Villages & Vagabonds

I have been in India for nearly 3 weeks now and it is hard for me to believe that I still have 20-some weeks left here. Why is that hard to believe? Because it is as if I have felt so much already while being in India. I still have so much of India to see, to experience, to taste, to touch, to understand, to venture; but I have felt more in the first 2 weeks than I believed possible! And last weekend I got to see another piece of India, I had the opportunity to travel to another part of India.

Last Saturday I was invited to visit a few villages on the outskirts of Mumbai with a Pastor/new friend here in India. And, of course, I couldn't turn something like that down. While we made the drive through the city & closer to the villages I could see India change right in front of my eyes. The city roads turned into highways with more honking & traffic; but the highways soon turned into streets of dirt. Those streets of dirt occasionally occupied cows crossing the streets or standing their ground in the middle of one.

As we got deeper into the villages the heat of Mumbai felt like nothing compared to the intense heat of the villages, the humidity was undeniable; but so was the beauty as we entered these villages. I looked out the window only to look over to my friend & say several times, "I wish I had brought my camera with me on this drive!" Green, luscious hills with pink flowers gradually turned into dirt filled mountains looking like they longed for the rainy season a few months too soon...

We got into the villages as this friend of mine stopped for an authentic Indian snack that he advised me not to eat; so as he got out to get his snack I stayed put in the car. I watched as people watched me, they looked at me like I was some foreign object - then I realized, I am. I noticed that my friend had left his keys in the vehicle, windows wide open. I started to feel uneasy with these multiple eyes watching me, knowing that if they wanted, they could easily hop into this vehicle & drive off in a split second. My friend got back into the vehicle just in time; just as I was beginning to feel a little unsettled. He had no clue of the internal discussions going on in my mind. Thank goodness!

Children, hens & their chicks, dogs, fresh fruit stands, cows, men, women on front door steps all filled my eyes. We got out of the car to visit with a few of the local families - some took us through their garden with seemed to be miles long, some invited us in for "tea time," which is a true love of Indians. Some of them tried speaking with me in Hindi, some of them spoke with me in English, some of them I wasn't able to speak with at all. But there was a mutual feeling of respect. I left their homes with a true sense of gratitude & the never-ending feeling that India has left me with - that of being welcomed.

I watched my friend of mine truly connect with these people, the families in these villages. We went from village to village, it was evident that his heart is for these people. I didn't want to say a word, I didn't want to make any action, I wanted to watch because what was taking place isn't something I can shake. My friend/pastor here in India is currently working on a new project within these villages & it is something that I will have the honor of seeing from the very beginning. I hope to share more about it with all of you soon, because it will be making waves here in India - God is truly working & His move is evident. Please be praying for my friend/pastor & the burden that God has set on his heart.

More soon,
In love with these villages & vagabond souls!

Teresa

 

A Beggar's Heart

I've been sitting here wondering how on earth to begin this - actually for the past 5 or 6 hours. That seems to be the hardest part, just beginning. It has seemed to be a trend thus far. Somehow processing the past few days & sharing my thoughts & my feelings has become nearly impossible.

I arrived Tuesday night but had only been able to see India in the dark from the backseat of a vehicle. It was quieter than I had expected, less activity than I expected; but the heat, that hit me all at once - the moment I walked out of the airport Tuesday night. That was a part of India I expected, a part of India I hoped was pretend & make believe.

Wednesday was my first full day here. I was able to venture a bit with a friend, who I will be working along side of. We went to lunch & then she showed me a few of her favorite shops in order for me to buy some Indian clothing that I'd be wearing during the next 6 months. Eating lunch was a breeze, buying clothing was exciting, but what came next once I stepped outside of the shop, left me on the sidewalk in my friends arms weeping like a baby, repeatedly saying, "I don't know what to do; what do I do?" Not only was I seeing, smelling, tasting, touching & hearing India... I was feeling India. I had been approached, for the first time, by children-beggars.

I had shared with another friend (who picked me up from the airport & is working with the organization I am in India with) during our ride from the airport that beggars was the part of India that I, in no way, felt prepared for. I told her that the moment I realized this reality that it would wreck me. And it did.

We were walking out of the shop after buying some clothes & all of a sudden I heard little voices. It didn't sound like they were saying full sentences; just broken words that I could barely understand. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, suddenly there was a face right next to mine keeping up with my pace, & suddenly there were hands at my side & in front of my face. I barely looked at them, it was wrecking me, it was hitting me. I quickened my pace, I had to get away. I realized what was happening, I realized who was next to me, I realized who the tiny voices belonged to. Child-beggars, Dalit children, the very first thing that ever caught my attention into wanting to come to India back when I was 13.

The reality of it all hit me at once: they aren't just faces I've seen over a computer screen, they aren't just names from books that I've read or stories that I've heard, they aren't just a number or a statistic in India, they aren't just a caste in a culture dictated by it's caste system & beliefs... They are people, they are the very people that Jesus loved & has called His believers to love.

 Jesus loved & loves the poor & the needy, the prostitutes, the outcastes, the down-trodden, the hopeless. I am called to love the poor, I am called to love the needy, I am called to love the prostitutes, I am called to love the outcaste, I am called to love the down-trodden, I am called to love those who need hope - India is filled with those very people, I face them on a daily basis.

I am wrecked. I'm crying as I write this...
I am humbled in a way I never thought possible by being here.

I feel like sharing this with you is not doing justice to the experience; but I'd much rather share anyway.

"Hands reaching through barred windows, falling asleep on the sidewalk.
You say You draw near to the low,
Now I know, now I'm here I know, I'm not low enough.Because all the things I know, suddenly seem so small.And I'm learning, when You build it feels like You tear me apart.
When You heal, it always leaves a scar.
And even when You fill, You leave me with a beggars heart."

Teresa