Shine On

Mumbai

2009-10-20T00:30:00.005-04:00

I wouldn't give Mumbai a great review if you are looking for a place to vacation, but should you find yourself headed that way -- stay at the Grand Hyatt and thank me after you eat six freshly baked croissants in one sitting. This is Biddy hanging out by the window in our room.

Oh the city of Mumbai, it's one of the most hopeless, exhausting places on earth. I cannot believe my dear husband has been there more than once, and I'm thinking of returning.

Ahhh, the most beautiful place in the city -- St.Catherine's. Crossroads keeps this place operational. Seriously, it's fully funded by crazy revolutionaries that don't hold onto cash too tightly.
Sharon, IJM saint. Yep, she's that beautiful -- inside and out.
Cana meeting all of the girls at St.Catherine's. She likes to be in the middle of the action.
While we were in Mumbai, the festival of rotten yogurt was going on. David played a game with the girls and got to be covered in said rotten yogurt. I'm about to throw up as I type this.
Cana dancing with one of the sisters at St.Catherine's. She's naked because it was crazy hot.

Mumbai

2009-08-17T21:10:00.002-04:00

It's the most oppressive place I have ever been in my life. Six hours into our trip there I was seriously contemplating locking myself in the posh hotel and not coming out, our friend Dave was thinking of jumping on a plane home. It took every ounce of energy I had to get though a day there. So I did not write. I have stories to tell, but right now I'm resting up.

If going to Mamelodi, South Africa is as spiritually refreshing as having water dumped on your head, then Mumbai is equivalent to digging your own well through concrete to get to water. You get water both ways, the latter is just much more exhausting.

Cambodia Day 5

2009-08-13T13:40:00.002-04:00

This morning we met 15 girls at a local bowling alley. The two hours that followed were chaotic, hilarious, adorable, nail-breaking fun. It was by far the highlight of the trip. No one stayed in their lane. Sometimes girls threw the ball like a shot putt, and it crashed onto the hardwood. One score screen showed all strikes, all morning long, and no one even thought of correcting it. We ran halfway to the pins to stop a ball from going into the gutter. All bowling parties should throw all the rules out the window. Cana was passed around from girl to girl and bowled for the first time, too. All of this, followed by pizza. Then, we had to say goodbye to them. It wasn't easy. At all.

Cambodia Day 4

2009-08-13T13:33:00.003-04:00

Today we volunteered along side of the Transitions girls at a local orphanage. The fine people at Transitions believe that a part of reintegration is showing the survivors of sex trafficking that they have something very beautiful to give to others. I'm a big fan of volunteering in general, but today was sweetness overload.

Adorable Cambodian orphans that love to play patty cake, mixed with stunning Cambodian girls that are figuring out just how amazing life can be sent my heart into overload.

This way of thinking that says you don't have to lock trafficking survivors up to heal them is revolutionary and it is working. By far, the girls at Transitions are more alive than any other survivors I have met. They have true personality and a great deal of spunk.

Cambodia Day 3

2009-08-08T03:45:00.001-04:00

James loaded up Katie, Olive and I into a took-took to meet some of the women who are not yet free. As we rode along, I prayed that we’d be magnetic, and that God would make us a bright light in a dark place. James warned us that no girls would talk to three women and a man in the first bar that we went to. He was wrong.

About five minutes after we walked in, Soephogn walked up and began to talk to us. She’s 38, and has a 15-year-old son who would like to be a doctor. She’s been exploited in Cambodia since I was in the 5th grade. I tell her that I have a baby, and she asks to see a picture. James took one on his phone of Cana when we arrived, so he pulls it out. Soephogn stares at it, rubs Cana’s pixilated little face, and then kisses the screen. Other girls see that we’re having a great time at our table, and also join us. We see lots of pictures of their children, and some disturbing pictures of their “boyfriends”. Soephogn is brilliant. She speaks Cambodian, French, English and Vietnamese. She glares at the nasty American, Austrailan, and French men patronizing the bar, and gets feisty when someone takes her spot at the pool table. She hugs me tightly for the $5 I gave her at the end of the night, and runs out of the bar for a moment to wave as our took-took drives away.

At the next bar we sit in a booth and six girls quickly join us. I meet Neang, who has a daughter Cana’s age. This stops me dead in my tracks. I force my tears back as we talk about what it is like to have toddlers, the cost of formula, and how to teach them to talk. Both of our mothers watch the girls while we work. I coach her in teaching her daughter English words and beg her to read to that little girl 30 minutes a day, even if it is the same book again and again. She watches one of her coworkers leave with an overweight white man. She says, “I don’t want to do that.” I don’t want her to either. We keep tipping the girls at our table so they will not have to tend to other customers.

Three American women walk into a bar known for sex tourism. Men who are clearly there as predators feel so uncomfortable that they leave a 10 foot buffer between us and then, and many leave because they can’t stand to see us there, knowing that we know the evil they are up to. Maybe we should just bring 1,000 women to the city and camp out in all of these places. Darkness cannot push back the light.

At the Royal Palace

2009-08-08T03:36:00.002-04:00

Cambodia Day 2

2009-08-08T03:16:00.002-04:00

“Baby, baby!” Two women yelled as we hit the door of a local Non-Government Organization (NGO). They were watching 4 very young children so that mothers (who have all been exploited in the commercial sex industry) could work on jewelry, sewing, and cake decorating upstairs. Cana saunters up to the woman holding a four month old.

“Baaaaby, baaaaby!” The women all laugh, and we let Cana and the Cambodian baby talk, reach, and kiss at each other. It’s a sweet moment. At one point the Cambodian baby starts to cry (because Cana poked her in the eye) and I pick her up to bounce with me. Instinctively, I begin to whisper into her ear prayers as forcefully and boldly as I can. (Thanks, Kim for teaching me to do that – it’s not creepy.)

The tour continues to the next floor and we enter an 8x8 room with four girls sitting on the floor around several bowls of brightly colored beads. They are taking each individual bead and drilling a hole in it. It’s tedious work. They all light up as Cana hits the doorway. “Come here baby!” The bright beads hypnotize Cana. She sits on the floor and organizes all of the beading supplies. I meet the girls; they are adorable, smiley and fun to be around. They say my name over and over and over again. We need to continue with the tour, so I tell them that Cana and I will return. The rest of the building is filled with equally precious women. They are all working hard on various crafty projects that are all delicately made and beautiful.

One of the girls in the sewing room begins to cry when I hand her Cana. I ask if she’s okay, and she just holds Cana tightly, closes her eyes, and lets it all out. I try desperately to hold back my own tears. She opens her eyes, smiles at me, and says, “thank you”.

Next, I find myself in the middle of an English lesson complete with flash cards being taught by a Brown University student. The girls in the lesson are trying very hard to say each word exactly right. Cana gets in the mix and holds up some cards for them, then gives her very best baby applause.

We make our way back to the bead room, where I purchase a bracelet for $6. One of the girls smiles directly at me. “I made that one.” She tells me her name, and while I do not know the details of her circumstances, I know that she is a loving girl who is patient and hilarious. She sings Cambodian pop songs as she works and has some sweet dance moves. Cana adores her. One girl gives Cana a hair clip from her own head. We spend about twenty minutes on the floor together, and then give hugs and say goodbye.

We’re off to lunch at an aftercare home run by our dear friends James and Athena. We hit the gate of the home, and cheers ring out from inside. On either side of the doorway, there are 7 or 8 beautiful girls who have been waiting for us all morning. I wonder if they knew I’d been waiting for them over a year. A girl in a traditional Cambodian bright pink dress reaches out for Cana. Cana leaps into her arms. I didn’t hold Cana again for several hours. The 15 girls range in age from 14 to 17, and Zaya, who should be on a Crest commercial, mothers them.

We tour the facility while the girls complete the preparations for lunch. Lunch consists of 5 of the best dishes I have had in weeks. All homemade, and my own mother would point out, made with love.

We spent the afternoon with 15 girls who glow when you love them, and are on their way to true freedom. They watched Cana while we met about the program that cares for the girls and when I returned Cana was dancing, laughing and drinking green tea. She may never want to leave Cambodia. Cana cheers as we hand out care packages, and then takes a hairbrush from one of the gifts, walks up to a girl and gently brushes her hair. Love. Beauty. Freedom.

I talked to one girl for most of the afternoon. She’s been there for one week. Her sister was rescued at the same time, but she is in a different aftercare home. She tells me that this place is much nicer. She loves it. She is so happy to be there. The team there is actively trying to get her sister transferred, so they can be together again.

The crazy thing about interacting with these girls is that you get lost in their smiles and have to remind yourself why they are there. They are so pure and innocent, so beautiful, that you cannot bring yourself to imagine the evil they have been subjected to. I love them.

(no pictures on the blog, to avoid further exploitation of these girls)

In Cambodia

2009-08-05T20:33:00.002-04:00

We're in Cambodia with AP's work. It's good. Cana is here with us. She made the 40 hours of travel seem easy, and slept 12 of the 14 hours of our longest flight. When traveling with a baby, it's essential to get that bulk head seat with the sweet bassinette. She made it into a fort, and then promptly crashed. Here's hoping we get it on the way home, too. Strangers even commented on what an angel she was on the flights.

Yesterday was filled with visiting some of the people on the front lines of freedom. Our group of 8 was in large conference rooms all day, getting the full report of the situation in this country. Because Cana doesn't really like to sit still and ask questions in big meetings, we adventured around these organization's offices. In doing so, we hit a gold mine of people with amazing hearts. I got to hear to the story of an Austrailan woman, K, who knew ten years ago that she should use her social work skills to do something here. She prayed, and asked God for a way. Then, four months ago she raised money for her own paycheck for two years, and volunteers full time for an incredible place here. Her first order of businees upon arrival? She found a local woman to teach everything she knows, so that in two years the work will continue. Cana and I had a great time haning out in her office for 40 minutes. She is a play theropist, so Biddy tried out each and every toy on the shelf. Then, she gave K an extensive lesson in baby signs, which K had never seen before. K was excited to learn more about baby signs, and thought that they could really help some of the children that she works with. K gave me hope that social workers here have someone backing them up, looking to make them better. She also said that there is a need for more social workers here, even from the United States.

At another office, Cana and I met V, an accountant with the heart of a hero. I learned how she came to know Christ through a friend (that's very rare in Cambodia). Then, she told me how she actually started following Christ when she accepted the job with this organization. She told me how she wakes up in the night praying for the girls that they have rescued, and the ones that still need to be recused. I taught her a new english word -- innercessor. She now understands that her prayers are just as poswerful in the Kingdom of God as the reports of investigators, the brute force of recuers, and the love of social workers. We prayed for eachother while Cana pulled every tissue out of a box in V's office. It was sweet, sweet time. Yes, you can be an accountant and use that skill to rescue people from slavery.

We had an incredible dinner and then Cana and I came back to the hotel. AP had another experience entirely.

It's 7:45AM here, and today we get to meet girls who are on their way to freedom. Cana is all rested up and ready to blow them all lots of kisses.

Raisenetes

2009-07-24T20:57:00.003-04:00

You know, vacationing with friends is much better than vacationing alone. It's 2:07AM right now, and for the last hour I've been hurling Raisenetes at the doormen guarding the club next door. Well, Raisenetes and Junior Mints. I can't tell you what joy this brings all of us at the end of a long, hard day. Those doormen are not cut out for the secret service. They keep looking everywhere but our balcony.

This little prank really picked up some speed as the doormen picked up the chocolate rain, examined it and tried to figure out "what the bloody hell" this stuff is. Never seen Raisenetes in Ireland I suppose. They have been diligent at rubbing their heads, looking toward the sky and retelling the story to each other. Nice.

Dublin is a blast. The grass is green, the Guinness is black, and the people are Irish.

Friends, I'm disappointed to tell you that my other idea for a practical joke today did not work. We sat on a park bench in St. Stephen's Green plotting to scare a passerby, thereby forcing them to fall into the pond. Just couldn't get up the nerve to do it, but we sure talked about it a lot, and I think we laughed as much as we would have if we actually had forced some poor soul into the water. For about half an hour, we people watched and determined if each person would laugh, cry, or come out swinging if we got them to fall into the duck pond. There's always tomorrow. Let me know if you think we should go ahead and do it.

On the train ride home tonight we grilled the people who went to the U2 show. They said there was little to no encore. I say, if that happens again, the four of us will start the chorus, "Love, love, LO-OOVE." Surely, they'll come back out to 85,000 singing their favorite warm up.

Now, on to see what the doormen are doing ...

Dates

2009-07-18T23:11:00.002-04:00

One of the many remarkable things that happens because Grammie lives with us is late night dates. A few times a week, when Biddy is in bed (undoubtedly with her arms tucked under her chest and her booty in the air) AP and I take the monitor downstairs to Grammie and sneak out for a date. Another remarkable thing that happens is fresh biscuits on Monday mornings. Ummmm biscuits.

Anyway, the dates don't have to be fancy. We just get coffee or ice cream and catch up. Earlier this week we saw Harry Potter, it was not very good. What was my favorite book of the series turned out to be the worst movie.

Tonight we planned on going to Awakenings and getting some coffee or wine (I love that they have both). As we approached the door AP's eyes get wide. He states, "We're not going in there." I pause at the door to asses the situation. There is a man with slick black hair and a short silk scarf playing what appears to be Jazz Flute. It is just as creepy as Anchorman dipects. The audience is all completely still and silent staring at the Jazz floutest. Their emaciated forms are wearing similar eurosheek gittups. And since the stage is on the same wall as the front door they must have all seen the two of us pause, take it all in, and swiftly walk away. I can only imagine their disgust with our Gap clothing and lack of musical enlightenment.

We went to Tellers instead and had a great date.

Packing Our Bags

2009-07-13T23:41:00.002-04:00

This week we are finalizing plans to literally travel around the world over the next month. First up, a trip to Dublin, Ireland to see our favorite quartet in action. I'll tell Bono, Larry, Adam, and The Edge you said hello (over a fresh pint of Guinness in a local pub). AP and I are making that trip with great friends, and this is the first time in a long time I am traveling out of the country for something other than serving others. Although, I promise I'll still be nice to people.

Following Ireland, we return home for 3 days to pick up Biddy and head to Cambodia to gather up some hope from our friends at Transitions Global, who are highly successful at helping girls find a future once they have been rescued from slavery. I have no idea how long the flight is, but I know we go from Cincinnati to Memphis to LA to Singapore to Phnom Phen. Whew.

From Phnom Phen we travel to Mumbai to see the girls who have not yet recieved that future. From Mumbai we fly into Newark, and then Cincinnati. Literally, we're going around the world.

Why are we taking a 14 month old with us? It's time for Cana to start learning the family business -- fighting for freedom in various forms.

Anti-stuff

2009-07-01T22:15:00.002-04:00

Recently I have found myself wanting to get rid of more and more stuff. Why do we have so much stuff anyway and where does it all come from? The Biddy loves to play with tupperware, and I end up wearing the same 10 items to work over and over again. So why do we have all of those baby toys and big people clothes? Stuff makes me crazy, but I keep buying it. The rule for baby stuff in this house is that all baby toys must fit into the storage bench in the living room. No room? No more toys. I need rules like that for the rest of my house. Like 25 coat hangers and once they are full, no more clothes. What about all of that winter gear for snow days? That stuff takes up tons of room. I will not buy a bigger house just to accomadate all of my stuff. Anyone out there winning the stuff-control war? I'd like to know what you do.

Momtuition

2009-06-15T22:42:00.002-04:00

Last week the Biddy started screaming in the night. This kid who has slept for 12 hours since she was a month old woke up in fits of screaming. I look at her and think, "it's her stomach for sure." 2AM, 3AM, 4AM more screaming. Finally she falls asleep on AP's chest. The cycle continues the next morning. This is not my kid's normal behavior.

We take her to Cincinnati Childrens'. 5 xrays, blood tests, IVs and ultrasounds later they confirm, yes, it is her intestines. Good thing we took her in. She was totally dehydrated and in a lot of pain.

The lesson for me here is that no one knows my kid like I do. She's intrusted to me and I have knowledge that other people don't. Going forward that gives me a great deal of confidence. I know who that kid is, and can encourage her like no one else can (well, maybe her daddy).

I Cried at Work Today (twice)

2009-05-31T21:13:00.003-04:00

CASE #1: Showing kids that following Jesus is an adventure that brings abundant life is sweet, and it is more than just my job -- it's my calling. It's one that comes with an extra dose of learning what it means to be free of all the lies the world tells you, reminders of what childlike faith really is, and a healthy dose of humble pie when some one asks if this is just a stepping stone for you. I cried the first time at the end of service today, just thanking God for that clear calling. Right now it plays out in the midst of my family, my neighborhood, my friends' houses, my job, and sometimes the local grocery store.

CASE #2: A few of my very favorite people left my team to follow where God is calling them next, which just happens to be building into jr high and sr high boys. I unexpectedly teared up when I tried to tell them how much it has meant to me to serve next to them for the past five years. I wanted to say that they fulfill Hebrews 13:17 in the most beautiful way.

Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account. Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you.

I don't think I have ever before had two people receive correction, ask for challenge, and soak up encouragement with the grace that these two men have done in their own unique ways. They have honest and sincere hearts; they honor their families. They are totally different from one another, yet totally alike in a hunger to know Jesus. I'm going to miss seeing the two of them on a regular basis, but can't wait to hear the fantasticness that comes from their faithfulness applied to the lives of those boys.

Maggies Monkeys

2009-05-25T22:52:00.003-04:00

My neighbor, Linda Sanders-Wells wrote this little gem of a book, it is a sweet and sassy tale of a little girl with a big imagination and a big brother who loves her.

So, Cana and I went to our favorite bookstore, Blue Manatee and picked it up, along with a copy of my all-time favorite kids' book, What Do You Do With a Kangaroo by Mercer Mayer. The people at the Blue Manatee built this super fantastic train/tunnel that Cana loves. She also loves books, but the train/tunnel is especially wonderful.

What a Year

2009-05-07T21:03:00.004-04:00

Watch Out

2009-05-01T22:45:00.002-04:00

She has taken a few steps before, but tonight she walked across the room over and over again. Just in time to walk around on her birthday.

Easter

2009-04-13T20:53:00.004-04:00

We work a lot when it comes to Easter, so usually by 2PM we are wiped out and take a nap. This year we decided to drive to Columbus in our exhausted stupor. By the time we got home last night we all felt like this:

Snap, snap, snap

2009-04-13T20:50:00.002-04:00

The Biddy loves to snap her fingers. I caught her doing it in a few pictures the other day. As you may imagine, this is seriously cute.

Dad, at a Hannah Montana Concert

2009-03-29T21:27:00.002-04:00

"I think that she is a good role model, because she's a good singer."

Puke.

Compassion Stories

2009-03-24T22:05:00.009-04:00

I've thought about Compassion International a lot today.

First, because of our Indian Child, Shilpa. Shilpa is 15 and I adopted her just before AP traveled to India last month. When my husband travels without me and I start feeling all nervous and gittery I often adopt a Compassion child. This could prove to be quite costly for us in the near future. Something about adopting a kid seems to be a big fat slap in the face to that stupid fear that tries to creep in. I say, "no, we are not giving into fear, in fact I'll do more."

Shilpa's very first letter arrived today. She has gorgeous Hindi writing. I want to trace each beautiful character even though I have no idea what it says. Thankfully, Compassion has translators. Shilpa's first sentence to us was "Greetings to you in our Lords name, and I am happy to receive you in my life as my sponsor." Now there is a child who knows God. To know God is to receive from him often. Receive away kid, receive away! We're receiving right back.

Shilpa went onto say that her very poor parents are overjoyed that she has been selected to be sponsored. I imagine their beaming faces, so happy that their precious little girl's picture was chosen and that changed all of their lives. God bless them for not selling Shilpa to the tremendous human trafficking monster that would love to snatch her up. I am confident that my sponsorship will keep that monster at bay. As we fight to free people who are in modern day slavery, this preventative measure feels really good.

Secondly, my friend Lynn and I were at lunch today chatting about Compassion. Her family has sponsored a child, Mario for several years. They have always called Mario their "sponsor brother". In Lynn's household they pray for Mario, they write to him, they talk about him all the time.

When Lynn's son was in preschool they began to discuss the members in each child's family. Lynn's boy talked about his two sisters at home and the brother that his parents "never let him see, they just send him money and write him letters". After discussing this questionable relationship in great detail, the preschool teacher was concerned. She pulled Lynn aside at pick up time and gingerly asked some questions. Shocked by her four year old's story, it took Lynn a minute to come up with the truth. "Oh, he's our Compassion Son!" Ahhhh, relief on the preschool teacher's face.

If you have not sponsored a child yet, go for it. If you have, did you know that you can e-mail them letters though the Compassion website? Of course I still send hard letters, but sometimes I find that shooting off a quick email helps the frequency of my communication with these kids.

The Biddy

2009-03-08T21:51:00.004-04:00

The Biddy turned 10 months old this week. We celebrated by staying up all night last night because she had a terrible cough, and the only way that she could sleep was by resting upright. At 3AM camped out on the couch with a tiny sweaty person snoring loudly, I start giggling. This is ridiculously fun.

my untrip

2009-02-27T22:24:00.002-05:00

I've been sending others off on trips lately. That's hard for me. I like to go on trips and I like to go on trips where I get to serve other people. Call me a sucker, but I think they are more enjoyable than vacation.

You know what? Those trips can be dangerous for me. Not in a "the local violence in the developing world could kill you" kind of way, but more in a "substituting big trips for actual relationship with Jesus" kind of way.

My untrips over the past year include sending my husband to South Africa in March, friends to Mumbai in July, friends to New Orleans in July, friends to South Africa in November, friends to the Ukraine in November, friends to Cameroon this month, my husband to Mumbai last week.

On my untrips I learned to pray this year. I learned to pray because it was the action that I could take while my friends were off on great adventures living out their faith rescuing kids, loving orphans, changing people's lives. I was at home praying. Sometimes I was praying at 3am. All of that praying unveiled a conversation and a dimension of relationship with God that has been hiding behind all of that "good stuff" I was focused on doing.

I stayed home. I prayed as a first response instead of a last resort. I dug in and did hard personal work. I learned more about myself and got things out of the way that were inhibiting my relationship with God. I had to be faithful in new ways (ways that no one else could see -- gasp). It's been a great year.

To make it even sweeter, God is into answering my prayers these days. Big giant things that I've been praying for years for are happening now. This is a faith adventure of a different kind. I'm thankful for what I learned on all of those untrips.

The Camera is in India, but we have Photobooth

2009-02-22T22:05:00.002-05:00

Happy Friday

2009-02-20T15:16:00.004-05:00

We tried to video iChat with AP, but for some strange reason it didn't work today. Biddy loved watching herself on the screen though.