Wi-Fi Passwords and Krishna Lunches

          I still have the tiny slip of paper on which the Wi-Fi password to the second hostel where we stayed in Delhi is written. It's tucked away in my laptop sleeve and occasionally, when I pull out my computer in class to take notes or to finish homework, it falls out too. I notice the meticulous handwriting of each number, even though it's now pretty folded and crumbled up. There's nothing particularly special about it either. Just a series of numbers written ever so carefully by the hand of the Indian man who quietly worked at the front desk and would timidly smile at each American as they bounced through the lobby each morning. It's a useless password. I don't have it memorized and I doubt that I'll ever be in that same hostel in the near future, but time after time, I reach to find a crumpled up sheet of paper in my bag.It's comforting and the ink on the page is a connection to the country that holds my heart.

         One of my dear sorority sisters has a huge heart for the country of Uganda. The other day, she told me something that really resonated with me. She said after she came home from Uganda, she realized how personal and deep our relationship with God is. She was reminded that her heart was created to love the people of Uganda, and they were created in the image of God for such a time as this, and she to live in communion with them, even when they were all simply going about their daily lives thousands of miles away. This is how I feel about India.

         Every day, I am reminded of what I've learned there. From walking to class and hearing Indian students speak in their native tongues, to passing by Krishna lunch in Plaza of the Americas everyday,  (Though I still don't think my stomach can handle anything that resembles Indian food.) to a Bollywood song randomly coming up on my ipod, I am reminded of the beautiful, complex and at times confusing culture of India.

To make a long story short, I miss India. Each day, with each small reminded I'm given of India, I'm reminded to keep an eternal perspective. This is a verse in Deuteronomy that I read this morning. It reminded me so much about India, especially since for the month of October, that's the country I'm praying for. Regardless of the country I'm in, it was such a good reminder that I was not made for this world, but each place I go I am called there for a purpose; to bring the kingdom a little closer each day.

"makes sure orphans and widows are treated fairly, takes loving care of foreigners by seeing that they get food and clothing.

You must treat foreigners with the same loving care—

remember, you were once foreigners in Egypt.

Reverently respect God, your God, serve him, hold tight to him,

back up your promises with the authority of his name.

He’s your praise! He’s your God!

He did all these tremendous, these staggering things

that you saw with your own eyes." Deuteronomy 10:18-21

        

Home is where the heart is.

    I seriously failed at updating this once I got back in the United States. I have, in fact, made it home safe and sound and have already finished one week of classes back in Gainesville.

    I arrived back in the United States around 1 a.m. on August 11th and in the comfort of my pillow-top memory foam bed at 3:30. (seriously, Indian beds are the hardest things in the world, although they told us Americans that they find our soft beds equally uncomfortable.) So far I have unpacked, repacked, worked my last two days at summer camp, baby-sat and visited friends and family before I headed back to school, along with tons of reflecting, processing and thinking.

    Of course, the first question that everyone asks is "how was it?!" I never thought that that simple question could ever be something so difficult to answer. I don't think one word could ever do this experience justice and as time moves on, I feel like my answer will continue to evolve. It's easy to say it was a "good" trip or "trip of a lifetime" type cliche answers peppered with stories of animals in the streets, casual exchanges about the food, culture and weather, and the occasional joke of how Americans don't have the leg muscles to use Indian toilets, but these surface stories and impressions could never do a country as complex and incredible as India justice.
    There are sights, sounds and experiences that you just have to experience first hand to describe. How does a simple one-word answer describe a huge country of one billion people? Or the vulnerability I felt as a minority for the first time? How do I replicate the feeling of constantly being stared at or having your picture taken where ever I went? How do I articulate the questioning of all that I have ever known, and my own purpose in the world, or whether I was just another idealistic college student?
   One thing that India did was make me feel small. Obviously, when you enter a country full of a sixth of the world's population, you are going to feel tiny, miniscule, and utterly unimportant and vulnerable. That feeling only lasts a week though. I soon found that it was liberating. That feeling of "smallness" meant that I didn't have to do it all, (Or, I guess it reaffirmed my previous blog posts.) That I was free to discover and make mistakes. It showed me that eternity is so much bigger than I could ever wrap my weak mind around.

   For now, I guess it's safe to say that the trip was good. It was nothing that I could ever plan for or expect, and it's still difficult to articulate all my experiences as I'm still reflecting and learning exactly what the trip taught me. It's definitely safe to say that I fell in love with India and have a serious case of wanderlust, so please be patient with me and give me grace if I can't give perfectly clear and concise answers to your questions, but I promise answers will come soon enough. 

Grace and Brothels

We all need the same grace. I said in my last post that I lack humility. I have sins and make mistakes that I have deemed "acceptable". I live in the U.S. and do what I'm supposed to do so I must be a good Christian. God must be really relieved that he doesn't have to give me as much grace. The nails probably didn't hurt as hard for me as they did for other people. NO. We all need the same grace and redemption. Jesus didn't have to die more for someone else than my sin. Every sin and mistake I make or have to make is a crushing blow, another lash of the whip, another nail in the hand. But it gets better. I've been learning so much about grace this past year, how much I need it, how much we all need it and how much I need to give it to others. To live a life marked by the grace, forgiveness and redemption of an extraordinary God.

I was reminded of this in a conversation I had a little over a month ago.

A few friends and I were discussing India and Hinduism came up. As we talked about how devout the followers were and how they would give everything for their religion. In passing someone commented "Yeah, they're so devout then they sell their own little girls."
The conversation continued but that single sentence stuck with me. What desperation must these people be in that the only option they see is to traffick another person, their own children?
Yes, I realize this example is pretty extreme.
But it's so easy to judge and compare.
But I don't know their situation.
I don't know that desperation. I have lived in such comfort my entire life.
That you can only get something to eat by selling your son into bonded labor or a daughter into a brothel.
Yes. It makes me so incredibly angry. But I know God sees their plights and their pain. He has compassion. He's a good dad. He's a God of justice that I can't comprehend. This doesn't mean that people will be punished, but rather responds with the same love, grace and redemption that he showed on the cross.
 I don't understand why or how human trafficking happens, but that's why God is God and I am not. That's why we all need the same grace.
If I ever think that I can't relate to someone, or just need a slice of humble pie, please remind me of God's grace and this post.
I need His grace. Daily. Just as much as the next person, even if that person in half-way across the world.

                                                    With Love,
                                                      Kaitlyn

Up

Legally Blonde and random places of inspiration

If you don't like the movie Legally Blonde, we probably can't be friends.

Ok, that's probably an exaggeration, but you'll probably be annoyed by the fact that I quote that movie like nobody's business, randomly burst out in songs from the musical, and watch a specific scene from that movie for study motivation for all midterms and finals every semester.

Why is it so great you ask?
 1. It's really entertaining. There are some quality quotes in that movie. (Don't stomp your little last season Prada shoes at me, you know you love this movie too.)
2. It's inspirational. Think this is a stretch? Think again. It's defying stereotypes and gives you a character you want to root for.
3. The good girl wins in the end by going after what she wants, working hard, and doing it the right way. In the end, yes, she gets the right guy, but that wasn't the point of the movie.
4. Reese Witherspoon is wonderful. Enough said.

One scene in particular, besides the scene that helps me study for exams, is my favorite. It's from Legally Blonde 2, but it is the 21st century, blonde version of this verse:

"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute^. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy." - Proverbs 31:8-9

See for yourself:

 

 Ok, so it's not necessarily the most biblical, but you have to admit the Elle makes a pretty good point.

If you read my last post, you know my experiences and how the lord really put the poor and oppressed on my hear.  I left for college with this burden in my heart, but I didn't know what to do about it. How could I reconcile this verse with my everyday life?

God answers prayers so much though when you start seeking Him, rather than his blessings or plans.

Within a month into school, I learned about an internship with an incredible local non-profit called FIGHT. It was an anti-human trafficking non-profit, and like I said, the two burdens God laid on my heart were human trafficking and clean water and water access.

Coincidence? I think not.

So I applied, I prayed, and I waited, patiently. Not something I'm good at. However, I knew that God fulfilled his promises when I committed my plans to him and would deliver.

In November, I heard back and learned I got the internship for the following spring semester.

It was one of the biggest blessings I have received to date. I learned so much. I was mentored and my heart was completely broken for victims of trafficking and their traffickers.

27 million. That is an overwhelming number. That's how many people are in slavery throughout the world right now. This number is really discouraging. I would lie awake at night crying for these people and thinking how impossible it would be to ever end human trafficking.

Then, He gently reminded me that I am not God. He sees what's happening and it breaks his heart. The incredible thing is that he invites us to do something about it. To speak up! (Again, my life could only be so perfectly woven together by the creator of the universe, because this is where my education and major come in again.)
Through all the statistics and information I learned what a biblical response to injustice looks like. It was life changing. It's not based on emotions and hype, but it's doing something.

With all that's happened in the past year, I know that the Lord is calling me to India during this time to speak up against injustice and indifference. 

Day by day I'm learning what that looks like and it makes me so unbelievably happy. (And if I'm being honest, pretty relieved.)

I just realized it took me like four really long blog posts to explain all of this. But it also really helped me process everything. So if you're still reading, thanks.

                                                       With Love,

                                                         Kaitlyn

P. S. If you were inspired by this I so encourage you to do something about something you're passionate about. Don't be indifferent.

Beautiful Feet

"How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?  And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” - Romans 10:14-15


<sup>For the record, I hate feet. Really I hate people touching me period, but if someone touches me with his or her feet, I'm not responsible for my reaction.
Because of that, I always found this scripture kind of strange, but its a scripture that's been on my heart since December. (funny how God works.)


Beautiful and feet. Definitely not two words that I ever put together. To me, feet are dirty and gross. Besides nail polish, there's nothing beautiful about feet. However, in Hebrew, the word beautiful can be translated to towb which means:</sup>

a) welfare, prosperity, happiness

b) good things (collective)

c) good, benefit

d) moral good

^{So our calling has nothing to do with beauty. It has nothing to do with feet and the fact that I hate them. It has everything to do with love. Love. Love. Love. The very reason I feel called to study half way across the word in a place filled with beauty, filth, poverty, colors, stories, and amazing people.}"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation." - Isaiah 52:7


"Let us not be satisfied with just giving money. Money is not enough, money can be got, but they need your hearts to love them. So, spread your love everywhere you go." - Mother Teresa


                                               With Love,
                                                 Kaitlyn  

People touching my hair and other things I hate...

I am not someone who likes being touched. It's probably really weird but it makes me really paranoid and I start thinking about germs any time someone touches me, especially my hands, face and hair. (Why you would think it's appropriate to just grab someone's face, I have no idea. Clearly, if that's normal for you, you have some things to work out.) Unless someone does it on purpose because they know how much it irks me, I won't say anything, but on the inside I'm probably seething.

Other things I hate: (besides what was mentioned above)

1. Getting death threats.
2. Being stuck in mobs.
3. Accidentally causing mobs.
4.  Not speaking the same language as the mob surrounding you.
5. Crying in public.

What do any of those things have to do with each other, you ask? Because all of them happened to me within a period of two hours last summer in the Dominican Republic.

Why am I writing this? Because it was the exactly moment when I tangibly saw that indifference is not an option.

Ever since I was little, I've had a heart for people. Vulnerable, hurt, broken people. Maybe it was because somewhere deep inside, I understood. It just took me 18 years to realize it. You know those commercials for Feed The Children that make you feel really terrible if you change the channel? I was their perfect audience, because I would always try to convince my parents that we needed to adopt the entire continent of Africa. (Side note, obviously, I realized that couldn't happen, but it's the reason we have our really awesome sponsored child from El Salvador, Sandra. Check out Compassion International) This was definitely instilled early on in my life by my incredible parents who always taught us and demonstrated  the importance of missions, serving, and tithing. However, I think there is something intrinsically wired in us to respond with compassion and love when we see injustice because we were created in the image of God.

From then on, I would learn about causes and organizations that would tug at my heart. I would research and support them and raise awareness as much as possible. (Clearly, PR was a good choice.)

Forward to the summer after my senior year. I was on a mission trip to Belleglade Florida, one of my favorite places in the world that will always have a special place in my heart. There, I learned from a dear friend about Word Made Flesh and her time with them in Thailand, and her experiences with trafficking victims. I'm pretty sure I annoyed her by asking her for more stories almost every day during that trip. (If you're reading this, sorry Bekah!) But I couldn't get enough, and I had a heart for southeast Asia even though I had never been there before.  (Cue hint #1 on India and my future calling.)

Forward a month later and I found myself on another trip to the Dominican Republic. Quite possibly, a series of the most life changing moments of my life. Will took us to a tiny slum called Guatchupita, where he first worked the year before while on the World Race.
I had never seen such alarming poverty.
The houses looked like they would fall over with a gust of wind. The river around the slum was an unhealthy brown. The stench was nearly unbearable. Everywhere was covered in trash piles four feet high, full of broken glass, feces and anything else that could be thrown out. For a germaphobe like me, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
All of the sudden as we got further into the slum, children started gathering around us. Mostly, because we were gringos.
They just wanted to be loved. They would grab our hands (Things I hate), they would follow us everywhere.
Then they started going for the hair. (Clearly, traveling to places where blonde hair is both attractive and uncommon is a theme for me.)
One, having a bunch of little kids pull your hair is really freaking painful. Two, I was about to freak out from this. Truly, I was going to have a full on panic attack.
Guess what. By the grace of God, I didn't. Somehow, He gave me patience and calm about the situation. He got me out of my comfort zone. (This doesn't seem like a huge deal, but it was for me.)

This was because He needed to open my eyes to something so much bigger than myself and my comfort zone.

As we were walking, I noticed the little girl clinging to me wasn't wearing shoes. Alarmed by the fact the ground was covered in glass and other disgusting dangerous, I did what seemed rational. I picked her up.  (Mind you, she was about nine years old and didn't know what I was doing since I couldn't communicate in Spanish. Typical events in my life.) Then I looked around and realized none of the thirty kids following us were wearing shoes.

By the time we left, I was seething with anger. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't, I was so mad. I was silent the entire forty-five minute walk home and most of the day. I was angry that the people I was with were making excuses, saying that's just their life. I was mad at the Dominican government for letting their own people go without clean water or sanitation because they were on the margins of society. I was angry with God for letting this happen.

Then, I realized something. I could go home and forget I saw this. I could just be indifferent to it.

But that's not what I'm called to.

A few days later, we went back with supplies, crafts and equipment to have a mini VBS for the kids there. This time, we came with translators too.

However, this was really bad planning.
Somehow, all of the girls got separated with only one translator and only a few of the guys. Not good.
Seeing a bunch of gringos, this time with "gifts" kids came from all over the place surrounding us. This time, they came with their parents too. Really not good.

In a matter of minutes, we accidentally caused a rowdy and violent mob, with no way to communicate.

We were being pushed and shoved. Women were attacking each other for a simple tooth brush, grabbing children, hitting each other and the children. Then weapons started coming out. (By weapons I mean sticks and a tv antenna. But still, it was alarming.)
The police in the area just stood there (with giant guns that scared the crap out of me, mind you) and watched.

Suddenly, I found myself surrounded with our translator, Frank, and no way out.

It looked a little like this:

All I heard was Spanish, so I had no idea what was being said until Frank told me they were threatening to kill us.

Umm...WHAT?! That's probably something you never want to hear, and this was definitely not the way I was planning on going.

Then I felt the tears coming and there was no way I could stop them. In a matter of seconds my face went from fearing-for-my-life panic to sobbing tears. (Poor Frank was so overwhelmed trying to calm down the crowd and me, looking back on it, I should have apologized.)

I wasn't crying because I was overwhelmed and scared, even though I definitely should have been. I was hyperventilating, and sobbing to the point of nearly puking because I saw the desperation and pain of not having enough. I saw such overwhelming need. I saw how selfish I had been. I saw what God sees and his overwhelming love for his children. I saw the face of God on every single person, even in the angry mob.
It was scary, beautiful, saddening, angering, heart-breaking, and incredible all at the same time.
That was the moment I knew God was telling me indifference could never be an option.

Two minutes later, thank God, Elliott was able to break through the crowd and literally pick me up over them. Then we all ran for our lives, with the crowd chasing us. (looking back it was probably really funny looking, but at the time it was absolutely terrifying.)

This incident will stay with me forever. Because in that desperation, I saw God. I audibly heard His voice through the shouting of Spanish and cries and screams.
And I couldn't say no to it.
It's funny how He works, because in retelling this story, I realized how absolutely ridiculous and crazy and slightly humorous it is. That's just life though, and the fact that God has a sense of humor.

I left the DR completely changed with that etched in the front of my mind and the depths of my soul. I started college with those thoughts of suffering and the knowledge that I had to do something, but I didn't know how to respond.

I learned though, quickly, because God is in the business of answering prayers when we're willing to humble ourselves for him.


“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?  Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter —when you see the naked, to clothe them and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?  Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.  Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I." Isaiah 58: 6-9



                                   With Love,
                                     Kaitlyn

Wordless Wednesday

"The place where God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." - Frederick Buechner