A Night to Remember

Having finished camp yesterday afternoon, I spent today catching up on household chores- laundry, cooking, cleaning, etc. My friend Rebka hennaed my hand and we just relaxed around the house. I went for a run in the evening and as the sun was setting I walked over to the SCH orphan home where my good friend, Gillian has just moved in for the month. 

Sarah’s Covenant Homes (SCH), for those of you who don’t already know, are homes that are designed especially for special needs orphans. (http://www.schindia.com) All of the children in the three homes have either mental or physical disabilities, and in many cases, both. The home I’m about to tell you about is commonly referred to as the School girls apartment because the top floor is home to about 10 middle school aged girls who, despite their disabilities, all attend school. The bottom floor, where I spent the evening, is where the younger children stay. 

Tonight, as I walk in, a herd of little tikes came running out yelling variations of ‘Koti!’, ‘Aca’ (sister, in Telugu), and ‘Tister’ (Sister in toddler). Finally one starts correcting another, correcting another, and word spreads that ‘Cort-ta-ney Sister’ had just arrived. Talk about feeling loved. I saw that all of the girls had their finger nails painted and Gillian was sitting on the floor giving the final touches to some of the ‘Aiyas’ (Telugu for ‘Nanny’). She is pretty much awesome. 

Each child at the home is incredibly different and incredibly special. For safety's sake, I won’t mention names, but diagnoses include Apert’s Syndrome, Downs, Dwarfism, blindness, Autism, deformed limbs, etc. Personalities range from joyful, loud and extroverted to cuddly, soft spoken and introverted...and all of those in between. 

I had arrived just in time for dinner. Gillian, who has moved into the home to help establish routines and create more of a familial atmosphere, has done a great job of creating fellowship ‘around the dinner table.’ All of the children sit in one room together as bowls of rice and dal are are passed around and a multitude of right hands dig in. Challenging, yes. But is it working, oh yea. 

As they finished up they moved into the front room to brush their teeth and play while dinner was being cleaned up. I imagine that some people would feel suffocated if 10 kids jumped on them at once...but personally, I can’t think of anything better. The trick, I’ve found, is accommodating them all in various positions. The human body can actually hold more kids than you might think. You can totally have your arm around three while the other hand holds back a child who is learning not to hit. Your skirt can then be made into a slide for three more children to take turns going down, and two more can actually be hanging around your shoulders. Just make sure to keep your ankles crossed, watch out for the one that bites and close your eyes when the blind one reaches up to identify you. 

P.S. The kids came up with the slide idea by themselves. I was strictly told not to uncross my legs and there was one boy monitoring whose ‘turn’ it was. He, in his three years of wisdom, was like the ride master at six flags. He made sure each child crossed their arms and laid back and then he would pull their legs until they successfully made it down my legs and hit the floor. 

Anyways, the new routine includes a sweet time of prayer and devotion- a feat some (me....) might have called impossible without seeing it with their own eyes.  As we moved back into the common room, the kids settled into various laps and positions and the aiyas started to sing. Like clockwork each child began clapping their hands along with the voices. In that moment nothing mattered..nothing made us different, not age, size, health, nationality- we were just children of God sitting together singing praises to  our God. The boy in my lap clapped my hands together and every once and awhile leaned over to help another child clap her hands. (yep, one in the same ride-master, authoritative three year old). One of the nurses shared a Psalm and then the Aiyas took turns praying. It has been my experience that when Indian women pray, they strip themselves bear before the Lord. The tears and outcry that came from this women that now kneeled before me in prayer could only be evidence of a heart that has been repeatedly poured out before the Lord. 

As I looked around the room, not all of the kids were lost in prayer. One young girl was sticking pieces of paper from a torn up magazine to her face, another boy was using his friends toe to kill an ant and another was blowing bubbles with her spit. They were, however, sitting together in fellowship, still before the Lord, being covered by the prayer of the women who have devoted their lives to their care. I’m sure I was not the only one who felt as if a blanket of peace had been placed over the home. 

In the chaos of life these moments are immeasurably valuable. It’s there, in his intimate presence, that God reminds us of who we are, why we are here and what we have to look forward to. 

Bedtime, goodbye kisses and a nice walk home made for one of my most favorite evenings in India. 

One Time at Summer Camp...

This last month of my internship was spent helping to plan for and host a summer camp for the children that participate in ICM’s Covenant Child Development Centers. The 10 days that we ran our program felt like a whole different world. While it was happening I had trouble remembering what life was like before camp, and now that it’s over it seems like it may have been a dream. (Something perhaps out of the Twilight Zone?). Each day was long, exhausting, hot- and yet, extremely rewarding in its own way. 

The blog that I write for CCDC has a bit more of the details (http://ccdc-india.com/covenant-childrens-camp-2013/) but here I just wanted to post some of my favorite moments and memories from the last week and a half. 

1. I let each group, broken up by age and gender, choose their group name. Throughout the week, these were some of my favorites: Little stars, Rose group, Mango, Apples, Jehovah, Jesus, Immanuel (pronounced Ye-man-yell). 

2. There were HUGE language barriers that made for moments that were challenging, frustrating, funny and sometimes quite creative. Out of ALL of the English words that kids could know, here are a few that made me laugh: “Sister, Pimple.” (means, “You have a pimple on your face.) “Sister, helping?” (means: Can I help you?)  “Sister, my name?” (means: Sister, what is your name? ‘Mai’ in Telugu means ‘your’...a bit confusing) “Sister, my mother’s/father’s name?” (means: What is your mother’s/father’s name?) “Games!?” (means..I’d rather be playing games..) One girl, Divya, was constantly doing overly active Charades to try and explain things to me with exaggerated motions and sound effects. My favorite one included her imitating me blowing my whistle the change stations. I wish I could of gotten it on film. 

Divya is the one on the right. 

3. To help with one of the lesson’s about God’s plan for Moses, I taught the ‘Pharaoh, Pharaoh’ song with motions. For the next day and a half kids constantly ran up to me and sang it. It sounded more like this ‘Faro, faro, wooo, wooo...lemuhpipogo (let my people go)..huh! ya ya ya ya’

4. There was one night when I was in front of the kids stalling as my teammates struggled to set up the projector for a movie presentation of ‘The Kind of Egypt.’ The computer was on, but the screen was not showing up on the projector. The laptop we were using was from work and the only mp3 files it had on the hard drive were musical recordings of ‘Every move I make’ and ‘One Way Jesus.’ I danced and made up choreography to both songs as we sang them each about 5 times over. When Jacob, one of my co-workers saw me struggling to choreograph the second song he noticed that the file was actually a video, not just the song. I stepped back and mimicked the moves I saw as 100 kids then copied my motions. All I can say is #onlyinindia #worldmissions.

5. I can’t tell you how funny a ‘balloon between the knees’ relay race is in a competitive culture with kids who have never done it before. I’m sure you can imagine. The balancing a cup of water on your head, however, was surprisingly easy for everyone.

6. Indian children like to shake hands. After every activity, whether, coloring a worksheet, eating their snack, or beading their bracelets, everyone would come up to me, show me their work, shake my hand and say ‘thank you sister.’ I learned several variations of the word ‘bagundi!’ (which means ‘very good!) as I responded to at least 50 multi-colored Moses and the burning bush coloring sheets daily.

7. The spirit of generosity that exists among children that don’t have much to begin with is absolutely one of the most humbling things I have ever experienced. At the end of camp each child was given a ‘care bag’ that has a toothbrush, toothpaste, a small toy, a coloring sheet and some crayons. When we were short on crayons for the last camp one boy offered his two care bag crayons and then about 20 children followed suit. I have learned that in a communal culture, no one goes hungry, thirsty, unclothed or...without crayons. If there is enough for one, there is something for many. 

8. ‘Jesus Love You’ tattoos. I think that by the end of camp each child had at least 5 stamped all over their bodies. The boys would rip open their shirts to show me the 3 they had pasted onto their chests. Awesome. 

Thanks to all of you who prayed me through those days- I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that support!

Looking back on the details it is amazing to see how God ordained everything from my having a whistle on my keychain, to spontaneously deciding to start waking up early the week before to finding puzzles and instruments in our supply bags. He provided for all that we needed, even things that I would have never thought of on my own. It’s true you know...When God is for us, nothing can stand against us! 

You are invited to a Girl's Night Party!

The first month that I was here I prayed that God would set ministry before me. I had no idea that he was going to bring it to my door....literally. About two months ago 5 young girls between the ages of 7 and 11 appeared at my door step. They live in my apartment building and had seen me and my two roommates coming and going from our fourth floor apartment. I don’t know who dared who, but somehow this day,  they got up the courage to ring our doorbell. (Which by the way plays a variation of different diddles and then says ‘please open the door’). They didn’t really have a plan for much else, just curious I suppose. When I answered the door, they simply asked, ‘Can we come in.’ The logical response of course being, ‘Well, sure.’ We just stared at each other for awhile, and then my roommate, (quick on her feet) suggested that we play cards. 

The girls started coming over nightly, and ringing the doorbell several times a day asking if they could come in and play cards. Being told, ‘not right now’ or ‘not today,’ never discourages them from coming back an hour later with the same hopeful look on their faces. 

Contrary to the children I work with through ICM, these girls are materially well off, and socially of the highest caste level in India, Brahman. They are well educated and speak perfect English. They are also Hindu. I ask a lot of questions and have subsequently learned things like why Ganesh (a hindu god) is honored in this district, why some of them are not allowed to eat meat, and that if you sneeze before you walk into a door, you should wait 10 minutes and then put water on your forehead...or you will have bad luck all day. I also get a chance to ask some questions like ‘Why do you think you get good friday off from school?’ ‘Who do you think Jesus is?’ ‘Do you know what Christians believe about him?’ Its a fine line...but so far our exchanges have just been part of building a friendship. 

Last week, after the first few days of summer vacation began, and door bell ringage exponentially increased, I decided to throw a sleepover party. I mentioned the idea to the girls that I knew and although their mother’s weren’t keen on the idea of an overnight event, they were very excited about a ‘girl’s night party.’ We set the date and made invitations. They were pumped. Each day as I passed by in the hall I would get a new countdown.. ‘Three more days until our party!’, ‘Two more days until are party..’ Ecetera. 

Yesterday morning, the day had finally come. I set out early to clean, buy groceries and, make playlists and set up the room. There was a nail-painting/beauty salon station, a craft station, a games station, a table full of good unhealthy snacks,  and, most importantly, a dance floor. I got a recipe for ‘chapati’ (Indian tortillas) and spent most of the afternoon cooking and trying to remember old line dances from camp.

I opened the gate at 5:55 and the girls arrived at 6:01. They all had on their party clothes and flowers in their hair. ‘Oh you look so pretty’ ‘Nice hair’ ‘Ooh, I love that shirt.’ What girl doesn’t like an excuse to get dressed up!? (or in my case, at least shower...). After a few rounds of UNO, we moved on to the dances. The girls love the Macarena (the Macaroni, as they call it) and they caught on pretty quick to my rendition of ‘It’s raining men’ and ‘Build me up Buttercup.’ Gillian, one of my only American friends, set up our nail salon and the night continued with run-way walking, Nutella filled chapati’s, ring pop’s, art and lots of giggling. 

As they were packing up to leave, each girl hugged me and said, “Thank you so much for inviting us!” They were gone by 8:59 with colored tongues, painted nails, and serious sugar high’s. 

I love these girls. I have learned that while they don’t have very many physical needs like the the children in our development centers and orphanages, they are growing up in a world that teaches them to bow down to idols pray to gods that will never respond. They are not orphans, they are not living in poverty, but their need is one that is much deeper. Pray that seeds would be planted and that they would know that I love them only because their heavenly Father loved them first.