so much more than the greatest adventure of my life

This is the story of a journey…

…a journey that a 20 year old, wide-eyed, naive, southern girl embarked on, in the name of adventure and with the ambition of changing the world….

In her pursuit of adventure she found so much more than she bargained for….

she found herself….

And as for her ambitions?

Her world was changed forever.

This story, MY story finds its origins in a humid August midnight when I lie awake not being able to sleep because I knew I was going to India….whether it was a mission trip or study abroad I had no idea how and when, but I couldn’t sleep because India had gotten into my head and wouldn’t shake itself loose. I stayed awake the entire night restlessly researching study abroad programs, mission trips, and several other doorways to India. My parents came to Bowling Green the next day to help move in some furniture and that was the first time I mentioned India to them. They casually said they would pray about it, thinking it was just a fleeting preoccupation. But I knew in my heart of hearts that I was going to India.


Over the next several months, my life consisted of forms upon forms, restless and impatient prayers, and research into every possible outlet to India, and financial resources. At one point things seemed hopeless…I had been accepted to a program that was impossibly expensive with no way of raising the money. I distinctly remember the conversation I had with my mom on the phone-her saying “perhaps you are supposed to go to India, but just not at this time…” and of course in her motherly wisdom she was right…was this the right time for me to go? I didn’t want to think so and in my impatience I grew very frustrated at her for suggesting such a thing. *by the way mom, thanks for putting up with my impatience, and frustration, and allowing me to come!* The next day I decided would determine for a sure fact whether I was going in the Spring or not….I marched into the study abroad office asking for more possibilities of a service-study abroad; I found my way to CCIS. After several phone calls, meetings, and more forms I was accepted into the program in the last week of September. Everything seemed to be falling perfectly and divinely into place. Credit hours for both of my majors were seemingly falling into my lap effortlessly. I would graduate on time without any summer classes. The only thing left was the money.
What I didn’t know was that since the day I mentioned India my parents had been praying for confirmation. Confirmation through money. With the recession, the pizza business has failed to properly thrive and there was no way we were going to be able to afford this trip—twice the amount of my WKU tuition. Hearing the stories of how my parents would go for walks together and pray out loud for this trip, for confirmation and peace has touched my heart and left me amazed at the faith of my parents…my role models of faith. And more importantly my very own prayer warriors. God hears prayers….it’s true and my life is a living testimony of this; if not my own prayers, then certainly the prayers of my parents for my life.


Confirmation had already come for me with everything falling into place-classes, schedules, and mostly the Holy Spirit within me. I was going to take out loans, and had even signed the papers to do so. But confirmation for my parents arrived in the form of one phone call November 3rd. A family of the church had been moved to help sponsor my trip and had called to inform me...on November 4th Steve Stovall informed me that CSF was also stepping forward to help me go to India…and in the funny ways that God works, on November 5th I received a letter from WKU Study Abroad Office stating that I had been awarded their prestigious study abroad scholarship, and that Thursday, November 6th, my mom had called and said that her friend from BSF would like to donate financially to my trip. Confirmation had come for my parents. I was going to India Spring 2009.
I felt as though I had passed various tests of faith—although I didn’t have to take out loans I was willing to do such a thing…I had been asked to sacrifice and I had been willing, but in the end God had been fully providing. The real test of faith came November 9th. I remember distinctly where I was when I first saw the news reports: I was at the gym with Bill (whom I work with at Lifeskills) on the treadmill when the TV flashed “BREAKING NEWS: TERROR ATTACKS ON MUMBAI—WESTERNERS ARE TARGETED—BEWARE OF TRAVELING TO INDIA!!” This was more of a test for my parents than for me, seeing as I am young and feel invincible. I remember over Thanksgiving as news spread my phone was cluttered with text messages and phone calls from concerned friends. “You’re not still going to India are you?” But an overwhelming sense of peace enveloped me and if my parents were worried they never said so. They knew God’s hand was within all of this and also knew they had no right to question or doubt Him. The second test of faith came in the news of Christians being persecuted in Orissa. Quite sobering to read an article about Christians being hunted and raped and burned alive knowing that in just a few months you would be in the same country sharing the common denominator: Christian faith—the reason of persecution. I won’t lie; I was a bit shaken up after learning about the horrendous things being done to Christians. Again, to my surprise, my parents held a steadfast peace about my trip.
At the close of my Fall semester, late night talks with my best friend and roommate brought me to the realization of just what I was going to sacrifice to go to India Spring 2009. I was going to miss out on the relationships with my friends. The good times, the laughter, tears, inside jokes, and hard times. The things of life that grow people—bond them together. I would be missing out on helping my best friend plan her wedding…I would miss out on grandiose spring break vacations, and all the little things in between that really mean so much to friendship. In those late night talks, my stomach filled with butterflies, my heart fluttered in excitement of the upcoming adventure, but always the knowledge that I would be missing out on unforgettable memories with all my incredible friends dragged me down just a little bit.
Christmas break commenced and I was thankful to spend an entire month with my family before I departed to the other side of the world. The small memories of that month mean the most to me now…the sole reason I look forward to coming home despite my deep attachment to this country and culture. The memories of my sister and I laughing over a ridiculous comment in ‘Arrested Development’, or the memory of me climbing into bed with my mom only to have her physically kick me out and start a tickle fight, or riding around with my dad as he delivered pizzas talking about pretty much everything under the sun…these reminiscences are what draw me home. Home is not a country, state, or house….its familiar faces and voices.
Christmas day was filled with good food, conversation, laughter and relaxation. My parents don’t know this, but the days after Christmas I returned almost every gift I had been given (with the exception of a few items that I could use in India) and deposited the money in my account for India. Again the same thing for my birthday (sorry mom I took back the bday outfit you bought me, I thought the money could be better used for India.) I was thankful for the gifts, just not in need. I also cashed all the savings bonds my parents had given me since birth to use for India. My entire life savings in ONE trip.
January 15th had come and at 2am my dad helped me pack and repack my suitcases attempting to shift the weight between the two, so that neither was overweight (and I must say he is a pro at that!) The next day, January 16th, came and I made all my final preparations for the trip. Said some final goodbyes over the phone, sat down with my parents and my roommate to pray for my trip and we headed for the airport. My grandparents, best friend, and parents accompanied me. I was surprised to find that several of my friends were waiting at the airport to wish me goodbye. I cannot lie when I say this: I have some of the most loyal and supportive friends anyone could ever ask for. A tearful goodbye ensued as I openly cried saying goodbye to my friends, and then bawled as I hugged and kissed my parents goodbye. Possibly the hardest thing I have ever done in my 21 years of life; saying goodbye to the ones I love most in this world knowing I would be on the other side of the world for the longest time I’ve ever been away from them. Walking away from those who I love and care about the most, and who love and care about me the most was bitter heartbreak. Breathing deeply and looking back one last time I boarded the plane to the unknown.


The journey in discovering myself was over 7,500 miles away, 24 hours long, and a seemingly a whole new world apart…


Through a series of flights, and friends along the way, I journeyed to India. I distinctly remember my first moments in India. I was thrilled, scared, excited, and just a mixture of human emotions. The only time this entire trip that I have truly wanted to jump on a plane and head back home happened when I first reached my hostel. I was confused, frustrated, jetlagged, exhausted. The outlets weren’t working and due to my extreme exhaustion all sense of reason and logic had left me. I thought that because the outlets didn’t work that I would have no means to charge my phone or laptop, thus cutting off all means of communication to my family and friends. My distinct thoughts were “I won’t get to talk to my friends and family for 4 whole months!” In what I now look back and smile at as moment of weakness, I began crying and wishing I had never come. Realizing that I was being completely irrational I decided to sleep off my frustration, and fell asleep for a solid 23 hours. Waking up with much more sense I realized that the outlets had a light switch next to them in which you had to turn an outlet ‘on’ to use it--I felt silly and foolish for having had cried.
Looking back on these first few memories and all my memories from these past 4 months in India leaves me in a daze. It’s like some dream that I'm bound to wake up from eventually. I would love to sit here and type a million memories, a million stories from this trip, but time and space do not permit me to do so. So in a short recap, the next months were filled with making friends, my birthday, working at St. Josephs, various trips, a million questions about the Indian culture to any Indian willing to listen & answer, classes, laughter, tears, self-realization, learning about the world on its larger scale, and so many other invaluable experiences. I may come home without much money to my name (having used my life savings on this trip), but I can say that I am rich in memories. Reflecting back on these past few months, I can say I have no regrets, and the trip in its entirety has been worth all of the sacrifice (both monetary and in relationships.)
A four month journey of self-discovery filled with laughter, love, heartache, friendship, tears, learning, adventure, and self-realization…


A transformation of me and a revolution of my world took place within the short span of 4 months, 127 days, 3048 hours, 182,880 minutes, and 10,972,800 seconds.


10,972,800 moments for better or worse, forever altered my life.


My transformation includes the relationships that I’ve made here, the trips that I’ve taken, the people that I have met along the way, the crushes I have had, the food that I’ve bravely tackled, the bathroom difficulties I’ve faced, the political and culturally current issues of the time, the various skills I’ve acquired (i.e. motorcycle driving, the Indian head wobble/accent, etc.) and many other experiences that have shaped and molded my trip, but there have been 4 eye-opening experiences that I accredit my most defining development to. These are the issues that I have struggled with internally--that I would say have come to define my trip to India and ultimately my self-discovery. Experiences I am not soon to forget because doing so would be to deny the self-realization I’ve come to here in India. These four include: Beggary, the slums, experiencing rural India first-hand in KGF, and certainly my work at St. Josephs with my beloveds.
Witnessing beggars, slums, and rural life in India has changed my entire perspective on destitution and poverty. It aches my heart to look into the eyes of a beggar and shake my head and walk away; an ache that has not subsided with time or routine or repetition. To walk through a slum and wonder where the justice was in the fact that I should be blessed enough to have been born into such an amazing family, with resources, in a country that is blessed beyond imagination, has humbled me beyond words. Experiencing personally rural Indian life alone has brought new meaning to things that before I took for granted-AC, electricity, comfort. Seeing such poverty has molded me into a wiser young woman. I am more aware of the marginalized poor population that exists outside my comfortable little American life. It has surely opened my eyes to a world so much bigger than anything I’ve ever known. Statistics and facts can be blissfully ignored, but faces…..faces cannot be forgotten. Experiencing just one night in KGF has equipped me with the understanding of how it actually feels to live in poverty. In just my few short months here in India, the issue of beggary itself has led to the discovery of the world around me, while the visit to slums forever altered my perspectives creating in me a renewed gratitude, and also an understanding and appreciation for previously overlooked resources and circumstances. These experiences have placed in me a sense of obligation and urgency—an obligation to inform others of the world on its larger scale, helping them overcome the trap that I have termed “the American bubble”, and a sense of urgency to help those less fortunate than myself.
As for my ambitions of changing the world? I worked at St. Josephs 20 hours a week, with young girls in broken circumstances. I can’t say whether or not I changed the world, but I can walk away from India saying that I have given the world a little more love. Whether that has revolutionized the world or even changed a life, I’ll never know. But what I do know is that it has revolutionized my world and changed me for the better.
These experiences, along with learning a new culture and overcoming my own cultural biases have broadened my worldview transforming this once closed-minded, naive, culturally-superior American girl into a more open-minded, slightly wiser, and much more accepting young woman…in just 4 months. So in looking for adventure I discovered something much more valuable--a new me; one who better comprehends the world, thus better understanding my responsibilities, role, and inevitably myself.
I would rant and rave about various memories from this trip, but I know that I’ll be home shortly and will have all the time in the world to share with you face to face all my experiences. Whether the changes that have taken place in me are subtle in nature, or you notice a distinct difference in my personality I can’t say. But what I can say is that I know the difference within myself. I know the memories, the faces, and will forever try to retain the sights/smells/sensations that have encountered here in India—the ones that have developed me into who I am today.
To all of you who have financially, morally, or prayerfully supported me; my friends, and family: If it weren’t for your prayers and support none of this would have taken place. I would still be ignorantly self-involved in my little American bubble. The girls in St. Joseph's wouldn’t have had a strange, foreign, white girl hold them in her lap, or tell them how beautiful they were. A village called KGF would still be full of people who had never seen white skin in person, and there would be a handful of beggars’ one lollipop shorter. So thank you. Thank you for the beggars who were treated as humans and not detestable annoyances by at least one person, thank you for the small village of KGF who were overwhelmingly grateful to be ‘blessed’ by a foreigners presence. Thank you for all the girls who for maybe the first time in their entire lives had someone who remotely cared for them no strings attached-no paycheck involved, no obligations necessary. But mostly I want to thank you for me…from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for making this trip not only possible for me, but for supporting me every step of the way; for encouraging my faith, growth, and maturity. Your love and support has meant more than I can express in words. I am overwhelmingly humbled and filled with gratitude.
To my roommate: thank you for your support. I know at first it was very hard for you to handle. Our last semester to room together—one that we were supposed to compact a million memories into before your wedding in August. One of your toughest semesters, and I wasn’t there for you in person; always in prayer, but not able to give you a hug when you most needed one. Thank you for letting go and trusting God. Thank you for our late night conversations that last week in the apartment and for encouraging me every step of the way. Thank you for praying for peace, and eventually allowing God to fill you with peace about my trip. Thank you for your continual prayers, and support. Thank you for being the one I could message any story to and get advice, or just an audience from. Thank you for being the kind of friend that I look forward to coming home to. For being the friend that will have eager ears, and good advice as I try to sort through all of this and put it together and attempt to figure out how it fits into life back in the states. I love you.
To my AMAZING parents and sister that I love more than India. Yep, I said it—I love you way more than India (if it weren’t for this fact I wouldn’t be coming home in 4 days.) Thank you for being my personal prayer warriors. Mom and Dad: Thank you for letting go of one of the things in this world that you love the most (apart from each other and Laura.) Thank you for having faith, and letting me find my own; a genuine faith to call my very own. Thank you for building me up all these years-all your effort, wisdom, hard work, and faith put into forming my wings, and now for letting me go and allowing me to fly…to soar. I've heard it’s one of the hardest things for parents to do, and I must say you have done it gracefully. Thank you for having peace about my trip despite the terror attacks, the Christian persecution, and the other trials of worry that you have faced (i.e. not hearing from me on a regular basis.) Thank you Mom for answering my teary-eyed phone call when I had been throwing up all night and was exhausted and homesick; just hearing your voice and words of comfort made me feel better. And also for the various cards that you sent me in India that always managed to make my entire week better. Thank you Dad for allowing God to touch your heart and fill you with enough compassion to send a suitcase-full of panties for the St. Josephs girls--which inevitably touched my heart. And for your various texts informing me of how much you miss me and think about me. I think about you all just as much! Thank you both for allowing me to embark on this trip of a lifetime and for standing back to watch your little girl grow up. Just so you know, I will be home in 4 days-happy, healthy, most likely in culture shock, jetlagged, exhausted, but an overall better person. So a pre-thanks for taking care of me as I overcome my culture shock/jetlag/exhaustion.
As I sit here in the middle of an Indian coffee shop, with Indian coffee, wearing my Indian attire (Salwar), watching the street of India out the window, listening to Hindi music, I contemplate how to close what has now become possibly my longest blog. I could talk about how much I look forward to coming home, or how much I am going to miss India, but I feel the most appropriate way to end ‘Rebecca’s Bangalore Blog’ is to simply say:
Glory to God for my life altering journey…my heart transforming adventure…my world revolutionizing trip to India Spring 2009.



With all my sincerity and love,

Rebecca Ann

God’s Forgotten Country; Commie’s Kerala

1."I'll tell you all about it, when I'm in the mood to lose my way with words..."
2.guady Jesus statue--'Welcome to JesusLand!'

3.The Cover of our Vampire Movie in the old creepy church

4.Where Vasco DeGama Landed
5.Our beds on the bus

So this past weekend we went to Kerala; known throughout India as ‘God’s Forgotten Country’ for good reason—it was breathtakingly beautiful. Some quick facts about Kerala: it has a communist government; it has the highest literacy rate in India, the lowest rates of poverty and female insenticide(killing of baby girls).
We left Friday night at about 10:00 on a sleeper bus, which was, in and of itself quite an experience. We boarded and found our beds in which I slept on the bottom and Andrew on the top. Each bed had a curtain to close and was fairly big for being on a bus. I didn’t sleep much on the way to Kerala because I was trying to soak up the experience of laying in a bed on a bus. Something I used to joke about with friends in middle school—“what if the school bus had beds in which we all took naps on the way home?” Around 2am I grew pretty sleepy and nodded off until around 4am when we started traveling through a mountain passage that threw me every which way as the bus turned and weaved around the mountain. It was like lying on a trampoline in which a bunch of kids are jumping on. Andrew complained that he felt as though he had been playing football without pads after the ride. We arrived to Kerala around 7am and checked into the hotel to clean up and then head out for some sightseeing.
Our first day in Kerala was filled with a touristy itinerary—we saw the beach where Vasco DeGama landed in India for the first time (which was ironically barely monumented for such an important historical event.) We then headed to a ship building yard, but could not see the ship building because it was across the river which would have taken too much time to cross. So we then headed for a tasty Kerala lunch of seafood. After lunch we headed to a muslim neighborhood which was extremely interesting. Andrew was allowed to go into the mosques but I, being a girl, was not. So I stood outside while Andrew went inside. It still boggles my mind to think that just because of gender, many are denied the privilege of entering certain places. Kind of demeaning if you think about it! We walked through the Muslim neighborhood and apart from the many stares it was a pretty pleasant walk. All of Kerala is GORGEOUS and completely green. After our walk we went to a small diner and tried an assortment of Kerala snacks none of which I can tell you what it was exactly. May I just say that I am much more open-minded when it comes to food after this trip to India. All the snacks looked quite unappetizing, but I bravely dug in, and found that some of them were actually kind of tasty. After snack time we headed to an abandoned church which was built shortly after DeGama’s landing. It was completely gutted out and Andrew and I joked that it would have been the perfect setting for a creepy vampire movie. We then spent the rest of the visit to the church discussing the plot in which our kind and quite driver dies first, then I get bitten and turn into a vampire, terrorizing Andrew and our tour guide Basheer, for the remainder of the movie.We then proceded to a small aquarium which was not very impressive and barely worth mentioning. After the aqarium we headed to a remote part of Kerala to see a rare form of martial arts—claimed to be the first form of martial arts anywhere in the world. We entered a hut about 3 ft underground and watched a demonstration of students from ages 6-24 fight one another with different weapons. After the demonstration we headed back the hotel where I took a shower and fell asleep straightaway exhausted from little sleep the previous night and the events of the day.
The next day we drove up into the mountains to do a lot of exploration and sightseeing in the cool mountain air. The view was incredible! My camera battery was almost dead and it was one of those moments when a song does a better job than anything I could compose to relay how I felt.
--John Mayer ‘3x5’—
I’m writing you to catch you up on places I’ve been
And you have this letter probably got excited but there’s nothing else inside it
Didn’t have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world through both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I’m in the mood to lose my way with words
Today skies are painted colors of a cowboy cliché
And strange how clouds that look like mountains in the sky are next to mountains anyway
Didn’t have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world though both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I’m in the mood to lose my way
But let me say you should have seen that sunrise
With your own eyes
It brought me back to life…
No more 3x5’s…
Today I finally overcame trying to fit the world inside a picture frame…

That was exactly how I felt as I looked out over the jungle-covered mountains as the sun rose, painting the skies an array of pinks, purples, blues, and oranges. I felt completely at a loss for words, and glad that my camera wasn’t working because no picture would do it justice.
Among the various things we did, we saw a lake cradled in the middle of the mountains, a waterfall, some caves/caverns, and a giant Jesus statue (that resembled a gaudy amusement park.) We had more amazing Kerala food, and Basheer (our awesome tour guide) took us to his in-laws house where we were given a tasty home-cooked Kerala dinner of chicken curry and rice chapatti. Shortly after dinner we drove to the bus station to take another night bus. This time no single beds were available and I was put in a double bed with another random girl. She was nice enough, but we didn’t talk much because I took Dramamine for the ride home and was passed out shortly after the bus took off.
Overall it was a nice trip, extremely relaxing, and good to get some fresh air! Thankfully Andrew and I get along really well and enjoy each other’s company. We hiked, caved, and did a little relaxing, but mostly spent the trip trying to soak in all the beauty.

my first REAL taste of India-KGF

*picture to the left* 3 generations of women in Florences family; grandma, florence (center), and her mom (whom I refer to as 'auntie')

a cow acctually walked into the house in the morning trying to drink from the family's water supply! LOL

These are pictures of the 2 rooms inside the house....to the left is the bedroom and common room: if you look closely the bed that I slept on is in the bottom left corner. The picture below is the entrance/kitchen/eating area.

This is the outside of the house that I stayed in.

So last week when I went to dinner at Florence’s family’s house her family was insistent that I stay the night. Seeing as I was going to Belur at 6am that did not sound appealing at all (considering I hadn’t yet packed either). So a compromise took place: I would travel with the family to Florence’s mothers’ native village to visit Florence who is staying with her grandmother (moms’ mom) because she is taking classes to get her confirmation.
I was requested to come to Florence’s house by 1:30p to have some lunch and then depart. Her mom (“Auntie”) called me at least 4 times the morning of detailing what she made me for lunch, and various other details…..I could definitely tell that she was beyond thrilled to have me come—she’s perhaps one step below obsessed when it comes to me. She made me a veg. curry and chapatti and some sort of egg curry. I eventually discovered that only autie and Florence’s younger brother, Francis, were coming with me. Her older brother and father had work. We suited up and headed towards the train station. On our way we stopped and autie bought me some goa fruit (which I must say is DELISCIOUS!) It’s about the size of a lemon, its green, has the texture of cantaloupe and tastes uniquely sweet. We reached the train station and I must say the train station alone was quite an experience—there was one set of tracks which was below the platforms in a pit. To buy a ticket one must jump down into the pit of tracks and climb back up the other side, then repeat this to get back to the platform. Watching elderly Indian women in Sarris (the most constrictive dress ever!) attempt this feat was not only entertaining, but quite humorous. I’ve realized that in India everything seems to be so inefficient, but somehow everything gets done. A fact that has yet ceased to amaze me!
After about an hour of waiting our train pulled into the station. We quickly boarded and searched for a seat…unfortunately there were none, so we were forced to find a little niche by a window to sit on the muck-covered floor. It was nice watching out the window but the train stopped several times, each time picking up more passengers and seemingly losing none. Towards the last ½ hr of our trip (it was a 3 hr train ride) the train cars were completely jam-packed. An elderly lady was sitting on my feet, and a little baby was handed to me while the mother held the other two of her young children. Auntie held her luggage, Francis held mine, and I held a stranger’s baby; something you would probably never find in America! Eventually my feet went numb first, then slowly my legs, and finally my tailbone and entire derrière. I found myself daydreaming and realized that this was just a small fraction of how the Jews being shipped off to concentration camps must have felt. I know it sounds terrible and very crude but it was definitely a sobering thought. I tried to imagine being on that train for days at a time as crowded as it was with the stench of urine, feces, throw up, and fear. How humiliating it must have been to have to relieve yourself right there in front of everyone, and how the fear in the air must have hung like a thick stench…..
I awoke from my daydreaming to the sound of the train whistle and auntie telling me that it was time to get off and board a different train. It was mass chaos!! I handed the baby to another passenger, got off, and the three of us quickly jumped into a train pit and climbed back onto another platform where our next train was blowing its whistle…auntie was in a sari so I carried the luggage from train to train while Francis helped her down and up the pit onto the next platform. The train started to slowly pull away and the three of us started to frantically run after it. Auntie was first, she was pulled on by some men standing in the doorway, then I was next, the men took the luggage from me, and then pulled me up, and Francis ended up boarding in a different cart. I felt like it was a scene from a movie, and I can now say that I have boarded a moving train! Once on the new train most of the passengers were heading to the same village as we were, and spoke auntie’s native language. They all looked curiously at me and started to ask auntie questions…now I’m used to being stared at, but not being the center of attention. Literally all eyes on the train were on me. If they weren’t talking to auntie about me, they were leaning in to hear what she had. All in a language I couldn’t understand. Looking back at the visit in its entirety, I now realize that this was just a preview for the rest of the trip. All the women made a fuss over me to auntie and I could tell that she loved the attention and just ate it up. Instead of pretending to be interested because I really couldn’t understand a word, I spent the duration of the train ride looking out the window as the city got further and further away, and the villages passed by my window.
Now I’ve seen rural India from my plane window, a car window, and a train window on my various trips throughout India, but I’ve not once experienced it firsthand. The majority of India is rural and I had not experienced the majority in 3 months! The train pulled into the KGF station (if you can call it that) and we exited the train. Once again the routine of climbing in and out of track pits was necessary to get to where we needed to go. We found several autos eagerly waiting to take train passengers to their homes. We grabbed an auto and drove through the dirt roads of the village. Many children looked into the auto with amazement because they have never before seen white skin in person. Many other’s on the street blatantly stopped what they were doing to stare as we drove past, and that was the instant I knew that I was no longer anywhere near the city. We pulled up to a small alley, and I followed auntie and Francis through a crevice of small doors amidst trash and dirt. The small space and the broken down houses reminded me a lot of the houses from the slums. Auntie finally stopped at a door and entered. My first reaction was “wow….this should be interesting…” but I have to say I was interested in staying there for the night to get a taste of what real India is like. We entered and the first sensation I felt was heat. It was about 10 degrees hotter inside than out, and quite stuffy. No electricity which means no fans, no AC, no lights, nada. Tattered pictures of Jesus and various other saints adorned the walls along with prayer beads and random crosses. It was her sister’s house; a two room house with one bed, and the other room used strictly for kitchen duties. Upon arrival I felt extremely tired and requested a nap. I slept for about an hour and when I eventually woke up auntie was rearing to go to show me off to all her friends and family.
The next 4 hours consisted of meet-and-greets of basically 12 different households in the village. We started at her mother’s house and her mother provided me with some banana chips which she had prepared and some tea to sip as well. She asked if she could prepare me dinner, but auntie told her that we would be having dinner at her sister’s. We then ventured next door to her brother’s house where I met her brother and his family. When I walked in he immediately sent his son to fetch me some soda and chocolate. I talked very little because it was difficult for him to them to understand my American accent, so auntie did most of the talking in Tamil. He then asked me if I would honor them by staying for dinner…once again auntie replied that her sister was making us dinner—a recurring incident throughout the night. Over the next few hours we repeated this same ceremony of introduction, snacks of various sorts for me, auntie rattling off everything she knows about me in Tamil, and then me being offered dinner and auntie refusing the offer for me. As we walked from house to house everyone walked out of their houses to see ‘the white girl’—I was the biggest thing to happen to this village and I felt like we were a parade with spectators. Seriously, all of the streets we walked along were filled with spectators emerging from their houses just to get a glimpse of the only white person they have ever seen! By the time we headed home I was completely stuffed full of snacks, and not at all wanting dinner; but I knew that dinner was mandatory and to refuse would be of the highest offense. I don’t remember the last time I ate so much!
I had been holding my pee all night but I knew that I could not maintain this the entire night without some serious damage to my bladder, so I finally broke down and asked auntie to show me the bathroom. I did this right before bed which was a huge mistake. She opened up a cellar-looking door and handed me a candle….I stepped inside with the candle and instantly froze…the entire ceiling and all the walls were completely covered in cockroaches. It still gives me shivers thinking about it. And I have to say it takes A LOT of talent to use an eastern toilet, with a candle, and cockroaches everywhere but being the smarty pants that I am, I dripped some wax on the floor to hold the candle upright and then proceeded about my business. I was in such a hurry that I peed all over my foot (nothing new) but thankfully none of the cockroaches fell on me. The rest of the night I kept thinking about cockroaches climbing all over me, and had wished that I hadn’t gone to the bathroom so close to bedtime.
If thoughts of cockroaches didn’t keep me awake, the heat, the small sleeping space, the wooden slab that was my bed and Florence certainly did. Florence and I shared the only bed in the house which was smaller than a twin bed. I was pinned up against the concrete wall with the sweltering heat and Florence’s small body trapping me. She constantly turned over and would kick me or put her arms on me but it didn’t matter much because I wasn’t going to get much sleep anyhow. The wooden slab caused my back to ache and I could literally feel the sweat forming at my brow and soaking the back of my shirt. My entire right side was numb from being so compacted against the wall, and was also completely soaked in sweat. Around sunrise I nodded off to sleep, only to be awoken about an hour later by a cow….a very smart cow at that! He had unlatched the door from the outside, head-butted it open was drinking the families water supply. The house was in immediate commotion as some tried to shoo the cow out of the house, while others tried to rescue the drinking water (that I now mentally knew not to accept any of for the duration of my stay.) I have to say it was quite an entertaining way to wake up, and I wouldn’t have expected anything less from my village visit.
The train ride back to Bangalore was uneventful as I sat again on the floor of the train and nodded off as strangers filled the cars up again as packed as it was on the way to KGF. We finally reached Bangalore and I must say after my trip to KGF I realize just how much I’ve been spoiled here in Bangalore. Or just how much I'm spoiled back home in the US! I was dirty, greasy, queasy, but thankful for the experience. It def. opened up my eyes to what real India is like, and how the majority of India live. KGF was better than any poverty experiment that I could have conducted, and more eye opening than any other experience that I’ve had here in India.
So in summary, I am soo thankful for the experience and believe that it was divine will for me to go to KGF. Once again I'm left astounded at how God’s will weaves in and out of my life like a silver thread bringing together the seemingly small and insignificant details together to create a beautiful tapestry that is my life. The fact that I should meet Florence, that she should invite me home, and that I should be invited to KGF with her family….it all just fits together so beautifully and my breath is taken away.
Ephesians 3:20-21
“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen”

lament on ignorant Indian men

Ok, I think I can finally have this blog now that my trip is coming to a close and my mother won’t have to worry too much for too long. Plus I could use a little session of healthy complaining on an issue that has bothered me from day 1.
Indian men; like all men they’re not ALL bad! Please understand this! The majority of the friends that I’ve made here in India are guys who are amazing, and super protective of me, and super respectful of me as well. They always pick me up & drop me off when hanging out, and refuse to let me take an auto by myself (even though I often do without their knowledge—I am after all an independent American young woman, who feels indestructible.) So please understand that there are handfuls of wonderful guys and this criticism is only for the ignorant Indian men whose only perceptions of white women are from the Hollywood movies that they see. They assume all white women are easy, and want to be taken advantage of…esp. blonde women (which is why I have found it convenient to have dark hair here in India, and will not be dying it blonde until I get back to the states.)
Let me first say that my culture and overfriendly personality has set me up for failure in this country. Since I was young I was taught to be friendly, hospitable, and independent and to smile at strangers—things that are all valued in sociable southern America, but bad for me here in a conventional India. Also my naive personality in which I see the best in everyone until demonstrated otherwise has also proven quite dangerous for me here. You see in India if a girl even looks a man in the eye it means she is interested. Smiling is out of the question-it suggests more than interest…it’s a dare for the man to come over and try to flirt. These are things that I have learned from others, and from experience. Whenever I walk alone after dark (after about 6:30p I am forced to wear a scarf on my head covering my hair, symbolizing that I am not looking for any unwanted attention. I have learned not to look at men in the eye, or smile, or be too friendly to waiters or other men of service; all denying my natural affinity towards extreme friendliness.
Here are some daunting stories--but before I proceed let me just say: Keep in mind that I am completely unharmed, and everything is alright. If you have a tendency to worry, I kindly ask for your sake, and mine that you not read on. It will just cause undue worry which is useless, seeing as I am about a million miles away and there is absolutely nothing to be done. I am taking every precaution after these incidences, and have reported them to the appropriate people and have learned from each incident how to better stay safe. Also I carry my mace with me always and have learned to keep my phone charged and full of currency should the need to make an emergency call arise.
Now, shall we begin……
My first story takes place about Feb. when my hair was still blonde. I was wearing my hair down and walking back from St. Joseph’s around 4 in the afternoon. I was walking back earlier than usual because a friend from the hostel, Karin, was leaving the next day and I was going to go out with her and Ekta for a small goodbye dinner. As I walked on the sidewalk a car pulled up beside me…the driver rolled down his window and started saying “hey….HEY!” I casually glanced over, making sure I didn’t know the stranger, and continued walking completely ignoring the stranger. He then asked “do you want some sweets?” I felt like saying “Do you think I'm a 5 year old kid?!?” but refused to acknowledge him. He then got the crux of his mission- “Do you need a ride? Hey you! Do you need a ride? Get in the car baby, I’ll take you anywhere you need to go!” At this I realized the situation was more serious than I had originally thought. I sped up my walking, and knew that I could not walk back to my hostel and possibly show this stranger where I lived, so I spotted a small drycleaners store and immediately walked inside. At this the car sped away, probably fearful that I was getting help. Lessons learned from this: 1.Always keep money on my phone—I had no money on my phone and realized after the fact that this could have been terrible for my safety….since I’ve always kept plenty of money on my phone. 2.I may feel safe in daylight, but some guys are not afraid to be so bold in daylight, so I should never let my guard down—even in the day.
My second story is quite similar in nature but a bit scarier. It took place about a week after the first incident: I left St. Joseph’s much later than planned one Thursday night because I had gone to prayer with the girls and one of the little rascals had stolen my shoes and I had searched for half an hour (to no avail) and eventually had to borrow some from Glory to walk home. It was a half hour past the usual time that I left and already pretty dark. As I left Andrew called me and asked if I would come to coffee with him and Adi…I agreed and then tried to find an Auto. I had a scarf over my blonde hair and was hailing down an auto when a guy on a motorcycle pulled over. He parked his bike and got off. He approached me and started asking me questions like my name, where I was from, where in Bangalore I lived, etc. I ignored him and kept trying to hail an auto, but unfortunately could not find one. I decided that I needed to make a move and get away from the potentially dangerous situation, so I started to walk towards my hostel. As I walked, the guy walked with me, continuing his questions and proving to be unyielding. My left hand sunk into my purse as I grasped my mace and the man continued “I’m just tyring to be friendly! Do you want to meet me for coffee? It’s not like that, I have a wife and kids, I just want to know you….” And blah blah blah. My question is if you have a wife and kids why are you asking a young white girl to get on the back of your motorcycle and where she lives and most importantly to join you for coffee!?! I knew this guy was trouble and I finally decided that his persistence would continue with my silence so I finally pulled out my phone and firmly said “leave me alone or I will call my fiancé” (no one here is afraid of the police because they are so corrupt all they would do is ask this guy to pay the police a small fine of maybe 100rups-$2USD to get off the hook.) I was told to create an imaginary husband, fiancé, brother, uncle, etc. to rid any unwanted attention. After I said this, the man finally relented and walked away. Shaking and near tears from the experience I called Andrew and told him that I would not be coming to coffee. He heard the fear in my voice and immediately became concerned. I told him to just let me settle down because I was shaken up, and I would call him back later. My grip on the mace did not loosen until I reached the hostel and finally my shaking had stopped, the few tears that had welled up had fallen and cleared up and I felt much better. I called Andrew, told him I was safe and explained the story. He apologized for asking me to try and catch an auto by myself at this hour, but honestly it was my own fault for leaving St. Jo’s so late. Not 10 minutes later Stefan called and said he was coming to pick me up in his car and taking me out for coffee—I guess the news had spread and Stefan was determined to make it up to me and prove that not all Indian men are bad. Lessons learned from this experience: 1.I can’t go out after dark alone-even wearing a scarf over my head. 2.I need to be firm right away instead of using the ignoring tactic. 3.Even on a crowded Bangalore street scary things can happen.

Unfortunately my stories do not end there. My third story actually took place last week as I was shopping for gifts for friends and family back home. I was by myself, in mid-day and ventured into a small jewelry shop. The salesman was quite friendly but I acted quite indifferent to him because as I have learned the salesmen here try to butter you up which I don’t care for at all—I’d rather just shop in peace. I found several pieces of jewelry in which I liked very much and decided that I could at least acknowledge this salesman (not flirty, or even friendly) so as to maybe get a discount and not be a total snob. So I answered his questions with brief answers but said no more than was necessary and started no conversations with him. I ended up buying a boat-load of jewelry from this guy, and he asked if I wanted a drink—a custom in India that if a salesman knows you’re going to spend a lot of money in his shop he will provide tea, coffee, or juice to try and butter you up. He asked what I wanted, and knowing this custom and that I should take advantage of it because I was after all going to buy a lot I said “just something cold.” He then stepped outside and came back with a bottle of Sprite…this should’ve been a red flag because bottled soft drinks are a bit extravagant for a shop keeper to get a customer as opposed to its coffee/tea/juice counterparts. But as usual I am absent minded and paid no attention to this fact, and dismissed his friendliness and hawk eyes on me as just a typical Indian shop-keeper. I finally found everything that I wanted to buy and brought it all forward to this guy…I paid him a fair price and he even threw in an anklet for free for “being so beautiful”—another red flag. After I handed him the cash he asked for a kiss. At first I thought I had misheard or misunderstood. I thought he might have been asking for correct change, or something (sometimes the accent still gets me a little…) and asked him “I'm sorry, what?” and he replied “can I get a kiss, I think you’re very beautiful.” This threw me completely off-guard for I had not seen this coming at all—again blind to the red flags and completely naive wanting the think the best of everyone. I stood there and stammered trying to think of how best to handle this situation. After about a millisecond I pulled out my fiancé excuse and swiftly walked out the door, not looking back. This story was not at all dangerous by any means, but more humiliating than anything. For a man to assume that he can get whatever he wants from you I’ve learned is quite demeaning and I did not at all relish the feeling. Lessons learned from this: 1.Don’t ignore the signs!!! 2. Don’t be naive! 3. It feels degrading to have a guy expect something sexual (even if it is just a kiss) for kind words and an anklet worth about 50 cents.
My fourth story takes place in an auto rickshaw. The auto driver was quite friendly which I appreciate because when they start conversation it means that they’re intentions are not to rip you off (which is prob. my biggest pet peeve here in India.) He talked and talked and I answered his questions using digression about the information I divulged. Finally upon arrival to my destination the auto driver asked if he could have my cell number and if I would come to his house. Now you see, he could have been completely pure in intentions, but after consulting several Indians about this situation they have all said that there was no purity in his intentions at all. In Indian culture it is taboo for any guy to ask a girl to dinner…esp. a stranger. The only girls that a man invites to his house are the women in the family, and women he expects a ‘good time’ from. Thankfully my good sense overruled my natural tendency towards friendliness, and I graciously denied (again pulling out the fiancé excuse) saying my fiancé would not care for that a bit. A bit put off, he grudgingly drove off, and I later realized that he most likely had an alternate agenda. Lessons learned: 1.Always assume there’s an alternate agenda…sometimes its necessary to assume the worst than the best in other people.
My last story makes me feel like an idiot and I'm sure you will think the same thing…it takes place in a Kurta shop in early March. I was going to get fitted for a Salwar Suit *the Indian dress* and had been fitted before so I knew the drill and that this instance had gone very wrong. You see this particular Kurta shop was on the way to Andrew’s and I just thought it would be less of a hassle to stop somewhere close. I walked in and the first thing the shop keeper said was “FINALLY!” To which I replied confused “excuse me?” He then said that he had watched me walk by his shop countless times (on my way to and from Andrews) and was waiting for the day that I would walk into his shop….red flag #1. I asked if he could fit me for a Salwar and he said “sure step into the back room here”-red flag #2. *a normal fitting consists of quick measurements out in the middle of the store* I stepped into the back room and he continued to say that he thought I was model material for their shop which was launching a website—red flag #3 and asked me if I were interested—red flag #4. I said maybe *dumb on my part* and he asked if he could get my measurements for a profile—red flag#5 and take a few pics of me—red flag#6. I told him I was short on time, and said that he could just get measurements (which is usually a quick process.) He started taking my measurements more than pausing on the measurements of my bust and creating un-needed contact. (can you say RED FLAG, RED FLAG, RED FLAG!!!!) I felt extremely uncomfortable but warred with myself whether to leave or not *because I'm dumb!* and he took all the other measurements and taking unnecessary measurements of my derrière also creating unwarranted contact there. *RED FLAG!!! ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!* He then asked me to spread my legs so he could get the length of my legs and width of my thighs. I feel humiliated to write this, but stupidly enough I did as told. Ignoring my own feelings of uncomfort and red flags was probably the stupidest thing I’ve done here in India. More unnecessary prolonging of the measurements around my upper thighs, when finally this guy had the audacity to ask me to take my jeans off. That was the moment I snapped to and got out of there as fast as possible, and as far away as possible. Lessons learned: 1.NEVER EVER ignore your feelings of uncomfort 2. NEVER EVER ignore the feeling that tells you that something is not right. 3.Getting measured for a Salvar/Kurta should be harmless and should create NO contact with certain areas. 4.Be wary of anyone who says that they want you to be a model. 5. And again—never ignore when someone is making you feel uncomfortable!

All of these stories are just examples of the daily life I face here being a young, white woman here in India. On a daily basis I receive blatant stares from men with only imaginably crude thoughts racing through their minds. Checking me out is not at all disguised and something that sadly I have become desensitized to. Their unashamed gazes, obvious ogles, and unconcealed gaping have all become standard in my everyday life. I hate that I am corrupted in their minds, and at first it made me feel completely shameful. Now it makes me angry and this is my lament for the ignorant men of India who can only see a body, and not the kind soul, and loving personality that is within. In my opinion they’re missing out on the best part of me! (and I would hope you agree with me!)
Before I end this blog let me again restate that this is not all Indian men! I have astounding guy friends here in India, who care for me like a sister, and who I know would do anything for me (they actually offered to beat up all these men when I told them these stories). Also ignorant men are not just contained to India—they have their equal counterparts in all areas of the world, it’s just not as blatant in America. I hope you won’t worry about me, seeing as I’ve learned my lesson and only have less than 2 weeks before I come home and *fingers crossed* no more of these stories to relay to you. Sorry if I scared you, and sorry mom that I didn’t tell you these before, but I knew you would worry, if not freak out after hearing them. I'm safe, a little tougher, and a little wiser because of these incidences. And although I'm still mad and humiliated at myself for that last story all in all the amazing experiences I’ve had in India outweigh these small and insignificant handful of incidences. I would gladly go through the bad all over again for all the good. Hands down; no question.
This one’s for you mom: Mathew 6:27
And for everyone I would like to thank you SOO much for your prayers for my safety. I realize the potentiality of all these situations to be dangerous, but I give thanks to God for protecting me from any real harm. God listens to your prayers for my safety, and for this I am forever grateful to you for being prayer warriors on my behalf. 1 John 5:14-15.
With love,
Rebecca Ann

Skyclads; defenders of the universe (a brief on my travels to Belur/Haleibad/Hassan)

*****Picture Captions**** 1.Me frantically taking 'notes' on the Kama Sutra statues lining the walls of a temple 2.The surprise at the top of the 650 stair hike....only worth it to say I've officially seen a 16ft penis 3.If the statue wasn't worth the climb, the view certainly was! 4.On my way up!--650stairs! 5.A small beggar child and her little sister....so sweet.

Ok so last weekend we went to Belur and Haliebad, and stayed in the small town of Hassan. It was a school trip and it was me, andrew, and our tour guide named Basheer (who was awesome!) We left town at about 7am Sat. and drove for 3 hours. Let me first just say if God wasn't watching over me, Im about 100% sure that I'd be dead by this point in my young life. (sorry to scare you mum!) There have been several close calls since I've been India, but I don't think that I have ever been with a driver so unsafe. We drove in a rented taxi and I must say--the driver HAD to have been crazy! If you know me, you know that Im pretty chill about bad drivers and don't often freak out. It was the same in this case, I inevitably just fell asleep (while poor Andrew didn't get a single wink of sleep because he was too busy fretting, and having a death grip on the emergency handlebar thingy.) But while I was awake I did witness how bad our driver was--first let me say that in India the only rule for the road is 'anything goes'. I've been told that if your in an accident that whomever yells at the other loudest wins thus resulting in the accident being blamed on the other person. Anyways for the most part we were on a 2 lane dirt highway, and if the driver in front of us was too slow our driver would pull into the on-coming lane and pass the slow person. This was always interesting whenever a semi-truck was barreling down the other side at top speeed perhaps only 60 feet away from us--it was like a game of chicken. This interested me, but ironically didn't scare me. I guess my mentality is 'if I die, I die'. So while we twisted and turned around small Indian back roads, our lives in danger, I slept peacefully. When I finally came to Andrew detailed 3 crashes that we almost had including the fact that our car had been spit on by a motorcycle that we had almost run down.

Once we arrived we had a 650 stair mountain to climb. This was to see a Jain statue (Jainism is a religion that believes 'live and let live') They take this to the extreme and are vegans, and wear masks to ensure that they don't accidently swallow bugs, and sweep the ground where they walk to also ensure that they don't acciedently step on any bugs. The Jains believe in Buddah's teachings and the mountain that we climbed led to a 60ft statue of a very fit Buddah (not the sterotypical fat buddah.) Andrew and I joked that the climb was only worth the fact that we have bragging rights to say that we've seen a 16ft penis. While the statue was interesting, the view was def. worth the 650 steps. It was a beautiful city, with a small stoney mountain just opposite the mountain that we climbed. And honestly the 650 stairs were not as bad as I thought....probablly the fact that we had a 72 yr old tour guide that took rest every 10 or so stairs I think helped. We learned about the two different types of Jains, and the first are called the SkyClad...these are Jains that go completly naked so they won't have an reverence for anything material. They are completly material-less, eating only what is required and denying any amenities like power, or AC. Kind of an extreme form of the Amish.

After our tour of this famous Jain monument, we headed to Hassan to our hotel. Let me just say it was SOOO nice to stay the night in an AC room--something I have not done since being in India. It was a cute little town, and the hotel was pretty nice. I spent the remainder of the day having lunch and dinner in the hotel's resteraunt, and relazing in my king-sized bed watching HBO movies.

The next day we had a 7am breakfast and then headed to Belur/Haleibad. These are the places of two famous temples. I have to say Im pretty 'templed' out, I think I've see about 2 million temples by now, but Haleibad was interesting. Carvings of the kama sutra lined this holy place; Andrew teased me that I should start taking notes lol. There were many carvings of oral sex, anal sex, orgies, threesoms, and many other various other sexual positions. It simply amazes me that a religious place would be adorned with what could be considered porn of the time. But then I remember that the bible contains a little book called "Song of Solomon" and realize that sex is a part of human life, and therefore is addressed in religion.

While in Hassan I had my first taste of Jack-fruit...let me just say its now officially my favorite fruit--it tastes like a starburst! Its a GIANT fruit that is spikey, but when you cut it open there are several yellow pods of fruit inside. The pods are about 3 inches big and you just eat the pods. It has a consistancy unlike any other fruits, but if I have to comprare the consistancy, I would say that it's a lot like a soft, squishy vinal. Ok I know that sounds weird, but once again I'm at a complete loss for words. I guess all I can say is 'come to India and try it yourself!'

As we waited outside the Jain temple there was a small girl carrying a baby. She started holding her hand out for money (which I had left my purse in the car for the 650stair climb) but I have to say she was such a sweet little kid. Kind of a rascal, but adorable nonethe less. We waited for about 15 minutes outside the gates, so I intereacted with them for quite some time. The baby was a cutie, and kept holding my finger. It was interesting to watch her older sister care for her....it blows my mind to think that a child barely 6 has the responsibility to care for another human life. I'm 21 years old and I'm certain that Im no where near mature enough to shoulder that kind of responsibility...much less a 6 year old! Once again it saddens me to think how fast these children have to grow up and completly miss their childhood. When we finished our climb and were waiting for our car she came back up to me and I gave her my water-bottle because I had nothing else to give her. She gladly took it, and after taking a swig from it, she gently fed her baby sister some water as well. Just the sight of this touched my heart. Just one more image that will forever be imprinted on my memory. I have to say these images alone have made me a better person; a more understanding, and less naieve person. They have opened my eyes to what the majority of the world REALLY is....and all I hope is that my passing of them has made you a better person too. That maybe you have a slight bit more of understading of what the world is outside of the comfortable American bubble. Understanding demolishes ignorance, without ignorance the world would be radically different--for the better.

So as you go about your routine this week I hope that you can burn the image of this picture into your mind and not dismiss it for 'radicals' or 'revolutionaries' to handle but instead ask yourself "how can I change the world?" "How can I better the lives of these innocent children, and give them back what's been taken from them--their childhood?"

Thanks for reading and being challenged, and for not simply dismissing what I have to say but critically thinking about the world on a much bigger level. To rid yourself of ignorance and blissfulness is all I ask of you; to overcome your comfortable American life and see the pain of the world is one of the best things you can do for yourself, and the world your living in.

I love you all, and hope all is well with all of you!

Until my next blog,

Rebecca Ann

overcoming human ignorance and trying to culturally contain God

So I went to church with Henry and let me say it was quite an amazing experience. The church was at his aunt’s house and it consisted of his entire extended family, and a few neighbors and family friends. Rewind a bit to the fact that I'm currently doing a bible study of Acts and was reading Acts chapter2 just yesterday, and in Acts 2:42-47 it talks about the fellowship that the first believers had…it was that of a family. So to be a part of a church that was basically a family was really neat to see…it took me back to the Acts 2:42 church. They welcomed me in as one of their own and even invited me to stay the night because it was raining and they didn’t want me to have to get my feet wet….plus I think they wanted to get to know me more before I left. So not only was it really cool to see such amazing fellowship and be involved and catch a glimpse of what the author was talking about when he wrote about the Acts church’s fellowship but the coolest part was the service itself.
Henry’s family is from Tamil-Nadu (which is another state in India) *side note***There are 10 official languages of India—one for each state+Hindi&English Can you imagine if America had 50 different languages, one for each state? Not only that, but they all have different alphabets and everything!!!**** And so during the worship we would sing the song once through in English and then repeat the song in Tamil. When everyone else was singing in Tamil I would quietly sing it in English and that alone was AMAZING. It really opened my eyes to how BIG God really is! The fact that He completely understands my English as well as their Tamil blew me away. God is not limited by language. It’s a profound thought isn’t it? We often times resign ourselves to think that God predominately thinks and talks in English and listens to our English worship, but when you’re in a room full of people singing worship in another language while you sing the English version; well let me just say it really can change your view of things. While English is the most widely spoken language in the world we should not become so haughty as to think that God prefers our English worship or only speaks/thinks in English.
One thing that this trip has taught me is that we often times try to culturally contain God. I do it, you do it, my Christian Indian friends do it, it’s programmed into us because we are human therefore simple-minded. But here’s a radical thought: what if we could break our culture boundaries and stop trying to fit God in a box that suites us. What if we could open our minds, hearts, and become aware of what we are doing? What would that look like? The fact that in India a lot of people consider it a sin to date, while in America a lot of people consider it a sin to cuss….why is this? Why is it a sin to do something in one place, but not another? These are questions that I’ve struggled with and still have not been able to wrap my mind around.
These thoughts just excite me for heaven one day—when we will be able to break all culture boundaries, all language barriers, and all other obstacles that keep us from properly accepting one another and worshipping our creator as He should be. When we can finally overcome our ignorance as humans and when we are able to see with new eyes and fully comprehend God. Through this trip I’ve come to learn just how naive I really am….how much more there is in this world and how much I try to contain God. I've been able to see just a little more how big and powerful God really is. But I have to say I can’t wait until I can fully see that…I know as long as I am human I will never fully know God for who He really is. One day though….one day.

thoughts on the parallels of rain and hardtimes

Yesterday was the first downpour that I’ve experienced in over 3 months. Let me first of all just say it was beautiful, refreshing, and cleansing. The dirt that is constantly in the air finally settled down and taking in a lung-full of pure oxygen is something I don’t think I have done since I have been here. I walked along in the rain not caring about the mud caking my shoes, or the fact that the rain was seeping through my clothes, or that my hair was drenched and clinging to my face. No, all I could do was think about how amazing God’s creation is. Isn’t it cool to worship a God so genius as to think to have pure, cooling water fall from the sky? A God so creative to allow humans to hear the patter of the rain against the ground, experience the faint smell of freshness and the sight…don’t get me started on the sight of rain. It’s like some orchestrated dance of water. Every rain drop falling divinely in place where God has ordained it. I'm glad that man cannot recreate any of these sensations. Creation is something that is purely of God and given to us as a gift to appreciate. I forgot how much I love the rain until yesterday. I was too busy soaking up the sun and the heat and forgot how incredible and necessary the rain is for life. I was given a whole new appreciation for rain yesterday. It reminded me of the good and bad of life. We all too often get caught up in the good of life, basking in the sun of blessings, but forget that the rain is necessary for growth and renewal. We hate getting caught in the rain, but how different would our life be if we appreciated the hard times just as much (if not more) than the easy times. If we realized how good they are for our growth and spirituality? As I look back on my life I can honestly say that the times that I have grown the most spiritually are the times that have been the hardest. The times that have made my heart break, or made me angry or frustrated have also made me a much stronger person. As much as they were tough, I have to say I would go through them again to grow closer to God, and mature as a young woman. I hate that I'm saying this because right now I'm basking in the sun of blessings, and know that this is me admitting to God that He can take me through some more tough times to grow me (which I don’t look forward to.)
Hard times are like a breath of fresh air….God uses them to clear the air of all the dust of comfort that has settled in our lives so we can once again take a lung-full of fresh air and be revitalized. So as I sit here waiting for the monsoon season of India, and that of my own life I pray that in hard times and rain that I may cling to God and grow spiritually. I also pray that if you’re going through a hard time that you may realize that as much as it hurts, or is not fun, it is in the end, going to make you a better person if you allow it to.
Romans 8:18 & 8:28
“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us”
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
And for those of you currently going through hard times:
2 Corinthians 1:3-4
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”
Psalms 34:18
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit”

I love and miss you all like crazy! Less than a month until I come home!

with love, rebecca ann