A truthful heart

Last year a man with a very severe brain infection was admitted at a nearby hospital. They found out that he had HIV. Mr. Narayan (not his real name of course) was an old man with grown children and a devout follower of his faith. His condition seemed hopeless, but we started looking after him at JSK and our home-based care team followed him up at his home.    While he was in the hospital, we counselled and tested his wife for HIV and found that she too was HIV positive. Mrs. Narayan was terribly shocked at this - but since her husband was dying she did not have much time to think about the implications.    After 4 months of home-care, we are amazed.  Narayan's brain condition has no treatment.  There is an only 10% spontaneous cure rate.  The other three people who we know with this condition have all died.  But Mr. Narayan has largely recovered. He is able to walk and live an almost normal life. Last week Mr. and Mrs. Narayan came to meet Sheba. Mrs. Narayan was beside herself - saying that she cannot understand how her husband got the disease. "He is such a good man. It must have been through a dirty needle." Sheba listened to this for some time. Then she opened the Bible and talked about the need to confess our sins. Then it happened. Mr. Narayan opened up. He told Sheba that he had been with other friends to a prostitute. Not once, but a number of times.  He asked forgiveness. His wife was thunderstruck. She could not believe what she was hearing. "But you are such a religious man!" she cried out. "Why did you not tell me about this?" The truth is not an easy road to travel. But with God's help we can walk it.  So much of the time we deceive others.   We don't want to bear up to the truth.  In the end we listen to our lies so much that we end up deceiving ourselves.  It sometimes takes a hard knock for us to snap out of our own lies. Will you just spend a short time to pray for this white-haired couple as they face up to the reality of their lives. Will you ask God's forgiveness to flow through Mrs. Narayan. Pray that she will be healed of the terrible betrayal she has now discovered. And at the same time - how about a prayer for yourself?  I just prayed that God will let my heart be truthful ... and my words be exactly what they are supposed to be - True.

David Halloran Lumsdaine

As a graduate student in the early 90s I was far from home.  New Haven was an odd place - old-world charm and the gritty ghetto were cheek-by-jowl.

After holding out for a year, I gave in and started attending a lively Episcopalian church - and was then invited to join two remarkable men as a house-mate.

Greg Jackson and David Lumsdaine welcomed me into so much more than just the appartment they shared - they welcomed me into their lives and into community.  Greg was at that time a research engineer at a cutting edge tech start-up while David was a professor in the International Relations department at Yale.
 
It was thus with a kick in the gut to get emails from Greg over the last few days telling about David's heart attack last week and his hospitalisation in a critical condition.  We and many of David's friends around the world participated in a prayer vigil that his church organised.

Then this morning's email - David has left this world to be with Jesus.

To the folks that Greg had sent out the updates I wrote this short note:

Dear Friends,

It has been a bitter-sweet opportunity for us to be part of the company of saints as we remembered and prayed for David in his last hours of this life.

Bitter because death remains a terrible loss and void - the separation of body from soul/spirit, and the separation of a dear person from the community of the living is always hard.

Sweet because we were united in spirit across the continents in prayer.  Our voices rose together as incense before the throne of our loving Lord Jesus.  Sweet because of the memories of dear David.  The intricate almost mandala-like designs he used to make.  His intellectual and spiritual passion.  The depth of his God-given love for so many.  The sheer imposing physical presence of the man. The personal love for me and Sheba - shown when he joined Greg and Karin for a trip out to India to see us.  And so many other facets of David. All these swirled to mind with the news of him being in a restricted state - there in the hospital - on life support. 

But now the sweetness can burst forth into fruit.  We know that he will not return to us - rather we will go to be with him.  And we will go to be with David in the presence of our living Lord Jesus.  What a glorious hope we have.  What joy we have for David who is already tasting the fullness of life in the fullness of time.

Bless the Lord oh my soul.

love from Andi, Sheba, Asha and Enoch

------------------------

Gordon College - where David was a well-loved professor (how could he not be?) - made the following announcement about David's passing on to glory.

The Gordon College community grieves the loss of Professor David Lumsdaine, who passed away this morning, February 27, from complications following a heart attack.

As a member of the Political Science Department, Dr. Lumsdaine taught a variety of courses with specialization in international relations and foreign policy. His classes emphasized student participation and writing, and students often spoke with deep appreciation for this man who was a beloved professor and mentor to so many.

"David Lumsdaine was dearly beloved by his students and colleagues," says Ruth Melkonian-Hoover, associate professor of political science, and department chair. "He passionately loved God, others, and God’s world, and this came through in everything he did. He had a brilliant mind and elected to invest himself first and foremost in remarkable ways in our student’s lives. We have been richly blessed by him, and his passing represents a tremendous loss to our department and to all of us in the Gordon community."

He was a regular discussant at the Jeruslem and Athens Forum, one of Gordon's honors programs. "For you," writes Ryan Groff, JAF program coordinator, "there was life to be found in ancient texts, and our cohorts kindled their own fascination with the life of the mind and Christian faith by reading at your side such great works as St. Athanasius's 'On the Incarnation.' We will forever miss your evident and deeply felt appreciation for the beauty of Christian thought and life."

Prior to joining the Gordon faculty in 2007, Dr Lumsdaine—who held degrees in political science, engineering and mathematics—taught at Wheaton College, Yale University, Seoul National University and the Korea Development Institute in Seoul, one of the most prominent "think tanks" and educational institutions in that country.
He was also a consultant and lecturer at the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies, where he mentored many graduate students.

His book Evangelical Christianity and Democracy in Asia (Oxford, 2009) continued earlier work on how beliefs and values shape politics. He had been working on a sabbatical project examining the role of ideas in shaping the international political system, and the effect of domestic political values and practice on international politics.
Dr. Lumsdaine was an active and beloved member of Christ the Redeemer Anglican Church in Danvers, Massachusetts. "We will miss him, many of us deeply so," says the Rev. Timothy Clayton, rector of Christ the Redeemer. "He was a dear and enthusiastic brother and a leader in our family of faith, a member of the vestry."

He was predeceased by his parents and is survived by two brothers, John Lumsdaine and Peter Lumsdaine. 
A funeral service, open to the community, will be held at Christ the Redeemer Anglican Church in Danvers, MA, on Saturday, March 2, at 11 a.m.

Enoch finishes a decade - the people rejoice!

Yesterday I was talking with Enoch about his birthday.  He turned the ripe age of 10 on the 19th of this month.  "It feels like it was ages ago" said Enoch.  It does.  A week can seem like an eon at times - or like an asteroid flashing by with a bright light and a loud crash.

So lets travel back a week in time to see Enoch on his birthday.  Enoch shares his B-day with the great Maratha warrior king Shivaji - so he - and all his friends - always have a holiday from school.  Perfect for an afternoon party (and brutal on the parents who are up most of the night before).

The day started in time honoured Eicher fashion of a treasure hunt to find hidden gifts.  The king of the gifts this year was a tool box from Oma and Opa - which had been given to me a good 35 years ago - and now was refurbished, repainted with Enoch's name on it, and restocked with brand-new 'real' tools!

After a day of banging in nails into wood - the neighbour below came up in a horribly grouchy mood late in the night with a statement that we need to 'keep some discipline!'

Maybe we can help him with his home repairs the next time he has a need.

But on to happier things...

The cake had finally been finished just before the party started.  But in time for a picture with our birthday boy in his new threads:



And then the guests started to come.

Those who came on time were rewarded with a rousing starting game of blow-football.   Enoch had made a stadium with lego the day before - and a full fledged match was soon underway - complete with shoving and calls for the referee to give free shots.  And even a small bout of tears after feet got stamped on under the table!

But by and large - it was a clos'e fought match where straws were blown with ferocious strength to get the football to roll into the opponents' goal.

People coming to a party are always hungry - that's why its good to feed them chocolate!  But you need to make our friends work a bit.  Especially having them roll the die for a '6' and then working on getting off the gift wrapping and packaging using a blunt knife and fork - and trying to eat - before the next person in the round is able to roll a '6'!


We all love lego (at least I hope we do) - but can we build while wearing a blind-fold?  We split up into two teams and had the team members give instructions to the builder about what to do.  Hilarity ensued.  "Take that one! No that one!" were some of the 'helpful' comments.

But soon the groups got the grips of it and with a bit of verbal help from their team-mates, simple shapes were fashioned.

These are games that we could not have played 4 years ago.  Times change and our kids are stretching out in so many wonderful ways!

Some demands are insistent!   One is for the "hunter" game where the children get words on pieces of paper and then hear a story being read.  On hearing their word - or a 'wildcard word' - they can run to a place of safety.  Last person there is out!  It makes more fun when the 'safety place' is a couch where you can all get squashed on!

A time of reflection from the Bible - with this year's verse for Enoch about 'Running the race... to get a crown that lasts' rounded off our time together.

We are so glad to have amazing children like Enoch - and for the joy that God gives us from His word.

How much of our lives we spend chasing after things that just don't last.  Who remembers the silver medalist in the 400 m Olympic finals from 2012?  And that was just last year!  For competitors at the time of St. Paul - their prize was a laurel wreath - which would definitely dry out pretty soon after it was won.  How much more valuable to live our lives for something that lasts beyond this world!  How much we want Enoch to be living his life for eternity.

It was wonderful to have Enoch's Oma and Opa with us too - and have Opa pray for Enoch on this special day.

And there were candles to blow out and a cake to be cut too!

Later in the evening - a meal with our dear dear friends John and Nalini Gabriel and their amazing daughters Nikita and Jasper.  We celebrated the fact that we have now been at each others birthdays for 12 years!  How amazingly good God is to us all.

Birthdays are so much fun.

Don't you wish you can have more than one a year?

We are so grateful for the joy of having Enoch with us for a decade now.

At the end of his next decade - on 19th Feb 2023 - we will have (God willing) an amazing 20 year old!

Let's see what joys we experience over these next 10 years of life together....

Carbon Copy

"You're a chimp off the old block" was one of the many corny things that Dad said about me in our growing up years.

Once as an 8 year old, while on summer holiday in Kodaikanal, I was wandering about on my own after church - when a lady who was a stranger to me asked me a question.  Would I by any chance be Ray Eicher's son?  Because I looked so much like he used to when he was a student there.

But being like your parents is not just a matter of looks.  Its also mannerisms.  And now it seems that its even a deeply engrained style of fashion (or lack of it).

We all burst out laughing last week when at the dinner table we realised that Dad and I were dressed exactly alike.   

Take a look!

Note the close cropped hair (I am leading in the baldness stakes - something that I get from Mum in this case - her dad was completely bald by 30).


Observe the pen in the pocket.

Note the shade of the shirt. 

This particular shirt is one that I wear in high rotation.  Almost as soon as it has been washed and is back in the cupboard, it finds its way back on me.

I noticed that Dad's version has a similar tendency to show up often.  After the photo was taken, we already had another day when both of us were sporting the same colour shirt.

But here is the clincher.  When I looked down, I found out that we were wearing the same colour pants too.  And that our shirts seem habitually out of the pants instead of being primly tucked in.

So here for your viewing pleasure - our version of a carbon copy!  Like father, like son...

Water Babies

What a blessing grand-parents are.

How we wish they were with us all the time.

But in the last 10 days our wishes have come true - at least for a 3 week period!

Our beloved Oma and Opa are with us. 

And Oma – determined German lady that she is – had a plan.  She was determined that Enoch and Asha learn to swim.  

This was to be this year’s birthday present – and what a present it is turning out to be.  Almost as soon as Oma arrived she was scouting around.  The nearest swimming pool was investigated and found to be giving swimming lessons for a fee.  The fees were paid and the lessons began!

When Oma had called up before she came and told us of her plan, she was asked whether another person could also learn.  Yes!  Was Oma’s enthusiastic response when Sheba wanted to learn to swim too. 

And so every morning from 9-10 am Oma goes with Enoch to the pool  - and then in the afternoon from 3-4 PM she goes with Asha and Sheba for their lessons.

The results are wonderful.

The initial days were limited to holding the bar on the side and kicking – and the practicing kicking while holding a floatation board in the front – while having a float strapped around the waist.

After 4 days of practice, we have 3 bona fide water babies.  Asha was the first to graduate from the board to swimming with just a float on her back – and finally- with a mighty splash she has started swimming without any flotation device. 

Enoch has followed suit and late last week  swam without the aid of floats.    

Sheba is coming close behind and has managed to swim without the board on the same afternoon – and looks forward to kissing the waist float goodbye soon too!

Having grown up with the blessing of being a member of a swimming pool - it is such a joy to know that I will no longer be the 'know-swimming' minority in my family!

You also have to hand it to our determined Oma.  Seeing the progress that her wards are making - she also is taking lessons in learning the 'crawl' since all her life she only knew how to swim 'breast-stroke' (which in German is wonderfully called 'frog-style').  You have to hand it to our 75 year old learner!

And so we leave this post with a final pic of one of our newly minted water-babies!

Triumph!  Enoch swimming without board or floats! 

A Beetle is (re)born

About 30 years ago my Dad made me a cake that I will never forget.

A birthday cake in the shape of a Volkswagen Beetle. 

A 3 dimensional cake with foil for its bumpers and windows. 

Last week it was Enoch's 10th birthday - and my amazing parents are with us to celebrate.  I realised that I had to make a tribute cake.  So Enoch got his own Beetle.

I asked Enoch whether he wanted an original model or the 2005 one - he chose the modern one.

So from the Eicher motorwerken - here is the Volkswagen Beetle - Enoch Eicher Birthday model!

We start with the raw materials:  6 pans of Good plain butter cake from the hills - recipe sourced from the Landour Cookbook.

The base is a large duplo base-mat covered in silver foil.

Icing is the simplest butter icing possible:  1 tbsp butter, 1.5 cups powered sugar, a few drops of milk to keep it smooth. 

For the colours, we add a few drops of food colouring as needed.   Cocoa powder mixed in when you want brown.   I started with an icing made 6 batches to start with and another 2 later.

The basic shape is made by stacking up the cakes and cutting away.  Hooray for the internet which has line drawings of the 2005 Beetle!  Inspiration is just a click away!


Once the basic cutting is over, its time to transfer it over to the base.

This was already fairly late at night, with the kids soundly asleep.  But since the birthday was the next day, necessity meant the midnight oil had to burn!

What would it end up looking like is the question that occasionally popped up in my mind.  But mercifully the joy of just trying to get it done swamped out any doubts.  Plus there is always the side perk of nibbling on the many small pieces of cake that were cut off.   This is one of the few times I have done a 3 dimensional cake, and I found myself cutting off far more than I thought I would.  Very glad that I had 6 cakes to work with!

We decided that the basic colour would be a bright green.   For a brief moment orange was the front-runner, but then we thought that our own Nano is a papaya colour - and this was to be a VW Beetle, not a Tata Nano - so a completely different colour was chosen.

Green it was - and so the bulk of the icing had green food colour mixed in till the creamy white was a parrot green.  This took me well into the wee hours of the morning - and having done a complete once-over icing I decided that the details would have to come on the morrow.

So after doing a half-day at JSK it was back to the cake.

The previous nights icing was smoothed out and silver foil cut out for the windows and other high-lights.   A batch of chocolate icing was rustled up for the wheels and the racing number - and also for part of the birthday wish. 

Should I go for another colour?  A basic white....  no, lets go for yellow. 

And so the final lines are put into place.   Time is running out with the guests expected in just under an hour.  But somehow, it all gets done.

Birthday cakes are wonderfully ephemeral.   The exist and then they are eaten.  Afterwards they linger in the memory.

Over three decades ago, Dad making me a Volkswagen Beetle is something I still cherish.   Who knows whether around 2045 or so we may see Enoch Eicher making a cake in the shape of a bulbous car for a 10 year-old son of his own...

In the mean-time,  Happy Birthday Enoch!

Margins

At the edges of shining India are the large shanty towns of sludge where untold thousands drift in and out of.

Over time some of these waste-lands end up with certain amenities and the hunger for land and veniality of various levels of power-brokers end up 'developing' these areas into defacto living spaces.

I wish we did not have to talk about these places.  O Freunde, nicht diese Toene, sondern angenehmere...  But though they are banished to the periphery of many a middle and upper class Indian - they very much still exist.  

And the people who live in these hellish spots are very much people.

Earlier this month a local church in Airoli organised an HIV testing and counselling camp in one such place.  We will not name the church or the area - as they could be any place on the margins.

But walk with the JSK team as they move in for an unforgettable day.

This is a church which has a number of cell groups in some of the most challenging communities.  Places where crime and poverty overlap - but also where hope is born.  Most of the church members are from such areas themselves and have seen radical changes in their lives.  Parents healed.  Freedom from alcohol addiction.  A new hope in life.  A freedom from sin.  A rejoicing in the person of Jesus.  The cell group leaders are mostly young and give a major portion of their time outside of work to the church.  Two of them have been trained in simple HIV care and have started reaching out to people with HIV in their areas in addition to their organising of prayer times and Bible studies.  The church has begun supporting these two with a very modest faith-based stipend.  The bulk of the church work continues to be voluntary - ordinary people giving of their time - with joy.

Our team was brought to a shack.  Cleaned up, with bright red screens on the outside.   The local people had been told about the HIV counselling and testing camp.  Young church volunteers went door to door reminding people.  We set up a desk outside to register those who wanted to get tested.  When asking for addresses some of the responses were almost comically vague - 'next to the flag' said some.  We are dealing with people whose whole identity is the shifting temporary tarpaulins, bamboo poles and the occasional metal sheet.

Inside the shack the church people have curtained off cubicles for counselling and a space for blood to be taken.

The people start coming.  Young men.  Younger women.  People of all faiths.  Widows. People who have never seen the inside of a hospital.  Some dishevelled.  Some dressed immaculately despite the rotten surroundings.  Some with harrowing tales.  Many women just cried.  No one had ever heard their stories before.  Our counsellors focussed on the HIV issues - but life and the miseries of many intruded.

Sunita, a volunteer nurse who works at Bethany Hospital joined us for the day.  After the counsellors had talked with the person and got a voluntary consent to do the test, the volunteers took the person to Sunita who carefully took the blood samples.        

Some people told her anxiously not to take too much blood.   Not everyone who initially registered ended up giving a blood sample.   A few opted out after they had received the counselling.   We registered over 160 people.  A total of 136 ended up giving their blood to be tested for HIV.

The vials were taken back that evening to Jeevan Sahara for testing.  Our part time lab tech came in and worked hard and carefully to make sure each sample was correctly tested.

We ended up with 3 samples testing positive for HIV.  3 people.  All women.

On Monday afternoon our counsellors returned.   Giri - one our main counsellors had lost his father the morning after the camp - and had gone back to his village in Orissa.  Sheba stepped in and walked through the dust bowl to the counselling hut.

What stories she heard.  The women could not stop crying.  Just to have someone listen to them was a blessing.  The cruelty that so many live in is unbelievable.  Alcoholic husbands.  Beatings.  Loneliness.  By God's grace most of them were negative.  A small mercy.

Near the end of the time the three women had still not come.  The church volunteers tracked them down and Sheba counselled them.  One woman knew about her status and has even been taking ART medication.   The other two took it hard.  One is an elderly lady.  The other is a widow.  They now know they have HIV.  But at least they are not alone.  The church volunteers commit to bring them to JSK and to follow up locally.

In the midst of all of this Sheba meets an old friend.  Shalini (names changed of course) had attended an HIV positive friends retreat with us last year.  We as a family had been paired with Shalini and her husband Arun and their 4 kids.  It was just a two-day camp, but we were so blessed to get to know them.

And now Shalini stood there, beaming.  'You have come to my village' she told Sheba, 'you must come to my house.'  Sheba did.  They came to a large shack.  It had been demolished more than 6 times already.  This family has no alternative.  Shalini was crying.  Joy and sadness at once.  Sheba sat with her and talked and prayed.

As a family, Shalini and Arun have come a long way from their native district of Bhagalpur in Bihar.  They have continued to be at the margins of society and are both HIV positive to boot.  But a change took place when Shalini started going to a local prayer meeting.  Though her economic situation is still dire, her relationship with Arun improved dramatically.  Arun works on Sundays and so does not normally make it to the prayers, but has stopped drinking and now brings his salary straight back and puts it in Shalini's hand.

To see them was a bitter sweet surprise.  Sweet as even in a hell-hole are people who we know.   Bitter as we continue to live in such luxury while others continue to be in such misery.

Would that our 2 kids and their 4 kids grow up in a time when such shanty-towns are just a memory.   Judging by what we see, however, it looks like the margins are going to be with us for quite some time yet.