Vomiting words.

That's what I've been doing whenever someone has asked about my trip to Mumbai.

Honestly, I don't what to tell you. I don't how to describe with words what my eyes have seen. The beauty and horror that is stitched to my heart. So I'm going to try my best and hopefully it will come out in a readable fashion.

Makeshift bus station.

First off, I should reaffirm that there is a need in Mumbai. In all of India, as a matter of fact. A half a million (no exaggeration) NGOs have registered themselves in the area, claiming to be saving children, offering education and better lives for those in poverty, but many of them are just names. The money is going to no one who needs it. So friends, beware. If you have a heart for India and want to help a country that needs it so much, make sure you know where your money is going, because so much of it is not ending up in the right hands.

So the only way I can organize my thoughts is in days. Our days were extremely long and often blurred together. This was partly because life in India is not as planned and detailed as life here at home. K.C Chacko Achen (I'll introduce you to him later) said it best, "Our days are only as planned as far as we can see." And most of the time, you didn't see beyond the hour ahead of you. As frustrating as it was to not know how planned, packed or scheduled or was, it was liberating to not live by a watch but only by how much light we had left in the day.

Day 1

Looking out the window in Navi Mumbai or Thane District.

Finally in Mumbai at 3 AM. When we got off the plane, I was met with the smell of rotten potatoes mixed with body odor. A heavenly scent that said, "Welcome to the Motherland, Nincy. We missed you." I haven't been to India in 8 years and of course my memories blocked out the smells, chaos and squatting toilets. As I'm writing, there's sweat on my brow and my paper is curling from humidity--we're enjoying our only day of rest before traveling the whole state of Maharastra for the next ten days.

We are staying at the Diocesan Centre in Navi Mumbai. I may be wrong, but for each diocese we have a Thirumeni (a Bishop) overseeing its projects. In Mumbai, it is Thomas Mar Theethos.
Before breakfast, Thirumeni spent some time with us explaining the Mumbai diocese, its mission and projects. He explained that in most of these places, we're not going to be expected to do a certain thing, but to listen to the stories and testimonies of the first believers in these villages, and observe how and what the church is doing to grow His kingdom. In some ways, this was disheartening. I wanted to leave a mark; make a difference in the lives of these people. Only after did I realize, they were leaving their marks on me. 

Tomorrow we will be visiting Nalla Sopara, K.C Chacko Achen's parish and the Centre for Missological Studies. There we'll meet about 40 evangelists who serve in different villages and hamlets all over Maharastra. We'll also meet Dolly Jacob, a social worker and psychologist who works in the red light area of Mumbai. Dinner was a surprise--we met the boys of the Navajeevan Extension Home. Guys in their early 20s who were taken off the streets of Mumbai at a young age and given a chance to turn their lives around.

Are you overwhelmed? Yeah. And this was only DAY ONE. Now you know why I've been choking on words.

9 days till.

Nine days until I'm on a plane (more than one) to Mumbai!

I can't believe this trip is here. First of all, I haven't packed. 

The group has started getting to know each other solely through Facebook messages. We're exchanging songs that we want to teach the kids and pulling our resources and talents together (anyone know how to play the guitar?). 

It's crazy and awe-inspiring to think that God can bring together a group of 10 that hardly know each other for His glory. I can't be too nervous simply because I know this venture is His plan. The first shock to my system will be the widening gap between the prosperity of the city and dire need of those in the slums. 

Continue to pray for us. We need it. 

Ricky is 2.

If you didn't know that I love my dog, then you don't know me. 

Ricky was born in our house 2 years ago on Mother's Day--fitting. He was one of nine puppies but from the beginning, he stood out from the rest. With a white triangle spot on his neck, you couldn't miss him. For about a year, his ears did not fit and we wondered if the mutation that gave him extra toes on each leg would come back and bite us.

As pathetic as it sounds, he's my everything on this earth. The feelings he shows when he runs through the door with a crazy, wagging tail and a tongue flipping out of his mouth, ready to kiss me--that feeling is mutual. 

Happy Birthday to my little Ricky.

What to do when you're verbally attacked

I've read many books, but not that one. 

I have no idea what to do when verbally attacked. That's why I started crying, stayed far away from the fellowship hall as possible and asked to go home right away. The rest of the day I spent hiding under the covers, replaying the--what seemed like hours--attack on a pure-hearted slideshow for Mother's Day.

I was upset, to say the least. And any time I retold the story to someone, my heart couldn't help but break all over again. I told myself that I'm never standing in front of the church or doing anything for it. What church deserves my enthusiasm and energy, my commitment, when it can't accept and appreciate a small, by no means perfect, show of love?

Then pride stepped out of the picture and Jesus came in. 

This morning, I remembered that I don't love the church. I don't even love the youth. What I love is Jesus. He's the reason I do what I do. He's the reason I will inconvenience myself and get a little uncomfortable--for His glory. It's the reason why I will put myself in a situation to get verbally attacked again.

The church and our youth will always disappoint. If it was for their approval that I worked, the towel would have been thrown in a long time ago. But it's for Christ and a debt that I can never repay.


"But as for you, O man of God, flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. I charge you in the presence of God, who gives life to all things, and of Christ Jesus, who in his testimony before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, to keep the commandment unstained and free from reproach until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, which he will display at the proper time—he who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see. To him be honor and eternal dominion. Amen." 1 Timothy 6:11-16

I miss my friends.

Being 20-something sucks sometimes.

There's the bills.
The job (that I love but still).
The RESPONSIBILITIES. 
Bleh.

But then there's living so far from your friends!
My best friends do not live anywhere close and though I speak to them almost everyday via text, email, Facebook, it doesn't replace spending hours with them doing pointless things. Things you only could afford to do when you were in college.

I guess that's why we have vacations.

Don't get me wrong--I love my 20-something life. I'm doing what I dreamed of when I was 14 and going out of my mind. Yet, without my rosy memories of college to look back on--I'd be a sad, sad person.

So if you're in college--IT'S THE FREAKIN' WEEKEND. 
Go enjoy it. Responsibly of course.

And I'll be at the wedding I'm obligated to go to...
P.S Here's a funny:
http://myfriendsaremarried.tumblr.com/post/45495812916/when-someone-tells-me-im-just-like-the-girl-in-27