Traveling to the opposite side of the globe may seem a little bit like overkill for a “meeting”, but if I were to try and sum up my time in India that’s where I would start. Imagine being with Jesus in a large room full of people and he pulls you aside to say “Step into my office, I’d like to show you a little something I’ve been working on. You may be able to help.” It’s not the kind of invitation you could ever take lightly, and it would never matter how far away that office was, you would go if Jesus invited you.
When you are a part of an organization, a volunteer perhaps, you are not usually part of the planning and directing of a project, you are the one who gets the call and you go. There is a group of people who inevitably surrounded a table in an office somewhere and schemed together on the how, when, where and what of the given project and then contacted you to get the job done.
When Jesus asked me to step into His office and took me to India I feel like I was invited to that meeting. I joined a group of people, children’s home directors/slum church planters/fellow missionaries/etc, who were gathered around a table with the daunting task in front of them to create an environment and a pathway for children from the streets and for orphans that will give them a chance at a future beyond illiteracy, poverty, forced prostitution or much worse. This was my briefing room, this was my crash-course education in the reality of what it means to be an orphan in India. I couldn’t be more unqualified to participate in this kind of meeting than I am; good thing the Kingdom of God is built with willing hands, not especially qualified ones.
Nothing in India seemed to work sequentially the way that it would here in the States. This disjointed pattern of processes was quite jarring to wrap my head around as I began asking questions about where the needs are, where the challenges are facing those willing to meet those needs, and what stage in the process is the situation for these particular kids we’re working with? It seemed like each time I would hear about a particular need or risk factor I could come up with 10 ways to counteract it, 9.5 of which were impossible either because of a lack of cooperation from the government, a lack of physical resources or because of a complete inability to operate in a given way inside the Indian culture. It was altogether maddening, but it didn’t stop my mind from racing 100mph to reach the next solution and the next big question.
There was one evening in my first few days of being in India where I must’ve spent 3 or 4 hours grilling my friend (who has been working in India with the children’s home we were visiting for about 8 yrs.) on all the in’s and out’s legally/socially/logistically of what it’s going to take for her (now more accurately referred to as “us”) to get the program in place for adopting and fostering these kids into loving homes. It’s a messy task, but it’s not impossible. Enter…the new girl at the meeting (i.e. Julie has been invited to the table).
For two weeks I sat in living rooms listening to both pastoral conversations of encouragement and logistical conversation about status and process, sat on the floor playing hand slap, learning names, singing worship songs and observing the organism of a family that has developed within the children’s home and riding in rickshaws with my dupati (scarf) held over my nose to help keep the pollution from clouding my humid, jet-lagged brain trying to get this set of curtains, attend this meeting with so-and-so or taking the kids on special outings.
It was a period of intense observation with a good portion of overwhelming gratefulness for the life and the blessings that I have grown up with unaware of the fact that millions of children will never have one parent as loving and generous as I have two. That reality is still shaking me in deep places and the quaking that is rising to the surface is going to birth a great dream of God, I can feel it!
When I left India it was as if Jesus said “Ok everyone. The staff briefing is over. Take your notes, look them over, call your contacts and we’ll meet back here 10:00am on ____day and start talking about your ideas for the next step. Call my cell if you’ve got questions. I love you. Meeting adjourned.”
At this point, I’m still looking over my notes. So far I’ve drawn a few pictures that I don’t have words for yet, but there are dreams and plans swimming at the edge of my vision each day that I am both intimidated by and excited to see transformed into their more substantial forms.
