Published

At the beginning of every month Asha and Enoch eye the mail box expectantly.

When will this month's edition of Tinkle magazine come?

When the cherished white plastic cover is seen - the mag is quickly devoured by our eager readers.  And read again and again over the next few weeks.

The past few months have seen our twosome looking especially eagerly at one section of the mag - the "Shout-out Soap-box" where children write about things that matter to them.

This week there were squeals of delight in the Eicher household - Asha's letter had been published in the November 2011 issue.

Written together with her friend Noopur - the letter had been sent eons ago - but now finally it appeared.

Asha's first taste of being published.

Mrs. Candy

Mrs. Candy (pseudonym of course) is desperately ill.

We wish we could look after her here at the JSK Community Care Centre - but Sheba is away for a month in Raxaul and we do not have round-the-clock medical supervision.

So our staff admitted her in the main govt. hospital in Thane - the 'Civil Hospital.'

This afternoon we find out that they are on strike.

About what we don't know.  And in a way we don't care.  The horrible fact is that the govt. hospital is shutting down again.

Our staff have been told to take Mrs. Candy away.

Mrs. Candy is a widow.  Her teenage daughter 'married' 2 years ago and has an infant in her arms. 

What to do?

We are trying to organise an ambulance to take Mrs. Candy to the main govt. hospital in South Mumbai.

Peter and the staff are in crisis mode.  Charting out the plan.  Contacting the ambulance.  But then they hit a roadblock.

Mrs. Candy's daughter 'Meena'.

Our staff have been trying to contact the girl - but Meena is nowhere to be found.

Without any family member we just cannot send Mrs. Candy to another hospital. Death is very close to all of our patients.

And so we have ratcheted down our response.  We will wait till tomorrow.  If Meena emerges - we will help get Mrs. Candy to JJ hospital.

If not?  She will probably have to go home to her small shack.

Our staff will do the home-care that we have been doing for the past decade.  Looking after those who do not exist in the eyes of others.

Caring for a dying woman in her tiny shack in Thane - perched at the edge of the great glittering city of Mumbai

Climbing in small dimensions

When I was small I read a book called "The Borrowers" which told a fantastic tale about a tiny family that lived below the floorboards.

There is something totally compelling about having things lived out in a small scale.  One of the joys of lego for Enoch is being able to build and play out adventures with the little figures. 

I found the following shots in our camera - Enoch has taken them all.

The scene opens on Mount Trunk.  Where the men are climbing up to get to the top of this massif.

Its a long way up and the climbers have to use ropes to make sure that they do not fall down.

Looking at the angle that Enoch took this shot, I could not help but remember my own small brush with mountaineering - many an eon ago.

The sheer thrill of climbing up - and the wonderful safety of a rope combine beautifully - in the small scale that he was playing with - and the in the large scale of his imagination.

The clinging on of another man with all his might as he looks over to the rope is another classic.

How long will he be able to hold on before a rope comes to his rescue to.

Is he trapped there - or just taking a rest while others use the rope to climb up to the top of Mount Trunk?

All of these questions can only be answered from inside the mind of Enoch as he plays with these little men.

What is clear - however - is that the top is place of rest.

Enoch has constructed a small camp site with little tents for each of the climbers - and a pretty blackened bonfire in the midde.

Successful climbers are probably swapping stories well past their bed-time....

.... which is true for your humble of this blog.  The joy of sleep has been calling me for some time now - and in a few seconds I will be sprawled in the bed next to Enoch - and beside the small folding cot that Asha is using now that Amma and Appa are in the Kids' room.

Living Legends: Selvanayagam

Of the many rich experiences we live through - a special joy is to be in the company of saints.

I am not talking about folks who moon around with ghostly halos glimmering over shaved pates.

I am talking about flesh and blood people whose tears have stained many a floor as the bitter challenges of life have hit them - but who have stood up after their time of prayer and carried on with the messy business of life.

I am talking about people whose ugliness has been evident to themselves - and who have cried out for forgiveness - and how move forward in newness of life.  Only to be back on their knees when their closeness to God shows them again a new previously unseen stain.

Over the past 12 years it has been my joy to be blessed by Uncle and Auntie Selvanayagam.  I met them for the first time at our marriage.  By then they had already been impacting Sheba's life for over a decade.

When Sheba went to Cuttack, Orissa for her medical studies she was looking for a church home.  She found it in the home of Uncle and Auntie Selavanayagam.

Literally.

The church met in their home.  And after the Sunday service Sheba was always there for a meal.  Out of their slim resources, the Selvanayagams were liberal with love.  Many a time Sheba caught Auntie adding another morsel to her plate during Uncle's saying grace over the meal - a time while all eyes were supposed to be closed.

Sheba was informally adopted as the Selvanayagam's eldest daugther.  Their three girls were literally small girls when Sheba and the other medical students of her time camped at the Selvanayagam's place time and time again.  Amazingly, when we came to Mumbai - we found that all three of the girls - Prisci, Susie and Hepsi ended up marrying and living in the greater Mumbai area.

What makes Selvanayagam a saint?

It all starts out with him leaving Tamil Nadu for the Navy.  A hard-bitten navy man, Selvanayagam was posted in 1974 to Pune to do pharmacy studies when he came across some street-preachers.  Selvanayagam listened in and heard God speak to him through the messages.  He confessed his sins and received forgiveness through Jesus Christ.  Shortly afterwards he was baptised.

That began his life-long adventure of faith.  He eventually left the navy.  Together with his wife the moved to Orissa and nurtured others in the faith through their words and their love - lives that were seemlessly meshed together.  Sheba was just one of many whom the Selvanayagams poured themselves into.

Over the years they have seen many tears as well.  As a couple, and as individuals they have made mistakes.

But I saw them this morning, sitting together before dawn on the corner of our living-room couch. Two old grey souls reading the Bible together and praying.  This is a life well lived.

The Selvanayagams do not have a bungalow down south waiting for them to retire to.  Their only building project is in heaven.  Where others have poured in years of work and funds into land and bricks and mortar - the Selvanayagams do not seem to have anything concrete.  Other than the concrete love that they poured into others lives - like the young thin medical student who was born and brought up in Orissa and was making her first foray into the world outside her home - our dear Sheba.

Uncle Selvanayagam is also a cancer survivor.  He was operated for cancer of the gall bladder - and is living in total remission!

And they are parents of a cancer survivor too!  Many months of tears and prayers went up - but their daughter has survived and is working and a mother as well...

We are so happy that the Selvanayagams  have not just remained in our past - but are very much in our present as well.  Over the years they have become adopted grandparents to Asha and Enoch.  Visits by 'Appachan' and 'Ammachi' (Malayalam for Grandpa and Grandma) are always a joy.  Uncle has a calm and deep faith - and the lovely conversations we have about books and theology - and Auntie's bustling love us expressed mainly in smiles and gestures as she does not know English or Hindi - and Asha, Enoch and I do not know Malayalam or Oriya.

Being near the Bethany hospital where Uncle and Auntie are treated whenever they come to Mumbai to be with their daughters' families means that we Eichers get a lions' share of them.

Yesterday I got a call from Uncle telling that they had some checkups at Bethany.  We are so glad to be able to host them as a family.

After spending the day in ministry with the local Brethren Fellowship - uncle and auntie returned in the evening and we had another pleasant time of fellowship together - with Amma and Appa with us as well.  The only person missing - and we sorely miss her - is our dear Sheba who is currently in Raxual, Bihar.

How much longer will we be blessed with the joy of spending time with the Selvanayagams?  We don't know - they certainly are not getting younger.

But we know that each visit is something special to savour.

This morning, as Uncle was preparing to go church - where he was due to speak - he confessed that he was filled with a sense of trembling.  To be given the responsibility of sharing the word was no small thing.  The immensity of being asked to speak on behalf of God was something that Uncle was acutely aware of.

Saints are saved sinners.  Uncle and Auntie Selvanayagam have lived this out to the fullest over their 70+ years on this spinning blue planet.  What a privilege to have them feed into our lives too!

Concert time

Loss

The SMS came late in the night.  I was asleep - having just come back from the South earlier in the day - and not having slept most of the night before in the train.

Beep beep beep.

I got up and looked.

It was from Daniel - one of our JSK staff.  It was about Jamil (name changed)

Jamil has died.  Please pray for his family. 

My mind went back to the bony body.  The one seeing eye that he used to look at me.

Our staff had cared for Jamil at his home.  And also at the JSK centre when he was too sick to be cared for.  HIV had decimated Jamil's imunity.  His drinking had taken out much of his health.  His TB had eaten away at his lungs.  And on top of it all his mind was far from normal.

Through it all his widowed mother looked after him.  Jamil had raged at her while he was admitted with us.  What he told her at home we will never know.

But she kept loving him and looking after him.

This morning she is widowed and has lost her son as well.

I am the 3,602,056,764th

According to a nifty BBC website - I am the 3,602,056,764th person alive of this planet. 

Its been estimated (with some fanfare) that we now have 7 billion image-bearers of God on this dear earth (though the dear friends who tout the numbers usually do it in a more gloomy way). 

Looking at my rank in the world - it would seem that just under half the world is older to me and the other half has been added since I was born. Sobering stuff to know that 3.5 odd souls are alive today

Among the many strong narratives that went on in the background of I had two which were apocalyptic. 

The first was the great Malthusian dillema about our population increasing geometrically and food arithmetically.  By the late 1970s all the food and oil etc were going to be used up.

Didn't quite happen.

We have added so many more people to this planet.  But the standard line I heard growing up - we are poor in India because we have lots of people - isn't true at all.  We are poor because our people do not have opportunities. Because of poor choices and bondages from within and without.  Because laws serve the rich and crush the poor.  And many other reasons - mostly to do with the stain of our rebellion against our good and loving Lord.

Food supplies actually increased over time.  Though we do have lots more people.  And numerically the poor are more than ever before - the overall increase in material well-being is undeniable. 

The other apocalyptic event that was supposed to take place was the 2nd coming of Christ.

Some authors had figured it all out.  EU was a 10 member conglomeration at that point.  10 horns on the beast.  Various numbers were put into play.  Various calculations and codes discovered.  And then a date or two were proposed.

Hasn't happened yet.  At least not in the way the literature that was floating around me in my 1970s boyhood seemed to predict.

So what do we make of the futurologists?  What do we make of those who sift through the entrails of population numbers and cryptic bits of the book of Daniel?

I think that we are called to live humbly, to seek justice, and to enjoy the real presence of God Himself.

Just because some of the well-meaning predictions didn't quite end up the way they were pitched doesn't mean that the messengers should be shot. 

I continue to be a closet environmentalist.  Concerned about how we are tending the garden, how we are stewarding the resources that we have been entrusted.  If anything - the aspirational and aquisitional materialism that is the new normal in our society has been fueling far more damage to our dear planet - than just the basic number of people per sq. km rubic.

A look at most of the 'western' world shows that having lots of people who are aging and want to be supported at high levels of comfort - and very few young people to work and produce - is a recipe for all kinds of problems.  China's own strains from having fewer kids show themselves in other ways.

And as for Christ's return - even in the generation after His death and resurrection there were mumblings among His followers about the apparent delay.  Addressing these comments the apostle Peter writes that: But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. (2 Peter3.8-9).

I trust - and try - to live each day as if it were my last.  As if I am on the threshold of eternity (which we all are of course).  To keep short accounts.  To love and forgive.  To make the most of what God has given me.  To be ready for the joy of hearing 'well done, good and faithful servant.'

And of course for the last 12 years the walk has not been alone.  I am so blessed to be on this pilgrimage with the the amazing 3,602,464,780th person in this world. My remarkable wife Sheba entered the world 2 days after I did (a mere 418,016 currently living people later)!  Sheba has helped shape me is so many ways - though some of the (re)shaping has (and at times continues to be) pretty painful. Very much a work in process.  As if to emphasize this - we have the breath-taking responsibility of bringing up the next generation - at least 2 of them! In 2001 we were joined by the 6,163,475,701st person and in 2003 the 6,322,282,619th person in the world was delivered into our family.  The story continues!

And here is where our Lord takes us further.  Among our 7 billion fellow earth-dwellers He knows each one of us by name.  The work is on-going in each one of us. Only He knows the completion date.

A song from 'Bible Club' in High School echoes in my head (from Phil 1.6 and 2.13)

I am confident that He

Who began a good work in me

Will carry it through to completion
Until the day of Christ
So I'll work out my own salvation

With fear and trembling

For God is at work in me...

yours truly with no. 6,322,282,619 and no. 6,163,475,701 

Post-cards from Vizag

Lets start at the beginning.  Well - lets put to clock back almost a week ago.  Sometime in the swirling past. 

Take a look at the eyes of the man in the photo above.  Yes, you are seeing correctly.  They are barely open.  The result of a good two months or so without adequate Sabbath-rest.  The last few weeks were ones of chronic exhaustion.  Of a lingering headache that felt like a monkey biting my brain - or something like that.  Needless to say - I was not always sweetness and light to my colleagues (and dearest family members too).

Thank God for kids.  And kids holidays.  Diwali hols are 3 weeks long.  Its criminal to spend all that time in Thane.  It forces you to move.

With Sheba heading over to Raxual - absolutely immersed in the work at the Duncan Hospital - it is my special privilege to bring Asha and Enoch down to Vishakapatnam to spend a week with their Amamma and Thatha - and then have the 5 of us head back to Thane for the rest of the month that Sheba is using to re-immerse herself in clinic medicine.

I needed a clinical rest.  And by God's abundant grace - I am getting excellent doses of it.

Start with the sheer joy of train travel.

In which aircraft can you do something like this?  We spent a lovely day moving ever southward and eastward as we swapped the Arabian Sea for the Bay of Bengal.

And for all the ugliness that you do see from the train window - esp. in our wretched cities - once you get into coastal Andhra Pradesh - your eyes are soothed with green balm like this:

Photo courtesy Asha Eicher... who took tons of shots of paddy fields and coconut trees as we whizzed towards Vishakapatnam (which the Brits called Vizag).

The one draw-back was a small miscalculation on the amount of food we were to take - and thus we succumbed to the promise of a 'chicken biryani' which clearly had seen its better days - probably many days previously judging by the taste and texture of the 'bird' and the rice around it.

Asha spend the first two days of our time in Vizag vomitting and on the pot - and Enoch joined as a member of the throw-up-club on our first full day here too.

But whose complaining?

Amma and Appa had swung into action and arranged a taxi to take us on a tour the day after we arrived.

We went out to the zoo - to see stately birds like this amazing specimen.

 

And many other beasts as well.

Coming from the potholed-roads of Thane - to be zipping along baby-bottom-smooth highways was a minor culture shock.  "World Bank money" informs Appa knowlegably.

Sadly even the smoothest road doesn't seem to stop road sickness from the Eicher juniors.  Thank God for plastic bags!

Next stop was to go up to the peak and look down.  We chose to look away from Vizag town to the other side and were richly rewarded with this view:

Given the car-sickness of our juniour two-some we were home-ward bound at that point.  But a glance down at the beach proved irresistable.  We just had to spend some time in the water. 

A few minutes later we were at the beach.  Amma and Appa stayed and the taxi while our little trio of Eichers descended to the sea.

The sea water revived Asha and it was all I could do to extract her from the briney joy of jumping in the waves and making the obligatoyr sand castles.

The next day we were in church - and participated in an after-service love feast.   Amma and Appa fellowship at the Bethany Prayer House - a Telegu speaking fellowship that meets in the austere style pioneered by Bro Bhakt Singh and his associates.

 I was given the pleasant task of speaking.  Twice.  An hour for the main message in the morning.  And then another hour + in the afternoon with the young people (and young at heart).  It was a joy to share what God has been teaching us over the past few months. 

In the evenings we have been devouring books together.  I just love reading aloud to the kids.  We were working through "The Secret of the Shadow" by the Miller brothers.  After polishing off that meaty tale last night - we ploughed through an Enid Blighton "Famous Five" book today.  Famous Five Run Away Together has been packaged in a new format (at least for me) - one where you get some chances to choose what the characters should do - and try to keep points for getting the least number of 'red herrings.'  Good fun.  And good medicine to be lying in bed, being pampered by Amma and Appa with delicious food and having the joy of reading with our wonderful 2!

And so to the current report on yours trully.  The photo below seems to show almost the same level of tiredness in the eyes of yours trully - but I feel very much on the mend.  A few nights of actual sleep have left me very much on the road to being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.  These days are exactly what the doctor ordered.

  

But do say a prayer.  No, say a bundle of prayers.  For my beloved Doctor who called up earlier today to report she has already seen scores of patients, has successfully done a lumbar-puncture procedure on a patient and has absolutely plunged into a maelstrom of care that the currently-understaffed folks at the Duncan hospital are dishing out!