Family

May 4th 2008 seems a long way away now - maybe a different century? But there we are - both sets of parents with and the kids (and Victor and Sarah's daughter Joanna to boot) on the terrace of Shanti Kunj in Mussoorie.

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We are amazingly blessed with two sets of parents who pray for us every day - and that too many times. Who have sacrificed much for us. Somehow the conversation with Asha and Enoch turned to how we could pay back our parents for all they did for us - the fact is - we can't. Never. Perhaps the only step forward to this is to be the best parents we can to our kids. Love is not rent.

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Our heart aches to be away from our loved ones so long. Right now we have a total diaspora going on:

(1) Mum and Dad in Mussoorie,

(2) Amma and Appa just outside Vishakapatnam,

(3) Victor, Sarah and Joanna in Delhi,

(4) Stefan, Neeru and Ashish in Delhi (its Ashish's 2nd birthday anniversary today!),

(5) Premi in the UK - but due to arrive in India first week of July,

(6) Peter, Yashmeet and Anmol in Kenya,

(7) Ramesh, Daisy and Frankie in the US

(8) Rudy, Aneng, Kimi, Timmy and Renata in the US (but spread out from Hawaii to Virginia)

(9) and of course so many others who are part of the extended Shanti Kunj family....

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How to get everyone together? What a paradox to have so many we love so far away. Its part of the existential sorrow we have - but one that we must work through - and which perhaps helps us to cherish the opportunities that we do have to meet up all the more.

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Our aches point us in the right direction though - we are not meant to be alone - apart. If we did not ache something would be wrong. We look foward to a time when we will all be together. Its not a pie in the sky thought either, but a reality worth living towards.

Another death

Mr. Carl died last Sunday.

No happy end to the tale - or so it seems.

Mrs. Carl was crying uncontrollably.

How do we bring hope into what seemed a hopeless situation? We don't want to be false and glib - at the same time, we know that the love of God is more powerful than any circumstances we know.

Weep with those who weep...

Orange tears

Early this morning 4 Eichers dressed in various orange articles of clothing (and an old orange clown nose on the pater familias) made their way on the Black Beauty - our Honda scooter - through the deserted roads of Thane. What were we doing out at 12 AM? Off to see a football match of course! Holland vs. Russia. Euro 08 quarterfinal action - on a Saturday night - an experience for Enoch and Asha to see a full football match for the first time. So where better than the home of Thane's football fan No 1 - Joshua Jayakar and his sister Juanita.

What is it about football that stirs such a deep passion in people? It has to be more than just 22 players and an air-filled sphere. I think part of it is the deep desire to be part of a struggle. We are created to relish excellence - and have a deep appreciation for that which is superb. To have the very best of the best playing it out in a hard-fought exciting contest allows us to taste a piece of beauty that our hearts yearn for.

The other part of it is a desire to belong to something bigger than we are. We crave to belong. We are not meant to be alone - and in a time of deep distrust in most institutions (including for many the church) sporting teams offer an identity which binds people together. The Dutch players played the game with a black band - to express solidarity with one of their defenders who lost a prematurely born girl 3 days before. The fans decided to sing 'you'll never walk alone' before the game to express their feelings to this man and his family. Where do you find this in the atomised world that most inhabit. Football (replace this with almost any other large-scale sporting event) offers more than athleticism and excellence - in a strange way it offers the hope of family.

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So down to the match. Ah the heartbreak. Our dear Dutch heroes have done what they excel in once again: play the beautiful game in an exciting and dominating fashion in the first part of a competition - only the be booted out in the quarter or semi-finals. Early this morning (for us here in Thane) it was Russia's turn to shine. And for orange tears to fall around the stadium (and also for some Thane supporters as you can see from the shot of Juanita and Asha).

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There is something sublime to seeing men run at top speeds, controlling the ball as if it was stuck to their feet, sharing it between themselves in total contest against another group of talented and detremined players. This morning belonged to the beautiful feet of Andrei Arshavin. The speed of the man. Amazing. With all the skills the Dutch have between them - it was the Russians who were making the difference. Only Edwin Vande Saar's brilliance kept the score within sight. Just as it looked the Russians were close to a famous victory with their 1 goal lead - the old orange workhorse of Ruud Van Nistelrooy managed to put his head in and score a beautiful goal 4 minutes from full time. We were given another 1/2 hour of paisa vasool action as Holland and Russia ran the ball to each other's goal - with Russia coming up trumps - twice! The final one deservedly coming of Andrei Arshavin's boot.

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If only our dear Indian footballers could be one 10th as skillful as these two teams! We left Joshua and Juanita's home having shed a few silent orange tears - but fully satisfied with a feast of football - and took the Black Beauty back home through the 3 AM streets of Thane!

Blessed to be a blessing...

Mr. Carl decided to end it all early last week. He stepped out in front of an oncoming truck.

The vehicle hit him – giving Mr. Carl a head injury. He was taken to the Civil Hospital.

We have known Mr. Carl for years now. He and his wife have HIV. Their child was sickly for a long time – and we were sure he also had IV. When we finally persuaded Mr and Mrs. Carl to test the boy we were thrilled to find that he was HIV negative.

It was one of the few bright spots in the life of this family.

Mr. Carl has made many sad decisions in his life. Alcohol fuels many of them. His wife has gone back to her parents a number of times because of his cruelty and indifference to her. Mr. Carl spends most of his time running a gambling club – which apparently pays the police about Rs. 40,000/- each month in bribes to keep operating. His normal approach to our staff was one of avoidance or a surly silence.

The last few years have been punctuated with a series of illnesses. When he is sick with TB he took help from JSK to get medications from the government health centre. His overall compliance was poor – other than when Mr. Carl was incapable to looking after himself. The bottle followed the same pattern: He was sober when desperately sick – and drinking at most of the other times.

Behind this slow-motion tragedy are Mrs. Carl – with her love for her husband – and Mrs. Carl’s mother – whose devotion and care for her surly son continues.

But despite the love Mr. Carl received – and advice from every side – Mr. Carl has continued his sad choices. As for many men alcohol provided an escape – as did the club. Mr Carl spent most of his days in the gambling den – arriving home at odd hours to catch some sleep before going out again. For all the cash that passed through his hands – precious little was seen in the home.

An unlovely man – Mr. Carl is loved. But though the maker of the universe cares for him with an unthinkable love – and his own family has poured themselves into him – on the morning early last week he decided he could not handle any more of life.

He allowed himself to be hit by the truck. The step was taken – but the truck did not kill him. Mr. Carl is still alive.

To cap it all, Mr. Carl ran away from the Civil Hospital. He told the nurse that he was going to the toilet. Instead he walked out of the building – his IV lines still in – and took an auto-rickshaw home. Our staff had gone to the hospital to meet him only to be told that he had run away.

Later in the evening the JSK staff went to meet him – and take out the IV cannulae.

Mr. Umale went to meet him along with our staff. They knew each other tangentially before – but now the tables were very different. Mr. Umale told Mr. Carl that he also was HIV positive. He told him about the days when he was so sick that all he could do was vomit. He told him about how it was only him and his wife – that no other family members were there with them. Mr. Umale went on to say that he had put his faith fully and solely in Jesus – and that Jesus had helped him through the dark days – and that God is helping him even now.

Talking to me afterwards Mr. Umale said that a lot of work needs to take place in Mr. Carl’s life. He needs to be visited more.

We are thrilled to see people with HIV helping each other. One of the themes that is emerging for us is that we are all being changed – and healed – and helped … so that we can help others. Our blessings set us up to bless others. Our stories of redemption and change seed other stories in turn. God wants to use each one of us to see more blessings and changes take place in his people.

Could this be the time for Mr. Carl to be transformed – and to be a blessing to others too?

Ambition

Our newspapers are having a field day with what seem to be an unending stream of gruesome murders.

A recent one includes dismemberment and disposal of the body of a show-biz personality by a film starlet and her man who serves in our armed forces.

How much of what we read is 100% true is of course debatable. But here is one aspect that sticks out for me: we are dealing with absolute, un-abashed naked ambition.

Our dear Indian Express (she who seems blushingly modest compared to the skin-shows other Mumbai papers exhibit each day) quoted police officials saying that the only remorse that the two apparent perpetrators seemed to show is that their promising careers are now ruined.

Come to think of it, why should this surprise us?

We are today swirling in what can only be a see of ambition.

It doesn't matter what it takes - you must make it to the top.

Parents are notorious for desiring that their little ones (and big ones who are still treated as kids) get first in class etc.

The church does not seem immune to it.

Even in our relatively laid-back house-fellowships, I don't recall the last time any parent got up in church and said - please pray that my son will be wise and compassionate and loving. We have had plenty of prayers for exam successes.

Nothing wrong with striving for excellence, but the question is at what cost? When does the quest for excellence become and end in itself - and then when does it become more than that?

The ancients had a word for this: idolatry.

A wise Bible teacher tweaked St. Paul when he said: "A man cannot serve two masters, you cannot love God and Education". By replacing the Biblical word "money" with the respectable word "education" the teacher shows what really drives most of us. We don't want to admit it, but the for most of us this is all that education has been reduced to - a means of making the biggest packet.

The key is to ask the question: is my ambition selfish - or Godly? Most of us find ourselves in the former most of the time - and will try all manner of ways to cloak this with respectability (for which success does wonders).

I have to remember an EMFI students camp in the Pachalur hills in Tamil Nadu. On the wall of the centre was a collage of pictures of the then recently killed bro Graham Staines and his two boys. Next to it someone had pasted this simple poem:
Only one life to live.
Twill soon be past
Only what's done for Jesus will last.

Paper bag

Mr. and Mrs. Tamarind came to see Sheba at the clinic this morning.

Much water has flowed under the bridge since we first met this couple. He was semi-conscious and she was stoic. We were told by the small crowd of relatives and friends who were admitting him to not tell her that Mr. Tamarind had HIV. The strain will be too much – she doesn’t know anything about it. Sheba thought otherwise and politely asked Mrs. Tamarind what her husband was suffering from. Mrs. Tamarind slowly and clearly said: “He has AIDS”.

That was almost 3 years ago now. Mr. Tamarind came out of his brain-infection that he was admitted for. He was started on anti-retroviral medications – he went through various ups and downs – but was able to start his own business – complete with a Rs. 500,000/- loan from a local bank.

The last few months have had him losing weight. The anti-retroviral drugs do not seem to be doing their job. He is haggard and looks visibly ill again. We thought that they had primarily come to have him checked up.

Mrs. Tamarind found out in those early days that she also had the disease. It was a bitter pill, but she took it well – and continued to lovingly care for her husband over these months and years. When Sheba asked her whether she had any problems, she mentioned that she had some difficulty breathing.

‘How long has this been?’ asked Sheba. Mrs. Tamarind said it had been happening for 15 years. Occasionally gets an attack and then they take her to a hospital. At the hospital the doctors give her an injection – and then she is more or less back to normal.

With that the consultation was basically at an end – and after praying with the couple, they got up to go.

Then the fun started.

Mrs. Tamarind suddenly started gasping – deep, anguished gasps for air. It was a panic attack, one of the many that she had had over the years – and now it was happening at our centre.

In most circumstances this is treatable with a drug called diazepam. An IV line is inserted drug and drug given. After sometime the patient then is calmed – and is discharged none-the-worse. This is what numerous local practitioners must have done for this couple – and pocketed a goodly sum for their trouble.

Sheba called Dr. Marise who was also there that morning and asked her advice. Dr. Marise asked for a paper bag.

Our nurse aide Sunita found a newspaper and made simple bag out of it. This was then put over Mrs. Tamarind’s mouth who breathed into it for some time. A few minutes of the carbon dioxide rich air was enough to bring her came back to normal.

Sheba had to go to do a dressing on Mr. Nandu’s leg – so Dr. Marise sat down with Mr. Tamarind again to explain how to manage the panic attacks in the future. Why they come we are not sure, but we know that prayer changes things.

We also know that a paper bag can save thousands of rupess in fees for in-patient admissions.

Knowledge is power – especially when wedded with love and compassion.

Violin

One of the great joys we have is to see our children developing.

Enoch has taken to running. We are reading about Eric Liddell as a family and saw Chariots of Fire in Mussoorie – and he is inspired. He runs with his head back and chest out. Its great style though how fast? Asha has mastered a slightly wobbly but growingly confident straight line on her bicycle. Turning and braking are still challenges, but that’s what learning is about!

The big news this month for Asha, however, is her violin.

Mum and Dad had brought a ¼ sized violin for Asha 3 years ago after Dr. Joseph Samuel suggested we start Asha out early on the violin. We then discovered a wonderful teacher living close to us: Elaine, who ministers to children at the Jeevan Asha centre and is the wife of Pastor Benny from Covenant Blessings Church. She felt that Asha was a bit too small – and there were some health problems too so we waited.

The wait was sure worth it.

This month Asha started classes with Elaine. What a joy to learn from a person who loves – really loves – music. By accompanying Asha, Sheba has also attended the classes and now supervises the daily practice. It’s a complete package – learning music in its fullness – rather than just scraping the fiddle. Asha is thrilled and loves everything about it. Having seen the Woodstock School orchestra in full swing these past holidays helped stoke her appetite.

We are in for a long and wonderful exploration of music.