In praise of pills

Mum, Dad and I were having lunch.

I looked over and beside both of their plates were little pill holders.   Dad's looks like a small egg holder (a shot glass?) and Mum's is a small heart shaped box decorated Kashmiri style.

Towards the end of the meal they both took their pills.

Dad's dose is some paracetemol to help with his neck pain - and a pill of garlic.

Mum's is her lithium tabs that she takes faithfully.  1 per day currently.  But some kind of pill everyday for the last 30 plus years.

I still remember Mum, Dad and Premi going away to Lucknow for a two week period when Stefan and I were boys.  They went to have Mum seen by Dr. Marjorie Foyle who was a missionary psychiatrist at Noor Manzil.  This was the early 80s and her diagnosis of bi-polar disorder was well ahead of the curve.  We used to have to get the lithium tabs from the UK.  Our pharma companies have long since produced the tabs here.

So here it is. I am so grateful for these pills that Mum has so faithfully taken.  It has helped her live a normal life - free from the crippling depression that only she (and to a lesser extent Dad) knew about as we were growing up.  Her willingness to stick to the tabs gave us a mother.

How many times over the years since have I met folks who have been diagnosed with various mental illnesses - and prescribed a course of treatment - only to have them stop as soon as they 'felt better.'

There is a tendency to desire a pharmaceutical solution to everything.  Some people seem to thing that there is a 'pill for every problem, a needle for every need.'  But in our family Mum's faithful taking of her meds has made such an immense contribution to all of our lives - and allowed her and Dad to bless so many others over the years.

An unexpected journey

Mussoorie is the last place I would expect myself to be in winter - but this morning I bundled out of the train in the darkness of Dehra Dun, got into a trusty-rusty ambassador taxi - and found myself wending up the roads to the cold, blue-washed-with-morning-sun-gold-crispness of Mussoorie.

And look what greeted me when I got out of the taxi at Sister's bazaar:

The awesome sight of Bandarpoonch - its 20K ft peaks towering majestically under the powder blue sky.

I had to pinch myself as I walked down to Shanti Kunj. The morning sun was shining through the oaks, lighting up the ferns and moss growing on their trunks into green gold.  The stark blackness of their twisted forms against the rising warmth put a song in my heart.

I came to Mussoorie this morning on behalf of our families to spend some time with Dad and Mum as Dad injured his neck 2 weeks ago.  But as I walked down leaf littered path in the stunning beauty of the morning I wished so badly it would not only be me walking down - but that we could hear the happy shouts of Asha and Enoch as Sheba and I walked down together.

That was not possible because of the work at Jeevan Sahara and the children's tests that are starting up next week - and so I was designated to bear their love and prayers and get-well-soon cards to Dad and Mum.

And as I turned the final corner - who should I see but Dad himself!  He had come out to close the front gate and saw my white-wooly-hat bobbing down the path.

I was soon ushered in and with hugs and prayers we started the supremely pleasurable business of delighting in each others company.

Dad was looking so great - the cold means that he has to bundle himself up and the Philadelphia collar he wears is hardly seen under the layers.

I had been able to stop in to see Stefan and Neeru briefly yesterday night on the way to the train station - and so was bearing gifts from both the Thane and Dwarka branches of the Eicher family.

But more that the notes and pictures, it was the love and concern that so many have expressed for Dad.  With so much going on, it has been hard for Mum and she picked up a nasty cold which she is just coming out of.

How God works - a week ago, the thought of my coming here seemed impossible.  But when it became clear that Dad would not need surgery (which we were suggesting be done in Thane if it were needed) the thought came to just pop up for a few days.  A dear friend of ours gave the thrust to this by getting Mumbai-Delhi tickets and almost before I could say 'Raymond Elmore Eicher'  here I am in Mussoorie!

That includes gaping in wonder at the beauties that curates all over the house:

And looking stunned at the pristine sky with the hills fading into smoky blues.  All with the almost ringing sound of sheer silence about me.



I drink lots of tea - but today's haul of endless (and very large) mugs of tea and coffee takes the cake (did I mention that Mum made hot apple pie that came right out of the oven as we finished supper)? 

Yes, I think you can sense that I am a bit confused.  I was supposed to come up here to comfort and help and be of use to Mum and Dad.  Instead, I seem to be lapping up beauty like nobodies business.

Truth be told, Mum and Dad were just thrilled - and so grateful to the whole family (and not only in Thane, but also in Dwarka and Alaska) who are standing by them at this time.  I was the happy sacrificial lamb who gets to be the bearer of love.

We talked a lot today - and not only about happy things.  There are dear ones to us who have made and continue to make such destructive choices for themselves and their families.  We prayed and talked and ate and slept (yes - all 3 of us took afternoon naps) and so the day has come to an end.  I am about to turn in to the electric-blanket heated bed down-stairs.   Everything is cold and dark and quiet here in the woods on the edge of the Himalayan foothills.  Below me twinkle the cold diamonds of Dehra Dun's lights.

And far away in Thane-town, Sheba and Asha and Enoch will be returning home from the Friday night Bible study.  They should be back by 11 PM and will be sleeping under a fan.  Sheba's help in holding down so many responsibilities to enable me to bring their love up here makes the experience all the more poignant for me.

Its a strange world - but one where the love of God compels us to move forward.  None of us would have dreamed on Monday that on Friday night I would be here in Mussoorie.  Thank God!

Rising from the rubble

It may seem like rubble to you - but to us it is the sweet sunlight of opportunity.  

We are (finally) doing some long-hoped for reconstruction at the Jeevan Sahara Kendra.  We are making two 4-bedded wards by removing the walls between two sets of rooms that were used as out-patient consulting rooms in the old Lok Hospital.   We have also had the floor ripped up and will be refurbishing the place.

Another key bit of work that is being done is the turning of the old Lok Hospital X-ray room into a 2-bedded isolation ward for our friends with HIV who also have active TB.   We not only get a number of patients who need care for TB - but also have requests for us to look after people with known multi-drug resistant TB infections.  Having this mini-ward will be a huge help.

All of this takes time to do - and we don't expect it to be done before the end of March.

So in the meantime - we are living in a construction zone.

Besides the hard-ware upgrades, we really, really need a massive soft-ware upgrade too at Jeevan Sahara Kendra.

We require 4 dedicated, Jesus-loving, called-to-care-for-people-with-HIV nurses.   Another doctor will also really, really be helpful.

Can we have such a team up and running by the end of March?

Watch this space.  And pray.  And get the word out!

End it!

I heard an amazing speech last week.  It was crazy late but somehow I was up (childhood insomnia still playing games with me) and I clicked on to the Passion 2013 conference.  They had a live stream going - and not expecting to be able to catch much I tried it out.  The thing actually worked.  I was in Thane sometime after midnight - and the speaker was there in Atlanta - pouring out his heart.

It turns out the man was Gary Haugen - the founder of International Justice Mission.  He was talking about the 27 million people today who are in some form of slavery / bondage around our world - and how IJM and others have been working to bring freedom and restoration.  He gave a challenge to the crowd to end slavery in this generation.

Gary was talking to 60,000 young people.

That's right.  60 K.  All together for 4 days of worship and hard core Bible teaching.  And other things too.

OK - please be warned because here comes Mr. Cynical...

Where there are that many people there is going to have to be hoopla.  And sure enough you have the kind of stage and pyrotechnics that would do a U2 concert proud.

When they say jumbo-screen - they really mean it.  Jumbo-wumbo.  Strangely the crowd seemed all to be wearing clothes of a palate that covered a small spectrum of tea stains.  Its a quarter century since I started college as a freshman in 87 - styles change I guess.

Its easy to be cynical when you hear the conference organiser extolling the virtues of the concert oops I mean conference app and earnestly telling people about the many 'giving stations' where people can swipe their cards and I assume their smart phones to get the cash going in the right direction.  The goal (at least of the appeal that I heard) - to raise US$ 3 million to be able to 'end it now' - to stop slavery world-wide in this generation.

But think of it.  Where else do you get so many young people together with such - well - passion?  Yes you are going to have some loopiness and some razzmatazz to cater to such huge numbers.

And at the end of the day - it wasn't the big names that were bringing all these people together - it was by and large a desire for deeper intimacy with Jesus.  Just because something is large and successful doesn't mean its wrong.

So here I was in the darkness of a post 1 am bedroom in Thane - Gary was speaking half a world away - but with such clarity about the call to justice - and how Christ is our only hope to see justice done - and how individual lives have been shaped by the obedience that Jesus-followers who live their lives for him are doing.

One of the many superb things Gary said was that this generation can end slavery as we know it.  And then he gave the punchline - not because this generation is more clever, more wired, more talented, more rich, more caring, more whatever - but because there is a great God who cares - and who wants to use this generation for His glory.

And then right after Gary's talk the main organiser comes up on stage to announce the 'End it Now' programme and challenges people to give.  And I have to admit to a bit of a thrill when the very first of the partner organisations he named was one I know well - because they are working in Mumbai to rehabilitate women in the sex trade.   My good friend Jim was in Atlanta for the conference on behalf of this organisation - and I immediately shot off an email telling him how excited I was for him.

This is his response: 

Hey brother,

So good to hear from you. I most probability am way off but am more discouraged being here, so much theatrics, so many buzz words and all of these ways does not allow for deeper thinking. I very much doubt that even a few people would be interested in hearing the complexities and labor involved.

Feeling convicted to draw much closer to the Lord this year, look forward to seeing you brother.

Its a long way between the huge high of being with 59,999 other enthusiastic worshippers...



.... to the gritty reality of a daily slog to help women in the sex trade get out.  Really get out.  And stay out.  And start up a new life.  And really be changed.

I had the privilege of spending a week with a church-based organisation that works with who are active in the sex trade in Mumbai.

I came away deeply challenged, and disturbed.

Here is a world I was dimly aware of  - that exists side-by-side, intermingled with the world around it.  A world where women are used and abused and where wrong seems right.  A world which thrives bondages of all kinds - mental, physical, spiritual, emotional, financial.  Where the end effect on the women is such disheartening coarseness that you just want to run away.

And yet my colleagues whose work I was 'evaluating' went into the areas every day.  Making relationships.  Investing themselves into these women and their children.  Treating them with love and respect.  Praying with them.  Offering health teaching and curative options.  Getting them together for times of singing and sharing.  Opening up options for them to leave the trade.  Helping those who take the plunge to start afresh.  Loving, caring, loving, caring...

And yet the 'results' of this amazingly dedicated set of workers seemed to me to be so dishearteningly few.  I was told by one of the workers that she thought 4 women had left the trade during 2012 directly due to their efforts to reach out to them.

The hundreds of hours of work.  The terrible toll on the workers own families.  The faithful and persistent following up of people who can be oh-so-ungrateful at times, whose lives are governed by such different patterns....

But as the chairman - a senior pastor - told me... its not about all the starfish that are washed up on shore - its about the ones that the man tosses back into the sea.  There may be small numbers - but those who do take the plunge and start a new life are building destinies.  The chairman then turned the story around - why are there not more people throwing starfish back into the ocean.

Why indeed?

Part of it - I think - has to do with the inevitable sloth that we have. The need to feel secure.  The need for us to get our own little set of success variables right - and our tendency to 'push-back-for-later' the opportunities that arise to change the lives of others.

The area of slavery - and especially the various shades of bondage that exist in the sex-trade - is something we are just so uncomfortable with - that we would so much rather get out our cheque-books and write out a sum - than for us to have anything to practically do with it.

Sounds suspiciously like almost anything that is really going to stand the test of time - it is hard and often thankless work - which most will give a wide berth - but which can lead to destinies being changed.

I don't know if the prayer that my co-evaluator Dr. Lalita Edwards had with an aging sex worker (a madame?) will really make a huge difference in her life or not.  But I am glad she prayed.  And we must move forward in hope.

One thing we know.  Nothing comes easy.  If there were easy and pain-free options to ending slavery we would have done those long ago.

How much we need sloggers.  People who can, and will, continue to reach out in love.   How much we need clusters of people who work together and encourage each other.   This is what the local church should be.  What it must be.  A community of those-being-repaired who are relentlessly committed to joyful and God-fearing love-in-action.  

We are so glad for the amazing experience that our 60K friends had in Atlanta at Passion 2013.  We want to see at least 60K local church congregations giving of themselves for the long haul.  Being ready to follow Jesus as He radically calls them to, rather than continue to follow in the well-worn grooves of comfortable marry-you-bury-you-have-a-merry-Christmas-and-church-raffle Christendom.  We need people with a generational vision.  And willingness to live for eternity instead of just the present.

Its no surprise that our Lord Jesus had women who used to be prostitutes in his core team of followers.  Here was a man who set these women free. May His Spirit continue to blow through us in power today.

Harish

Yesterday was Sunday.  And we talked in our house-fellowship about the challenge of seeing injustice all around us.  About how our hearts bleed when evil seems so dominant and pervasive.  But also about how this has been true across the ages.

The Hebrew prophet Habakkuk writing in the late 7th century BC cries out to God saying:

Why do you make me look at injustice?
    Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?
Destruction and violence are before me;
    there is strife, and conflict abounds.
Therefore the law is paralyzed,
    and justice never prevails.
The wicked hem in the righteous,
    so that justice is perverted.          [Hab. 1.3-4]

Doesn't that sound like a complete description of India in 2013?  Well it was also true of a pre-industrial small Judaen Kingdom which was being overrun by the first hordes of Babylon.  We still have the very same sorts of people around us.

But the sweep of history does not stop at injustice - it also includes God's call to persevere: the righteous person will live by his faithfulness and a real promise that one day the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Glory of the Lord.

Its this hope that allows Habakkuk to state that though the fig tree does not blossom and all else fails still I will rejoice in the Lord.

Habakkuk is no escapist.  He is a realist who sees the destruction around him - who cries out to God - and who anchors himself in real hope.  In real joy amidst the smashing.

We made a small step ourselves yesterday afternoon.

After having lunch together as a church, some of us stayed on for prayer.  And action.

We split up into small groups and visited different people in their homes.

Sheba, Sunita and I went to meet a woman we will call Laila.   

Laila lives 'on the pipeline.'

I had never been there before.  It is a triple row of slum shacks that are built literally on top of the pipeline that brings water from distant reservouirs into Mumbai city.  One of those 'open spaces' that shantytowns cropped up on.  

Laila was in a 'room' that was 6 ft wide and 15 ft long.  One side was a raw brick wall.  The other side had poles with tin sheets and pieces of packing paper for a wall.  The sound of advertisements from the TV blaring next door poured through the narrow wall.  The 'owner' of the shack obviously subdivided it to earn a bit more.

We had gone to Laila because a lady from another church had brought her and her daughter to us for TB treatment some months prior.  We tested them both for HIV and they are blessedly negative.  But the TB was real and took time to treat.  Lailas early teen daughter Shiney (another pseudonym of course) has a big TB nodal growth on the side of her neck which Shiney covers by keeping her long hair draped over it.

But both have taken their meds and are doing so much better.

Laila asked Sheba to help out with her son.

We came into the shack and saw him on the bed.  

Or rather saw his head.  

A big head, wrapped around with blankets.  Being fed.

Where was the body?  It is there - but small and shrivelled.  As Sheba parted the bed clothes - while talking gently to Harish we saw his twisted legs.  His painfully thin chest.  He is 5 years old and looks like a 2 year old body - other than the big head.

When Harish was 2 years old he had TB meningitis.  A tubercular infection of the brain.  His mother and father didn't know what to do.  

Since then he has been bed-ridden.  His development has virtually halted.  He looks around with vacant eyes.  Cries quietly and is lovingly fed by his mother or his sister Shiney.  There are 2 other children too.  The youngest is a boy of 2 years old.  Laila looks at her youngest son and says that one day Harish was also just like that.  The other girl is out playing.  Laila's husband - whose name is written in English on a name plate on the door is away at work.

We look at the boy.  We look at the narrow little 'home' where 6 people (that we know of) live.  We see the sadness in Laila's eyes.  Harish moans again.  His sister rubs his hair.  The head looks around.  The TV blares from across the paper thin wall.

It all seems so hopeless. So wrong.  So crazy.  

To have a family living like this.  To go through such suffering with no apparent end in sight.

After talking for some time, we open the Bible.  I talk about the man whose son was repeatedly thrown into fire and water by a demonic spirit.  He comes to Jesus and pleads with him for help - if he can.  Jesus replies:  If I can?  All things are possible to him who believes.  The father immediately shouts - "I believe - help my unbelief!"

That was our prayer in that dark little room.

We believe, help our unbelief.  

We know that change is coming.  Help us not to doubt.  Help us to hold strong to what needs to be done.  Help us to speak truth and courage into this noble woman and her dear children.  Help us to step forward - not ignoring the circumstances - but also not being overwhelmed and crushed by the sheer magnitude of suffering.

We talked while walking back across a dusty field where rowdy young men were playing cricket in the setting sun.

Sheba said that when this family had first been met, the boy was lying on the floor, covered with flies and sores.  Harish was being cared for lovingly now by the family.  He wanted food and cried when he did not get it.... a sign that he wants to live and grow.   Laila and Shiney both go for prayers at a lively church.  Change is not complete - far from it - but the first signs are there.   Oh that we will see the fruits of change and love take root in this family.  And that they will be a blessing to others around them.

Weeping may endure for a night,
but joy comes in the morning.

Dad's fall

Mussoorie must be one of the most beautiful places on earth.  Mum and Dad live perched on the hillside in their beautiful nest called Shanti Kunj with views that want to make you cry for sheer beauty.

While we were flying back from Vishakapatnam I had the urge to call up Mum and Dad when our plane touched down in Hyderabad and we had a few minutes of waiting on the tarmac as the Hyderabad-Mumbai passengers got on board.

Normally Dad answers the phone with a cheery 'Happy Christmas' or something to that effect.

This time I found myself talking to Mum.  She was curiously quiet.  Then she told me the news.  Dad had been up on the hillside behind the house, working on the water-tanks which supply the house below.  He was wearing shoes with slick soles - and had slipped and fallen down and hurt himself badly.

He had been bleeding but had not broken any bones - thank God.

They were nursing him at home and planning to have him seen by the doctor at Landour Community Hospital the next day - which was a Sunday.

When they took him to the hospital and did the x-rays they realised that Dad had damaged his neck vertebrae.   Dr. Matthew - the orthopaedic surgeon from Herbertpur hospital was due to come for his weekly visit on Tuesday - so they got Dad an appointment with him - and tried to get a collar to support his head.

Dr. Matthew was concerned when he saw the x-rays and asked Dad to have an MRI done in Dehra Dun.   He said that it was a miracle that Dad had not been injured even more severely.  Becoming a paraplaegic was a clear possibility - and our old enemy death was missed by a whisker too.

Accidents do happen.  But you always expect them to happen to people you don't know.

Here was our dear Dad in a limbo.  We are so glad for the telephone that allows so much to be said over such a distance.  And so glad for communication we have with God in prayer.

We mentally planned the next steps.  Should we go up to Mussoorie?  Would Dad need surgery?  We started looking into the options of having here at Bethany Hospital and looking after him here.   What would the MRI reports show?  What would Dr. Mathew suggest?

We had been expecting Mum and Dad to spend a month with us from mid Jan to mid Feb.  This was obviously not going to happen.  The last time we saw them was in May 2012 when we went up to Mussoorie.

The MRI reports showed that there are some fractures in his 7th Cervical vertaebra.  But that this can be dealt with without having to resort to surgery.  The challenge is for Dad to keep his neck straight in the healing process.

To help him do this - there is a device called a 'Philadelphia collar' which is a kind of cervical collar that provides stability for the C1-C7 vertebrae.   He is currently wearing this faithfully and has already had some steps to improvement - but the prognosis is that it will take some 8 weeks or so for him to regain his normal function.

So we have Dad up in the hills, wearing his Philadelphia collar and being nursed on by Mum and others in the extended Eicher family there.

So we are here in Thane and Mum and Dad are up in Mussoorie.

We know it has not been easy and that after a very busy time of giving of themselves to so many others - they now are in a season of convalesance.

Dad is still at the computer doing his emails - but he has been told to ration it strictly.  Mum and Vikram and others are fielding the phone calls.  Guests are gently but firmly dealt with by the very protective and loving German wife Dad has been blessed with for 45 years of married life.

Prayers are going up.  Blessings are coming down.

Its not easy for Dad at this time - but he remains at his vintage best in his email to us all about his fall:

One thing is sure, MY LIFE-STYLE  HAS NOW CHANGED !  No more lifting literature boxes, no more carrying heavy tract bags, no more running up and down the mountainside……………HELP LORD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!   Truly I need to now REST AND CONCENTRATE ON BEING WHAT HE WANTS ME TO BE !  I had been saying to the family over the past month, “Whatever happens to us, IS IN HIS TOTAL CONTROL…….WE WILL NOT WORRY, BE ANXIOUS, FEAR…….BUT REST, TRUST AND ENJOY!”   So, LORD, OUR EYES ARE ON YOU………….AMEN !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 
God bless you Dad.  We are so proud of you and Mum. 

Lead kindly light

We have stepped into 2013 this week.

Its not been an easy few days already.

The papers continue to print the gruesome findings about the assault and rape of the 23 year old woman late last month.

Dad has fallen and injured himself in Mussoorie and we are all so far away.

We face deep disappointment with folks we have poured ourselves into.

Closer in - I see my own short-comings in sharp relief.

And yet we move forward.

Our hope is not based on our circumstances.  We wait in hope on the Lord, He is our strength and shield.

This year is going to be the very best one yet.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”

What more can we ask for than being a part of God himself?  What deeper hunger can we have?  What greater hope?