This pilgrim life

It was Dad's birthday yesterday.  74 years since the day he was born at Wanless Hospital in Miraj, southern Maharashtra.  We knew that Dad did not want something fancy - at most a small intimate time with a friend or two.

Well, the problem is... which close friends to invite, there are so many of them.  So we took the easy (only?) way out.  We invited a goodly portion of them for a small intimate time to thank the Lord for His mercy and grace in Dad's life... over the 74 years since he was born (and obvioiusly before he was born too) as well as the special grace over the past 6 months since his cancer was detected.

Our intimate time had 40 plus folks, with Asha and Enoch leading the worship on violin and keyboard in the JSK hall.  We had after all had invited all the JSK team and our church folks to come along!  But Dad and Mum graciously put up with us all, and wonderfully shared their stories of thanksgiving.

Dad looked back on his life and saw so many times when he had been spared from death, from the forces of evil - by what can only be God's divine intervention and grace.  Time and time again.  The winds of the spirit and the waves of this material world that thrash around us are not by chance. God's divine interventions and loving care are more than evident if we see them with the eyes of faith.

Dad had a whole list of them.  He started with the miracle of his not being aborted as an out-of-wedlock child in 1941 and his adoption by Elmore and Alice Eicher.  He ended with these amazing events of his cancer surgery and then his post-op care at Bethany Hospital and past 4 months of chemotherapy with all the love that has been shown to him and Mum. Dad had us spell-bound with his story of God's love to him.

We then had Stanley Nelson share from Scripture.  Are we surprised when God's word speaks? Should we be?  Surely not...

Stanley chose to dwell on Psalm 84.  I exchanged glances with Sheba when he chose the fifth verse as his anchor for the evening:  Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgimage.  Stanley talked about our journey in life - and contrasted the goals and desires that a person who is travelling on business will have as compared to another one who is going to a place as a tourist, and finally the completely different set of experiences a pilgrim is expected to have.

For the Israelites, there was a command that three times a year every male (at least - families were in no way excluded) was to assemble before the Lord in Jerusalem.  There was obviously a lot of holy going to and from the Temple city.  Pilgrimages were common and many of the psalms were sung while walking up to mount Zion.

But the bigger picture is that the true pilgrim is not looking for holy real estate.  They are only happy when they meet the object of their journey - God Himself.

Dad has passed through many a path over the years of his pilgrimage.  He has been joined with Mum for the last 48 years of walking together.

For Sheba and myself, we are likely to make some new steps in our own pilgrimage in the next few months.  During a process of seeking God's will I read through all 150 psalms recently.  One verse stood out to me very clearly in this reading...

It was Psalm 84.5...    Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgimage. 

Chemo round 5

What - we are in September already?

As I write Dad is up in room no. 607 of the Bethany Hospital starting his 5th round of chemotherapy.
Dad met his oncologist this morning after his 2 week break since the last dose of the last round - and his blood counts were good.  The WBCs at 7200 and 57% of those being neutrophils so it is all systems go for the 3 doses which will be part of chemo round no. 5.

I checked in on Dad at about 11.30, after he had had his consultation and found him waiting in the outpatient waiting room, reading the morning paper.  During the monsoons Bethany can be packed.  Earlier this week, our staff member Anil Edward's wife Mavis (who works at Bethany in the accounts dept) suffered a kidney stone - and the place was so full that she was in casualty all day waiting for a bed to open up.  Eventually her condition stabilised a bit and she was discharged home.

So I was ready to go with Dad into casualty to have his chemo (he has done that twice before) - but then we were told that a bed had opened up on the 6th floor - so up we went!  Dad was in his element - greeting Bethany staff left right and centre, using his Marathi skills with fellow patients and their care givers, generally bringing a smile to the faces of folks around him.

And so Dad ends his last day of being '73.'  Dad being Dad, he has his own unique way of expressing his age - and always includes his 9 months of gestation into the calculation - but for the rest of us, he will be officially having his 74th birthday anniversary tomorrow - and beginning his 75th year.

With this round of chemo slated to take us till the end of Sept - and the 6th and final one for this course coming up for October... can we start thinking about Mum and Dad going 'back to Mussoorie' in November?   We are learning to take things one day at a time.  Dad is slowly regaining weight - and still does not have much energy.  And we really do not know what the next outcomes will be like.  At the end of the 6th round, the oncologist would like a whole body CT scan... will it lead to further treatment?  We will see.

Tomorrow is another country.  We are glad for today and all the blessings we are living through.

A hard night

It has been a hard night.

The sun is shining now.  But there is deep sadness in our bones.

While we were having supper last night, Sheba got the call from JSK that Timothy was gasping.  We knew it was near the end.  She went over to be with him in his last moments.

A 16 year old boy.  Weighing just over 17 kgs.  His stopping medications a year and a half ago because he did not want to be identified as having HIV proved fatal.  Our team tried hard.  We cared and prayed and used the available medicines, but his liver was too damaged, his lungs were too scarred, his little body was just too weak to bounce back.   Over the last 4 days Timothy had started shutting down.  Confined to his bed, he was weaker and weaker.  Tired just to talk.  His big head nodding off with fatigue.  Heart-breaking.

Timothy slipped into eternity at around 10 PM - surrounded by his mother and many from his local church.  They took his little body to the mortuary soon afterwards.

Then at 2.14 AM the phone rang again.

Our nurse had called about Rani.   Rani had been brought here 4 days ago from Ahmednagar.  Kamal, one of our staff had gone there and came in contact with her family.  Rani's parents had died some years ago. The family had stripped their assets and paid Rs. 4 lakh in medical bills to try and keep her father alive, but to no avail.  Rani was a college going girl of 17.  Her CD4 was disaterously low - but had been attending college just 2 weeks ago before she fell ill.

Rani was delirious when she arrived after the long bus ride from Ahmednager - thrashing around. Her uncle and grandmother had come to care for her, along with Kamal.  We did a lumbar puncture and diagnosed her with cryptoccocal meningitis.  Rani had slipped into unconsiousness.  Her moaning echoed through the corridor.  We started the treatment 2 days ago and hoped that Rani would respond.

The nurse called Sheba to say that Rani's breathing was laboured.  She had been put on oxygen.  I dropped Sheba at the gate of JSK.

Half an hour later, when I came back to pick up Sheba, I went up to the room to pray for Rani.  Her uncle was silent as was her grandmother.  They knew what was likely to happen.  But we hoped against hoped and asked earnestly for help.

At 6 this morning the nurse called again.  Rani had died.

Sheba went over again to sign the death certificate.  Rani's body had been cleaned and she was dressed in a beautiful kurta.  Her eyes were closed and for the first time since she came she looked at peace.   The uncle and grandmother had arranged for an ambulance to take the body at 7 AM.

Two lives lost in one night.   Both tragically young.  I had been looking forward for them to meet when they got a bit better.  But in this life that was not to be.

Our team worked hard.  Very hard to save and heal.  We did not get the healing we were hoping for at this point.  There will come a day when sickness will be no more, where death's sting will be forgotten and the tears will be wiped away.

All of this was hard for us - but it was made all the harder because two young nurses, on whom our current set of medical interventions are being built left without a warning 3 days ago.  We are devastated as they were key to running our centre - and we were left with 1 ANM (Auxiliary Nurse Midwife) and 2 nursing assistants on staff.  By God's grace, Yerusha Kautikkar, an excellent trained nurse who has been on maternity leave agreed to come on board immediately to help out.  And so with our doctors working as nurses we have pulled through.

I don't think that having the 2 nurses stay on would have necessarily saved these two young lives. The HIV had had too long a free run in them - and we knew that we were running a desperate salvage operation from the day Timothy was brought in and the time when Rani was wheeled in on a stretcher.   But the agony of caring for so sick with so little has been very hard.

At the end of the day, we are reminded again of our own great weaknesses.  Our own deep inadequacies. The grave nature of this disease that takes away so many, so silently.  And our complete and only dependence on the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ.

And so today is a new day.  As I finish these words I can hear the first worship song being sung my our staff for the morning devotions.  At 10.30 Dad has his appointment with the oncologist and is likely to start round 5 of his chemotherapy later today.

Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.  Psalm 30.5

We step forward in faith.  Our joy may still be stained by tears, but we hold onto hope.  Onwards.

5 dear lives

We have five very sick people admitted at Jeevan Sahara Kendra tonight.

That is right.  5.

Each person struggling for life and hope in different ways.

A man who celebrated his 58th birthday yesterday. Who is basically alone.  One of his daughters visited him.  His immunity is very low and he has tuberculosis and long term diarrhoea.  He wants to eat but feels nauseous.  He was living in a working man's hostel, but was too sick to carry on.  Somehow he got in touch with us.  We are looking after him - we can't send him away.

A woman has a catastrophically low CD4 count of only 10.  She has been taking a sub-optimal dose of medications for many years.  She has not told her husband about her illness - as her children have 'secretly' tested him and found him to be HIV negative.  She does not want to live.  Her grown children are supporting her - but the family is in total chaos.  "I am afraid of the new medicine" this lady told me this evening "I don't want to have bad dreams."  The medication that she is starting on does have some hallucinatory effects.  I told her that it is good medicine.  "We give it to our son every day" I told her.  She started a bit and I explained about how we are in the process of adopting Yohan and how much the meds have helped him. 

An old woman whose name means 'diamond' is paralysed and lying in another bed.  Her HIV positive daughter who has just had a miraculous healing from over a month of bleeding is looking after her.  Having her at our centre is a huge help for this brave woman. 

A young boy of 16 who only weighs 17 kgs is our latest young person badly scarred with HIV.  He has studied in a good school and knows English well.  His widowed mother is suffering from TB.  The boy was taking medicines till a year and a half ago when he recognised someone at the hospital and did not want them to know that he is HIV positive.  He stopped going from then on - and today is skin and bones - barely able to talk.  A sight from the terrible famine shots of Ethiopia a generation ago.   But there is still hope - our team is working hard to help him eat and live life. 

This morning these four had another person with HIV added to their number.  A young 17 year old woman that Kamal, one of our staff, brought all the way from Ahmednagar by bus.  She came is a terrible state - shrieking and thrashing.  It looks like she has a meningitis.  Her parents have both died - and her grand mother and an uncle have come.  They are straight from the village and look helplessly around.

Sheba has been back and forth to and fro from the Jeevan Sahara Kendra to home and back a number of times today.  The most recent time was at 8.30 PM when she went over for her night rounds and to encourage our nurses.

For months we have been praying for nurses.  We got 2 now.

For weeks we have been praying that our centre will be utilised.  We had 10 beautiful empty beds for too long now.  Well - tonight all the beds are being used by very, very sick patients and their attendants. 

We are facing folks who have come in hope - but have every chance of dying.  We want to be a place of healing - and have seen in the past how such terrible situations can be turned around for good.   And have also seen dear friends slip away despite our best efforts.

What will tomorrow bring?

What will happen to the 5 dear lives who are at JSK tonight?  Will we even see our friends again in the morning - or will there be a phone call at 3.30 AM to Sheba and a hearse parked outside by 7.30?  Will their be the trace of a smile on their faces?  One thing is for sure - folks don't come to be admitted at Jeevan Sahara Kendra because they are on a holiday.  And so the weight of figuring out their treatment and jockeying our still fairly thread-bare nursing corps goes straight onto Sheba with help by Dr. Emmanuel.   And of course a huge, huge amount of help and sustaining grace from our Lord Jesus...

Home blessings

Today was one of those blessed Saturdays when we were (largely) at home.

We said 'no' to two big invites to meetings.  We slept in to a blessed 7.45 or so (Yohan needs to have the first meds of his day at 8 AM) and various family members had breakfasts at different times in the morning.

Sheba did a number of study sessions with Asha and Enoch as the term examinations loom up next week - and Yohan had his class from 10 am to 12 today.

My major work of the day was to finally get the income tax returns ready - and handed over to our chartered accountant in town - while a stop into Bethany Accounts had me fill up what we are expecting to pay for next year already...  Yesterday's newspaper headlined a stupendous race at the Bird's Nest Stadium as 'Death, Taxes... and Bolt!'

The day had lots of other things stuck in as well.  Times with God and His word.  Cups of tea.  An unexpected visit by Hepsi and Prisci - Sheba's 'family' from her med school days in Cuttack.  A family prayer time around the world map well past Yohan's bed time.

Sheba did two longish visits to Jeevan Sahara on her 'off day' - as there are four very sick folks being cared for there as in-patients - and another at Bethany Hospital.

But perhaps the high-light of the day has been the action in the kitchen.

Lunch was a simple but scrumptous soup and cheese toast affair.

And then the cooking really started.

Sheba got going with wadas which were wolfed down for a tea time snack.  But the real purpose of the largish batch she made was to make her famous 'dahi wadas.'

Sheba and the older kids had made a shopping run during Yohan's afternoon nap - and so there were two different kinds of chicken prepared for dinner - and then Oma finished off her apple pies after dinner.

We go to sleep with full bellies and a great big helping of gratitude.

My mind's eye goes back to a short conversation with a young man and a boy who were selling roses to motorists. I was on my way back from the accountant.  The man told me he was from Kholapur.  Where will this man sleep tonight.  The boy told me that he was from the same village.

One day will come when everything is set right.

It is off to sleep now... we will be waking up on the Lord's day in a few hours!

Misty eyes

We left her with tears in her eyes, in the dusk of a Thane night.

Standing outside our centre, our paths seperated.

She walked off... to where - I do not even know where she lives.

We will call her Meera.

Meera had come to our Sunday evening Good News meeting.  Anil had shared about how God loves us even when we are lost - and how heaven rejoices when even one lost one comes home.  

After the time together we prayed.  

There were only 3 Eichers at the evening meeting - Oma, Yohan and myself since Sheba, Enoch and I had arrived from New Delhi early this morning and plunged straight back into life here.   Sheba did visits to JSK in the morning before church and in the mid afternoon.  The Eicher home tuition team was in full swing in the afternoon as Enoch has a Marathi test tomorrow.  Opa and Oma had worshipped earlier in the day at the Bethesda Fellowship where Dad shared, and then they had had lunch with Dr. Stephen and Claire Alfred and the throng that gathered there.

Meera had been prayed with by Oma and Sandhya when we broke up into small groups for prayer after the meeting.

I then wandered down the hall to meet the two men who are admitted at the JSK centre.  A short time with each of them and their families and I was back, ready to go home.

Oma was with Meera near the exit.

Meera asked me to pray for her husband.  He has terrible back pains.  Is not able to work.  He has been on medication.  It all seems to hopeless.

Last week he had come to the meeting.  This week he cannot.  Meera had tears in her eyes.

We prayed in the hall.  A simple prayer to Jesus.  My faith is no superfaith.  Just shreds of hope and a request directed to the One who loves. 

Meera's eyes are wet with tears.  Oma hugs her.

As Oma, Yohan and myself walk with Meera to the gate, 

It is time to part ways.  Meera's eyes still have tears.  What does my heart say?  Is their any real hope for her husband?

How I wish we had a great red button that could be pressed and make 'everything all right.'

We don't.

And so we pray.  We left her with tears in her eyes.

Would that the tears become replaced by joy in the morning.  

We will see.  Our eyes are misty too.

Eyes wide shut

Never happy when someone dies.

Never.  Death is just not a sweet smelling rose.

Today a man died at JSK.

We had been caring for him for a few days last week.

He was stable. He had been cared for at a famous HIV care centre in central Maharasthra too.  For months.  In and out.

But since he was from Thane, his relatives brought him to us.

He was sick.  But things seemed under control.

Then his relatives insisted they wanted to take him home.  Our medical staff said that it would not be a good idea. The relatives insisted. The man insisted.  He left against medical advice.

Last night (Sunday night).  Late. They said he was sick and wanted to come back.

They brought him this morning.

Sheba told me that he was dying.

More and more relatives came.  He died early afternoon.

I saw men carrying his shroud-draped body down the hall, past my office door.

Yesterday I had shared with a small group about a man who had conquered death, and whose empty burial clothes people found in the tomb.  Whose head-cloth was folded neatly on the side.  And who greeted the woman from whom 7 evil spirits had been driven by name.

But today this man's life came to an end.  Full stop.  No more breath.

Many tears for his mother and others.

I remember his eyes the last time we met.

They have no light in them now.

Eyes wide shut