A short walk into hell

I entered a kind of hell today.

Off a busy street in Bhandup.  Down a slightly less busy one.  Then a tiny crack in the wall between two butcher shops.

The half carcass of a goat adorns one of the shops.  Flies buzz and settle on the meat.  The other shop has  the same wares - even larger piece of fly-infested mutton.  And what lies down the narrow crack of a walk?

More meat for sale.  Human meat this time.

It takes a second to realise that suddenly you are in a different world.  Girls are lounging around.  Colourfully dressed.  Languidly putting on make up.  One each side young and old women are sitting.  Looking at you.  The odd young man is also there.  Old women - with heavy make up steal glances at you.

We walk down the middle of the little path and then duck into a flight of stairs.

We have come to our destination.  A small room where the Project Parivartan of the Sahaara Charitable Society runs a weekly medical clinic among these women who sell themselves. 

There is no power today.  In normal clinic room there is no window.  The nurse on duty is giving one of the women from the brothels an IV line.  The two field workers flit up and down the stairs - bringing girls who are complaining of medical problems.

One is drunk.  She says that she had broken her foot and had had a cast put on it.  But she cut it off.  The cast that is.  The foot is still there but in pain.

"Why did you take it off?"  The Doctor asks the woman.

"I have to eat.  No one gives me food just like that."  Replied the woman who was called 'Doll.'

I must have seen 15 odd ladies come into the room.  Get a checkup and some meds from the doctor.  Receive comforting words from the various SCS staff.   All of them then went back to their 'homes.'   As I write at an unearthly hour - they will be engaged in 'the trade.'

Dr. Lalita Edwards and myself have been asked to do an evaluation of Project Parivartan.  That was why we did the field visit to see the clinic and interact with the staff.   The Project Parivartan people are deeply committed to helping these women leave the trade.  But they cannot force them - and there are such huge barriers for the women to step into another life.

I asked Rekha - the main coordinator for the work among the women for Project Parivartan - how many women had left the trade this year to date.

She told me that 4 had left.

You could say that: "All that work. And only 4 left the trade."

or

You can say that: "All that work is going to reap rewards.  So far we have a trickle with only 4 having left the trade.  But we need to see this break out in a huge way - given the terrible situation there women are in.  Lets see Sahaara and the churches they are linked with now move forward in a huge way to love in deed!"

Hats off the the Sahaara team and all others who are working directly with these women.

Amazing grace.  In the heart-breaking passageway of a kind of hell on earth.

Poverty song

Wilbur - making the common extra-ordinary. 

Climb

As a girl, growing up in marxist East Germany, my Mum used to read about the 'ice tigers' - climbers who challenged the Himalayan heights.  She knew that she could never go there - thanks to the restrictions that the Soviet occupying forces (and the nation of Quislings that welcomed them) had put on young people - to keep them from the decadence of the west.

Today - many a year later - Mum lives in the Himalayas.   God has given them an amazingly beautiful home called Shanti Kunj. Mum loves hiking.  And trees.  And flowers.  And all things beautiful.  And being with people.  And reading her Bible in quiet corner of the hillside.  And when you are with her she will bubble over with enthusiasm about that bird that just flew by, and the small fern that is growing along the path...

Here are two pictures from her Facebook page.  The first from a hike that she took with a friend of hers to 'Pepperpot Cave'.

And the second is an early morning shot which she took of the majestic 'Bandar Poonch' mountain that dominates the view (on a clear day) from the top of the hill where she and Dad live in Mussoorie.

Not bad for a little girl who grew up under the marxists in Leipzig.  They are history.  She is living out God's grace with great joy.  Dreams come true.  Prayers see fruit.

Flobes

Enoch has had loose stools for the past few months.

He seems uncomfortable after meals.  We have given him various kinds of medications for worms and other creepy-crawlies.  We are currently trying to see whether it may be some food allergy - all milk and wheat-based foods off for the last 10 days (a muffin made it into his mouth by mistake a few days ago).  Some improvement, but not much.

So day-before-yesterday we went to see Dr. Stephen Alfred at Bethany.  He talked to Enoch, prodded him a bit, said that he could feel a node in his neck, and asked stool tests for three consecutive days and for an ultrasound of Enoch's abdomen.

I took Enoch for the ultrasound later in the day.  Enoch asked if it would hurt.  I assured him it would not.  He asked the  radiographer the same question.

While the ultrasound was being done Enoch watched me. 

The Dr. told me that she had seen some nodes but that they were not a problem.


Enoch had told Sheba that he did not want to go to school.  When Sheba asked him why, he told her that he had heard that he had 'flobes' - he wanted to know what 'flobes' were.  Sheba assured him that we all have 'flobes.'  He went to school happily enough.

We deal with a lot of death and sick people   Enoch knows people who he saw and are now dead.  Its hardly surprising that he was scared.

I picked up the report this morning and brought it to Sheba.  Sure enough - there was mention of 'few right iliac non necrotic mesenteric nodes are seen - the largest measuring 7x11 mm'

Now it was our turn to wonder about 'flobes.'  In our minds we ran through the times Enoch has been to our JSK centre - where so many have TB.  We remembered how some of the kids of the doctors at the hospital Sheba trained at had gotten TB.  But Enoch's appetite is not only healthy - it is almost ravenous these days.  No fever too.   The other alternative?  Some kind of a cancer....  We never want to think of things like this, but there they are.  Would we have to do further investigations?  A biopsy perhaps? 

The kids were at a music practice so we went over to see Dr. Stephen.  He looked at the report and assured us with a quiet chuckle that nodes are found in allmost all children.  Appetite?  Super.  No need to worry.  Stephen wrote a set of medications that would shock and awe any heleminth or bacteria in sight and send us on our way rejoicing.

What would we have done if Stephen had looked at us gravely and said that he would like to have a biopsy from Enoch?  To be honest, we had already half-prepared ourself for such an eventuality.  It didn't seem possible, and in the end it wasn't, but then whenever something feared takes place we don't believe its actually happening when the crash and the bang are taking place around us.  We did leave the home having said a prayer in which we gave Enoch back to the Lord.  And he has given Enoch back to us.

Medical technology is wonderful.  The stuff we can now do to look into the body is amazing.  But sometimes the things that it throws up can also give you the willies!  At the end of the day - it is Enoch's robust appetite that has swung the pendulum back to what we consider normal - to have a delightful young man who is closing in on his 10th birthday in mid-Feb.   Are we ever grateful for the common grace of having this wonderful lad!

Onwards!  Flobes or no flobes!

Gratitude

William died this morning.  4 AM.  At the Jeevan Sahara Kendra Care Centre.

He was last hours were peaceful.  He died in his sleep.  He had been lovingly cared for for the past month by our nurses and many others.

But the last two weeks were not easy.  Death comes differently to each person.  William's last days were hard.  For him.  For all who were caring for him. 

William's whole life has been hard.  He died at 22.  HIV infected from birth.  An orphan.  Cared for by a series of giving people.  Stabilised and launched out on his own.  Living independently and working.  But harbouring the virus.

When we first met him he was like any other young gun around.  Tall, lanky, ear-buds linked to his mobile, carrying a messenger bag.  He had not been well.  We diagnosed him as having TB.  He did not start treatment immediately.

The next time we met him he was deathly sick.

The TB had taken over.  His bowels were bloated.  His breathing was hard.  After some time at our centre we shifted him to Bethany for respiratory help.  He was then found to have a perforation of his intestine.  Emergency surgery was done.  He was still very sick, but wanted very much to get better, and to get out of the hospital.

After 2 weeks we shifted him back to JSK.  William was a demanding young man.  He was convinced that he was getting better.  Then he lapsed into depression.  Then demanding again.  The food wasn't right.  The bed was too hard.  The pain was too much.  He couldn't sleep.  He wanted sedation.  He did not want sedation.  Our nurses - including two American angels who God probably sent for this express purpose - took it all in and cared on.  Not carried on - they cared on.

No one likes to die.  No one.  William talked with one of our volunteers 2 nights ago.  He was afraid.  The volunteer reminded him of Jesus' love for him.  William prayed.  We had not seen him pray on his own before.  It made a huge difference.  The last 48 hours were no easy road - but they were better than many of the previous had been.

We believe that William is in the very presence of God as these words are being typed.  His body lies only 3 meters away from me as I type this.  The other side of the wall from my office.  This afternoon it will be interred into the ground - to await the resurrection - that mysterious and true hope that a follower of Jesus Christ has.  But we know that Jesus - dying on the cross told his fellow executee 'truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise'.  William has joined His sweet Lord.  Amen and amen.

And so we have a roll of gratitude.  The world is going on as usual.  People are rushing to their offices.  A cricket match is being played in Kolkotta.  New films are being released today in the cinemas.  No newspaper will report William's passing, no TV channel will send their bright young things to poke mics and ask for sound-bites.

But we know who loved William.  Our doctors and nurses.  The long hours of care that were given.  The selfless service that took place in these walls.  And outside.  Yesterday evening William was wheeled in a wheel chair downstairs.  It was the last time I saw him on this side of eternity.  Thank you Sheba, Marise, Agnes, Amy, Alissa, Dipali and Sunita.  Thank you other JSK team members for what you did for William in various ways.  Your love and care and errands and prayers. 

Thank you Pastor Vinney, brother Nathan and others from the Church who cared and loved William.  Thank you brothers of William who came and cared all those nights.  Thank you for all that you did and invested in this young man's life. 

Now is a time for tears.  But it is also a time for gratitude.  The time for loving is past.  For those who loved while William was alive - our gratitude goes up to God for you.

Farewell sweet prince.

Oneness

This Friday I have the privilege of talking to some young men who are about to get married.  We will be looking at a Biblical foundation for life together - for being one.  Two people, two lives twined into a single thread.  As Christians we believe that we need to have God with us, blessing our union to make it strong and resilient.  The wise man wrote "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." (Eccl. 4.12).

If the session were held a-week-and-a-day-later, these young guns would be celebrating with Sheba and me as we complete 13 years of marriage together on the 15th of December.

This year, more than any so far, has brought to me the brutal fact of some of my closest friends finding the bottom of their worlds dropping out as their marriages unravel.  I think back on one such marriage a-decade-and-a-half-ago, remembering the glorious day of promises, the utter joy of the couple.  Today I am reeling as I get small snippets of text that express the deep crushing sadness of a couple who are telling their children that they are divorcing.  I carry the news in my heart, praying intermittently, going back again and again to what my friends are doing, the choices that are being made, the tragic story that is unfolding in the midst of material plenty.  Lord have mercy.

Its never been easy to stay together.  Everything around us tells us that we have to look after ourselves.  The deepest hurts that bubble up in our marriage revolve around feelings of not being appreciated by the other, when we feel our needs are not being met, when we have been taken for granted.  As one of our church elders put it so well "We are hurt by our most intimate family members because we expect so much from them, and at the same time we appreciate them so little... because we expect so much from them."

Shortly after the debacle in the Garden - God asks Adam what happened... and the first recorded man points his finger at his wife and blames God saying 'the woman you put here with me, she gave me some fruit from the tree and I ate it."  Classic, original blame-shifting.  I always am right.  Everyone else is always wrong.  Especially her (or him if you are on the other side).

13 years is a long time.  My marriage with Sheba is now sneaked up past a quarter of our lives - and is almost 1/3.  Soberingly, we will hit 60 before it reaches the halfway point.   But over these years we have had many times when things were not happy-happy.   When what I did has really hurt her.  When what she said did vice versa to me.

But am I ever so grateful to Sheba for the stream of love and care that continues to flow.  I have been so unworthy of it time and time again - but despite that she has continued to love and care for me.  And there have been times over these years when I have had opportunities to give grace to Sheba.  We had (and still have) our fair share of rough edges.  Ones that bring a fair amount of friction, but are also amenable to change.  Its hard to come face to face with your own unpleasantness, the utter fact of needing to change.  We tend to lash out, to defend, to build walls instead of seeing our partner as a God-given instrument to shape us.

The absolute core of it all comes out clearly in a beautiful two sentences by St. Paul.  Writing to a church in a city called Colossae, he urges them with these words:  Therefore as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourself with compassion, humility, kindness, gentleness and patience (Col. 3.12).  The idea of 'clothing' ourselves talks about how much we need to 'put them on.'  Looking back on 13 years, how many times I wasn't wearing these beautiful clothes - and how much Sheba suffered because of that.  Multiply that out into so many lives and you have the recipe for so much heart-ache.  Our marriages are finally not about doing neat things together, or working to get the kids grown-up, or pleasing whatever relatives we may have.  We will be moving towards one-ness when we put on these things.  We will be moving apart when we leave them in the wardrobe... or don't even try them on at all.

And then Paul brings in the kicker.  Now he is talking to a church - to a pretty rowdy set of folks who clearly had some problems with getting along with each other.  But what he says totally true for our marriages.  Here's the crux of it all:  Bear with each other, and forgive whatever grievances you may have against each other. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  (Col. 3.13).

There it is. The recipe for oneness.  And how hard it is.  It means that I need to die to self - for her.  And vice versa.

Bear with each other.  There are lots and lots of things that I may not like in my spouse.  But if I am honest to myself, those things are not wrong - they are just not my style, my taste, my preferences.  Well, I need to bear with them.  I don't need to change them.  My love and commitment to our union depends on my acceptance of her - even the parts that are not 'just how I want.'

And then there are things that are really bad.  Things that she has done to me that are wrong.  Lets not even talk of my list.  What are we to do with these actions.  Here is comes. Forgive whatever grievances you may have against each other.  This is not just perceived slights and hurts.  No way.  This is the real rotten things that we have done to each other.  What are we to do? To forgive.  And just in case we don't understand we are reminded - Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  

Ouch.  I must forgive, not because I want to.  Not because she deserves it. But in the amazing grace sense that Christ forgives me.  Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing Jesus prays as the nails are driven through his wrists and feet.  In marriage - which we have pledged to before God and humanity - we don't have the right to keep our hurts, to nurse our grudges, to let our egos do the talking.  The Biblical model is constant, continual forgiveness.  Crazy love.  Very hard to do.  But not impossible.  Especially if its not just me alone - or even if it is not just the two of us trying our hardest - we need the touch of the Divine to just make it through the day.  Every day.

I have seen this in my parents growing up.  Real areas of hurt and misunderstanding.  And real forgiveness between Mum and Dad.  Their 45 years of togetherness that they will celebrate this 23rd of December is a testimony to this.  Two normal, fallible people - continually loving each other through on-going forgiveness.  As I have grown older I have seen the rough patches clearer.  You would think that just being together for a long time will make everything smooth.  Hardly. In fact I get angry when I see things that I thought were dealt with long ago.  But who am I to say as I look back into my own unfinished life?  Into the many parts of my union with Sheba where I have yet to bend?  What do I see - and have seen over all these years - in Mum and Dad are two people who are doing the work of love.  Bearing with each other.  Forgiving each other.  Remembering how Jesus loves and forgives them.  Repeat.

And that's what we hope Asha and Enoch are seeing in us.  We have hardly been model parents.  But we want them to capture this basic pattern of oneness.  Dying to self.  Building each other up.  Taking delight in each other.  Giving grace to each other.

We are excited by folks who are stepping into marriage.  We are grieved by our loved ones who are making steps to annul what they promised.  Have mercy, Oh Lord, have mercy on us all.  We are far from where we want to be, but on a journey, and so grateful for people who have showered us with grace, patience and prayer.

Kyrie eleison


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p.s.  As with everything, we pick up lots of things along the way.  The Col. 3.12-13 bit comes primarily from John Piper's book This Momentary Marriage.  You can download it by clicking: here

Light the world

Carry your candle... go light the world go the strains of a stirring song.

We did that over this weekend.  World AIDS Day - Dec. 1st was marked on Saturday - and Mumbai AIDS Sunday - was commemorated on the next day.

It was action stations all the way.  The JSK team did an amazing job - running a huge awareness and testing camp at a nearby Primary Health Centre.  Thanks to their tireless advocacy - and to the govt. doctor and nurses seeking to have all their TB patients tested - the team managed to counsel and test 159 people!  This was a tribute to the hard work done by the outreach team who toured around the vast slum in which the PHC is located, doing street plays about HIV and handing out pamphlets about the camp and booklets aimed at young people.

Sangeeta, one of our staff, told us this morning that she felt shy doing the skit at the place where she normally does her vegetable shopping.  Later in the evening she heard two children talking about her - "look, there is one of the people from the circus" they said pointing at her.  She went over and explained about the skit that they had been performing.

That we were hitting the right people was evident both from the numbers - all the tests were entirely voluntary and confidential - and also what they told the counsellors.  Many of the young people (mainly men) are sexually active and make no bones about it.  Amazingly - not a single person tested HIV positive.  It shows how blessed we are to have a relatively low population prevalence of HIV in our country.  And how much we want this to stay this way.

In the evening we went as a family to the United Basel Mission Church in Chembur for a choir night.  Christmas season is kicking off and we were treated to some awe-inspiring music from various choirs across Mumbai and beyond.  I had been asked to speak and found it strangely apt to about Jesus who was born at the very margins of society, was a refugee, was considered a bastard by his peers and the religious authorities - and who calls His children to love as He loved us.  To leave the beauties of the church and be church out in the slums and in the brokenness of people's lives.

But we need beauty too.  As a family we managed to squeeze in a quick trip to the Nehru Planetarium in Worli and were gob-smacked to see glimpses of the wonders of the Cosmos.

We saw images like this - and were humbled to be reminded of just how small a planet we live in the midst of the innumerable dizzying strands of galaxies...

And in all of this the narrator kept coming back to the miracle that the earth is - bejeweled blue wonder - alive and atmosphere-sheathed due to the immense amount of life we enjoy here.  And able in our finiteness to look out and wonder at all that stretches out far beyond what we can really fathom...  The only wonder they left out was that so much beauty and structure can be marvelled at without giving credit to the master Artist who lovingly spoke them into being out of nothingness... ah well, its been that way from the very beginning of humanity...

And it was this one who breathed the universe into being who chose to become a totally helpless child, being cleaned and nursed by his mother and foster dad, and to live a life that can only be called a miracle for each one of us.  Entirely apt to be remembering Christ on a day when we remember people with HIV - and vice versa - bringing the needs of people with HIV to Christ and his church.

I spoke the next morning at a Marthoma Church in Thane (1.5 hours of Malayalam liturgy - with 20 mins of sermon by me about Jesus and the man with leprosy in the middle of the eucharist celebration) - and then was part of our own house-church commemoration of Mumbai AIDS Sunday.   We had one of our church members who is living with HIV share her testimony - and a dear brother from the Indian Air Force talked about perfect love casting out fear.  We then had intercessory prayer together, shared our experiences and enjoyed a pot-luck love feast.  In the afternoon a smaller group (alas) stayed on for more prayer and then we split up to visit homes.  All 5 homes that the small teams went to were people living or having had parents affected by HIV.

In one particular home, a young girl was dying.  Her mother who had largely given up caring for her over the past months was at home.  Our 3 church folk who had come to the home spent time with the girl.  Talking to her.  Praying with her.  Holding her hand.  She was too weak to speak. Her mother went into the tiny kitchen with one of the ladies and cried.   What do you say?  When the team got back home a phone call came.  The girl had left this world.  Another person with HIV slipping into eternity.

No easy answers.  But how blessed that our people were with this mother and child in those last minutes of her life.  How much the heart of Jesus is broken by the hidden suffering in our midst.  And how much His heart must be broken by the callous vulgar pursuit of self that is the dominant religion of this age (and has been since a certain twosome broke trust with God in their beautiful garden home so many years ago).

Carry your candle... go light the world