watch out boys...

the other day after morning mental health at sari bari. we were all feeling a little inspired from hearing about the kind of king jesus is...who takes the smallest of things and having planted them within, grows a big tree. a nice paraphrase eh? so basically, loosely translated, sarah asked the ladies to ask on our behalf,that God would grow some marriages for us...ha! right then and there they decided they'd better start praying for some nice young men. it was great. all i have to say is, watch out boys, when our ladies start dishing up there requests to the Father, ain't nothing stopping Him...of course they all think we need to wed nice Bengali boys to keep us planted here in west bengal. to which i reply...if he has a mustache its just not possible. prayers or no prayers i don't do the stache. however i did tell them that if they're making an order for me, i'll take one that will wake up and cook and clean each day for me...i don't think they know what to do with me most days, seeing how it looks like i'm asking for a bengali house wife...maybe i should just hire a maid...

as i sit here at my desk this morning looking at a picture taken of my friends and i on my birthday i just feel so full, thinking of these ladies we have come to know as our family. full of life, full of strength, and suffering, and beauty, and dreams. our friends. our family. i often remind them that i've left my home, my mom and dad and chachi...but i have recieved them in return. they remind me of hope, that lives can change. that dignity can be restored and names redeemed. because there's days when i question it all. there's days that linger in my mind like a stinging wood fire's smoke. squelching my hope. there's days when i wonder if the girls trafficked from nepal will ever retrace their steps home. if life made new is an option for them. there's days i descend those stairs feeling nauseous from the things i've seen inside.
i've been reading that we need to take the crucified poor down from the cross if we are really to call ourselves part of christ's church. but when it comes to these girls i feel like a statue, frozen in time. forced to watch their crucifiction in replay again and again and again. through the lustful glances of waiting customers, owners taking their 210 ruppees of payment, and a drawn down curtain-a linen wall of privacy...as we sit sipping cha on Madam's bed, forcibly ignoring this reality...

but then a glace back at my picture, shining faces staring hope into my morning. and remember the god of impossible, irrational dreams. that answers prayers for husbands. and takes care of the oppressed and loves justice and mercy. and knows about the nepali girls in even greater details than i could possibly endure.
and through this reality i'll continue to walk in hope. fighting to unleased the crucified from their cross even if for now, only through the tears i cry on their behalf.