Note: my email account is temporarily disabled. MyIWU wouldn't let me log in. Interestingly, this happened a few days after I prayed about how I've been spending too much mental time in the USA.
I'm listening to the Slumdog soundtrack as I write, starting with O Saya - feel free to listen as you read. :-) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHUQht1HRmY&fmt=18
Me in Darjeeling was not what I expected.
I learned that I don't like small, clean, relaxed towns.
I am, however, still completely in love with giant, dirty, busy Kolkata.
Those of you who have known me for awhile know that I usually fail at functioning in cities. I get lost, overwhelmed, disoriented - I have difficulty figuring out the flow of a city. ...not so in Kolkata. I mean, I trusted that God would take care of me wherever He sent me. But I love and feel like I fit with every aspect of this place. The dirt, the traffic, the language barrier, the lack of toilet paper, the absurd exchange rate, the music, the colours. I know I've talked about this before. But...I adore this city more every day.
I used to say I couldn't function in cities.
I used to say I wouldn't consider going to IWU.
I used to say I couldn't learn another language.
I used to refuse to let anyone see me in the morning until I've showered, never let anyone see me brush my teeth, and never wear anything more than once in a row.
I used to not be able to stand going to hospitals, freak out when I saw anything dead (animal, human...), and need to instantly call a friend whenever I encountered anything mentally or emotionally difficult.
I used to say I'd never be a Christian.
My friends here speak often about how Kolkata is changing them. That it's healing old wounds, making them new, opening their eyes to God's presence in their daily lives. It seems as if they spend their days in constant amazement. I've seen them grow a TON since I met them.
I don't feel that way. I know I've grown. I know little things have changed, but it's difficult for me to identify any major differences. I'm at a strange point where, after two months here, I can't remember who I was before Kolkata. I'm not sure that person was any different than the person I am now. I'm still immature, late for everything (expected and encouraged in India...hehehe), prideful, extremely stubborn.
Sidenote.
You know how our parents used to say "finish your food, there are starving kids in India"? Here, it's "don't finish your food, there are starving kids in India". A few hours ago, I walked out of breakfast with one cookie left, and definitely didn't need to eat that cookie. I walked down Sudder street looking for a kid to whom I could give my cookie. Sure enough, right outside Hotel Maria, a beggar woman holding a crying, dirty baby grabbed my wrist and said "Auntie, Auntie," asking me for whatever she could get. This woman is on Sudder street nearly every day, often with a different baby. When I was first here, she followed me for a long time, sticking her hands into my taxi window, crying, pinching her baby-that-isn't-hers to make him cry. Today, she was with a young girl, maybe eight years old. Cute. Dirty. Clearly learning to beg from the woman, mimicking her facial expressions. I gave the cookie to the girl, who looked at it for a moment, put it in her bag, looked at the woman, and asked me for money.
She put the cookie in her bag because everything goes back to the boss of the begging Mafia. Even one chocolate cookie. And today, I decided that wasn't okay, because darnit, that girl should eat a cookie.
So I said "no, tomar canna," which doesn't actually make any sense, because "tomar" is Bangla and "canna" is Hindi. In a round-a-bout way, it means "no, your food." She gave me a slightly quizzical look, and I pointed to her bag, and she took out the cookie. I mimed eating the cookie, the same movement beggars use to ask for food. One hand, thumb to fingers, to my mouth. The girl broke the cookie in half and ate part of it, in front of the woman and the baby. She kept her sad-kid facial expression.
I walked into Hotel Maria. Stood for a few seconds. And walked back out. The woman and baby had started to walk away, and the girl was trailing behind them. I caught her eye and waved. She beamed at me and held up the other half of the cookie. I have a cookie. See it. It's chocolate. It's mine. I've never seen a beggar kid smile triumphantly before. It was beautiful.
End sidenote.
Yesterday, during tea at Kalighat (p.s., they let me sew!!), I was reading a list of ways we should live our lives. From the back of a magazine. I kept feeling like I was missing something, that I wasn't registering what I was supposed to learn. Then I came across "give without expecting anything in return." It felt like a puzzle piece clicking. I left Kalighat with that echoing in my head.
At Adoration, I read Luke 6, which contains a bunch of great stuff.
"But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you." - Luke 6:27-31
Give. Give. Give.
Bless those who curse you. Man, that's something I should have remembered for the past two months. I get cursed all the time, literally. In a taxi to Apne Aap, beggar woman, no I won't get you food, she curses me. Why don't I pray for her? I need to remember to do that.
In a place in which people beg on the streets and then have to give what they've received to their boss, giving is a little more complex. Or maybe it's not. Maybe I just need to find ways to give more creatively. Hmm...
Josefin thought of buying footballs, going into the slums, and playing with the kids for awhile. Why not?
Last night, I talked with Josefin about how I'm not feeling the massive self-change everyone else is noticing in themselves. She said that maybe I'm here to serve on a greater level than just in Kalighat and Apne Aap. She said the way God works in me inspires people to joyously live with greater faith, aware of the constant presence of God. Even though I struggle with pride and all sorts of other icky stuff and still feel pretty lost in this whole living-like-Jesus-thing, maybe I'm still supposed to give without expecting anything in return. Maybe I'm supposed to learn to serve through service, and let myself learn as I live. Jesus wanted the sick to follow Him, not the healthy. The disciples messed up and argued all the time. Isn't the point of being a disciple to learn?
Maybe I'm supposed to be learning that all my fulfillment is to come from God.
Momma T was here for a long time without feeling God's Spirit.
She felt the call, answered, felt God go *poof*, and served until she died anyway.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." - Matthew 5:3-10
Blessed are the poor in spirit.
Give without expecting anything in return.
Wow, this post is ginormous and tangenty. Sorry about that.
...thanks for reading.
:-)
Love and learning,
Stephanie
P.S. I learned today that "educate" comes from a Latin word that means "to bring out." Hooray! It's human rights-y and motivation-y and yay!
