A driver fetched us at 5:00 a.m. so we could catch our flight to Delhi. The day’s temperature was already rising. At this hour, traffic was nowhere near as hectic as on Friday afternoon. Still, the air was already thick with beeping horns and the smell of diesel. Enroute we dodged countless Indian “autos” – small open passenger vehicles with three wheels – whose drivers used neither headlights nor tail lights. Needless to say, they were a wee difficult to see in the dark. So were the pedestrians.
At the airport we navigated security and were pointed upstairs toward our departure gate. Within 20 minutes we boarded our plane and I was seated next to a sari-clad Indian woman who appeared to be several years older than me. We made small talk until I told her that I was interested in hearing about the lives of Indian women, specifically the challenges they face. That topic grabbed her interest. She immediately began telling me about her past (“I’m the only one in my family who attended university”), her arranged marriage (“compatibility doesn’t exist”) and how she has financially supported numerous extended family members. Then she told me how her husband grew jealous of her business success and began beating her. “Daily abuse is the greatest challenge Indian women face,” she said.
When she finished telling me her story, I asked her if she had a dream for her life. She smiled. “Oh yes,” she said. “I want to make a difference in the lives of other people.” I smiled in return. “I share your dream,” I said. She extended her right hand toward me and said, “We are friends. If you ever come to Hyderabad again, please visit me.”
Several hours and another flight later, we landed in Bagdogra where a pre-arranged driver met us. Then we began a four-hour Jeep journey to Gangtok, Sikkim. The road wound through tea plantations (the home of Darjeeling tea), and a wildlife sanctuary where homes stood on stilts. “This keeps people safe from elephants,” explained the driver. Eventually it began its upward climb around hairpin curves.
Higher, higher, higher we climbed until we could barely see the bottom of the ravines below. And then darkness fell. And boy, did I pray! “God, there’s no safer place than in the center of Your will. Please…keep us on the road!” We had to stop at a police checkpoint and get special permits to enter this part of India, enjoying a 10-minute respite from the bumps and turns. But a half hour later, poor Gene, physically exhausted from the travel of the past few days, got sick to his stomach.
As the drive continued, we were surprised to find electricity everywhere. Teeny lights twinkled from hillside huts and tiny bazaar shops. And when we finally reached Gangtok, a city built on a mountainside, everything was lit up. Much different from our past experience in rural Nepal, when the brightest lights outside came from fires or flashlights.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
March 24 and 25
As always, God’s strength pulled me through. Fifty Indian women from various backgrounds attended the conference. The audience was comprised of seminary professors, pastors, OM staff, and lay women. Young and old alike from India, the U.S., Australia, and Europe. What a privilege to encourage these women in their spiritual journey! Several asked me to pray individually for their family concerns, and again, I felt blessed. I have much to learn from these humble and loving Indian sisters.
I’d been scheduled to speak for 10 minutes to a congregation of nearly 600 at the Sunday service. At breakfast, one OM staff lady asked me if I’d like to wear a sari for the service. How could I refuse such a sweet offer? Bless her heart, she dressed me in one of her own saris, a purple silk creation. Then she gave me a pearl necklace and earrings, saying that these were a gift by which she wanted me to remember her. Later, when I returned her sari, she insisted that I keep it, too.
The day’s highlight was visiting this Indian sister in her modest apartment. She warmly invited me in and we chatted about the prior day’s conference, which had been her idea. Then she said, “Please pray for me. Pray that God will help me be most effective as I mentor younger women.” With pleasure I honored her request, and then she prayed for me. Our hearts were knit.
Because of the possibility of jeopardizing existing ministry in this part of the country, I’m not free to share everything that we saw and learned over the weekend. Suffice it to say that God is at work in amazing ways. In time, I hope to be able to tell you more about ways that you can participate in one particular area, making a difference in the lives of young women at risk of being sold into the sex-trade industry. I’ll be free to tell you more as the project comes together. Prayer is the key, both now and always.
I’d been scheduled to speak for 10 minutes to a congregation of nearly 600 at the Sunday service. At breakfast, one OM staff lady asked me if I’d like to wear a sari for the service. How could I refuse such a sweet offer? Bless her heart, she dressed me in one of her own saris, a purple silk creation. Then she gave me a pearl necklace and earrings, saying that these were a gift by which she wanted me to remember her. Later, when I returned her sari, she insisted that I keep it, too.
The day’s highlight was visiting this Indian sister in her modest apartment. She warmly invited me in and we chatted about the prior day’s conference, which had been her idea. Then she said, “Please pray for me. Pray that God will help me be most effective as I mentor younger women.” With pleasure I honored her request, and then she prayed for me. Our hearts were knit.
Because of the possibility of jeopardizing existing ministry in this part of the country, I’m not free to share everything that we saw and learned over the weekend. Suffice it to say that God is at work in amazing ways. In time, I hope to be able to tell you more about ways that you can participate in one particular area, making a difference in the lives of young women at risk of being sold into the sex-trade industry. I’ll be free to tell you more as the project comes together. Prayer is the key, both now and always.
Friday, March 23
Flexibility is the keyword, I believe. Within minutes of reaching our destination, we were ushered into a dining room where we were served a meal of rice and lentils – the first of many on this trip. That’s when I learned that I was scheduled to speak at a women’s conference the next day and for 10 minutes in the Sunday church service. Surprise!! By now we’d been awake for nearly 48 hours and our bodies were ready to collapse, but there was no time to rest. A wedding celebration was planned for that evening and we were invited to attend. We had a few minutes to shower (no hot showers here, but then, who’d want a hot shower in this heat??) and don fresh clothes.
The wedding bulletin said the groom was scheduled to arrive at 4:30. Some folks told us the ceremony would begin at 5:00; others told us we could show up at 5:30. When the ceremony actually began, there were about 20 people present. Within a half hour, another 40 or 50 had wandered in. The bride, a converted Hindu, wore a white satin sari with gold embroidery and the groom looked handsome in his black suit. They celebrated their marriage with a western ceremony, complete with signing the register. Midway through the service, however, Gene and I began nodding off.
Rather than embarrass ourselves by snoring through the reception, we excused ourselves and stumbled to our room that was, thankfully, air-conditioned. We bid each other goodnight and collapsed in bed, stared at by a curious five-inch gecko on the wall. If I was to be bright-eyed, or at least coherent, for the next day’s conference, I’d need a good night’s sleep.
Guess what? Even with the help of a sleeping pill, I slept only three or four hours. Jet lag was doing its thing on my body and my brain. Wide awake in the middle of the night, my thoughts flitted from one thing to another. And I began to worry about having enough energy to last the day. Only by God’s strength would I be able to speak for three sessions on Saturday morning.
The wedding bulletin said the groom was scheduled to arrive at 4:30. Some folks told us the ceremony would begin at 5:00; others told us we could show up at 5:30. When the ceremony actually began, there were about 20 people present. Within a half hour, another 40 or 50 had wandered in. The bride, a converted Hindu, wore a white satin sari with gold embroidery and the groom looked handsome in his black suit. They celebrated their marriage with a western ceremony, complete with signing the register. Midway through the service, however, Gene and I began nodding off.
Rather than embarrass ourselves by snoring through the reception, we excused ourselves and stumbled to our room that was, thankfully, air-conditioned. We bid each other goodnight and collapsed in bed, stared at by a curious five-inch gecko on the wall. If I was to be bright-eyed, or at least coherent, for the next day’s conference, I’d need a good night’s sleep.
Guess what? Even with the help of a sleeping pill, I slept only three or four hours. Jet lag was doing its thing on my body and my brain. Wide awake in the middle of the night, my thoughts flitted from one thing to another. And I began to worry about having enough energy to last the day. Only by God’s strength would I be able to speak for three sessions on Saturday morning.
The Adventure Begins -- Wednesday, Mar. 21, 2007
What can I say? Two months have passed since I last blogged. Life has been busy…very busy. Besides meeting monthly writing deadlines, preparing and traveling for numerous speaking engagements, coordinating all the necessary details for our India missions trip, revamping my website, and saying farewell to my mother-in-law when Parkinson’s disease claimed her life, I haven’t had a chance to even open my blog. In fact, I even forgot my password and my daughter had to tell me what it was. Sigh.
So here I am, sitting in a hotel room in Gangtok, Sikkim, with some time to spare. And I can hardly wait to tell you about this amazing trip. I’ll add a few entries each day, depending on internet access. Happy reading!
The actual adventure began on March 21 when Gene and I boarded a 747 in Vancouver. B.C. Nine hours later we landed in London, changed flights, and took off for an eight hour flight to New Delhi. After claiming our suitcases and going through a security check, we boarded yet another flight, this time for Hyderabad. We landed two hours later, exhausted but excited to return to Asia after a 22-year absence.
First impressions? HOT. It must have been more than 100 degrees – twice as hot as back home. Sweat trickled down our legs and foreheads as we waited for nearly an hour for our car and driver to arrive. It was also very noisy – taxi horns blasted non-stop, police whistles blew, and Hindi music blared. But that was nothing compared to the cacophony while driving through the city enroute to Operation Mobilization headquarters. Add never-ending bus and motorcycle motors and horns to the symphony, and you can imagine the ruckus.
Our driver appeared a little over-anxious to reach our destination. Or maybe he was an Indy 500 driver in disguise. He dodged vehicles of every size and description, business men wearing suits and carrying briefcases, and women wearing bright-colored saris. At one point, he swerved into the oncoming lane to pass a diesel-spewing bus. Several motorcyclists moved out of his way, but then came a little red car that staked its turf and sped straight toward us with headlights flashing. I swear we avoided a head-on collision by a mere hair. Welcome to India!
So here I am, sitting in a hotel room in Gangtok, Sikkim, with some time to spare. And I can hardly wait to tell you about this amazing trip. I’ll add a few entries each day, depending on internet access. Happy reading!
The actual adventure began on March 21 when Gene and I boarded a 747 in Vancouver. B.C. Nine hours later we landed in London, changed flights, and took off for an eight hour flight to New Delhi. After claiming our suitcases and going through a security check, we boarded yet another flight, this time for Hyderabad. We landed two hours later, exhausted but excited to return to Asia after a 22-year absence.
First impressions? HOT. It must have been more than 100 degrees – twice as hot as back home. Sweat trickled down our legs and foreheads as we waited for nearly an hour for our car and driver to arrive. It was also very noisy – taxi horns blasted non-stop, police whistles blew, and Hindi music blared. But that was nothing compared to the cacophony while driving through the city enroute to Operation Mobilization headquarters. Add never-ending bus and motorcycle motors and horns to the symphony, and you can imagine the ruckus.
Our driver appeared a little over-anxious to reach our destination. Or maybe he was an Indy 500 driver in disguise. He dodged vehicles of every size and description, business men wearing suits and carrying briefcases, and women wearing bright-colored saris. At one point, he swerved into the oncoming lane to pass a diesel-spewing bus. Several motorcyclists moved out of his way, but then came a little red car that staked its turf and sped straight toward us with headlights flashing. I swear we avoided a head-on collision by a mere hair. Welcome to India!
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