I love little kids, little bundles of natural joy; whether it be the little one tapping his foot beside the pastor in worship this morning or the little one holding my hand as I return to the metro, walking barefoot beside me along with his two older sisters.

Kolkata is a place full of unexpectancy, at least for me. But it’s a place that is teaching me freedom, that is teaching me patience (when I let it), and what it looks like to love.

I woke up in the middle of the night to an unpleasant crawly feeling, only to find myself a few moments later slapping the ground with my worn old navy flip flop. I stepped back to inspect the death and scooped him into my plastic garbage sack, sitting down on my bed to catch my breath and the reality that was happening to me at 3am. A minute later another one appears as a twist in my stomach propels me again toward my flipflop, my mind asking how im ever going to get back to sleep after this. It was a baffling comfort to find that this guy was the same one I had just smacked- he had hopped out of the garbage and was crawling around on the floor almost like before, I guess I didnt smack him hard enough those first 3 times. Praise God once again for Bangladesh, it made me a stronger girl.

Im spending my days at SB, helping with training classes; exercising my Bangla in math and literacy instructions with the aid of a friend who translates my broken sometimes confusing Bangla so it makes sense. It is such a blessing that she is willing to let me try to explain it even though half of the ladies are confused with my explanations, I imagine its probably funny and a little silly to them—my attempt to speak. They are not shy in trying to converse with me during the day, but I usually can’t understand. I don’t think the training ladies have me quite figured out yet when it comes to language…

We’re praying for space now at SB. We have one building but have pretty much outgrown it (awesome!!). In the mornings we have no room to work because we just started a new group of ladies in training. There’s no space to cut rolls, chalk bags – basically get new materials ready for the ladies to sew and there are just a lot of people in those four rooms. I also ask you to pray for these women in their relationship with Jesus. Some of them are believers but still practice another faith. It’s awesome that they’ve come to know Jesus and that they’re praying to Him, beautiful really. But I really just want us to pray that they may be freed from the bonds of Hinduism through further realization of who Jesus is. Maybe this could even be through devotions at SB… pray for these ladies to be fed from the Word.

In about a week I’ll be helping facilitate devotions, meeting with the national leadership staff of SB. We’ll meet once a week to try and explore ways they can be interactive in morning devos and stir the ladies thoughts a bit more. I will make a plan of Scriptures, topics, etc. from month to month and continue the rotation of devotion leaders. This is one of the ways I will practice leadership in my time here so please remember this as you pray.

Im still working on understanding the red light areas of our world. For now Im just praying hard for the girls and guys that are bound in it (yes there are men as well). I have trouble seeing justice here, I’d like to have trouble seeing God here but he says he’s there, he says he’s the bringer of justice, that he’s a refuge. Something I can’t understand here—I haven’t lived in that kind of bondage, a place where I had no way out or no choice.

I’m really grateful we are praying together, thanks for committing to the journey.

I am evergreen

It is not just that I want to be, but I am. Sometimes the snow is cold and uncomfortable, but it sure is beautiful. Even though I lay now on the ground, one day I will be put back in the position I was created in; put there to sink my roots deep down into my Creator, deeper than I ever could before.

Jesus doesn’t just tell me to go, he tells me to be willing. Jesus doesn’t say I’ll let you slide this time, he says he has endless compassion and love and mercy for me in my messups and hard heart. It’s not what I do but who I’m about. It’s never finished, even when He restores me in the end He still wants my heart. The truth is better even if my words are hard; He knows my true feelings anyway.

He really is strength, He really is always with me, He really is teaching me so that I can know Him more.

What a special gift to us, that God would want to teach us. At small group last week, there was a beautiful prayer offered that praised God for His goodness in trusting us to undertake challenges and endure them. It was one of the most pure prayers I think I have heard.

God is ever drawing us after Him. We need only to seek Him and then follow; in this all is found to be and truly is well.

I have an awesome photo on my desktop of my sister and I baking in the sun… we tried to pose in such a way as to demonstrate the scorching heat of the noon sun. That last day in the States was amazingly warm, and I must say I really value the “tan factor” to the U.S. sunrays. Here you find heat, you find sun, you can sometimes look at your feet and nearly convince yourself that you’ve begun an Indian tan (but at the end of the day you find you only needed to scrub your feet)—but the tan does not happen, disappointing really. I had high hopes of returning in the mid of winter with my own bronze glow; even if it was only my face, arms, and feet; I would take it.

I have made it home to Kolkata; its been a week since we left Bangladesh. The week back was really good, some hard places but overall really good. The ladies at SB were impressed with my Bangla speaking and I must say it was really great being able to talk more with them; to not only work alongside them in bag production but to be able to company with them during the day was wonderful. I didn’t feel like I learned much in Bangladesh but coming back I realize it helped so much just for my basic conversation ability. I mess up all the time with person tenses and conjugating my verbs but I usually get a good laugh in at myself as I remember way after the fact… and think to myself “that person is so confused right now.” One of the ladies’ sons showed up at SB to see his mom but I didn’t know who he was, so before I opened the door I tried to ask him if his mom worked there, but instead I told him my mom worked there as I opened the door….. I still trying to find solid ways to learn this language. Talking with people is great, but I can only say and comprehend so much. But homemade flashcards and writing sentences really isn’t thrilling for more than 10 minutes, and sometimes not even that. Brainstorming needs to happen.

I have huge respect for these girls I am working with—with the ministry. They all speak great Bangla; but it’s such a huge undertaking to learn a language thoroughly enough where you can speak and interact with others while at ease; where you can joke with them. This language… it’s a different vocabulary of course; but the setup of the language is different. It’s passive and from my observations tends to take a positive language to even negative circumstances. And the structure of a sentence is different: verb is always at the end, the word ‘with’ and ‘for’ always follow after what you’re referring to… it can take a while to come up with a grammatically correct sentence.

Even with a little more language I often have pangs inside of me that stem from a deep desire to be able to communicate with the ladies here. I want to talk with them, I want to know their lives—what have they experienced and what are their responses? I wished I could follow home the mother and son after they step off the auto, just to see what their life is like; their home. Life here is so different than what it is for me back home.

Today I’m grateful for community, for rest, for my own home and space. I’m grateful that God brought me to India for this chunk of time.