Love these kids from afar

I've met so many beautiful children of Christ since I've been here.

I've learned their names and memorized their beautiful faces.

I've seen the help the receive, and the needs that are being met.

I've also seen the need that is still very much there.

I've seen the need that they are desperate to fufill.


I'm not entirely sure who is reading my blog. Maybe it's mostly my friends, who are struggling through the financial burden of college. 

If that's you, help these beautiful children by praying for them, and then sharing this link.

Maybe you're reading this, and you have a little extra in the budget, maybe you are just dying to know how you can help. The kids are Sarah's Covenant Home need to be sponsored. Very few have full sponsorship right now. Some are partially sponsored, and others are not sponsored at all. 

Sponsorship helps pay for medical costs, surgeries, food, clothing, home renovations, and schooling.

Read about these kids. Learn their names, and their stories. Pray about them. And if you feel led, please help one of these beautiful kids out and sponsor them. Because I love them all dearly.

http://www.schindia.com/gallery/all-children/

Breaking my heart and rebuilding it for Missions

No one would ever accuse me of being organized. What can I say? I'm a creative mind... Organization is not my forté. I've never been the first to offer to help with cleaning, and I'll put off doing laundry until I'm literally out of clean clothes. Whoops. 

I like kids. Kids can be fun. But I've never been the kind of girl dying to hold every baby she sees, dreaming of the day she'll have her own. I've never picked out baby names, and I don't have a board of kid related things on Pinterest. I like kids, but I'm not that girl. My sister is, but I've never really been. 

Working in missions is changing my heart is the weirdest ways. The mission field will make a housewife out of anyone. 

I have cleaned rooms from floor to ceiling, making sure every mark and every stain is gone. I know every trick to getting crayon off of walls. I have washed my laundry in a metal tub on the back porch, and line dried them behind the house. 

I have picked out a live chicken, and had it killed and skinned in front of me. I've cleaned fresh chicken and cooked it over a tiny propane stove. I know how to clean fruit with bottled water, and cut pineapples and watermelons with a pocket knife.

I'm learning how to make kids smile when all they want to do is cry. I'm learning how to tell if a baby is running a fever. Did you know that forehead kisses make the best thermometers?  

I'm learning to love the kids, past my own reservations, and my own comfort levels. I'm learning to listen to God when he calls me. 

I've been in India for a little under a month. I've learned, probably only a small fraction of what it means to be a missionary, but I'm learning to love the good and the bad. I've learned that its hard work, and rarely looks like what you're expecting. I've learned that as soon as you're reached some level of comfort with what you're doing, it'll change. I've learned that seemingly small acts of service can be hugely beneficial to ministries in the long run. I've learned that when something is rough, there will soon be something so rewarding to follow that it'll make it all worth it. 

I've been in India for a little under a month. I haven't even left yet and I already feel called back. I've googled long term missions a hundred times. I've googled teaching english over seas. I've googled mission sponsorship and training programs. 

I think my heart was made for the mission field. 

"And he said to them, 'Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation."  - Mark 16:15

I am not skilled to understand

When I started writing this post, it was going to be an explanation of my week with Samantha, and the night I got sick, but God gave me so many words to speak about Samantha, that I didn't want to short change any of them by combining it with the details of my night of sickness, so instead I have two posts :)



Thursday the 20th of June, might have been one of the most challenging days of my life. 

This week we were paired with a child to work one on one with the the Victory Home. The less mobile children at the home tend to receive less attention. The caregivers usually only have time to tend to the basics needs of the kids, and when volunteers come to the home the children up and moving around are more readily available to seek attention, and often playing with them is more enjoyable than sitting in one of the rooms. It was for that reason that we were paired with less mobile children, to give them love and attention that they often miss out on.

We were also given physical therapy exercises to work on with the kids. Many of them need to stretch out their limbs in certain ways after being in the bed so long, or holding them certain ways due to handicaps or illness. 

I was paired with Samantha*. She is blind and autistic. She is seven years old, but doesn't talk and can't really walk on her own. This is due to her handicaps, but also to the lack of attention she can be given. There just isn't the man power needed to give all the kids the physical therapy they need. 

I spent time with Samantha, talking to her, singing to her, rubbing her back, and walking with her around the room. If I'm honest, it was hard, and at times pretty disheartening. A lot of the girls on my team were paired with less mobile, often immobile kids, but ones that laugh with you and smile with you. Samantha is somewhat mobile, so it was nice to see tangible results in our exercises, but it often seemed as though she could care less that I was there. 

Due to her autism, and the fact that she is often left to her own devices, Samantha has patterns that she repeats throughout her day. She likes to sit on the edge of her bed and rock back and forwards, letting her heels tap the edge of the bed as she moves. She then likes to put the left side of her face flat against the cool, polished stone wall and slide back and forwards. At some points in the day she'll lay flat on the floor face down, feeling the coolness of the floor and tapping a rhythm. She'll also move her head side to side, almost humming as she does, in a rhythm, over and over. The worst of all, is when she's frustrated she'll rock back and forwards, hitting her head on the end of the bed. I've learned that when she works through her patterns, not to interrupt, unless she is hurting herself. When she hits her head from frustration, I pull her away and  rub her back and sing to her. Other than that, I don't interrupt. When she finishes her patterns, we walk some more. 

As time went on I could better see that she appreciated my presence. I learned how to read her, and what I could do to calm her down when frustration overwhelmed her. I also became very protective of her. Often other kids would get too rough around her and she would get caught in the cross fire. I made sure to serve as a barrier to her when those things happened. 

Though I was learning to see when she appreciated my presence, it was still hard. I didn't really feel useful. I knew the patterns of her habits, but I didn't understand them. I still found myself frustrated and confused when she hurt herself.

Understanding came in two waves. The first being my leader Megan.

She told us in morning worship, that she saw so much of our relationship with God in the actions of the kids at the homes. That when the kids cry and fight us while we stretch their limbs its so much like the way that we fight when God stretches us. We don't see that the person in control is only doing these things because they know that in the long run this is what's best for us, we just see that it hurts and we don't want to do it.      Samantha hits her head on the bed, over and over, hurting herself, and no matter how many times I pull her away and sooth her, and speak love over her, I know that eventually she'll just do it again. In much the same way God watches us hurt ourselves by sinning, over and over again, and no matter how many times he pulls us away from our sinful nature, and speaks love over us, He knows we'll just do it again. But the Beautiful thing? He still pulls us away every time, and loves us every time, despite knowing that eventually we'll do it all over again. 

This made me view the way I deal with Samantha differently. I gained understanding of Samantha herself after I fell sick. 

If you read my previous post, you know all about my night of horrific sickness. I was helpless. I spent a big chunk of my night praying. Praying that sickness would pass. Praying for my fellow sick teammates. Praying for relief. Praying for patience. And then in the midst of throwing up and sheer frustration, God brought Samantha to my mind.

First let me tell you about Thursday morning. Samantha was especially frustrated. She was in a different room than usual, with more kids, which was throwing her off. There was just so much happening around her. It was really hot in the room and the other kids in the room were fighting for my attention. The whole thing was utterly overwhelming for both of us.

Samantha started doing something that I'm told she sometimes does when she is hot and frustrated, but I hadn't yet seen. She'd spit up in her hand and wipe it across her face and arms. Over and over. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a germaphobe, but this was outside my level expertise. I didn't know what to do. I'd clean her up, only to watch her do it all over again. She was especially fussy and agitated. The other kids in the room were trying to climb into my lap and talk to me, and ask me question, or get me to help them. I was one person trying, suddenly, to do the job of 12, and if I'm honest, I cracked.

I waited for one of the other girls to come into the room, so I wasn't leaving anyone unattended, then left as quickly as I possibly could. I'm not a cryer. I'm especially not one to cry in public, but I was overwhelmed, and I could feel the tears threatening to break through. The thing about a home for 77 kids, is that there isn't a private spot to have a quick cry, so I settled for a spot between two of my teammates. I sat down, and they let me try to fight back the tidal wave of tears without pressing me for too much information. 

That night I got sick. 

Fighting a fever, in India, in the middle of summer isn't an experience I recommend to anyone. Ever. As I lay on the couch, a bucket in hand, trying desperately to get as close to the fan I could, I ended up just sinking to the ground, laying flat against the polished stone floor, soaking up the coolness of the surface. And I though of Samantha.

I found myself pouring water on my face and my neck, spreading it, trying desperately to cool down. And I though of Samantha, trying to cool herself down.

I was trying every tactic I could to distract myself, to keep the nausea and the sickness from creeping back up. I would tap out rhythms and patterns, over and over, to keep my mind busy. And I thought of Samantha and the patterns she lives by. 

I wanted desperately for it to just be daylight. To make it past the night. For it not be dark outside, and I thought of Samantha, whose world is always so dark.     

Thursday the 20th of June, might have been one of the most challenging days of my life. 

In the morning I was stretched and beaten, and overwhelmed by the fact that at times I simply don't know how to be enough for these kids. In the evening, I was physically drained and broken, and emotionally humbled as I realized that it was just a glimpse of how Samantha feels daily. Broken, drained.... and trapped. 

In the morning, when sickness subsided, and my body slowly started to repair, I was reminded of one of the songs that had been playing at the home while I was sitting with Samantha. 

I am not skilled to understand,
What God has willed, what God has planned,
I only know at his right hand,
Stands one who is my savior. 

Being at the home I am often crippled by the overwhelming fact that I'm not enough for these kids. No matter how much any of us want to be, we will never be enough for these kids. I can't bring Samantha peace, or heal her broken body. I don't understand why she's been dealt this hand, while I've been dealt mine. I don't know. But I do know that God is stretching me. He's stretching me in real, tangible, and difficult ways, but through it is is giving me an understanding of who is he is, and who these kids are. I do know that at his right hand stands one who is my savior, and while I can't be enough for these kids, he is always enough. 

Unrelated Picture of Ongole, but hey, its beautiful.

Sickness overseas

Thursday Night sickness struck my team, and struck hard. Several members of my team had fallen sick on Wednesday and Thursday morning, but I was happy to find myself still in the group of healthy team members. That was short lived.

At 10pm I was laying in bed, writing a letter to my beautiful friend Jen, when I started feeling not so awesome. All in my head, I convinced myself, no Emily, you're just feeling sick because you've been around it. It's all in your head.

I went downstairs and sipped some water. One of my teammates was sitting in the living room watching Tangled. No big deal, I'll just watch Tangled and let this feeling pass. Right? 

Wrong. 

Rapunzel didn't even make it out of her tower before I was running to the sink to throw up everything I had eaten that day. No big deal though. Quite a few of my teammates had thrown up once or twice, then they were fine. It was probably something I ate. Right? 

Wrong.

One other girl on my team, the other Emily, was struck with the sickness bug at essentially the same time. We took turns stepping over people trying to sleep in our room, fighting for the bathroom, trying not to throw up in the room. Eventually due to the efforts of sharing the bathroom, and the sheer exhaustion of being sick and running a fever we just retreated downstairs with a bucket each.

Let me paint this picture for you. There is no air conditioning downstairs, which is a little more than uncomfortable when you're not running a high fever. Its downright torture when you are. There is one oscillating fan that we were fighting for. Tangled was still close to the beginning so we halfway watched it, thankful for some form of distraction.

Emily and I were practically in sync. Every 20 minutes or so she'd throw up, then I'd throw up. If we moved, we threw up. If we drank anything, we threw up. When Tangled finished, neither one of us had the energy to stand up and change the movie, so it automatically restarted, and we watched it all the way through a second time. 

Around 2am, as the opening credits of Tangled were playing a third time one of our teammates came down, filled our water bottles, made sure we were as comfortable as you can be in that situation, and changed the movie. 

By this point I was trying to tactic of just lying face down on the marble floor. There was nothing in my stomach, but I was still throwing up, or at least my body was trying. I didn't have energy to move. I wanted desperately for it to just be morning, night time just makes situations seem that much more dismal. 

By about 6am the sickness slowed from twice an hour, to once an hour, then once every few hours, and I was finally able to get some sleep. One of the nurses from the home sent over hydration drinks (really disgusting salty apple juice) but if I'm honest they helped immensely. 

I can honestly say I've never been so sick in my life. Ever. Over the course of 12 hours I threw up 17 times. It was one of the longest, and hardest nights of my life. There were times when I really questioned whether I was going to make it out of India. That may sound dramatic, but the other Emily will attest, it was that rough of a night. 

It's Sunday morning now. Several cartons of salty apple juice, quite a few episodes of Dr. Who (thanks Megan!) and plenty of sleep later I'm at about 90% health. It was a rough rough night, but I'm glad that Emily and I struggled through together, entirely alone would have been unbearable. We definitely bonded in some pretty real, and disgusting ways.

Oh and in case you're wondering, I plan to pretty much never watched Tangled again. It's been well and truly ruined for me. 

An Update for Home, and Info on how you can help :)

www.schindia.com

www.facebook.com/schindia

Things you should know about my life in India

I take bucket showers.

What does that mean? It means that while I do have running water, its not in the form of a shower. Its in the form of a faucet on the wall, from which I fill up a bucket. I then stand over the drain and use a smaller cup to pour water over myself to wash with. 

2. I love bucket showers. 

The water isn't heated so its cooling after the long hot days, though it is warm enough from the sun. Bucket Showers are perfect after a long hot day. They're great. 

3. I have to pour water into the back of the toilet before I can flush. Every time.

Yeah... it happens. Also, I can't flush toilet paper. Yeah...

4. I have to brush my teeth with bottled water. 

No one wants a parasite, so it's worth the hassle.

5. You get used to a Nalgene full of hot water.

We drink filtered water from a jug on the counter. Ice? Not an option. Why? First of all, it wouldn't be purified, which wouldn't work anyway, but even when you have something frozen, it melts literally right away. That includes freezing the entire contents of your Nalgene. You just get used to hot water. 

6. Ankles are sexy.

We have to cover our ankles, because it is that provocative. I kid you not, men will stare at your exposed ankles they way they would your chest.... However, apparently stomachs? Not a problem. The women here are allowed to show a little belly, but ankles? Don't even suggest it. 

7. Rolling power outages are normal.

Lights go out? You just carry on and assume they'll be back on in 10 minutes or so... and back off in 20 more. 

8. You can get anywhere for 10 Rupis.

Rickshaws will take you essentially anywhere in town, be it 30 seconds down the road, or ten minutes across town, for 10 Rupis per person. That translates to about 20 cents. 

9. Sunglasses will save your life.

A little bit because it's so sunny, but mostly because it's so dusty and the wind is constantly blowing. Dust in the eyes? Not awesome. 

10. If you think you have tan lines, take a shower.

Because its probably just several layers of dirt. Still there? Take another shower... or two. If its still there you might have yourself a tan line, but chances are you're just still dirty. Especially on your feet. 

11. Wifi is a privilege.

So if you were wondering why I suddenly post three blogs every Sunday, now you know. I only have wifi access once a week. 

12. Carbs are everywhere.

India is carb central. Every meal consists of rice, and rice.... and rice. 

13. I miss my friends and family.

Don't get me wrong, I'm having a blast. I love it here, and I'm by no means ready to leave, but I do miss you all. So, so much. 

Sewing :)

No one came to our team with as an especially accomplished sewer, and as far as I'm aware none of us have high hopes of becoming a seamstress. Never the less, we have found ourselves sewing and sorting clothes all week long. 

The week began with us making rounds to the various homes in Sarah's Covenant Homes and sizing all of the children for clothing. We then sorted through the piles of donated clothing that SCH has received and organized them according to size and gender. Then came the real fun.

Every article of clothing; every pair of jeans, every Punjabi, and every onesie had to have a tag sewn into it. The tags were color coded according to their age and gender category. 

I can't tell you how many times we broke needles, poked our fingers, knotted thread, or even accidentally sewed onesies to our pants. As I said, none of us brought a talent of sewing to this team. But we did bring our own talents, talents that passed the time and kept up spirits despite the difficulty or monotony of our work. 

Tory brought a servant's heart, an unbelievable want to help people in any way she can, that inspires us all to work as hard as we can. Hannah brought an unrelenting and often contagious joy. Joy that keeps our spirits up as we sew tirelessly. Cheyenne brought laughter, so much laughter, to the room as we worked. None of us brought the gift of needlework, but the gifts we do have are so evident, and so present as we work side by side. 

Sitting in the room with my teammates sewing all week has been a blessing. Initially I wasn't that excited to tackle this project. Sit inside and sew all week? No thanks, I'll go play with orphans instead. But God has shown me so many ways that this is working for him. 

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am among them." - Matthew 18:20

Being in that room with these girls; Laughing with them, sharing testimonies, playing silly games, crying with them, and just learning about each other has been beautiful. I can see the different ways that God has blessed us each, the different talents and strengths he's given us. I can also see the reasons he's brought us together. 

"I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me... as you did it to one of the least of these, my brothers, you did it to me." - Matthew 25:35 & 40

If I'm honest, yeah, I'd probably rather continue to hang out at the homes and play with the kids. Selfishly, that is a more satisfying way to spend my time, and it has a more immediate and tangible impact. But the truth of it is, the home needs these clothes organized, and they just don't have the man power to get it done. All of the children will receive new outfits, and the workers at the home will have a much more efficient way of distributing and keeping track of clothes. We've been able to labor over, laugh over, cry over, and even pray over the clothes that the children in the home will receive. 

The week has been long, and I look forward to next week when we can distribute these newly organize clothes to the children at the home, but I am grateful for this week. This week has been one of growth in our team, allowing us to spend time learning about each other. This week has been one of reflection, praying for the children that will receive these clothes. And ultimately, this week will have been worth is when we see the joy on the children's faces next week when they are given their new set of clothes.

We all miss Coffee

I miss Java Jacks. 

I miss Kyle making me coffee in the Green House.

I miss Lorin and I having an embarrassing amount of coffee cups collected in the office.

I miss sharing a frozen coffee with Mycah

India has Chai, which is delicious. But it's not coffee. We have a little bit of instant coffee at the house which does in a bind, but isn't the same. 

We all miss coffee. 

One of my teammates joked that coffee is the sixth love language. 
There are five love languages, or ways we show and receive love. They are 
Acts of Service
Words of Affirmation
Gift Giving
Quality Time
Physical Touch.

Then there is coffee.

When one of my teammates was upset yesterday morning, Hannah and I could think of only one solution. Make coffee. (sadly, all we could offer was instant coffee, but as we said, it does in a mind)

That made me miss my friends. 

It made me miss walking upstairs at Java Jacks, knowing that I'd have friends upstairs. 
It made me miss late nights studying in the office with friends, bribing Kyle to make us french press. 
It made me terribly miss dates with Jen.
It made me miss Katy and Lindsay and Nick and Rae and Ruth and Lorin and Ethan and Stephen and Richard and a million other people. 

Coffee is a love language. 

Coffee makes me think of home. 

We all miss coffee. 

  
I think I should also add to the end of this blog, that while I was getting ready to post this Ethan text me and said he was at one of my favorite coffee shops. That's just mean. 

Baskar, my friend.

Yesterday we spent our first day at Sarah's Covenant Home.

Walking into it, I was nervous. Special needs is not my calling. We have beautiful girls on our team who are absolutely called to serve children with special needs. That is not me. So I was scared. Scared that I would let my emotions get in the way. Scared that I wouldn't be able to give these children the love they need.

God sent me reassurance in two forms.

The first was Sarah. I asked if there would be a problem if I took photos while I was at the home. It turns out that not only would be okay, but she was excited at the prospect. Sarah needs updated photographs of the children to send with adoption profiles, to help these children find homes. She also wants to take pictures of the children having fun, laughing, playing, to decorate the walls of the home and the offices. I had been so nervous to go to the home. So worried that I didn't have a skill to bring to them. But God is showing me how to love these children through the talents I have.

The second came through the word. One of my leaders, Megan read us a verse from James 5 during our morning group time. When I went back and read through it I was taken to James 5: 6-7

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you."

At the proper time. Yes, I was scared. Yes, I was worried. Yes, I was praying for God to take those from me, but it's not about my timing. God knows the proper time to take those anxieties from me, and I'm trying to be patient and trust that he will, in time take them from me.

As I said, I spent yesterday at SCH. If I'm honest, I'm not ready to post a blog about the home. I'm still talking to God about my fears and my heartache from it all. I can tell you that the children there are beautiful. They are perfect. And I love them. And I can tell you about Baskar.

Ruth Wilson told me, before I even boarded my flight to India, that I would fall in love with Baskar. And I did. My whole heart is his. Baskar is twelve, and incredibly smart. He has found himself at SCH because he is deaf. He has no mental handicaps, or physical deformities holding him back in life. He is simply deaf.

Baskar is a lover. He will hold your hand, and pat it, smiling at you with a smile that warms your heart. He has a beautiful smile. He is gentle, and kind, and content just to stand by your side. One of my teammates, Kady, played songs from her phone that had strong bass and held them up to his ear and listened, smiling wide.

He knows a few American signs, undoubtedly learned from past teams coming through the home, but aside from those he just communicates in whatever ways he can.

I'm going to make a photographer out of Baskar. He followed me around as I took photos throughout the home and watched me as I looked through pictures. He gently tried out the buttons on my camera and learned what each of them did. Cautiously I let him try out my camera. He was a natural. We've all had those moments were we let a child use our camera and then smile and nod, pretending that the pictures were good. Let me tell you that Baskar is a photographer. His photographs were great, and the joy on his face was immeasurable. Baskar is my friend, and I love him.

Is 20 too young to adopt a 12 year old?

Street Children, Indian Food, and Rickshaw Rick

The street children of Ongole and beautiful and heartbreaking.

They run up to us as we walk past in the mornings and wave eagerly, pushing forward, wanting to shake our hands as some past American's have undoubtedly taught them. Their bare feet, their clothes, their hair, are all dusty.

The colors of their clothes are so beautiful and stark against the background of the city. Their homes, behind them, are shacks. Piece of timber and piping leaning against each other with cloth and woven leaves as shelter. I can't get over how heartbreaking, and how beautiful the colors of their clothes are against the backdrop.

The children are beautiful. They are happy and smiling, and reach out henna'd hands. They are so excited when I take their picture. "Sister, one more" they always say, and raise their hands up like a camera. I wonder if they've ever really had their picture taken before.

They are joyful, even amongst the despair. They are just beautiful children. 

The art of eating with your hands.

By this point we've enjoyed several delicious, authentic Indian meals. They consist mostly of rice, and various sauces, curries, dried spices, and yogurts to mix in to create your flavor of choice. Sometimes they're accompanied by Naan bread, or pinwheel shaped puffed rice. Some meals have meat, and other don't. Two things have been consistent though, the first is that the all of the meals, while requiring a sense of adventure, have been delicious, and the second is that if you want to do it right, you eat with you hands.

Actually. Hand.

If you want to eat like a native Indian, you eat using your right hand, and your right hand only. It takes a while to get used to it, and there is definitely an art to it (that I'm still working on mastering) but it is absolutely the only way to eat if you want to be authentic.

Yesterday we had lunch at Ramya Meals. You pay for you lunch, sit down, and they serve you whatever the meal is that day. Plate? Nope. You get a palm leaf on the table. then a series of young boys come around and put scoops of rice, various curries, and spices on your plate and you (with your hands) try them all out, and eat (yes, they'll keep refilling your plate... uhh leaf) until you are full. It was fantastic.

Riding Shotgun with Rickshaw Rick

Okay, chances are none of the Rickshaw drivers are actually named Rick, but a girl can dream right?
Riding in a Rickshaw is a terrifying thing.

I once took a taxi in Rome, and I thought that was the most terrifying vehicle experience I was sure to ever have. Wrong.

Rickshaws are technically designed to hold three passengers and a driver. Technically. They really hold three in the back, two riding shotgun on either side of Rickshaw Rick, and if you're feeling really adventurous, one across the laps of the three in the back.

Riding shotgun means about half of your butt is on some semblance of a seat, while the other half is on the metal siding of the 'car', all the while you are holding on for dear life. That's not to say Rickshaw Riding is unenjoyable. I love it. It's amazing, and extremely convenient. 

The way traffic works here is incredible. That it even works at all in fact. One of my friend's at home, Ethan, rides a bike every day. He often halfway jokes that if car's come too close to him he's tempted to just throw his foot back and kick their bumper to show them just how close they are. He would be denting bumpers left and right here.

I've never seen traffic move the way it does here. The mass becomes like one living, moving thing, that somehow works. People swerve in and out of each other and you ready yourself for impact at any moment. But the collision never comes. There's just honking and swerving and then the mass continues on. I could reach out and hold the hands of the people walking by, or men on bicycles next to me. I could easily hold a conversation with the passengers of the next Rickshaw.

Somehow Rickshaw Rick just carries on, and gets us to where we need to go, without sideswiping the next car, or hitting the Bike, inches in front of us. It is both overwhelming and amazing.

Travel Recap.

After 12 hours in the Atlanta airport, a 14 hour flight to Dubai, a 7 hour layover in Dubai, a 5 hour flight to Hyderabad, and an 8 hour bus ride we arrived in Ongole. The combination of jumping through three time zones, eating meals as the airlines gave them to us, and essentially skipping Wednesday, our bodies had no idea what day it was, let alone what time it was or what meal we should be hungry for.

The days of travel taught me patience, and let me find joy and hilarity in tiny moments. Alexis and I spent 3 straight hours playing Tetris against each other, indulging such nerdy conversations as "What's your favorite Tetris piece?" and singing, perhaps too loudly, to High School Musical. They made me thankful for my hilarious teammate Becca that will laugh with me and drink my cup of the gross, thick juice (that we dubbed mango soup) that the airline gave us. And they made me thankful for beautiful friends back home that gave up time to face-time me one last time while I hung out at airports and in weird arabic McDonalds.

The bus that picked us up in Hyderabad wasn't air-conditioned. The seats were a little bit on the dirty side, and it took us a laughable amount of time to figure out how to open the windows. 8 hours on this? It would have been easy to mope. But God quickly taught me a lesson in humility.

We drove through 'towns' comprised of shacks leaning against each other. We passed children walking along the side of the road barefoot. There was trash. Everywhere. 
Our bus was one of, if not the nicest vehicle I saw on the road. There were motorcycles driving inches from each other with multiple people loaded onto each. 

Was I hot? Yes But I sat on that bus, my headphones plugged into my fully loaded Ipod. I held my camera, undoubtably worth more than many of the houses we were passing, out the window and recorded it all. I propped my feet up and let the breeze try to cool me, and I slept, reviving my jet-lagged body. It was hot, and the water in my Nalgene felt close to boiling, but I still got a huge dose of humility. 

Then the Lord continued to provide. Our housing is above and beyond what any of us were expecting. Our bedrooms have air conditioning. Air conditioning! We have real toilets and running water (I'm learning to love bucket showers). The food here is cheap and delicious, and a security guard stands at our gate to make sure we are kept safe. I am surrounded by Godly women that love me and are teaching me daily. 

Yes Lord. I am humbled. And I am blessed. You are a provider, and you are showing me just how much you provide for me daily.  

Men who love Jesus.

Something I've really been struggling with in preparation with my trip is the lack of guys on my team. When I first signed up to interview for a passport trip I felt fairly led to the Thailand trip. It was a trip that would be working with victims of human trafficking, and I had always wanted to be in Thailand. However, I was stubborn and passed up that trip. Why? It was an all girls trip.

Spend all summer with only girls? No thanks. I get along better with guys, I always have. I need the friendship of guys. There is a very real reason I didn't join a sorority. 24/7 girl time is not my thing.

So I didn't sign up for that trip. I ignored my calling to an all girls team and registered to interview for the India trip.

But God is hilarious. He said, nope, I didn't call you to a co-ed team. So when I received my assignment for my team, I shouldn't have been surprised to see that there wasn't a single male name. I had been placed on an all girls team. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.

In the months leading up to my trip I've been getting to know the girls on my team via facebook stalking and constant group messaging. I fell in love with my teammates before I even met them, and I looked forward to meeting each and every one of them in person... But I couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that there wouldn't be any guys serving with us. Being friends with guys just comes easier.

Then I arrived at Training Camp.

Actually, I didn't even get further than the airport before God started to work in me.

As members of various teams gathered in the Atlanta airport waiting to be picked up and taken to camp I met people that would be serving in various areas of the world. I met guys that would be serving on various teams in places like Africa, Honduras, and Nicaragua. And I was jealous.

For about 5 minutes.

Then at about the sixth minute God consumed me with what a blessing it is that there are no men serving on my team. What a distraction.

A man with a heart on fire for the Lord? That is an attractive thing. A man that is willing to step completely out of his comfort zone and be the hands and feet of Christ in the world? That is a beautiful thing. What? You love orphans? How kingdom minded of you. Lets get married.

A Godly man is attractive. And my God knows that. He knows that I would stumble and be distracted by a man serving him. So he removed that distraction.

I have met some great, hilarious guys the past few days of camp. Guys that love the Lord in the most beautiful ways, and I am better for knowing them. But tomorrow when we board planes to different areas of the world I am so incredibly happy that we will board ours without any men on our team. .

It will give me the chance to be receptive to what the Lord is doing in my life this summer, without the distraction of men around. It is already giving me a chance to grow with the fantastic, beautiful women that are on my team. It is challenging me to step out of my comfort zone and listen to what God is saying. Godly men, however Christ centered, can be such a distraction from the work the Lord is doing. I am completely and continuously thankful to have been placed on an all girls team.

Why am I ever surprised that my God knows what he's doing?

Passporters taking over the Atlanta airport