"But I will lay down my cards
and show You my hand...
You've got me running to You
There's no where else I can go"
This post's for you, Dad and Uncle Dave. :)
One of the beautiful parts of my childhood was the time I spent listening to my Dad's funky, grassroots music. He likes musicians with an edge, musicians you won't hear on standard Christian radio, but men and women who love Jesus nonetheless. Driving across the country on family vacations, the voice of Jan, or Bill Mallonnee, or Phil Keaggy, or Van Morrison seeped out our car speakers. Then, I think, I was mostly confused by their music. In recent years, however, I've come to appreciate Dad's eclectic tastes...even claiming some of them as my own.
Fast-forward to this morning, when I sat down in the Sishu Bavan classroom a few minutes after school let out and pulled out my iPod, a rare and wonderful audio treat. Jan sang, "You've got me running to You," and I scribbled down the words in my journal. Yes. The Lord is calling me to run to Him. In the pain. In the joy. So I'm letting go of the illusion that I know how to play my hand, and I'm giving the whole deck over to Him. He's teaching me to let go of the edges of my life, the center of my life, and everything in-between. And then to run. Towards Him.
I discovered today that the classroom just might be the quiet space I've been yearning after. I sat there with the lights off (but fan on!) for nearly an hour today, journaling and praying and thinking, and no one came to tell me I needed to leave. What a wonderful thing. Then I cut out numbers for Monday's class, walked out the door, and proceeded to catch a bus entirely on my own. Uncle Das would be proud. :)
Tonight is community night for our WMF family here, which means we gather at Beth's flat and eat dinner together. Laugh. Maybe play some games. Celebrate our team being in India for three weeks.
Oh...remember Asha? I wrote about her several posts back, and now there is a happy development in her story. One of our friends took her to the Mother Teresa home of Prem Dan on Wednesday, and they admitted her. A surpising answer to prayer, because she wasn't seriously ill, which is usually a requirement for admission. Asha has a bed now! And food and people who will take care of her.
I tried a new fruit yesterday. I believe it's called a "custard apple." Mark, this part of the post is for you, brother. :)
Okay. Until another day!