? How can you let them be so poor, so abused, so hurt, so dehumanized?"

It's a challenging question. And there are lots of pat answers that are somewhat harder to believe when the pain is right in front of you. (I think I've posted it before but I love this quote: "Sometimes I would like to ask G-d why He allows poverty, suffering, and injustice when He could do something about it. 'Well, why don't you ask Him?' Because I'm afraid He would ask me to same question. -Richard Stearns" )

This city can change people and one of those ways is this:

Perhaps in seeing more suffering on the outside than one has seen before we can get more of a glimpse into His heart. He sees suffering everywhere, all the time. In countries where the physical may be more comfortable, He still sees the inside. He sees the agony of the sinful human condition every minute of every day. Where we manage to gloss over and beautify, He sees it at it really is.

So instead of getting lost in the question of 'why' I remember that it hurts Him too today. And it hurt thousands of years ago when He walked streets similar to mine and died on a cross. And I can still sing (as I've been today!) with all my heart:

You are good, you are good, when there's nothing good in me.

You are love, you are love on display for all to see.

You are light, you are light when the darkness closes in.

You are hope you are hope you have covered all my sin.

You are peace, you are peace when my fear is crippling.

You are true, you are true even in my wondering.

You are joy, you are joy, you're the reason that I sing.

You are life, you are life in you death has lost it's sting!

(Forever Reign by Ingram and Morgan)