The third week started out with a bang, literally. We had gotten the children together to go to a botanical garden/play ground called Empress Gardens. We stopped on the way to grab some fruit when the bus started billowing smoke from the engine, then fire. Joy shouting from the front to get all of the kids out was a bit of a shock because I was in the back with about ten children sitting on my lap and couldn’t see what the commotion was about. We soon realized that we could die any minute so we started to throw children out the window and back door. Just at that moment a water tanker happened to drive by and freely give us assistance in putting the fire out. Nobody was hurt thankfully, but most were shaken up at the near death experience. I was impressed at the teams ability to handle a stressful and dangerous situation, everyone went into survival mode and worked together for the safety of the children. God stepped in with the water truck, because that was the only one we saw for the next three hours, and for them to freely give us the water was amazing. The trip to the garden ended up really good and fun. Banyan trees were everywhere along with fountains and exotic plants and a massive elephant statue.

That Monday we started back on the houses. After lunch one day I took a walk down the road to settle my stomach. On the way back to the site, a woman called out from her hut saying “BABA! HELLO” so I waved back. She then motioned for me to come to her hut, it is not an unusual thing to have someone invite you into their home for Chai so I didn’t think anything of it. I walked back and she motioned for me to come inside so I took my shoes off and went in. Much to my surprise I walked into a room with a bed and two young women laying on it. The woman was motioning to me to sit on the bed, I refused the best way I could without being rude and said goodbye. Now there was one of two things happening here. Either A)the woman was prostituting out her daughters or B)she was presenting them to me for marriage. Both are not uncommon. The team got a good laugh at the story.

The night before we started the construction of the homes, Joy took Jason, Kishor and I to shop for supplies. During the excursion, we stopped at various stands to get “snacks” or street food. Picture a hot dog vendor in the states selling bizarre colored pastries and foods with Indian men loitering around talking about this and that. The first snack, Vada Pav (pronounced Wadda Pow), similar to a hamburger but with potato and spices mushed together and deep fried into a patty form between very fresh bread, was fantastic and became quite quickly one of my favorite Indian foods. The dreaded Pani Puri was next, Pani meaning water and Puri meaning butt hell. It was tasty don’t get me wrong. The snack is a thin dough ball deep fried and filled with a spicy water soup. Six are placed onto a plate with yogurt, onions, peppers, and chili powder to top it off. After all of that, was Sweet Paan, an after dinner mint if you will. Interesting item made of a betel leaf with a sugared fruit sauce and rose petals mixed with fennel seed. We were given a package of two Joy told Jason and I to stick both in our mouths and chew like tobacco. He and Kishor got a real kick out of seeing Jason and I almost vomit red colored spittle out of our nose and mouth. The pan expands and Joy did not tell us that we were supposed to spit the red juice out like tobacco not to mention we were only supposed to eat one at a time.

The next morning Kishor was still laughing because of the Paan incident. I on the other hand was having a rumbley tummley because of the Pani Puri snack. This was the day we started construction on the houses and there was not a safe toilet for miles and miles. I ran to the “Poo Poo” field more than I cared to that day. I was sick for the next two days not having an appetite for anything, but not that bad all in all. The houses were coming along fine and the children were really starting to open up to us. The girls were having fun teaching me Marathi and the boys were trying their best to teach cricket, although they said I should stick to baseball.

The rest of the week was building houses and having worship with the children. Friday we took the older children to a place called Sanskruti meaning “culture”. Think of Chuck E. Cheese mixed with Casa Banita and outdoors that is Sanskruti. We walked through the gate and were instantly greeted with “snacks” and the children were quick to tell me to steer clear of the Pani Puri. I told them of my run in with the delicious devil by that name. After snacks, were the different booths offering arts and crafts from Indian culture. Mehndi art, puppet shows, magic shows, pottery, dancing and ice cream all you can eat ice cream. This outing is a once a year tradition for the kids, so they go crazy and everything is included once inside and after all of the activities is a huge all you can eat feast of traditional Indian foods. What a fun time with the children and to see them so excited over ice cream made this whole trip worth it.

Banyan trees are all over the place here, they grow up and then the branches sprout roots that grow down into the ground. Beautiful because they start more trees that way, similar to a missionary in a foreign country. We grow up in Christ only to reach down and plant more roots into the non believers. Beautiful.

Saturday after the Christmas party, we went up into the mountains for a picnic. Away from the smog and noise of the city, we played cricket and had a “Brazilian” style BBQ where there was food all day long. We had a wonderful view of Pune it seemed to stretch out forever before us. Most of the children had never been outside the city. It was an all day ordeal of fun and sun. Sunday we went with the staff and children to the Assembly of God Pune, I wore my Punjabi and got some very mixed looks from all of the women (mostly good). Joy forgot to mention that the Punjabi that I just so happened to pick is a traditional grooms dress. Thanks Joy.

Monday night Jason, Brenda, Ricci and I went to the site where we were to build the homes for the street folks. Most have never had anything in their lives so a 12x12’ shack looked like a mansion to them. The site was donated by a wealthy Hindu man and plots are freely given to anyone in need. The land is an hour outside of the city mainly farmland but very peaceful. Many of the parents of the children in HOGF live in the community. That ended up being an all day ordeal, as most things in India are.  If you want to find supplies to build a house then it means driving around finding the supplies, not just going to Lowes. Everything is a chore, walking to get food, pumping water into the tank for showers, heating the water for hot showers, dumping trash. Nothing is easy. I will never take for granted the ways we have things in the States.

Sorry this is about four weeks overdue, but the internet usage is few and far between. India. Where to start? It seemed the devil had his hands in the trip before we even left for the airport. A blizzard settled in right before we left, taking us a little longer to get to the Newark airport. Once we arrived, a man slipped by security so they shut the airport down for about six hours. After the herd of passengers were escorted off their planes and a thorough search of the terminals was completed, they let us board at two o’clock in the morning. 16 hours later, we found ourselves in New Delhi around five o’clock in the morning Wednesday. About 6 hours later, we arrived in Mumbai, then took a seven hour bus ride to Pune. Long travels and already we were more tired then we had been in a long while. The pollution did not help matters, we arrived in Pune coughing and wheezing ready for a shower and a bed.

Jet lag had no effect on me. I adapted to the time change easily. The next day, was an orientation meeting with Joy and Liliana Dongardive, the founders of the Hope of Glory Foundation, the orphanage we would be working with. After breakfast and the orientation Joy took Jason and I to Laxmi Road the mecca of fine Indian fashion. I purchased a Punjabi and some tailor made slacks and shirt for about 60 dollars American. The Punjabi would be proper attire for church and any other formal meetings, similar to our tuxedo. The rest of the day we got a proper tour of the city and were told how to get around by rickshaw. Being a single white male in Pune is a dangerous thing. Women see me as a ticket to America. I am constantly having to stop myself from smiling and saying hello to women.

Six A.M. is the first call to worship for the Muslims, right across the street from our house is a temple. That makes for very early mornings. The next day was another tour day and more history of the Orphanage and shopping. Later that night we met the children and my life would be changed forever. The children in the HOGF house are beautiful and brilliant. They call me uncle. Overcoming unbeatable odds, they are alive and free from HIV. Some were freely put in the home by their parents, others were orphaned, and yet others were taken from bad situations in the brothels of Pune.

The wrest of the first week was not much of anything, just familiarizing ourselves with the city and shopping. Friday night was the big Christmas party for the children. At three we met up at the house to greet the kids from school, and helped them study and do some crafts, shortly before dinner it was time to for them to open their gifts that we had brought. Paper was everywhere, clothes and toys and backpacks. It is funny how much joy can come from secondhand clothes and dollar store toys. But the children treated them as gold and even fell asleep in their backpacks.

The song sings about amazing grace. But what does that mean? Today’s society graciously throws around the word grace, and the meaning has been lost in history. David Seamands said it well “many years ago I was driven to the conclusion that the two major causes of most emotional problems among evangelical Christians are these: the failure to understand, receive and live out God’s unconditional love, forgiveness and grace to other people…We read, we hear, we believe a good theology of grace. But that’s not the way we live. The good news of the Gospel of grace has not penetrated the level of our emotions.”

On an outing to a local restaurant, a family of three overweight Christians set down to have a celebratory meal before their son goes on a mission trip. During boring conversation, the family sitting behind them get served their entrees. The Christian father notices the rack of ribs that the mother ordered, “look at that rack of ribs, my god!” “Well look at the lady that ordered them…” answers the Christian mother under her breath.

The problem here is that the Christian family knows about grace, they hear about it all the time and are readily prepared to receive it from others, but they are slow to pass it along to others. But God freely gave us His son to die for us sinners that did not deserve it. We can live because God freely gave us life! What about that does not sink in to Christians. Why do we try and make this Christian thing difficult? Why do we try to make it boring? Please someone give me a direct answer! Freely give as God gave to us.

Grace, means an undeserved gift, or positive action that is unmerited. God is tickled to give us grace, because we are broken people that need it. Let me tell you I love the idea that I have room to screw up. But this world works on a non-grace system of do’s and dont’s. Lets look at this Michael Jackson guy for example. The man blessed many peoples lives with his music, gave his life to make others happy. An accusation comes out that he molested some children and all those years of work went down the drain, even though it was never proven that he did anything. OK, so the guy was a little strange and eccentric, but in the scheme of things, who isn’t? We all have our differences that are ours for a reason. The world was not prepared to give Michael a clean slate until after the man died. I am glad God is not like the world, let me tell you, because if He held grudges like we do, we would all be screwed.

We are quick to laugh at the person in the quicksand, but in doing so don’t realize that we ourselves are sinking. The modern mind works a little like this: “I work hard so I can have the things I want, if you want these amenities, you should work hard too, but I don’t have anything to give you.” Let me speak boldly. You may work hard for your amenities, but you have freely been given the gifts to make your work easy, but you have chosen to work hard, and even that was a gift given to you. In no way did you deserve to have two eyes that see clearly, two hands that work properly, ears to hear or feet to walk. Those are gifts from God. Grace, how sweet the sound. So even working hard to have the life you want was freely given, so you should freely give to those that don’t have the same circumstances that you do.

I hate to preach. But this has been on my mind as I have been asking for money. God has called me to do mission work, I ask for money because I need it, sure I don’t have a conventional job. But I do have a job working in the places where a rich Christian wouldn’t be caught dead in. I’m just following Christs example and loving those that are “unlovable”. I speak freely and lovingly and if you get offended by this post, I am sorry, maybe you should rethink some things.

So in closing, I challenge all of us to accept the grace of God for just that, grace. Not just another word we hear in church, but a living Son that gave His life for us screw ups. Believe me that this Christianity I can live with.

As I walked to my favorite corner store at 12:40 in the morning anticipating the late night snack of Funyuns and Mountain Dew, I felt alive again. My favorite DJ/attendant was manning the counter and he was very pleased to see me. We chatted about Christmas and the weather and he had some new R&B to show me. I said my goodbyes, put my headphones in and headed back to the white house with a red door. Drunk off of the brisk air and sweet kiss of green fizz, a song by The Outfield came on and I had no choice but to dance in the road, laughing at the stars in the crystal sky. In such a short time being back in New Haven, I felt rejuvenated, an ice cold fire lit in my lungs once again.

My room greeted me well, offering a solitude where God is present and seeping through the cracks in the floorboards. I love God, I love man, being back in such positive surroundings breathed a sigh of relief into my mind. I love my friends and family do not get me wrong, but as soon as I got off of the plane in Arkansas a heavy weight seemed to bare down on my spirit. It stayed there even as I got on the plane for Chicago but left as soon as I touched down in Hartford. Strange, but I definitely knew my heart was not in NWA. I know that I am supposed to be in Connecticut not to mention India.

Mom, please pay the rest of my tuition. I know I don’t deserve that, and I know that you guys have helped me out many times over. I am thankful for that, but I need this right now. $1,150.00 that is all I have left to raise. But I needed it a week ago. Grandma and Grandpa, thank you for all of your support, I will not let you down. To all of my friends in Arkansas, please pray for a strong heart in India, and even a stronger tongue that discerns the spirits over that country. Man oh man, I sound like a raving mystic. And if your wallets are able, I could use some money right now, Lord Jesus knows I need to pay this off.