Dear India

It's crazy to think that you have been my home now for 22 months. I know that many people will try to tell me that the past two years of my life have only been a "trip," but you and I both know better. Even in the times where I was kicking and screaming to get out of you and move back to somewhere more comfortable and less loud and smelly, you were still my home. 22 months is a long time to live somewhere. I established a life in you, India; a life that had a schedule, a rhythm of sorts. And while I lived within your borders, I learned so much.

While I lived in Kochin, I learned that air conditioning is my best friend, and I learned how to live on egg and cheese sandwiches when I couldn't figure out how to make anything else with the ingredients in the grocery store. I figured out that true contentment can only come from intimacy with the Father and isn't based on my circumstances. Yes, there were so many times where I broke down. Like the day where I was forced to eat so much rice that I thought my stomach was going to explode and then I got shoved into a car with 14 other Indians and Danae to travel multiple hours in extreme heat to a function where I was forced to eat more rice. Ya, that was fun. Or when I had a completely irrational breakdown at the theater when the movie I wanted to see wasn't playing (culture shock can be a beast!). But Kochin also taught me about the power of prayer when the Father provided the most dear of friends when she was extremely needed in my life.

And then, precious India, I came to Bangalore. It was like a breath of fresh air the minute I walked around the street in front of my flat. And the air really was fresher and cooler because it was about 15 degrees cooler than Kochin! And here, I really established a home. I made friends. I learned how to cook more than just egg sandwiches. I learned a language. I figured out how to navigate this crazy city.

India, as I reflect back on my time here, I realize there are some things about you that I will never understand. I will never accept or tolerate the way that you treat your women. I will never be ok with the way that poor people are cast aside and neglected. I hate the injustice that runs rampant in your streets and the horrific abuses that happen inside your homes. I can't wait to not have to travel by auto anymore because I won't have to fight skin tax. I look forward to being able to dress normally and to be able to be myself, because so often here, I feel like I won't be accepted if I was simply myself. I'm excited to be able to show pictures of my family and not worry that their "imodesty" will offend. And one day soon, I will get to fix my own plate of food with the amount that I want. And I won't hear the words "not possible" and "it is not there" anymore! Yes, that will be a good day.

But it will also be a very sad day. Because that's the paridoxical beauty of you, India. Although you can make me more angry than anything in the world, I will miss you so much. I will miss the man shouting "paper" every morning outside my window. I will miss the precious uncles and aunties that have gone out of their way to help me adjust to my life here. I can't imagine not being able to get cheap, yummy Indian food any time that I want and to be able to easily walk to my friend's homes in just a few minutes. What on earth am I gonna do without the cheap movie theaters? Or the abundance of fruits and veggies at the stand up our street? My heart aches when I think of not being able to pass and wave at the precious guard and the fat dog near our house.

I will never forget you, India. Because you have left your mark on me forever. Every time I smell the rot of trash or the spice of curry tickles my nose, I am confident that my mind will take me back to you. And I am sure that if I stumble upon a bag of Parly G's or Cabdburry Dairy Milk Silk I will jump up and down with glee. I will continue to use curd (low-fat plain yogurt) in all of my cooking thanks to you, and I will pile hot sauce on American food that I am sure will not be spicy enough for me. And I have no doubt that I will bobble my head sometimes or call a cookie a "biscuit" or an apartment a "flat" because that's just my habit now. You have strongly influenced who I am and who I am becoming, and I am thankful.

India, the hardest part of leaving you is knowing that millions and billions of your people are without the Savior. You have a hardened heart, and your ways are so wicked. The Lord hates the wickedness in your streets, and He has sent messenger after messenger to warn you to repent before it is too late. So I commit to pray for you, India that you will repent and turn to Jesus. I pray that the believers in your borders will be bold proclaimers of the Gospel and that the seeds that so many have sown for years before me and will continue to sow the years after me will produce a great and plentiful harvest. God is faithful, and you cannot thwart His ways.

For His Name's Sake,

Maddie

Asha

When I lived in the States and heard horror stories about girls in India and other parts of the world being sex trafficked, sold as slaves, being forced into child marriages, offered as child sacrifices, raped, abused and the list goes on and on unfortunately, yes, it always made me sad and broke my heart. But it's completely different putting a face to these stories. And when you have a relationship with one of these girls, it's a rock your world and your faith kind of situation.

Let me introduce you to one of my sweet friends. Her name is Asha, and she is 14 years old. Last May, Asha was forced to marry a boy a few years her elder from her village near Bangalore, India. Although it is against the law in India for a child to be married before the age of 18, around 47% of girls are married before 18, and 18% are married before the age of 15 according to the United Nations Children's Fund. Unfortunately, Asha was apart of the 15%, and her life will be forever different because of it. We fought to stop the marriage, but because of corruption in the government and police and having our hands tied because of our foreign status, there was nothing else we could do. I hate to say this, but there were moments I wanted to either talk her into running away or steal her and adopt her.

One thing you need to know. In India, the bride moves into her husband's family's house. This means that she lives with her husband, mother-in-law, father-in-law, and many other family members. Often, the new bride is forced to become a slave of the mother-in-law. This doesn't always occur, but often, it does. And this is what happened to Asha. After her marriage, she moved in with her husband and his family. What has been a huge problem for Asha is that she follows Jesus and her husband and his family are all devout Hindus. I asked Asha if her husband allows her to pray or read her Bible, and she told me that he does not allow her to.

And now, my sweet friend is pregnant and due in February. That means that shortly after her 15th birthday she will give birth to a baby. I asked Asha how she felt about the baby. I asked if she was sad, happy or both. This is what she said, "I am sad. All my friends are playing, and I can't play because I have this baby." Because, y'all, she is a kid. She is a kid having a baby. It's just wrong. It's an injustice.

What makes things complicated too is that her body is not prepared to have a baby. She is very, very tiny and most girls her age have bodies that are not developed enough to handle giving birth.  Her family thought about letting her just have the baby in the tent she lives in, but thankfully, they realized that she needs to have a baby in a hospital. The issue is that they don't have a lot of money to pay for a good hospital, and in India, you pay for what you get. I am trusting that the Lord will provide for this precious girl and her baby, but it's hard to watch a friend suffer in ways that I will never, ever understand.

So friends, will you pray for this girl? Will you lift her to the Father, to the only One who can truly help her? Will you ask the Father to save her family and to protect her from the evils of abuse?

For His Name's Sake,

Maddie

Arranged Marriage Re-arranged

Weddings in India are unlike any other. Granted, the only other experience I have to compare them to are weddings in America, and let's just say it's a totally different ballgame. When you picture weddings in America, you picture a beautiful white dress, tuxedos, fragrant flowers, twinkling lights, dancing, etc. Indian weddings are more like an explosion of color and smells, the lights aren't quite so twinkly, but far more blinding, and I don't place a sari or burqua in the same category as "dress." Nonetheless, they are quite a fun and exhilarating experience and never leave my stomach empty or my heart unhappy.

My best friend in India invited us to attend a wedding with her for one of her dear friends. She invited us about two weeks ago, and Danae and I had been really looking forward to it. I even ordered a fancy salwaar suit (pictured below) to wear because I was so over attempting to waddle around in my sari. However, a few days ago, our friend informed us that the wedding had been cancelled. Since Danae and I aren't as familiar with the etiquette and traditions of Indian weddings, we didn't think much of the cancellation. We planned to have a normal Monday.

However, about an hour prior to the wedding, our friend called with a different set of news. Apparently the first bride backed out of the already arranged marriage, but no worries, an auntie of the groom had found another bride for the groom to marry! Problem solved. Wedding crisis averted.
Are you kidding me?! Talk about a cultural difference! I was shocked that a wedding could be called off and re-arranged so quickly! Our friend asked if we would still be willing to attend the wedding with her. We of course said we would be glad to, until I realized that I still hadn't picked my salwaar suit up from the tailor. Fortunately, we grabbed it and managed to get all dolled up in time to meet her for the wedding.

Now, when I say wedding in India, I am most likely not talking about the ceremony. Most Indian weddings are multiple days long. They include many traditions and ceremonies that would be completely foreign (literally haha) to most Americans. We have always been invited to the reception part of the wedding where you pretty much sit awkwardly, take lots of even more awkward photos with the bride and groom, and eat some pretty much stinkin awesome food. Who knew mutton could be so good?

And that's pretty much how this one went today. My favorite part is when you stand by the groom or the bride and pose for a picture just to realize that the camera is actually a video camera angled right at you for about 5 minutes. I guess you're just supposed to stand and smile? That's what I did! :)

Here are some pictures we took today to give you more of an idea.

 My salwaar suit!

 The groom and his friend

 The bride

The food! It may look gross, but it's delicious! Ain't nothing like good mutton!

God Bless 'Merica!

So July 4th is coming up soon! And I am beyond excited to celebrate with one of my best friends, Marie Mcdonald! She is traveling all the way from Africa to experience July 4th Indian style. I hope she's ready ;). It's weird to think about where I was a year ago....living in a different city, celebrating my first real holiday away from home. And here I am a year later more thankful than ever that I am an American.

Believe it or not, living overseas has made me even more patriotic. And I think it's because the rest of the world just doesn't do it like America does. I used to easily hate on America and the problems that I saw when I lived there. High taxes, high gas prices, dishonest politicians, and that doesn't even begin to touch the surface.  But living overseas kinda spins America in a different light. It's easier to see the good rather than the bad. It's easier to remember America as land of opportunity and freedom, of choice and independence.

Over the last year-ish, the Lord has taught me a little bit about my patriotism. First of all, I realized how easily America can become an idol in my life. Living in India makes me long for my home. Not because I don't like it here, because I honestly do love my life and work here. But I miss the familiarity of home. I miss the cereal aisle at Publix, Mexican food, the freedom of driving, good ole' southern hospitality, football, my family and friends, and so many things that are familiar, comfortable. But every time my heart starts to dream/long for home, the Father reminds me that my home is heaven. What a beautiful truth. America won't always be around. And not only that, but I probably and Lord-willing won't be living in America for a good chunk of my life. But being with the Lord finally and for eternity, that is truly home. And that's good stuff. I pray that more than anything, I remember that I am ultimately a citizen of heaven and not even a citizen just of earth (Phil 3:20 But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ). And that citizenship comes with a great responsibility.

I live in a place where lostness literally hits me in the face daily.....people completely separated from the Lord on a path to eternal damnation. So while I know I am a citizen of heaven, I am surrounded by thousands (literally, I mean my city has millions of people) who don't know the Lord. But guess what? I didn't need to come to India to be surrounded by lost people. It's in America too. The Lord says that the way is narrow for a reason. It scares me to say that even American churches are filled with people who don't truly know or walk with the Father.

I know that while living in America it's easier to lose sight of the importance of sharing the Gospel. Trust me. I have far to often been guilty of the sin of knowing the good I should do and not doing it. But I was praying and reading this morning, and I was overwhelmed that my people, Americans, are dying and going to hell too. I don't forget about them. So when it comes to July 4th, please celebrate that you are an American. It's an enormous blessing from the Lord that most people worldwide can't even fathom. But please don't forget that your neighbors, family members, and friends don't know the Gospel. And encourage me in seven months when I am back in the States to not forget that either. :)

Hindustani

Living in India is well.....it's different. I am convinced that there is literally no place on this earth like it, so to even describe this land wouldn't do it justice. This country brings out the absolute extremes of my personality. Sometimes, I laugh so hard I cry and most of the time, my smile takes up my whole face. But there are moments when I am just plain angry. I want the beggars to stop touching me. I want the auto driver to simply give me meter. I want to be treated as equally as a man.

But this week has been exceptionally good. So maybe I am on a happy high? Regardless, I wanted to make a list of things about this country that legitimately make my heart happy. I hope this gives you readers insight into my life here.

1. The Sweet Shopkeepers: Danae and I have made friends with this dear Muslim Uncle, and he happens to own a jewelry shop that we like to frequent. Every time we visit him, he gives us the best deals and sincerely seems to enjoy seeing us. And there are others too that treat us so well. It's refreshing.

2. The Produce: mango season, strawberry season, pineapple season.....we love it all! On our street is the best fruit/veggie stand where you can find fresh, yummy produce for super cheap. Normally, for about 4-5$ we can get tomatoes, cucumber, onion, carrots, peppers, mangos, and apples. It's awesome.

3. The Accessories: ok y'all. I own far too many pairs of earrings, bracelets, and scarves. But I can't help it! There are so many pretty things that are just to cheap to pass up! You know all those beautiful scarves from Target (oh how I miss it!) that cost between 15-20$? Ya, I can get them for like 3-5$..... or less. Boom.

4. The Food: ok I will be honest here. There are some things here that I hate! Like basically any Indian sweet (yes, I have secretly thrown away many a "treat" or stowed one in my purse without my host noticing. Judge me). But for the most part, the food is rockin awesome. Nothing is better than walking to my favorite local Indian restaurant called Shanti Sagar and ordering the North Indian Thali for less than 3$.  This is a picture of a Thali plate. It's basically a bunch of curries, rice, and naan. So yummy!

 

 5. The Salons: I am a salon frequenter for sure. Nothing is more relaxing to me than getting a hot oil massage or pedicure. And once again, the prices are so cheap! I really have no idea what I am going to do back in America about my eyebrows. I have gotten so used to getting my eyebrows threaded for 40 cents. I guess it'll be back to plucking! 

6. The People: of course! Some of my best friends live here, and I really can't imagine life without them now. Leaving in 7 months is going to be so difficult. 

There are so many more things that I could list, but why don't you come visit and find out for yourself? :) 

Love Your Neighbor as Yourself

I have been mulling this idea over in my head for a while now, and I decided that it would be better to just try to get it down on paper. So here goes nothing. 

Sometimes, it's legitimately overwhelming to think about the poor in India, in my city, in my neighborhood, let alone the whole world! Daily, it slaps me in the face. I walk outside, and I see beggar women with their babies. Danae and I both struggle with the question: what do we do? Do we simply walk by and pretend not to notice? Do we give money? Do we give food? Do we at least look at them to acknowledge them as a person?

I read the book Kisses from Katie a few months ago. I highly recommend reading it. It's a book about a girl around my age named Katie Davis. She moved to Uganda, permanently lives there, and has adopted 13 little girls. Her ministry is simply a testimony to the Gospel. Her entire ministry is built around the commandment of love your neighbor as you love yourself. She says things like, "If I don't like to be hungry, and my neighbor is hungry, why would I not feed my neighbor?" I can't get that out of my head when I walk by a beggar. I hate being hungry. I hate being hot. I hate being cold. I hate being dirty. So why would I think it's ok for my neighbor to be all of those things? I constantly ask myself, "what would Jesus do?" Jesus obviously did not meet every need He came into contact with, but He sure did care for people. Over and over in the Gospels it says, "and He was moved with compassion." Beautiful. Convicting. 

The other day, I passed two beggar women in my neighborhood. Both of them had their babies. I have met these women before in a ministry I help out with. They asked me for food, and I told them no. To be honest, it is really hard for me to give money to beggars with children because I feel like they are exploiting them, and I figured it was enough to just talk with them and play with their babies. But I had a conversation with a very wise friend of mine the other night, and she informed me that the beggars in my neighborhood live in the slum where she does ministry. These people walk over five miles every day to come and beg in my neighborhood. They bring their children with them because where else are they going to leave them? They live in tents made of tarps. They barely scrape by, living on basically only rice. Their children are malnourished. If they get sick, a lot of times they just die. These people have nothing. I almost burst into tears when I heard this. Here I was being so judgmental of these people, thinking that they were faking it, exploiting their children for money and food they didn't need. How wrong I was.

It's hard in India because there is no quick fix to poverty. We can't just tell these people to go get jobs. No one will hire them because of the caste system. They are literally born beggars and are expected to die beggars. That is their job: to beg. But here is the thing: they are people. People loved by God. God knows the number of hairs on their heads, and He loves them. How many times in Scripture does God talk about remembering the poor and taking care of the poor? It's clearly really important to Him. So that leaves me with a big question: what is my role of taking care of them? It's completely contrary to the heart of the Lord to ignore them. That's not an option as a follower of Christ. 

So I ask you to examine your own hearts with me. James 2 talks so much about not having partiality in the body of Christ and that faith without works is dead. I know that India is way poorer than a lot of countries in the world. But regardless of where you are, there are people with needs. I am not gonna pretend to have the answers to what we should do about poverty. But I do know that all believers in Jesus should have some role in taking care of the poor. So I ask you to pray about it. And when you do pray, please pray for India. Pray that the Gospel would take root here in the hearts of the people and that the caste system would cease to exist. Praise the Lord that one day, we will be apart of a new heaven and a new earth where righteousness dwells, and oh man do I long for that day! 

And we stand for those who cannot stand for themselves
And we love the loveless
And we go where Your light’s not shining
We are the body of Christ

-Mandi Mapes

The only thing consistent is change.....

As I think over my life the past year to year-and-a-half, one thing has stayed consistent.....change. I graduated from UGA in May 2011 and started teaching in a position that I never would have chosen had I had my own way. But of course, the Lord had better plans for my life than I could have ever thought up myself. And while I was teaching, I was presented with the opportunity to go to India for two years. So I left my sweet two-year-old class and shifted my life back home for a few months before leaving for India.

It has almost been exactly one year since I made my final decision to move to this side of the world. A year. It seems like just yesterday in some ways, and then on the other hand, so much has happened  that it almost feels like an eternity ago. In this past year, I have visited three countries outside of the US, my best friend had a baby, my other best friend got engaged, I have lived in two cities in India and have become engrossed in a culture completely different than my own. I have seen and experienced the Father in more ways than I could have ever imagined.

Overall, I feel abundantly thankful. Every morning when I wake up and spend time with the Father, my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for being here. I love my city. I love the people in this country. I love the sarees and burkas I see outside in my neighborhood every day. I get excited to go and buy groceries down the street and to be able to practice my Hindi with the auto drivers. The taste of good Indian food and chai make my stomach do a happy dance, and the way the women here squeeze my hand to let me know they care about me bless me more than they could ever know.

There are times of homesickness, yes. When I skype with my sister and her kids, and I hear Tucker say "I yuv you Aunt Maddie" it is everything in me to not burst into tears. I hate that I am missing out on two years of their little lives. I hate that I don't even know Whitney's baby, Hudson. It kills me that I am missing Gretchen's wedding. But through the pain of life moving on without me, the Father is ever faithful. He has promised to never leave me and forsake me, and He has promised to use trials to make my faith steadfast. When I am faithless, He remains faithful because He cannot deny Himself. He is good. 

And you know what? I really love my life. It is frustrating beyond belief at times. But it's a full life.....a good life. 

He will wipe away every tear.....

Normally, my posts are about light and happy things that happen in this culture. However, this particular one will not be. So prepare yourself. I have a lot to say.

There are so many things about this culture and this country that are absolutely wonderful. I love being able to walk out my door and see the huge smiles of my watchmen. My heart soars every time I speak phrases to people in Malayalam and they respond with belly laughs. One of my favorite things to do is to buy eggs behind our flat from the sweetest shopkeeper. But one thing I cannot tolerate and absolutely hate is the abuse of women in my country. However, I feel like I need to make a disclaimer here. It does NOT happen all the time. In fact, I have no idea if it happens more here than in the States. There are many men that are honorable and have gone out of their way to serve Danae and me. But what I do know is that the majority of the women that I am closest to in this city have experienced some sort of abuse from a man.

This growing bubble of anger started inside of me a few weeks ago when a dear friend of mine opened up about being sexually abused by an older man when she was very young. It was pretty much gut-wrenching to hear about, and in my heart I just kept telling the Lord, "This is NOT ok!" Then, another friend of mine shared a story about going to a job interview and how the man she was interviewing with tried to touch her in an inappropriate manner.

I finally reached my boiling point when two older women who clean our gym told me about how their husbands also abuse them. One of the women doesn't have good English, but she was able to say "Husband. Danger. Drink." And she motioned with her arms what he does to her. Today, both women showed me the scars on their bodies that their husbands gave them. I was speechless.

And what's so hard about it is this: NO ONE is fighting for them. I can't just go to the police and tell them. They don't care. No one seems to care. As I was processing through all this mess inside of me, all I wanted to do was go give these men a taste of their own medicine. I know, I know. You get a peak of my flesh here. But then God reminded me of something. The only way these men will change is through the power of the Gospel. It had the power to change me from the selfish, horribly sinful person that I was. It had the power to change a man like Paul who persecuted Christians into a man who gave His life to tell people about Jesus. And it has the power to make every single South Asian person into a new creation. Beautiful.

The Lord also reminded me that yes, I do care for these women. A lot. But He cares for them even more. Scripture is abundantly full of verses that shows God's heart toward people the world seems to overlook. He loves the women of South Asia (and the men too) way more than I ever could. His heart breaks every time a woman is neglected, beaten, or sexually mistreated. He hates it even more than I do. And, He promises justice. One day, we all will have to give an account to Him for our lives. There will be justice for these women, and my job is to proclaim the truths of the Gospel: one day, God will make all things new! Praise Him!

So if you are reading this, pray for justice to reign in South Asia. Pray for the women here to be honored, taken care of, and cherished as the Lord commands. Pray for men and women alike to know the One True God and to worship Him as such. The only way for there to be true reform in this culture and cultures around the world is through the power of the Gospel.

God Bless.......England?

So yesterday was July 4th; our first official holiday that we celebrated overseas. To be perfectly honest, I was kind of dreading it. It's kind of hard to explain. So I'll just shoot as straight as I can. I miss America. Don't hear what I am not saying though. I love where I am. I wouldn't trade where I am for anything. But living overseas has made me realize that America is the greatest country in the whole world (ok, that may be a tad of an exaggeration, but still). So for each holiday, I think about how I would have celebrated back in the States, and since that is most likely not an option here, it is easy to miss America and get a little sad.

Back in America, I never had tons of traditions for July 4th. I am pretty sure ever year of my life I did something a little different. But, each year did include some of the same things: fireworks, awesome American food, shorts, tank tops, pools, and plenty of friends and family. And as July 4th approached, I was pretty sure not very many of those things would be included in my celebration.

But you know what y'all? The Father is so gracious and blessed us with a fantastic July 4th. The day started out with me wearing a dress! Yes, I did wear pants underneath, but still! A dress!! I felt kind of American :) Our language helper showed up to our apartment, and she came bearing gifts. Let me just tell you that she is one of the sweetest people I have ever met. She goes out of our way to encourage us in our language endeavors. So she showed up to our apartment with two handkerchiefs for us that she thought had the American flag on it. It was so funny though because she had accidentally gotten us handkerchiefs with the British flag and the word "England" written at the bottom of it. It was absolutely hilarious. Danae and I immediately cracked up, but stopped when we saw the look on our language helper's face. She looked so upset that she had gotten it wrong. We assured her that we love England, and that even though America gained it's independence from England, that our countries have excellent relations with one another. Not to mention the Olympics are gonna be in London in a few weeks! I think she finally believed us when we showed her pictures from our recent visit to London. After she gave us our gifts, we went outside to light sparklers that she had bought for us! Nothing like standing outside looking out on our city waving around sparklers while singing God Bless America! She then taught us how to say "today is our independence day" in Malayalam. Language time was quite a success I would say.

After language was over, Danae and I gathered up some food supplies and headed over to our friends' house (they are American) for a celebration. We ate homemade muffins and hash browns, and then settled in to watch an episode of John Adams. I am sure that it was a great episode, but I fell asleep. I know, I know. Shocker. We then fixed a fantastic meal that consisted of burgers (yes, they were chicken but nonetheless, awesome), baked beans, mac and cheese, cheese dip and salsa, potato salad, and for dessert, apple fritters. While we ate, we watched the Patriot which may be one of my all-time favorite movies. I did not fall asleep this time :) It was such a good time of building one another up in the Lord and celebrating what an amazing country America is. Really, living here has made me realize how blessed I was in America, and I hope that I never, ever forget to the thank the Father who is the giver of every good and perfect gift; both for those gifts I had in America and for the amazing gifts I have here in South Asia too :).

Our Turn to Host!

So you know how I posted about how incredible South Asians are at hospitality? Well, let's just say Danae and I need a little work (ok. I'll tell the truth, we need A LOT of work) at having South Asians in our home. It was a near disaster, but like all things that happen to me in this country, I walked away with abs exhausted and eyes wet with tears from all the laughing I did. What can I say? The Father is very gracious.

Danae and I have made friends with a family who live near our city. And I think to say friends is an understatement. I legitimately feel a part of their family when I am around them. The mom really treats us/takes care of us as daughters. It is a very special gift. Well, anyway, Danae and I normally visit them every week, and the last time we visited them, I invited them to visit our flat. Because they do a wonderful job of serving us, I was looking forward to the opportunity to serve them and show them the love of Christ in our home. They told us that they would visit sometime the next week. Sadly, they never came, but it wasn't completely surprising because here in South Asia, that's just how it goes. No problem.

So another week passed, and this past Saturday I got the long awaited phone call from the family. The younger son (who speaks English) informed me that the family was going to come visit us on Sunday at 4:00 pm. I excitedly told them that we would be waiting for them. Then, at the end of our conversation, he said, "We will come today or tomorrow" which kinda left me stumped. Were they coming today or tomorrow? But alas, I could not coax an answer out of him, so Danae and I prepared ourselves for either day. Well, Saturday came and went, and they did not show up. Then Sunday came, and Danae and I made cookies and cleaned and made sure everything was perfect for four o'clock. Well, once again, four o'clock came and went, and they didn't show up. Danae and I had determined that they simply weren't going to come when I got a text message saying that they would come at 6:00 pm. So we waited for them. And 6:00 came and went. And then at last, at 6:15, they called saying that they were at the boat jetti which is about 15 minutes from our flat. I told them to get an auto to come here, and they said ok. Well, thirty minutes passed and they still hadn't shown up yet. Danae and I were perplexed until they called asking us where we were. Panic hit me as I realized that there had been a big miscommunication between us regarding how they were getting to our flat. We grabbed our stuff and flew out of our apartment, both feeling terrible since it had been raining buckets outside all afternoon.

We hailed an auto to the boat jetti. The poor family was standing huddled under some umbrellas. But, thank goodness, our miscommunication didn't seem to bother them at all! We piled into two autos and drove the short distance to our flat. We took them up to our apartment where we gave them a taste of their own medicine. We insisted that they sit down as soon as they got inside and immediately gave them peanut butter cookies and popcorn. Although, the peanut butter cookies weren't the biggest hit, they devoured the popcorn. Danae got up to make chai, and the family insisted that we take pictures together. They pulled Danae away from the chai, and while we were posing for photo after photo, the chai got too hot and exploded all over the kitchen. It was quite a mess. The mom just laughed at us and helped us salvage what was left. As the family was drinking chai, I shared a pack of Poptarts with them, and they actually liked it!! I think they were shocked that we eat them for breakfast though :) We then tried to serve them water from the fridge, and they all immediately asked for water that wasn't so cold. So different from the States!

Before the night was over, I had laughed so much. The family made fun of Danae and I so badly because we use toilet paper instead of water when we use the restroom, and they laughed so hard at how much taller I am than everyone else. They also shared the incredible news that their oldest daughter (and one of my close friends) is pregnant! Before they left, I popped an extra bag of popcorn, and it was hilarious to watch the mom and daughter stand mesmerized in front of the microwave as the bag inflated. They had never seen that before! Go figure.

Finally, it was time for them to leave, and before they left, they said, "next time you come to our house." In other words, you are sweet to have us over, but next time, it will be best for you to come to us :) Oh, well. We tried, and I think they love us all the more for it. 

"Neat and Tidy" Snail Mail

So this post is going to be about snail mail....a system that I rarely used even in the States. But snail mail here is a totally different animal. Having read blog post's from other expats, I know that where I live definitely does not have the worst mail system ever, but it still doesn't cease to make me laugh :)

One of the best things in the world is the care package. I mean, think about the name! It has the word care in it, and man does it make me and Danae feel cared about. Our first care package arrived a few weeks after we got to our city. It was from my parents, and it contained some completely necessary ;) items like chocolate chips, homemade blueberry preserves, and some things I had accidentally left at home. A lady came to our door and delivered a slip saying that our package had arrived and was waiting for us at the post office. We just needed to come and collect it. However, she said that the "parcel" (they don't understand when I say package) was damaged. Although my heart rate increased a little at the word "damaged," I was still super excited to get to the post office to retrieve my parcel. Danae and I left promptly and walked to the post office which is only about a fifteen minute walk from our flat. When we arrived, we honestly had no idea where to go, but eventually after walking into a room and having a woman shake her head at us, we found where we needed to be, and the woman handed me the package. It looked like it had, at one time, been a beautiful brown box, but alas, had been broken into and it appeared that something had exploded inside of it. I only prayed that it was NOT the precious blueberry preserves. I grabbed my parcel that was only being held together with twine and left. When I got home. I was sooooo excited to open it. Even if everything was broken, it was still a taste of the United States that I just needed. I opened the parcel, and let me tell you, it was a bit of a mess. But no worries, Mom (I almost didn't want to tell you cause I didn't want you to freak) everything turned out just fine! The chocolate chips had melted and then somehow exploded, but they are currently chillaxing in the freezer to be ground up in the food processor and used in something yummy :) The blueberry preserves were completely perfect! The pretty glass jars were totally in tact. The corn flour also exploded a bit, but I washed off everything and put the corn flour in its own special container. So all in all, I would say it was a pretty successful care package :) Thanks mom and dad!

Since then, Whitney and Robin have also sent me a care package. Or should I say packages. I know, I know, I have the best friend in the world. This time, the packages were not damaged at all, and I had the best time going through all the goodies! I had forgotten the simple goodness of the Poptart. I mean seriously, they are so stinkin good. And the ease of cleaning with the Clorox Wipe. It's nice to know that 99.9% of germs are getting killed in my kitchen every time I whip one out :) Also, we have been blessed by lots of Danae's friends who have sent us care packages. We have gotten black beans, taco seasoning, and lots of other fun stuff!

So I decided that since so many people were sending me lovely gifts, I wanted to attempt to send something in the mail to America. I had heard that it was not very expensive, and I had found some cute presents for my favorite three children in the world (who I miss more than anything), so Danae and I made up our minds to try it out. Let's just say, it was an experience for sure.

Here is the problem in our neck of the woods with mail. A lack of boxes. It's not like you can walk into the post office and buy a box. They will look at you like you are crazy (even though they already look at us like we are crazy). So Danae and I used the only boxes we could find. Fortunately, she found a white box that our blender came in and packaged it up all nice. I, however, could only find a giant box that our doll house came in (we got it for language study). So I used it. I stuffed my goods inside, and taped it up really well to make sure that nothing would fall out. I even taped my sister's address on the front. I thought it looked nice enough.....well besides the creepy child on the front playing with dolls. But I figured, in SA, it would be fine. Well.....I was quite wrong.

So Danae and I took off for the post office once again. I noticed that people were looking at us a little funny so that made the walk all the more interesting. When we got to the post office, we went upstairs and waited in long line of people. We weren't even really sure we were in the right line, but we waited paitiently anyway. When we finally got up to the counter, the man took one look at my package and started gibbering off stuff that I couldn't understand. He gestured for me to scoot further down the counter toward a lady (who had quite a scowl on her face), and she continued to shake her head at my package. She got a different lady who spoke better English. This lady started smiling and laughing at me a little and explained that my parcel was  "not neat and tidy." I was a tad confused because, yes, the picture was obnoxious, but the parcel itself was not beat up or anything. She continued to explain that I had to cover my parcel in white fabric and get it stitched. What?! Cover a parcel in fabric? Stitch the fabric? Not gonna lie, I just had to shake my head and laugh at the ridiculousness.

I left the post office on a pursuit to find white fabric and a tailor. I found the white fabric, but unfortunately, no tailor. So Danae immediately whisked me to my American refuge, KFC. I downed my favorite drink, Mirinda (seriously, this stuff is the jam), and ate my favorite chicken wrap. It made me feel better, and I felt more ready to conquer the parcel problem. I went back to the fabric store, bought the fabric, and proceeded to the closest tailor. It ended up being quite fun! The ladies only charged me like 60 Rs. to do it, and while we waited, they let us practice our Malayalam.

So a few days later, Danae and I went back to the post office, and this time I was ready. My parcel was "neat and tidy," and I was determined to make the grumpy worker lady smile. I walked in and saw the same workers as the other day. The man weighed my parcel, and sent me to the lady to get her to ok it. And she did! AND she smiled back at me :) It was a successful day in my book. So Jenny, your "neat and tidy" parcel should be arriving in the mail in a couple weeks (hopefully). I know the kids will enjoy the toys, but you also have some surprises as well. Love you, sister!

Hopsitality Central

So seriously. I live in the land that could teach Martha Stewart a thing or two about entertaining guests. South Asians treat their guests like kings and queens, and it totally doesn't matter if you have a prior invitation; just stop by! I love it! Last week Danae and I went to a SA family's house on an island right off the coast of our city. As soon as we arrived, we could tell that the family was so excited we were there! They immediately turned the fans on in the room when we arrived, and the two older women went straight to the kitchen to make something for us. The older daughter started doing henna on my arms, and the two older women brought out a special mango drink. Unfortunately, it came with only a spoon and since I had wet henna on my hands, I couldn't pick up the spoon to eat it. But my hostesses couldn't possibly have me not be able to enjoy my drink! The sweet Auntie came over to me and started spoon feeding me the smoothie. I felt so humbled and so loved that even though I was trying hard not to gag getting the drink down, I didn't want her to stop. After the last spoonful (I was praising the Lord that I had not thrown it up! South Asians don't drink cold drinks so think hot mango smoothie consistency with cashews in it! It just kinda made me gag), the Auntie then walked into the kitchen and came back with her hand wet to wipe my face. Y'all, she literally wiped my face using her hand as a napkin. As weird as that sounds, it kind of reminded me of the humility Jesus showed when he washed the disciple's feet. I just can't describe how absolutely loved I felt at that moment. I just wish someone could have videotaped the whole thing cause I am sure it was a sight to behold!

But anyway, since that day, we have gotten to go back to the family's house uninvited (the Lord totally allowed us to stumble upon them). But the lack of a prior invitation didn't stop them from inviting us in and feeding us rice, fish, and giving us some amazing chai (it was the best I have ever had). And when we were ready to go, the mother even asked us to spend the night!

Danae and I have also been invited inside people's homes after meeting them on the street. Seriously, the other day I started playing with some children on the street and sure enough a few minutes later, we were being given chai, a girl was offering to put henna on my hand, and they even invited us back to lunch next week! What I am about to say next is no bash against the US, because really, I am beginning to realize what a great country the US is to live in. There is a reason foreigners are flocking to live there. But sometimes it makes me sad that people in the US are so closed off to others. No way in the world would I be invited to dinner after having met somebody off the streets. But here, that is normal. Danae and I discussed the other night about how if we could combine the efficiency of the US with the (for lack of a better word) relational-ness of South Asia we would have the perfect country. But the more we discussed and thought about it, the two just cant go together. The reason why this country is able to be so relational is because they put way more emphasis on people than on getting things done. And although it can sometimes be frustrating, the Lord is using it to teach me a lot of patience. And you know what? I simply feel loved and taken care of here. I love my new home :)

The Thieves of K-Town

So Danae and I have definitely made an impression on this place. Not only are we some of the only white people that live in this city which brings about many stares and comments, but we are now the town thieves. Don't freak out yet. This story is quite funny. Or at least to me anyway :) So there is this awesome little grocery store a short auto ride away from our apartment. It is called Ashish Super Market. It has most things that we need, and it has a pretty good produce stand outside. Danae and I were in desperate need of groceries so off we went to Ashish. We shopped for a while buying things like flour, olive oil (the price was so steep I almost died. Imported things are NOT the way to go if you can help it), my favorite Indian chocolate cereal, boxed milk, etc. Before we knew it, our tiny buggy was filled to the brim and we hadn't even gotten produce yet. We checked out because you purchase groceries and produce separately at this store, and headed outside to get some fruits and veggies. The only problem is that by this time, we were loaded down with a couple of heavy, heavy bags with no hands to spare. So I left the bags beside Danae and started picking out fruit that I wanted. I paid for the produce and Danae and I grabbed our bags and headed outside to get an auto, sweating the whole way. We hailed an auto and piled in, thankful for the break for our arm muscles. When we finally got back to the apartment and were putting the food away, Danae pulled out a mysterious bag of salt and said, "Did we buy salt?!" I said no and then we continued searching the bag. Beside the salt we also found dosa mix, a ton of okra, some weird looking purple veggies, and carrots. We both started laughing hysterically, feeling really sorry for the person whose groceries we took on accident. We contemplated keeping the food because we didn't know if it would be worth it to go back and we had no idea how we would explain because of the language barrier, but my very wise roomie said that the best thing to do would be to take the groceries back the next day. And good thing we did.....

So we couldn't take the dosa mix with us the next day because we were stopping by the market after a lunch date with some friends, and the dosa mix said it had to be refrigerated. We had a lovely veg lunch which consisted of curries and rice served on a banana leaf. Danae and I grabbed our bags and ventured toward the market. When we arrived, we grabbed the nearest veggie lady and attempted to explain what had happened, showing her the bags of groceries. We just kept saying "I'm sorry. Accident!" over and over, hoping that they would catch that we did not steal on purpose. The lady continued to rattle things off in Malayalam, and finally left us to go grab the boss man that worked at the produce counter. He came up to us and rattled some more off in Malayalam, and I picked up that he was asking about where the dosa mix was. I tried very hard to explain to him why we didn't bring it, and when it was clear that he wasn't getting it gestured to my wallet to show him that we would just pay for the dosa mix. He finally went and grabbed a bag from the store and then I paid him for it. Danae and I both smiled at him, and walked out. As soon as we left, we just laughed and prayed that the incident wouldn't harm any relationships between them and us.

So incidentally, we needed groceries again. And since we really like this grocery store, we went back. Right before we left, we stopped at the produce counter to grab some fruits and veggies. As soon as the ladies at the counter saw us they smiled and started laughing at us. Then the big boss man saw us and started laughing too. It was a tad humiliating. I just knew they were thinking, "Oh, what dumb American girls." Danae paid for our food, and before heading out, I purposefully checked our bags to make sure that they were indeed ours. The ladies saw me do this and laughed at me again. I just smiled back and said, "Namaskaram!" When we got into the auto, Danae said, "this place definitely strips you of any pride." And it does. There is no place like it! :) 

This post is about one very special lady. She is a best friend, a confidant, an encourager, and a wonderful model of a P-31 woman. And she will probably kill me for posting this, but hey, I have done way worse to upset her :) I wish I was a better writer so that I could do her justice; but alas, my writing skills are in the "need to work on" area of my life that tends to grow cobwebs.

You see, Whitney and I have been friends for over ten years now which completely blows my mind! I have almost been friends with her for half my life! During middle school, she put up with my ridiculous immaturity always encouraging me to be mature in Christ. In high school, she taught me what it meant to be obedient to Christ and His Lordship in my life. In college, she taught me what it meant to woman who was kind and compassionate like Jesus. And now she is an awesome example of a woman who is devoted to the Father, her husband, and her soon to be child (I can't wait to meet my little mini wee or likey mikey!)

The biggest example of Christ that she has been to me was when she told me to go. I really don't think she understands what that meant and still means to me. She was enough like Christ to put His desires for my life above her own. I know that it hurts her for me to be gone for two years, but I also know that ultimately, she wants Christ to reign in my life. And that encourages me deeply.

Whitney, I love you so stinkin much. It is just about going to kill me to be gone for two years, especially during this amazing time in your life. But thank you for speaking the truth to me and considering me better than yourself. You are on amazing woman, and I love you :)

This will probably be short. But I really want to just take a minute and praise the Father. I mean seriously, He is so good! Over the past few weeks, I have been reminded (pretty constantly) of my shortcomings and mostly just my sin. I am thankful that the Father has been faithful to convict me of those areas of sin that so easily entangle. But tonight, I read Psalm 51 where David is basically pouring out his heart and soul to the Lord. He says things like, "Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your steadfast love!" and "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." Throughout this whole passage, David is showing what true repentance looks like. It was such a good example of how sorry we as believers should feel over sin. So as I am reading this, I am thinking about all the sin in my own life and how undeserving I am of God's grace. Multiple times I was thinking, "Lord, why on earth do you put up with me?!" And He gave me this verse: Psalm 30:5 "His anger is but for a moment; His favor is for a lifetime." PRAISE THE LORD. Through Jesus, I have full atonement and forgiveness and FAVOR. God looks at me like His own child. He likes me! We have such a good daddy.

Off the Chain.

This is seriously the coolest poem. This topic has really been on my heart lately, and the Father has been so good to encourage me over and over with His goodness. Enjoy this poem! I hope it blesses you like it blessed me. :)

Video

Being the Bojo Nanny: Week 1

So this week was far from uneventful. Unfortunately, we have been having to deal with Claire having stomach issues. My poor sister has had to deal with more poop and throw up (sorry to be graphic) in the last two weeks than I ever hope to deal with in a lifetime. But seriously, it has been really scary. The poor kid has had this stomach bug for over two weeks, and we are really hoping it will be resolved soon. She has already lost weight, and if she loses anymore, she will have to be hospitalized.

On to a more hilarious note, there was a moment when I thought Tucker was going to die. And I would be the one responsible......But don't worry folks, this story has a happy ending. Jenny homeschools MK, and because Tucker is "The Destroyer," it is very difficult for Jenny to school while Tuck pulls books off the shelves, knocks over toys, shreds paper etc. So I volunteered to take Tucker on a walk with me during school times to get him out of the house. It works out well because Tuck loves it, I get a seriously kick-butt work-out, and Jenny gets to school MK free of Tucker mishaps. Win-win.

Well, me and Tuck suite up for our walk and go outside into the garage. Normally, I push him in the jogging stroller, but today I thought, "I am gonna be super aunt and push him in his car." This "car" that I am talking about is a small plastic convertible big enough for a toddler that has a tall handle that sticks up out of the back of it, making it easy for an adult to push. So I place Tucker in his beloved car, buckle him (Praise the LORD!), and we set off on our walk.

Now, it is important to note that Jenny and Brian live in the hilliest neighborhood. These hills are ginormously HUGE. I hoofed it through our walk and was feeling ready to die from exhaustion. We started to head down the GIANT hill on the way back to the house when the worst happened. The handle that connected my hand to Tucker's car completely popped off. It took me a second to register what I held in my hand, but once I did, I lunged after the now- rolling- too- fast- down- the- hill car and missed by a inch. I gazed in horror as Tucker's car gained speed down the hill. I ran after him, but knew there was no way I was going to reach him in time. I screamed out to the only one I knew could help me. "Lord, help!" I screamed. As soon as I yelled out, Tucker's car flew up into a driveway, hit some bushes, then flipped over the curb. Poor thing didn't know what hit him. You should have seen the look on his face. He looked at me with tears running down his cheeks like, "what the heck just happened to me?!" Fortunately, he was totally fine and just a minute after me picking him up and comforting him, said his favorite word, "car?" "Yes, buddy, you just went on the ride of a lifetime in your car." Good things kids his age forget things really fast :)

So lately I have been studying Leviticus. When I first started the study, I was pretty un-excited about it. Everything I had previously read in Leviticus was either boring or to be honest, rather vulgar. However, the Lord has been teaching me a lot about the Old Testament and its use in my life. Growing up, I was more or less taught that Old Testament stories were used to teach me morals: I should obey God because Adam and Eve didn't, the Ten Commandments were a good standard to live by, I should have the same faith that Daniel had in the Lion's Den. However, and praise the Father for this, I have begun to really understand and grasp the beauty of the Old Testament being woven together for one purpose: to point to the promised one, Jesus Christ. Now when I read the story of Adam and Eve, I am reminded of the fall and what that means for me and the rest of mankind (Eph. 2:1-3). But then it also reminds me of the redemptive plan that God set into action before time began through Christ (Eph. 2:4-7). And when I look at the Ten Commandments, instead of seeing them as guidelines on which to base my life, I see them as a mirror (thank you Sky Pratt) to show me my depraved state. The law has no power to save; only the power to expose. And when a person comes face to face with his/her deadness, that is when the gospel ("good news" because it really is!) shines through. God is so good.

But anyway, back to Leviticus. What is so cool about Leviticus is that it points to Christ. As I am reading about all the different offerings, I am reminded that Christ fulfilled the law and was THE ultimate sacrifice on our behalf. And what is neat is that the sacrifices in Leviticus were a pleasant aroma to God when they were offered with a humble heart. Leviticus 1:9 says, "and the priest shall burn all of it on the alter as a burnt offering, a food offering with a pleasing aroma to the Lord." Now on to the New Testament. Ephesians 5:2 says, "and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Like I said, Christ was the ultimate sacrifice to God on our behalf, and just as the sacrifices in the OT were a pleasing aroma to the Father, so the Son's substitutionary death on the cross was the most pleasant aroma to Him. So neat!

And now, because of all of that, we, as believers, are to live a life of love; a life of love to God as well as to others. Our lives, just as Christ's was, are to be a pleasing aroma to the Lord. Romans 12:1 says, "Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God--this is your spiritual act of worship." We were created in Christ Jesus to live holy lives full of good works (Eph. 2:10). And when we live those lives of good works (works that are done out of love for the Lord and for His glory), we produce a pleasant aroma to the Father.

So humbling that He loves us and uses us!

Madelyn