"who is mother, father, sister, brother" jesus asked...
he who does the will of my father...they are who i call my family...

trying to translate this devotion into words my dear kolkata sisters can hear, take in, understand. takes more than just a mastery of the bengali language...simplified...
i realized, through choked up words and unashamed tears...that they have become my mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers...family.

in a place unknown and foreign. mother tongue unused, explanations understood. leaving my own mom and dad, beloved little brother. i explained that i had begun to understand what jesus was saying. that he wants us to love everyone like our own blood family. and for me that meant coming to love them...to many of these women, whose own mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers have left them, turning away in shame, received back only for the money they can offer, or in greed filled moments sold them to a red lit way of life...these words ring with a different tone...you are my mother, sister, daughter...and i, am yours.
what a 15 minute morning devo can do to change ones heart...

only appropriate that yesterday morning i also read some of the greatest news of my life...that my parents will be joining me for christmas in kolkata this year...full of sari bari teas and dinners in my flat...parties that will lodge in my heart and mind for the rest of my days...i never thought that i'd get to share this part of my life with mom and dad. never dreamed they'd set foot in the brothel alleys i spend most of my days, or shake hands with some of the people i've grown to love most in this world...its still unbelievable...and so exicting....
watch out kolkata mom and dad waterman are on their way...
goodnight.

seasons.
oh, these beautiful season changes...from the heat of summer to the easy sleeping breezes, whisking us towards the coming kolkata winter. the constant sweating has ceased. there's a sari bari blanket in use on my bed. and i have the desire to drink hot tea in the evenings again...as memories of may's heat fade away, my mind relaxes into the november sunlight and stretches out to see whats ahead. i love this season.
and yet, my mind's turned often to the color changes of my indiana home. cold november air. harvest remnants. layers of oranges, reds, yellows, temporary palettes. slippers and sweatpants. signs of the season's changes.
signs paralleling rich coloring palettes of my own.
i could blame my lack of communication on schedule's iron fist, or maybe my own lack of enthusiasm has left a blank slate rounding now towards 4 months of silence. but i'd like to remedy that, in the hopes of sharing again. i've often given myself the proverbial pep talk...writing witty antidotes, memorable quotes, candid city shots in my mind...but then i remain waiting for the right time, the right words, the right inspiration to hit. perhaps then i'd actually get it down to pen and paper (or key to macbook)...but the task of catching up on all that has happened in the last four months has been daunting, foreboding, and sensory overloaded. new introductions and 19 new sisters to add on our sari bari family tree, travels and goodbyes, sickness that has left us all a little more raw...so it will have to suffice to say, that it has been a difficult, powerful, life giving, and heart breaking last season. and from here i step forward. interested to have you rejoin the journey, ready to invite you back in.

i'll leave you with two things this evening...my amazing north american community...
i'd like to introduce you to: Kyle, Sarah, Anna, Asha, Brent and Melinda. dear sweet friends in a sometimes very lonely place... second...a little reflection from my time on the metro a few days back...ah the things we can learn about ourselves from crowded train cars...and yes, sometimes i do cut in front of old ladies...yes, still working towards transformation...

Shoulder brushes-shoved. Aligned. Removed. Unseen?
Move Aside. I'm out the door again.
Simple ride on the metro, turned fight for ones dignity.
Right to space does not exist.
Right to hold on. Stand tall. Falls under foot.
And the sliding doors give birth to a chance at humanty again.
And again...shoulder to shoulder. Shoved Removed. Unseen.
Ah but what a smile could do. Eye to eye, reminders of human life.
Easy to want to forget.
Caught in the act, aversion of the created.
Treat as Treated...adopted motto of survival.
Where's honor's space in that?
Because when its all said and done,
its really only 2 more seconds i've saved at the turn stile line...

sure is nice to be back home again in Indiana...though i'll be on the road again tomorrow morning on my way south towards wintery South America. it really pains me to leave the 70 degree weather behind...
Having been back just enough time to be in a good friend's wedding, see my little brother off to Scotland, and certainly eat my fair share of home cooking...i'm trying hard not to slip into panic mode as i walk down the fully stocked shelves of Wal-Mart and Target. i have to keep reminding myself i'll be back at the end of the month, to consume all things beef for 2 full weeks!
as always i'm grateful and thankful to see and be with such dear friends and family. and this blue sprawling sky and endless fields of green bring more life to my heart than i've ever remembered before. there really is no place like home i reckon...
but for now, Peru, Bolivia, here i come...stocking hat, mittens and all...

oh glorious. the rain has come, after two days scorching every living thing...finally a bit of reprieve. i love sitting on our veranda watching humanity emerge to the roofs and balconies to drink in a breath of fresh air, washing off layers of city grime. for a moment we're all in unity crying out sighs of deep relief from the oppression of the city's heat...as you can tell, i'm pretty excited about the rain tonight.

i've been unable to steal away a moment's rest to sit and write...or more adequately, i've refused to sit and reflect and see what pours out in these pages. paramount quantities of writer's block have left these pages empty and quiet. most days there's so much to fill my mind, so much to break my heart, so much to process and share but the daunting task of painting even a window's worth of understanding proves too much to handle, so i watch the Office and go to bed instead.

its has been a difficult few months. sadness has followed me through each day, as i've carried the scarring stories of my friends in the red light area. i've wondered at the placement of hope, and where goodness can be brought and found. i've wondered at where my own identity should be grounded, and how to hold back the tendancy to be found in what i do barring who it is i am in the body and blood of Jesus. and i'm rediscovering, practically daily, what the song of lament really means. and the power of hoping in a new creation, and the strength that floods in moments of sincere silence.

i'm thrilled to be going home in two weeks...to the Waterman farm and strawberries and steak. and a chance to find restoration and being...and that coupled with the symphony of rain outside my window is enough to make me jump for joy even when the heat index climbs above 120 in the course of an afternoon.

back from nepal and greeted by kolkata rain?...its cool, calming, refreshing even. the warmest of welcomes from our city of joy. i really am so glad to be home.
spent the last week in nepal introducing our servant team to our asia cousins to the north. always a sweet time to be with dear friends, always mind blowing to see the himalayas...always mouth watering to eat the sacred cow(unashamedly as many times as possible in a week's span)

as i reflect on a busy month's worth of life, there's a lot of thoughts jumbled, mixed, bound together. still battling busyness and space, anxiety with deep seeded peace, and how to love in the midst of so much ache and dispair...so at the closing of another month i'll leave you with a few foot trails written through the month, following me right down into the days ahead...may god have mercy as we journey on.

...New things, olden aged creation. prophecy stands waiting on the page. neatly arranged. look about and see-what goodness, found in deed. can make my feet unbound. in Kingdom blood, i can still become what was meant when life's first breath was placed.
New creation. here and now. stark harsh. life gleams below. now turn your ear, lets hear this story, one more time.
New creation. here and now. find passage through this heart of mine and lets remake the world.


...Layers peeled back. Expose. Somthing new. Unmake. Unmade. face of pure. Delighted in me. I've found You. Undone. Rebound. Renewed. Enjoy. Rejoice. Resounds in walls where worship finds center.
And peace results.
And body is broken. Blood still spilt.
And life restitched, made new. Needles pierce a patchwork canvas, unraveled. Mossaic's found a place among the poor. Heavy thought, pursued hope. Sorting through creation. snapshots of life unposed. Rake through the rubble, so much value in the upchurned story. Good intentions, a life poured out. Meaning of a ticket, entry into paradise. Salvations left to question. Its my Father's world, watch it take shape. swell and fall. rushing tide. Unbound. Retied.
Watch it take leave. and see reborn the Hand of God....

...Sitting, waiting, wanting to find peace. fully alive is my prayer. to thrive make life survive? there's more to this call to love. City of Joy, how do i hold you?
How do i welcome you
slap back
turn your face
stab in the back
hold your hand, by my side
i'm still unsure how to find my life...
i've heard it said...but still, i'm wondering how to love.

its 108 today. fans blowing hot air but this body of mine just can't cool down. everythings moving just a little slower as the summer creeps in upon us. i've moved my bed to the floor in hopes of discovering the sweet spot under the fan...some nights you just have to accept something closer to semi-sweet...
sure fire sign the hot season is upon us...the birds, they must pilot in from the four corners of the city in order to make a perch in our storage room. i mean our dinning area really does take on the persona of a bird sanctuary as they fly by during my morning coffee and eggs...i guess anythings better than a tree in the sun...but today they got their due...i wasn't even trying to chase this one out but it panicked and dive bombed right into the fan, i thought i had another bird-acide on my hands (see blog entry from last may...and attached video). this one didn't die but worse, it limped to the corner with a gimp wing and is now stranded on the bk paul 5th sotry flat i call my home. i abhor these birds, but how can one just toss over the veranda ledge a helpless uni-wing. am i really that cold hearted...
i'm sitting here, in a quandry.
so for now we have a new pet.
though i haven't gone so far as to offer water and seeds. one can't get that close to the enemy...


oh hot season, how we love thee...

the strain to hope...april update...

More days than not, I’ve strained to hope. Afraid of the lament…the sorrow…the brokenness that’s wrapped my heart of late…

I see sickness poisoning more than just the blood of those I love…greed and lust destroying lives of those I hold most dear…I see vulnerability misused and little hands discarded and abused…muted lips parting to take another drink…

And I’ve strained to hope…and see where good is hiding…in the shadow of such drastic injustice and sorrow…

But perhaps what a dear friend said is true…that what we most have to offer is a presence… Of hope… of peace… of dignity…

and the driving faith, that even in the red lit alleys

there really can be change.

And so I find myself asking, advising, retracing what I know to be true…about the power of presence…and the power of Christ’s resurrection…that indeed, as the tags of our sari blankets declare, all things are being made new…

Perhaps, presence really does bring light to dark places.

Perhaps in the midst of hopelessness, life can spring forth…flowers in the cracked cement…perhaps when I walk towards suffering instead of shrink fearfully away…enter into pain, embracing it around and within me I continue to declare the resurrection of our Saviour in this broken aching world. Mingled with the tears of lament is the “mystery of the presence of the risen Jesus. He is hidden there, in the sacrament of the poor”, as Jean Vanier says. He is here, in me, and in the presence I offer moving from room to room, alley to alley…maybe I need to retrace my steps…

I’m stealing glimpses of a picture I like to keep near me. My friend and her daughter. Both of them beaming, glowing, unrecognizable stories through this window of captured time. Out my window I stare often to the rooftops of golden lanes. Red lit and broken. And my mind is pulled up stairs, down halls. She, beautiful and growing, has got her mother’s eyes, though movement betrays the power of her mind. And I beg God for a rescue and a broken little body made new. Through reflections of a mirror our eyes say what words can’t form. How am I to understand what fills your little days…I’m beside you dear sisters, if ever such a presence can be enough…

Reserved. Withdrawn. Where was your mind tonight. Bound up, tied tight. Squinting to see the light. Painful images take shape. What tensions held in a size 5 space…by these two hands, perhaps honor too can be redeemed…what stories held, shadows cast on lonely door posts through the years…I wonder as I hold her close and wish for a trade, in which she was the lifter of my head…and I the one fighting for another of life’s deep breaths…she calls me sister, and her smile makes my heart explode…know I’m here beside you dear one, and for now I pray such a presence will offer renewed hope in another day…

I’m turning twisting. Minds down lanes, up stairs, backed down alleys, pumping water, bathing river. Up and down. Round about. Testing where to hold on tight.

Thinking about Kolkata. And her people, her rich and poor. Guests and refugees. Gangsters and hidden housewives. I’m lost in the lanes, in seas of humanity.

I see humanity.I wonder down the road, interactions, interjections…rejections. Should there always be time for icecream…there’s always time for the image of Christ…

What life do these little ones hope to have. A meal with the lame, out of curiosity, pity, guilt, love.

Rupee coins and hands of melting steal. Releasing grips long held tight in fear.

Four posts of a double bed. And the curtain’s makeshift privacy. Five year olds who scout for flesh…and I whisper for mercy to come break through…

Face to face on the bridge of “whores”. Hollowing. Hallowing. Sacred.A moment of humanity, passed.But I don’t easily forget.

I’m dancing with the stories I know, backing away, drawing close. Tension, and decision’s been made. I’ll take another step…forward…deeper, I know I’m in over my head. Oh presence of peace, You make the way, and I’ll keep entering in…

These past few months I’ve been processing much about our friends and their brokenness, and the hope to be found in the midst of such sadness. It has left me with much to contemplate and lament, but there’s also so much to celebrate…certainly not all has been dark and dismal!

In the past few months, Sari Bari has celebrated birthday number 3!!! We picnicked to a great amusement park with two bus loads of Sari Bari ladies toting kiddos and husbands alongside.

We graduated another round of training ladies, and continue to see amazing work and restoration take place. Faces at first guarded and dark, are lightened and laughing even after only 6 months. And I’m again reminded that our work here is reflection of both the resurrected and the risen Christ…the broken and the new interwoven and declaring hope.

We’re also in the process of the last and final signing for the contract of our second Sari Bari location! After months of waiting and praying, Sari Bari Sonagachi is about to be a reality we’ve been dreaming of for a long time…in the middle of the red light area, fresh hope is coming…

Also exciting news, as some of you might know, I’m in my third and final year of my contract with WMF and have decided to renew my contract for another 3 years. I have been asked to take on the role of Kolkata Field Director when my new contract begins, and so will lay aside my role as Servant Team Coordinator and seek to serve this field and my community as shepherd and field director at the beginning of next year. This is an exciting but intimidating next step as I see how many places I have to grow and learn (and probably fail) in what it means to lead and serve this field in the future.

Also thanks to someone’s great generosity I’m planning a trip home this summer during the month of July. I would really love to use my time at home to connect with you, share and encourage and be with as many of you as possible, and introduce and share my friends here in Kolkata and better connect you with the important and powerful work you’ve been a support and part of these past three years, so please let me know how I can best do this in the few weeks I have at home!

As i close this long over due update I simply ask that you continue to pray for our community and our friends here. For hope to spring forth in us and peace to blanket us as we move about the city. There's lots of changes, new schedules, more responsibilities, new faces, and plenty of guests to keep us on us on our toes...so as you settle in with your morning cup of coffee or gather for your evening meal whisper a prayer of peace and grace and freedom for us and our friends today...

And as always thank you for your faithful support and interest in me and my life here, even when my communication fails for a few months.

I’m praying that you too will discover the power of your presence in the midst of heartache, fear, and pain in these days. And see the mystery of Christ unveiled in the sacrament of the broken around you.s

Amen.