A Cup of Chai

“You will be the father of many nations. No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations. I will make you very fruitful; I will make nations of you, and kings will come from you. I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come to be your God and the God of your descendants after you.” Gen. 17:4-7

All throughout Genesis when Abraham is mentioned, God is constantly talking about his “descendants” and being a “father.” I find it incredibly ironic that God continually refers to this BEFORE Abraham actually has any children to carry his name. In this time and culture, it is extremely important to have lineage to continue the family, however, Abraham didn’t. Abraham was 99 years old when the above verse was spoken to him. This was also AFTER Sarah (Abraham’s wife) told him to have a child with the maidservant because she didn’t “believe” she was able to bear children. A previous promise was made, disbelief settled, and an alternative plan was pursued.

Disbelief settled because time caused the promise to become stale. Abraham and Sarah no longer trusted. As God speaks, Abraham replies, “Will a son be born to a man a hundred years old?” Abraham questions God. God still provides through Abraham’s questions and disbelief. God still provides AFTER Sarah tries to devise an alternate plan.

When Abraham was 100 years old, Issac was born and Abraham’s faith was recovered. Issac was God’s ultimate plan. Can you imagine the relief Abraham felt when he finally got what he had been waiting so long for? Can you imagine the amount of faith Abraham had when he first held his son? Enough faith to last him through his next trial…

“Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about. Early the next morning, Abraham got up and saddled his donkey.” Gen. 22:2-3

The Bible doesn’t speak of Abraham’s response to this request. Do you think he just said “sure”? Do you think he cursed? Do you think he went to counseling? Do you think he cried? Do you think he told Sarah?

It took the years of preparation BEFORE Isaac was even born for Abraham to be ready for this very moment. It took God answering and bringing his word into existence for Abraham to even be willing wake up that morning with the task that lay ahead. Abraham went to the mountain with every intention of sacrificing his son. Abraham trusted. Abraham knew that Isaac was God’s ultimate plan. As Abraham was operating in a radical obedience (an obedience that many of us cannot fathom), God was operating in provision.

“…because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore.”

Abraham’s obedience and faith led to God’s provision. It took Abraham believing effortlessly in the sovereignty of God. Abraham’s many years without a son prepared him for the years when he would have a son. Abraham trusted that God loved Isaac more than Abraham loved Issac.

How often do I forget that God will bring his promises for my life into fruition even if it takes 25 years? How often do I question or curse my circumstances when it is possibly the very preparation that is bringing me into “the promise”? How often do I try to take matters into my own hands in efforts to make “the promise” happen in my timing?

God had a very specific plan for Abraham. God had a plan for Abraham that was extremely nonsensical. God had a plan that Abraham had a hard time believing. God had a plan for Abraham that superseded realism and practicality. “By faith Abraham, even though he was past his age– and Sarah was barren– was enabled to become a father because he considered him faithful who had made the promise. And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore.” Hebrews 11:11-12

May your faith enable you to believe that a barren woman would conceive a child. May your faith allow you the will to sacrifice that which is closest to your heart. May your faith allow you to cling to the promise even when disbelief begins to settle.

It is SPRING… thankfully. This winter was rough. Winters are always difficult for me. I need sunlight (as I am sure many of you do). I need flowers. I need signs of life. The winters in Baltimore are pretty horrible, however the spring is so beautiful that it literally makes me FORGET how hard the winter was for me.

Recently, 600 dollars was stolen out of my classroom. I am sure you are wondering why 600 dollars was in my room to begin with. Well, I was collecting money for a New York field trip at the end of this month. I should have dropped off the money in the office as it was reaching multiple hundreds of dollars. But I didn’t and it was stolen. My principal was really upset at my irresponsibility and negligence. Several weeks goes by and my partner teacher and I decide to reconcile. Somehow… someway… we came up $300 ahead of what we owed and I had not yet put the mystery $600 in. I immediately rejoiced thinking that I would not have to pay the money back at all. My principal asked if the balance was paid and we both replied with a resounding YES but never once mentioned that the missing money was no longer needed. My partner teacher and I rejoiced in the discovery and called the day quits as we left the Ashburton community.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop wrestling with it. I talked to many of my friends about these mixed feelings of joy and untruthfulness. I was confused. Several of my friends told me I should tell him to which I replied defensively because this was MY money. I needed to count my blessings and stop thinking about it. But I couldn’t.

“Trust me, Kristie.”

“Trust my provision.”

I wanted to once again take matters into my own hands and figure out how I could keep MY money. Of course, I went to school the next day and asked to speak with him after school. What a long day that was! Finally 3:00 was here and I had to tell my principal who I was SURE would tell me to replace the money. He was confused and asked many questions. Several of which left me without words. He continually told me that I was irresponsible and needed to be a better steward of my classroom… He told me he would think about the situation and make a decision later.

I left feeling defeated. I left without closure, without answers. He pulled me into his office yesterday. I texted several of my friends asking them to pray… and they did. I walked into his office with my heart racing. I sat down and he immediately said “I don’t want your $600, McManus.”

My principal, a person who is nearly impenetrable, had mercy in this moment. I was speechless. I thanked him, shook his hand, apologized for my negligence and walked out of the room. I was in tears.

“Trust me, Kristie.”

“Trust my provision.”

Even in the hands of those that you don’t think have the slightest view of grace or forgiveness, God speaks. God’s provision, in the most menial of matters, gives hope to the matters that are much larger. God’s provision yesterday ever so sweetly reminded me of His presence.

I am thankful for the springtime. I am thankful for the flowers. I am thankful for the signs of life. I am thankful for rebirth.

“I like to play and dance just like you but they have suppressed my heart only to work. I like to learn and laugh just like you but they have silenced my soul only to work. I like to imagine and dream just like you but they have removed my creativity only to work. I like football and cricket just like you but they have busied my hands only to work. They have busied my hands for work and no play so that your extravagant clothes will fancy others each day. They have suppressed my days to long labor hours so that you will be satisfied in the skirt with the flowers. It is an unfortunate exchange that you and I possess… As you increase in materials, I depend on them less. -Thoughts of a sweatshop child”

I wrote this poem in India as my mind was flooded with questions. Some of the same thoughts travel through my mind this Good Friday. At the crossroads of confusion, I find myself becoming angry as I hear a child behind me yell at her mother because she refused to buy candy in the checkout line.

Today, I returned from Nicaragua. I was a part of a strategic missions trip with my church. The primary goal of the trip was to collaborate and brainstorm with the locals about effective micro-financing, teaching, community organizing and fund raising. Managua, Nicaragua has an unemployment rate of 70% which plunges many into starvation and high risk living conditions. I knew before leaving that these types of trips often change me more than anyone I come in contact with. The people of Nicaragua will live the same life long after I depart. I, however, was once again revolutionized and empowered.

Will the children, who live on one meal a day in the dump, receive justice? Will they one day have a life where their tummies will no longer rumble? Will their mothers and fathers live to see the day that picking through trash is no longer necessary to survive? My mind spins and my heart races. Why have I seen these horrid glimpses of such global disasters? Why have I been given the privilege to take a street child to the sandy shores of Nicaragua as he experiences the waves for the first time?

I’m not sure why I feel an overwhelming sense of privilege and honor when granted these beautiful opportunities. I’ll never understand why orphans are starving this very day in both India and Nicaragua. Although my mind is flooded with questions, I’ve once again committed to discovering the answers. I am confident that my Lord died and rose again on the third day. I saw Him this week in the tired and dirty faces of orphans and widows. These people that posess a hope that I have never seen before. It is a hope that is nonsensical and contagious. It is a hope that is dangerous. It is a hope that spreads to me, the screaming girl at the check out line.

Be encouraged and blessed this Easter holiday.

1 John 3:16-20 “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no compassion on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything.”

After an intense summer abroad working with orphans and the homeless, I laid down the blogging. I don’t know if hesitation arose because of confusing, sleepless nights or simply because I was trying my best to successfully complete my last semester of college and become a grown-up. Well, it became most real to me a few months ago when I officially gave my mom her credit card I have had since I was 16 and purchased car insurance in my name. I learned quite recently that time will continue to lapse regardless if you are actively pursuing your dreams. After my college graduation, I loaded my car and treked to the snowy north. Two of my best friends lead a pretty adventurous life and have inspired me to no end. I thought it only practical and necessary to move to northern Michigan in early January to work a temp job with them as I awaited to hear from my current career choice. Our time together always seems to collaborate this heightened sense of community in me. It really is a beautiful thing. As they moved to Australia, I knew that Baltimore was my next endeavor.

It is currently the start of my second summer on the East Coast. If anyone would have told me how hard my first year moving away from everything I new to be comfortable and friendly, I would not have come. If anyone would have told me how time consuming planning rigorous lessons were, I would not be teaching. If anyone would have told me how broken the lives of inner city children are, I would not be involved. I’m glad no one told me.

One year later, I am painfully involved. I am settling my life here in Baltimore City and becoming quite acclimated with it’s simple charm. Although, I could never imagine growing up on the streets of Baltimore, I am honored to educate those that do. A student told me the other day that they heard a “shoot out” in their neighborhood and as I intently listened, I immediately replied, “Does this happen often?” She then said quite casually, “Ms. McManus, this is Baltimore.” I paused for a minute, took a deep breath, then continued my reading lesson.

I do not share to increase the intensity of my chosen profession, but simply to say that, even in America, there are “unsafe” areas. Even in America, children go without hygiene products, central air, and food. Even in America, there is a large disparity in education and the achievement gap is wide. I have seen much in this country that has left me wondering almost hopelessly. But, I am quickly encouraged when one of my students says that she “couldn’t sleep” because she was thinking about the lesson I taught on the Holocaust. As I have been inspired by Timothy and Katie, I hope to transfer that inspiration into young lives. (P.S. Tim would be offended if I didn’t say that he came up with this post’s title. Kuddos Tim!) I hope to leave them with an ignited fire. I hope to encourage them in the fact that even in Baltimore, they can embrace change and be something different. I have posted largely on my chalk board Gandhi’s quote that I hope they remember throughout their lives… “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” As cliche’ as it is, it still carries a beautiful message. A message that even I have often warred with.

I am hopeful. I know that this time is beneficial and provoking. This blog is even an expression of my current stability. I have not posted because I have felt extreme instability within this last year, but as I embrace what I know to be Truth, I find it promising and beautiful. Christ makes all things new and continues to show me the areas in which I can be a light. As I conclude my first year of teaching, I will prepare for my next. Graduate school is on the near horizon. Baltimore is a good place for me. I am learning more than you know.

Katie and Tim, thanks for your inspriation and prayers.

india aftermath…

well, i have officially been home a week. its quite weird, but not as different as i expected it to be. i really miss the shanti dan children and have a hard time even thinking about them. although i dont think ill ever see them again, i feel as if ill go back someday. i really have to focus my energy on school this semester, though. i am graduating in december and feel as if these have been a pretty productive 4 years for me. two of my best friends are moving far away this next week. this semester will be much different without them. when i think about india.. i feel confused. i feel as if i saw so many sad things yet found no solutions. i feel as if the trip was productive in my exposure to the country yet i am left with not knowing the next step to take. i have figured out that i love the country and i definitely want to live there long term however, i am overwhelmed with the work that needs to be done in such a broken place. i dont think there are formulas or 12 step answers, but sometimes i wish there were. instead, you are forced to take it one day at a time. 

im learning to trust even deeper right now. im learning to trust God for my future and my vocation. as i begin this next semester, i am going to try to remember all that ive learned this summer. ive learned that it is so easy to change your perspective to your present location. it is a conscious effort to remain sensitive to others and their needs.

Well friends, as i get ready to write my final blog and reflections on India, i instinctively notice how short this summer seemed to me. Some days,depending on my mood, I’m happy about the quickness of the summer and others not so happy. Today is one of those in between days. I am ready to see my family and a few dear friends, however, i have some reservations upon leaving. This summer has been such a blessing; the time and preparation before my trip have all been worth the experience i have had. I will be eternally grateful for this sweet time. I’m sad to leave my friends and familiar faces on the street… although i was not able to provide a home for them or feed them everyday… i was able to bring a smile and the hope of Jesus. that was a daily joy for me. I am sad to leave the suffocating, smelly streets of Calcutta (as charming as it sounds) because i feel as if God was so present here for me. I know that location alone does not determine God’s presence, however, dependency does. I feel without cell phones, easily accessible Internet access, and air conditioning— much of a dependency is created. A part of me is scared to walk away from that. I’m sad to leave Shanti Dan and the vivacious children; never in my life have i felt a love so evasive. Their faces will never leave my mind and i will be forced to depend on God’s protection and grace for their lives.

HOWEVER…. I’m happy to bring what i learned about myself and others home with me. I will forever treasure it. I’m not quite sure how i will react to the “reverse culture shock” but i think I’m ready for it. In 4 days i will be on a plane back to my comfortable life and air conditioned loft. There will be some adjusting for sure, but God will be faithful even through my troubled, confused mind.

Thank you all for your encouraging prayers and blog comments. They always seemed to come at just the right time. I just feel so thankful to have so many friends and family members supporting me in my exposure to the third world. I pray that you all are daily remembering the gospel and Jesus’ intimate life among “the least of these.” I look forward to have a cup of chai with many of you. Please continue to keep me in your prayers these next few days as i bid Calcutta my final farewells (at least for now) and i prepare to arrive back in the dirty south.

Namaste (the God in me respects the God in you)

Kristie

P.S.    I will be posting pictures when i get home and have a 72 hour nap 🙂

disclaimer: this is a rough copy.. no punctualization or grammar editing.. just typing.

so every night i have been listening to jason upton to help me fall asleep.. some nights are better than others. some nights i just lay in my bed for hours thinking of my first meal in america. i know that sounds ridiculous and menial but often times my mind just wanders. you can only do so much journaling and reading in a 24 hour period.. oh yeah, ive been getting back into some soduko. this blog is also meaningless… just a small update on how ive been. nothing profound or thought provoking.. im just tired of looking at facebook and myspace.. wordpress was next on the agenda! the last few days have been kinda rough.. i have been thinking a lot about home. i found out a few days ago that my little brother is in the hospital with walking phenomia and a small hint of hep a. its bothers me a bit not being there and also makes me a little more homesick. he is doing better though… i ask for your prayers for him. i have 14 days until i go home.. i count down the days several times an hour and sometimes wonder if i spend the majority of my time just thinking about home. its weird… in america, im not hugely patriotic… okay not at all.. and here it seems like all i can think about is blessed states and comfortable lifestyle that follows. i have still not acclimated to the extreme discomfort that arises each day although i am trying my best to go home a much simpler person. im not sure if this is good or bad.. i know for one thing though.. when i leave i will miss this place so much. thats always how it works. while your present you think about a place youre absent and vice versa. i have noticed that smaller things excite me. i am easily entertained here. the other night i saw Hancock at the indian theatre. for 2 dollars, i was given admission into the very crowded, stinky place with popcorn and a fanta (i have grown a strong liking to the orange drink). NOW THATS A DEAL!!! the movie was horrible but for some reason the 2 hours of air conditioning made it incredibly enjoyable. tonight, me and a friend are treking out to find the one and only subway in calcutta. it should be interesting because every trip holds a different set of obstacles (bus ride, communication barrier, etc.). im about to wrap this thing up.. cause honestly i have nothing else to say. the children i teach are still wonderful yet sometimes give me a headache and the other place i have started volunteering is quite the story (for another meaningless blog). thank you all for reading my thoughts and keeping up with my indian life. ill return soon to probably begin to wish i was back here. my mind has quite the confusion in it.

LOVE AND PEACE

kristie

At Shanti Dan, there is a small 9 year old child about half the size of my brother, whom just turned 5. His name is Laltu. He has a heart murmur and recently his fever has escalated significantly. As I sit in the school where i teach and also where the children live, I wonder, how many of these malnourished children nursed back to health really do make it? What is their motivation for life? Laltu is my best student- He is quite the comic relief in an average day of shapes and colors. I look forward to daily seeing him. Two days ago though, his fever forced him to his bed and absent from class. This morning, I walked into his room to check on him and he was just sitting… lifeless, almost. Sister tried to tell me that he is a naughty boy because “he does not drink his milk or take his medicine” and she says that she hopes his parents come tomorrow for their scheduled visit because she will dismiss him. All day, her words continued to ring in my mind.. “he can just go.. You see him.. He is just naughty.” Now please understand the complexity of this situation and do not begin to have ill or sour feelings towards the sisters of charity (as their beautiful work has healed and rescued many out of poverty and oppression) but know that just as anything you do day in and day out becomes stale–she too has seen many of the complications of poverty and sometimes the hopelessness that follows. I then sit next to him and begin to hand feed him his warm glass of milk realizing that this is no issue of defiance or rebellion but simply a matter of him being legitimately ill and weak. As he finished his glass, I held him for a few minutes. The noticeable shift in his emotion causes me to think that this situation, if not promptly handled, could progressively lead to something severe. Never in my life have i felt so much love and pleading for someones life as i did in this moment. I felt like this child was literally dying in my arms and i could do absolutely nothing about it. Talk about an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. It was in this moment that I felt all I could do was pray on this child’s behalf. I sat there and battled in my mind the possible solutions I could do to alleviate his pain. It is weird to describe as Im sure it is weird for you to read and understand fully what i was feeling today. My mind is boggled and overwhelmed at the crazy implications this country possesses. I’m not quite sure if i will leave feeling like I’ve accomlished anything; however, i know and have seen the faces of the people dying from preventable diseases and i am sure that i can not leave here unchanged. Confused yet empowered, i look forward to the moments that lie ahead. I am thankful for situations that bring change. I believe change is the evidence of the spirit of God residing in our hearts. Please pray for Laltu.

Today was probably one of the sweetest, memory making momentsthat I’ve experienced in all my time here. We commuted about an hour to a small village where we were greeted by many happy, rambunctious street children. They were excited to see us because they knew what was to come. The brothers (opposite the sisters) of missionaries of charity wash and feed about a hundred street children each week. A little overwhelmed at first, i was handed a small bar of soap. Girls and boys separated and the goal was to have them squeaky clean for their big lunch. A few young girls, sadly I observed, seemed to be sexually advanced in their promiscuous attitude and stance. Kolkata has a rather large red light district area which is where many of the young, street girls are taken. Regardless, it was a good time of fun and excitement. Although, they were probably clean for about 30 minutes, i felt a sense of renewal. After lunch, they scattered back into the streets hopefully remembering they are loved and kindly accepted by the brothers of mother teresa.

Sorry to all you interested folks, photos were not permitted!

Love and Miss you all—

Kristie

I’ll start by actually talking about my days. They are long and hot; the buses here are crowed and filled with B.O. For some reason though, i like it. I like the bus rides… sometimes they are peaceful. My commute to the place i teach (Shanti Dan) is approx 45 min with a mile walk. I have found peace and reflection in that also. There are 6 children in my class between the ages of 7 and 9 (when i say class.. do not think of a big spacious room with desks… there are 3 different age groups and 5 teachers– all of which teach in the same room just at different tables… it gets loud sometimes). Only one of my children is an orphan; all the others have families that live away from Shanti Dan (House of Peace). The children are taken in or dropped off because they are severely malnourished and/or have tuberculosis. Amidst the circumstances, they have amazing energy. They are learning shapes and numbers right now (in English) while they are teaching me some Bengali (state language). seriously, it makes me really sad to think of my last day with the children.  it is coming quicker than i know it. today we made musical instruments… i thought they were going to drop dead they were so excited! The children are by far my favorite part about India.