That's right. I've been stateside for 47 days. The past month and a half are what I am referring to as forced rest. Because, you see, I'm not so sure I want to be resting anymore. I'm starting to get a little bit antsy. But God knows I need this time to recover from a beautiful but exhausting six months. Not to mention the exhausting four years prior to that. So the fact that I haven't yet found a job has been a blessing. Its provoked good self-reflection, prayer, and joyful times with family and friends. And I have eaten a lot of Bodo's. As a matter of fact, I've done quite a few things! Here are just a few:
Visiting friends in NoVa. Highlights: Anna's baby belly, and my conversion to being a soy milk drinker, thanks to Chris. The Lowlight? Driving to Dulles Airport during the Marine Corps Marathon.
Girls' Getaway to Colorado Springs with my sister. Highlights: Illegal scrambling in Garden of the Gods, Dunkin' Donuts, knitting hats at midnight. Lowlight: Two hours on the runway in Denver, waiting to be de-iced.
Graves Mountain Apple Festival. Highlights: Time with the fam. Apple doughnuts. Lowlight: It. was. cold.
North Carolina! Highlights: Seeing old friends. Uptown Life Group. Wandering around Greensboro with Brooke. Lowlight: Culture Shock at South Park Mall. Tears ensued.
Blackfrier's THeater in Staunton. Highlights: Good company. Good coffee. Elizabethan theater does "Total eclipse of the heart." Lowlight: Kline's closes at 9:30?!
Like I said, it's been good.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Thoughts on returning to America
Indian cockroaches keep crawling out of my clothing. I hope this doesn't get me in trouble with US Immigration; they already confiscated my British apple.
Virginia apples are so delicious.
Dear Old Navy: Thank you for saying that long tops and bright colors are in style. I just might survive here if you would only turn off your AC.
I am cold.
Dear exercise-obsessed people at Gold's Gym: maybe you should take up rice farming.
Dear Silver Honda Civic: I am so sorry I was ever embarrassed about the big ol' dent in your door. I have realized how nice you really are. And I can't remember the last time I was in a car without ten other people.
Would it be totally innapropriate to walk around town in a sari?
I can call people without having to calculate the time difference!
I am in love with thirty people on the other side of the world.
I think about them fifty times a day.
I'm not who I was.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Abundant August
August has been busy--abundant in both joy and stress. Typhoid fever, malaria, scabies, scarlet fever, TB...I've been getting a crash course in tropical medicine! But by far, the best part of the month was a visit from my Momma! Y'all, she is amazing. She ate with her hands, slept under a mosquito net, survived rickshaw rides, and had some really amazing and productive time with the kids here. I dare you to show me a more supportive, brave mom! Plus, she took lots of pictures with her camera, so now I have photos of myself to prove to you that I am really here!
Medicine Time!
We went for a walk but discovered the path was impassibly flooded!
My housemates
The view from my (former) back window
Making fast friends
Recently, some of the teenaged girls borrowed my camera to have a little fun. They took lots of pictures, including this:
And this:
and this...
I love that one of the boys is completely airborne
And of course I couldn't resist a picture of me in a sari. It doesn't come out every day, you know.
And finally, some pictures of yet another glorious monsoon sunset.
Medicine Time!
We went for a walk but discovered the path was impassibly flooded!
My housemates
The view from my (former) back window
Making fast friends
Recently, some of the teenaged girls borrowed my camera to have a little fun. They took lots of pictures, including this:
And this:
and this...
I love that one of the boys is completely airborne
And of course I couldn't resist a picture of me in a sari. It doesn't come out every day, you know.
And finally, some pictures of yet another glorious monsoon sunset.
Monday, August 24, 2009
I wish that I could tell you...
I have regretted more than once how little I’ve written here about my time in India. I could give a number of reasons, like inconsistent internet, slow computers, or the time I washed my flash drive in a bucket with my dirty laundry. But beyond all of these things I am grappling with thoughts and emotions, experiences and memories that are too close to the heart to reveal to you fully. I’m fearful, perhaps, that if I told you what I wish I could that it would be too heavy a burden for you to bear. Because I’m not certain you want to hear it, or what you would do with the knowledge that I now carry.
How can I explain to you the things that confront me daily? Like the time that one of the women here, who was rescued from sex trafficking by IJM, asked me to teach her to read and she picked up the book in front of me, which happend to be Good News About Injustice. Or how about one of our boys, who has half the local town rallied against him because they learned he is HIV positive and they don’t want him in school with their children. Or the signs of abuse I discover on the bodies of children when I apply scabies lotion. How can I explain the chills that run over my body when a child tells me the horrors of living on a railway platform? Or a child, who in the delirium of typhoid fever, calls out all night long for the mother she lost long ago. Or a boy who was infected with HIV by the blood transfusion that saved his life when he was a baby. Or the confusion on a child’s face when he asks, “how long do I have to take this medicine?” and I answer. “For the rest of your life.”
How can I share the intense faith of children who have faced every kind of evil, yet trust in Jesus with their whole beings? Who pray desperately for rain in the midst of a drought, and God sends rain? What words do I have to tell about the love that God gives me daily, which reaches far beyond my own capacity to love?
Its not that I have nothing to write about, its that I just can’t find the words…
How can I explain to you the things that confront me daily? Like the time that one of the women here, who was rescued from sex trafficking by IJM, asked me to teach her to read and she picked up the book in front of me, which happend to be Good News About Injustice. Or how about one of our boys, who has half the local town rallied against him because they learned he is HIV positive and they don’t want him in school with their children. Or the signs of abuse I discover on the bodies of children when I apply scabies lotion. How can I explain the chills that run over my body when a child tells me the horrors of living on a railway platform? Or a child, who in the delirium of typhoid fever, calls out all night long for the mother she lost long ago. Or a boy who was infected with HIV by the blood transfusion that saved his life when he was a baby. Or the confusion on a child’s face when he asks, “how long do I have to take this medicine?” and I answer. “For the rest of your life.”
How can I share the intense faith of children who have faced every kind of evil, yet trust in Jesus with their whole beings? Who pray desperately for rain in the midst of a drought, and God sends rain? What words do I have to tell about the love that God gives me daily, which reaches far beyond my own capacity to love?
Its not that I have nothing to write about, its that I just can’t find the words…
Friday, July 24, 2009
If Might be Monsoon If...
It Might be Monsoon If…
1) Its been six weeks since you saw the sun
2) Your jeans are growing fungus
3) You wade through ankle-deep water without breaking stride
4) You blow-dry your pillow every night before bed
5) You think crocs are the best invention of the past 10 years
6) You dry your wet laundry by wearing it
7) You own a raincoat that goes down to your ankles
8) Catching crabs is your kids’ favorite activity--but you’re nowhere near the sea
9) When power cuts plunge the room into pitch darkness, there’s not even a pause in the conversation
Can you picture my life, now?
Monday, July 20, 2009
Rachel Goes North
Last week, I traveled with my co-worker Sabrina up to northern India. Sabrina was scoping out organizations to work with in the future, and I was the trusty traveling companion who was happy to have a change of scenery. We had a whirlwind trip and saw a bunch of different projects. I thought of writing out a detailed account of the trip for you, but even I don’t want to read all of that. So here are a few highlights (or lowlights) of each day.
Day 1: Mumbai- Rode on five trains. Drank a real café mocha. At Victoria Station, was sorely tempted to dance like in Slumdog Millionaire.
Overnight: Kept awake on the Rajdani Express by sonorous snoring from a nearby berth. After falling asleep, was awakened when every cell phone in the train car got a text message when we crossed a state line. “Welcome to Gujarat! Welcom to Harayana! Welcome to Mahdya Pradesh!”
Day 2: Woke up grumpy but was cheered up by our friend the coffee-walla. In New Delhi, visited both Café Coffee Day (the Indian version of Starbucks) locations in Connaught Place. Went shopping in Main Bazaar. Tried not to melt in the heat. Was unsuccessful. Boarded train number six to Dehra Dun.
Day 3: Woke up in Dehra Dun station. Not sure how long we had been sleeping after the train arrived. (Ooops.) Boarded a bus to Mussoorie, a beautiful hill station in the mountains. Enjoyed scenic views of mist and rock. Prayed our speeding bus would not fly off the side of the mountain.
Day 4: Walked up the mountain in Mussoorie. And down the mountain. And up. And down. Finally had to confront how out of shape I have become. Bought homemade peanut butter and yak cheese at Sister’s Bazaar. Watched an amazing sunset over the Gwalior hills.
Day 5: Back down the mountain into the Doon Valley. (“Doon” means “valley,” of course, but Indians are fond of repeating words in general.) Prayed our speeding taxi wouldn’t fly off the side of the mountain. Noticed the following words on a sign on the side of the road: “the hills are lonely, barren, and steep, and I have miles to go before I sleep.” Was Robert Frost writing poetry to warn Indian truckers not to get drowsy? Arrived at Herbertpore Community Hospital, which is run by the Emmanuel Health Association. Was served the one meal I had hoped to leave behind at PB--egg curry.
Day 6: Took a tour of Herbertpore Community Hospital. Took a three-hour nap.
Day 7: Two words to describe Dehra Dun: hot and crowded. Went to (you guessed it) Café Coffee Day. Heard some good news from an old friend that made me smile.
Day 8: Dehra Dun: visited a cool project called SNEHA. They run schools, healthcare, and community empowerment projects for the slums in the city. Bill Clinton donated their computers.
Day 9: Arrived in Delhi on the overnight train. Had beef burgundy and mashed potatoes for lunch at the Canadian Embassy. I like my new-found Canadian friends. Had fun wandering around New Delhi for the second time in a week.
Day 10: A plane, and train, and an auto rickshaw to get back to Igatpuri!
Here’s one more recap:
11.7 kilos of stuff in my backpack
8 trains
7 visits to Café Coffee Day
6 pairs of earrings haggled over in Delhi
5 times we went out to eat paneer paranthas
4 NGOs visited
3 jars of homemade peanut butter
2 girls with colds
1 tired traveller!
Countless times we were asked “From which country?”
Countless times we were asked if we were married (the answer’s always “yes”)
Countless cows in the middle of the road
Infinite joy upon arrival back at Purnata Bhavan!
And now, for some pictures!
The joy of waking up after another night on a train!
My attempt to take pictures out the window of the taxi. This is drivin through the Doon Valley.
More picture attempts--with crooked results.
Sunset in beautiful Mussoorie.
The view from our friend Susi's house
And the sky just kept getting better and better!
Okay, just one more.
Yeah, we lugged those backpacks all over India!
Day 1: Mumbai- Rode on five trains. Drank a real café mocha. At Victoria Station, was sorely tempted to dance like in Slumdog Millionaire.
Overnight: Kept awake on the Rajdani Express by sonorous snoring from a nearby berth. After falling asleep, was awakened when every cell phone in the train car got a text message when we crossed a state line. “Welcome to Gujarat! Welcom to Harayana! Welcome to Mahdya Pradesh!”
Day 2: Woke up grumpy but was cheered up by our friend the coffee-walla. In New Delhi, visited both Café Coffee Day (the Indian version of Starbucks) locations in Connaught Place. Went shopping in Main Bazaar. Tried not to melt in the heat. Was unsuccessful. Boarded train number six to Dehra Dun.
Day 3: Woke up in Dehra Dun station. Not sure how long we had been sleeping after the train arrived. (Ooops.) Boarded a bus to Mussoorie, a beautiful hill station in the mountains. Enjoyed scenic views of mist and rock. Prayed our speeding bus would not fly off the side of the mountain.
Day 4: Walked up the mountain in Mussoorie. And down the mountain. And up. And down. Finally had to confront how out of shape I have become. Bought homemade peanut butter and yak cheese at Sister’s Bazaar. Watched an amazing sunset over the Gwalior hills.
Day 5: Back down the mountain into the Doon Valley. (“Doon” means “valley,” of course, but Indians are fond of repeating words in general.) Prayed our speeding taxi wouldn’t fly off the side of the mountain. Noticed the following words on a sign on the side of the road: “the hills are lonely, barren, and steep, and I have miles to go before I sleep.” Was Robert Frost writing poetry to warn Indian truckers not to get drowsy? Arrived at Herbertpore Community Hospital, which is run by the Emmanuel Health Association. Was served the one meal I had hoped to leave behind at PB--egg curry.
Day 6: Took a tour of Herbertpore Community Hospital. Took a three-hour nap.
Day 7: Two words to describe Dehra Dun: hot and crowded. Went to (you guessed it) Café Coffee Day. Heard some good news from an old friend that made me smile.
Day 8: Dehra Dun: visited a cool project called SNEHA. They run schools, healthcare, and community empowerment projects for the slums in the city. Bill Clinton donated their computers.
Day 9: Arrived in Delhi on the overnight train. Had beef burgundy and mashed potatoes for lunch at the Canadian Embassy. I like my new-found Canadian friends. Had fun wandering around New Delhi for the second time in a week.
Day 10: A plane, and train, and an auto rickshaw to get back to Igatpuri!
Here’s one more recap:
11.7 kilos of stuff in my backpack
8 trains
7 visits to Café Coffee Day
6 pairs of earrings haggled over in Delhi
5 times we went out to eat paneer paranthas
4 NGOs visited
3 jars of homemade peanut butter
2 girls with colds
1 tired traveller!
Countless times we were asked “From which country?”
Countless times we were asked if we were married (the answer’s always “yes”)
Countless cows in the middle of the road
Infinite joy upon arrival back at Purnata Bhavan!
And now, for some pictures!
The joy of waking up after another night on a train!
My attempt to take pictures out the window of the taxi. This is drivin through the Doon Valley.
More picture attempts--with crooked results.
Sunset in beautiful Mussoorie.
The view from our friend Susi's house
And the sky just kept getting better and better!
Okay, just one more.
Yeah, we lugged those backpacks all over India!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Happy Birthday Mom!
Light some candles and put on your party hats--its my Momma's birthday! Happy Birthday, Mom! (Mom, I won't tell how many candles are on your cake if you promise to eat some for me.)
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