Exaggeration

“What exaggeration could there be in the practice of a doctrine wherein one was bidden to turn the other cheek when one was smitten, and give one’s cloak if one’s coat was taken?”                      Leo Tolstoy-Anna Karenina

Extreme Christianity or radical Christianity are very popular words. Those are used in cases where one leaves one’s country, or steps out of one’s comfort zone, befriending someone unlovable or something of that sort. But this is neither radical, nor extreme. It is being Christ-like. Perhaps it is radical in the eyes of the world, but it should be expected and commonplace for those who claim to be followers of Christ.
If you are truly following Jesus’ example, there is no way that you’ll be too extreme.

“Something is wrong when our lives make sense to unbelievers.” Francis Chan

Different types

It’s interesting to me the different friendships you have throughout your life. You have your BFFs when you’re little, those friends who will “Always be there”, but are mostly forgotten about in a couple of years. There are friends who stay with you your whole life, whether because you’re just thrown together through circumstances, or because you’re so much alike. These friendships stay strong for various reasons.
And then there are the friendships that appear, friendships that you never would have expected, but friendships that affect you in ways you need.
For instance, my two closest friends here in Ooty are about as opposite as they can possibly be. One would not pick them out of a lineup to be friends with the same person.

One is a British lady, a dorm Mom, and a Mom of 4 kids. She is one of the sweetest women I have ever met. We cook together, and there are always random mishaps as we distract each other from what we are doing. It probably often takes us twice as long as it should to make whatever dish we’re making, because we talk so much, but that makes it more pleasant. I would rather take 3 hours to make a cake with her than take 20 minutes to make one on my own. We talk about everything under the sun. Often, someone in her family will come and join our conversations. Her oldest son is usually the one who joins us for the longest amounts of time. He is amused by our insanity. The three of us frequently laugh so hard that we cannot speak, and our cheeks ache by the time we finish laughing.
She is like a Mom, an Auntie, an older sister, a best friend. She is everything that I have needed during my time here. I feel truly loved when I am with her. We talk about both the good and the bad when we are together. We commiserate, we encourage, and we listen to each other. It is a very mutually beneficial friendship. I never would have guessed the first time I met her that we would grow so close in the time I’ve been here in Ooty. I do not think I could have managed to finish my time here if not for her. When things were at their worst, she was there for me. And when good things happened, she was the one I told about them. She is an amazing woman, and I am going to miss her tremendously when I leave.

The other friend, as I said, is completely different. He is an Indian man, and there are days where he is my best friend, and days where I couldn’t care less if he jumped off of a bridge. Though, even on those days, for some reason, I would care. This friendship is one I cannot explain. Reason would dictate that the friendship end. Reason would tell both of us that some days. It isn’t a case where I am perfect and he is terrible. It’s a case where we are both, as he puts it, “Insanely intense people”, and that can be a volatile combination. We are both independent, hot-headed at times, and moody. Basically, our personalities are a recipe for disaster when they are put together. But in spite of this, from the time we met, for some reason, we have continued to be friends. Oh, there have been times that I thought the friendship was over. But somehow, we would smooth things over, and we would be friends again. Sometimes there are people who come into your life who, even though you often want to punch them in the face, you care deeply about instead. And this is one such case. I have no idea why. I don’t know why we became friends, and I sure as heck don’t know how we’ve managed to stay friends. But I am truly glad that our friendship has weathered all of the stupid, ridiculous storms we have put it through.

Two friends, as different as can be, but both in their own way, have made a huge difference in my life, and especially in the last few months. Without them, I would have left Ooty a long time ago. I am incredibly grateful for both of them. Usually more grateful for the former, but I love them both. 

I’m Pro-Life, But...

I have been pro-life my entire life, and as I grow older, I grow more and more pro-life. I understand more now what a horrific thing abortion really is, and that it needs to be stopped. The flippant killing of our unborn and our elderly show how far we have fallen.

But if I feel this way, why am I sitting here, crying as I read about a woman who performed at least 3,000 abortions? I am not in this case crying only for the babies who were killed. I am crying for the woman who did the killing. I think that she is an amazing woman, stronger than I could probably ever be. And I am amazed at the choices she managed to make.
Her name is Gisella Perl. She was a Jewish gynecologist from Hungary, who was sent, along with her family, to Auschwitz. There, she was one of the doctors handpicked by Josef Mengele, the “Angel of Death” to care for the prisoners as well as she could. Gisella made due without the supplies she needed to doctor people, mending bodies as well as she could, and trying to heal people with her voice when she could do no more physically. She told the inmates stories of what the future would hold for them, giving them hope of being free and celebrating birthdays and the like with their families.
Shortly after her arrival at Auschwitz, Gisella was told to report any pregnant women to Mengele. The story was that they would be sent to another camp, where they would be given milk, and a double bread ration in order to keep them healthy for the baby. They even went so far as to drive the pregnant women away in Red Cross vans, so everyone believed the story.
But in reality, the women were sent to Mengele, who performed his sadistic experiments on them, as well as on twins and people with handicaps. His official job was to do research on human genetics in order to devise methods for eradicating inferior genes so the Germans could produce their “superior race”. Of course, he used the grants he had for his research to fund his sadism. The women were experimented on, then when he was done, they were sent to the gas chamber, or often thrown into the crematory alive.
Pregnant women who were not given to Mengele were still not safe. They were tortured by the guards, beaten, kicked in the stomach, used to bait the dogs, whatever the guards wanted to do with them. Then they were killed. Being pregnant meant death for a woman in Auschwitz. And death for her baby.
This is a quote from Dr. Perl about the fate of a pregnant woman in Auschwitz:
“They were surrounded by a group of SS men and women, who amused themselves by giving these helpless creatures a taste of hell, after which death was a welcome friend…They were beaten with clubs and whips, torn by dogs, dragged around by their hair and kicked in the stomach with heavy German boots. Then, when they collapsed, they were thrown into the crematory - alive.”
When Dr. Perl found this out, she determined that there would never be another pregnant woman in Auschwitz. At night, when she returned to the barracks after her day of work, she performed abortions on any women who needed them. She says that she did not have any equipment that she should have had for an abortion, but instead did them with “My own five fingers.” The estimate is that Dr. Perl performed around 3,000 abortions in her time at Auschwitz.
It is so easy to judge her. To say, “No, it is still an abortion. She was still destroying an innocent life.” David Deutschman of New York says this:
"there is no rational or moral justification for . . . wholesale slaughter of infants . . . whether it was done by the brutal Nazis, or by a sentimental and well-meaning female medical personality."
I disagree with him. In spite of my pro-life stance, I think that Dr. Perl did what she had to do under the circumstances. I do not know how she managed it. I don’t know how anyone could handle anything under those circumstances. But she did, and she is known as the “Angel of Auschwitz” because she saved the lives of so many women who would have been tortured to death without her. And many of these women survived Auschwitz and went on to have children who were able to live.
After the war, Dr. Perl did not want to be a doctor any longer. Finally though, she did go back to being a gynecologist. Each time she entered a delivery room, she would pray, “God, you owe me a life-a living baby.” And after a healthy child was born, she would shout, “A life for a life!” She had not been jaded by the abortions she had done. She even said in her biography, I Was a Doctor in Auschwitz, that she did not look at the abortions as a doctor would. She looked at the babies she was killing as a Mother would look at the babies. So to her, it felt as though she was killing her own baby over and over. But she knew that it had to be done.

You may live by the quote, “It is never right to do wrong to do right.” Meaning that, no matter the outcome, you should not do the wrong thing. But I realize more and more all the time that in many cases, there is no black and white. There are a lot of grey areas, and you cannot judge a person for what they do in those areas. Should Dr. Perl have told those women that she could do nothing for them, and they would just have to be experimented on and murdered? The baby dies either way. Dr. Perl offered life for one, instead of a horrible death for two. And I would guess that she did it at great personal risk. I doubt the “angel of death” would have taken it well, knowing that he was being deprived of pregnant women to torture.
It’s up to you what you think about Gisella Perl. I think she was strong in a situation where it would be very hard to be strong. I’ll leave you with this quote from Dr. Perl:
''It is worthwhile to live. God rewarded me. He rewards me even more now.''

Trot!

There’s this little girl I have been giving riding lessons to. Her name is Tavi, and she is such a cutie. She is one of the kids who loves Hercules, because he is more her size. And she is confident enough that he usually listens to her.
Well, I say listens...he obeys her non-verbal commands quite well. Tavi scarcely speaks during lessons. I am used to that when a girl starts riding. They usually stay quiet for the first couple of lessons, but by the 3rd or 4th lesson, I realize that life would be a lot more peaceful were that girl as quiet as I originally thought. But not Tavi. Apparently, even with her own sister, she scarcely speaks. And I have seldom heard her speak, even to her parents above a whisper. She is not rude at all, but is simply a very quiet little girl.
Then I let her drive Hercules. There was an event at the school, and the horses were there. Shadow was being ridden, Herc was pulling the cart. And Tavi came three times to drive Herc. Knowing that she is good with horses, I let Tavi take the reins. She was very good. And then she wanted to go faster. I told her that it was her job to ask Herc to go faster. She heard me tell him to trot, and knew just what she was supposed to do. With a little smile, she popped the reins on Herc’s back, and said, “Trot.” The noise of the SC event was all around us, and Hercules did not respond to Tavi’s voice. She went silent again, waiting for me to tell Herc what to do. I chuckled, telling her that she had to be a little louder, because Herc couldn’t even hear her. She flicked the reins again, and said in the loudest voice I’ve ever heard her use, “Trot!”
Hercules broke into a trot immediately, and I looked at Tavi, totally surprised by how loud she spoke. She had the biggest grin on her face. It was a good moment to witness.
Tavi came back three more times to drive Herc. She took the reins each time, gaining confidence as Hercules listened to her more and more. There was even one time where she accidentally drove over a plastic bottle, and Herc gave a pretty big spook. Tavi handled herself well, not screaming or anything.
This is the kind of thing I love about working with the horses and kids. I love it when the horses make a visible difference in the kids.  

10 Things

Something I did on FB and thought I'd repost here. With photos :~)

1. Most people think I have no people skills. That’s not true. I have brilliant people skills. When I feel like using them. I usually don’t think it’s worth it, so I don’t bother. I have better things to do with my time.

2. I don’t say “I love you” to someone unless I really mean it. And I am not just talking romantically. I don’t say it to friends/acquaintances unless I genuinely mean it. And I don’t like it when people say it to me when they don’t know me, and it’s just a thing to say.

3. My biggest fear in life is probably wasting my time. Making a wrong choice and ending up stuck doing something I am not supposed to be doing. Or not making a choice and sitting around waiting before realizing that I’ve been waiting for a year and nothing has happened at all.

4. If it wasn’t for the fact that I would lose my passport for assault, there is one person I know who I would beat the crap out of given half a chance. I’m not proud of this, but it’s true. In general, I wouldn’t do anything of that sort to someone. There is only one person who would get that reaction out of me.

5. I have become completely addicted to Doctor Who in this last year. It’s definitely my favourite tv show. Especially the seasons with David Tennant :~).

6. I really like my middle name. I think my parents chose a good one. But I don’t tell a lot of people what it is. It just feels a bit too personal.

7. The best movie I have seen since coming to India is Warm Bodies. Haven’t been very impressed with new movies recently, but this one was good. Who would have thought I’d like a zombie movie that much?

8. There’s this trail here that I have kinda decided must be one I am not supposed to take people on. It’s just one for Cosette and me to hike on. Tried to take my folks, but we just didn’t have time. Tried to take Carla, and she got really sick and we had to turn around halfway. I don’t think I’m gonna try to take anyone else.

          

9. Favourite colour? Purple. Pretty much my whole life for some reason.

10. I love dressing up and looking beautiful. I often don’t do it, because people make too big of a deal about it. But I really do enjoy it. 

Babes and Dogs

I’ve had people tell me that I am a bad person, no one likes me, I have a lot of things wrong with me, etc., etc. And for a while, it really upset me. It’s hard not to believe those things when you hear it all the time. But I knew that wasn’t who I am.
I was on a mission trip once, and was having a bit of a struggle because of the negative things I have been told in my past. Then another member of the team told me something which has stuck with me since then. She told me that she knew I had a good heart, and that it was really a good heart, because any little kid we were around came instantly to me. During church services, I was fairly buried under the little kids (probably about 8 and younger) who wanted to be with me. They wanted to constantly be touching me, whether it was a hand on my arm, or my arms around them, or sometimes they would rub my belly :~)
Another reason she gave was the street dogs. Even without any encouragement from me (I didn’t try to get them to come up, knowing that someone else on the team would kick them, trying to get them to go away), the street dogs were always coming up to me. I’d be standing in front of the church, and look around, and there would be dogs sitting right by me, looking at me.
She said that when someone has a good heart, small children and animals are drawn to them. She didn’t know the reason, just said that’s how it works.
I was reminded of that the other day when I was driving through town. I was sitting at a red light, and glanced to the side of the road. There was a dog standing there, perfectly still, watching me. Maybe I smelled like Cosette (she wasn’t with me at the time), I don’t know. But it was similar to things I’ve experienced before. In Mumbai, I was walking around, and a street dog started following me. The guy I was with kept chasing her away, and as soon as he turned his back, she was back at my side, following along happily.
So anyway, there will probably be plenty of people who will say this is nonsense, and that I am a bad person in general, no matter what little kids and dogs seem to think about me. But I can’t help but think she’s right when I am being followed around by little girls, who are holding my hand and chattering my ears off. I’ve not done anything to try to get them to like me, it just happens.

Christmas Music

I was laying awake last night, with a Christmas song stuck in my head. It was a version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Don’t remember who it is by, but my main memories of this song are from when we played it during the Christmas season at the Crossroads Polo Campus.
It was so much fun. It was one of those whole family songs. Dad was doing tech, Carla and Mom were on keys and singing, Steve was on guitar and singing, and I was on bass and singing. It was one of those cases where it was either going to go as we planned, and be spectacular, or it was going to completely bomb. It was a fairly complicated song, with interesting piano pieces, and even a bit of Carol of the Bells thrown in, just to make things more complicated.
We finished the song, and it was amazing! Everything meshed together the way it was supposed to. It was one of those songs where, as you finish, you feel this sense of elation, because it was so good, better than we expected it to
be.
Pretty sure that was the last Christmas we played music together. And the last Christmas that we were together as a family. Well, the last Christmas we were together as the 5 of us who are supposed to be together. We are still most definitely a family, it’s now just that it is the 4 of us, not the 5 of us.
Sometimes memories suck. Feelings and emotions suck. I love Christmas music, I really do. But I hate these feelings that it brings sometimes, those moments where I think, “Man, we should do that song for church.”, and I remember that we won’t do it. At least we won’t all do it. Because Steve isn’t part of our family anymore. He’s made that choice, and I think he’s the one the least affected by it. And I don’t like that it changes my feelings about Christmas music.
But feelings and emotions are what make me love Christmas music in the first place. The feelings I get when I hear or sing Christmas music. Without feelings, there would be no reason for me to like Christmas music. It would be noise, plain and simple, like any other noise without emotions. I would far sooner keep the bad emotions than lose the good. 

The Dark times

This quote is so true, especially for certain people. Those who struggle with depression in particular. There are times when I know I am being ridiculous, and my moods have taken a hold of me, but there isn’t anything that I can do. The more I try to get myself out of the funk I am in, the more I spiral down. All I can do is wait for it to go away. 

But this is one of those things that I worry about when I become friends with someone. How can I let someone become close to me when I know that one day, I will have one of those dark days and I do not know how that person will react? The more I care about someone, the harder it is to let them close enough to see that. Because the only thing worse than dealing with those emotions and feelings within myself is knowing that I have ruined a friendship with someone that I care deeply about because of something I am trying hard to control, but just can’t.  

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever find a friend who will be able to deal with me no matter what. The older I get, the more I doubt it. I’ve seen the true colours of people I care about, and in a lot of cases, they’re not that great. 

What??? That's Illegal??? Give Me a Break...

Just had a Kinder Joy egg. It's a pretty common sweet here, and I thought I would try one, as I will most likely not get the chance to try one in the States. Because they are illegal.

     

It wasn't anything that great. Some milk chocolate, some white chocolate, little crunchy things like the Ferrero Rocher chocolates. It was decent. The toy inside was a pair of tops. Kinda neat little tops. But apparently this is what makes the candy illegal in the States. Even though they have warnings that there is a toy inside, and the toy complies with safety standards. I kind of thought the toy was actually in the chocolate, but the toy and chocolate are in separate sides of the egg shaped container. It's called natural selection. If you're dumb enough to eat a toy instead of the chocolate, then maybe you're destined to choke. 

This article is interesting, telling about why they have been banned in the US. It goes a little deeper than my rant of, "People in the US are flipping stupid and need to take responsibility for their own actions." 

http://voices.yahoo.com/why-kinder-eggs-banned-us-can-545918.html?cat=22

                                 

                               

Looks

Was watching tv, and there was an infomercial for this thing called “Fair Look”. It’s an herbal concoction that one can put on their skin to make it more fair (obviously not for people like me, who are still glow-in-the-dark after tanning for a couple of weeks…). One of the dramatizations they used, showed a dark indian man coming into an office building, only to be stopped by the guard, who wouldn’t let the man in because he was too dark skinned. Instead of protesting, the man bowed his head as though he truly had something to be ashamed of. Someone else, who was pale, put an arm around the man, and led him into the building, while he kept his head down, and did not look at anyone. It showed the man putting this Fair Look stuff on his face, and as time passed, his skin became much more pale.
Then it showed him walking into the office again. The doorman, who didn’t want to let him in originally, saluted him, and let him in. He walked inside, and everyone in the waiting room stood up to greet him, and a lady who seemed to be in charge came to shake his hand and welcome him.
I’m all about people bettering themselves, and their lives, but this really bugged me. Discrimination because of skin colour is just a fact of life here. The darker your skin, the less worth you have.
It’s funny, I’ve never really understood racism, or colourism, or whatever you want to call it. Judging someone because of their skin colour. Heck, I hardly even notice when someone is a different colour. I’m not bragging that I’m not racist, I’m just saying I honestly get so used to it that I don’t think about it. In fact, I get so used to being surrounded by people with skin darker than mine that I kind of notice white people more now. I don’t get why it bothers some people so much that someone else has a different skin shade. And it’s mental. People who are pale want to tan so they’re darker. People who are dark want to use products that whiten their skin. Go figure…
If we could see the beauty that exists no matter what skin colour a person has, we would do so much better. Some of the more beautiful Indians I have seen have quite dark skin, and I do not think the dark skin detracts. It’s much better than falsely whitening their skin
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. True, but the heart is what determines the beauty the eye sees. Beauty can be found, no matter the skin colour, no matter the hair, the jewelry, the make-up…Beauty can be found if you are looking at others in a way that lets you see their beauty. It seems that most of the time, when people judge others by their skin colour, it is because they have been taught wrongly. They have been taught they are better because of their skin colour, and they have pride in that. They do not want to let go of the thing that makes them better. Pride stands in the way of love. Pride stands in the way of beauty. Pride stands in the way of everything good in life. It makes us want to be above others, even if it means changing who we really are. Whether it is changing our personalities, or even changing our skin colour. Never will we be content so long as we are full of pride.

Holding on or Holding out.

I’ve been thinking recently about the way that we hold on to past relationships, whether friendships or romantic relationships. We look over them, wondering what was done wrong, and what could have been done differently. But often, we are holding on so tightly to those things that we miss out on what could be in our futures.
I’ll use an example from my past. Unfortunately, I have only dated one person, so anyone who knows me will know to whom I refer. But oh well. That’s life.
I was in a relationship, and was pretty sure from the start that it was headed for marriage. We agreed when we decided to date that we only wanted to date if there was a strong possibility of marriage. I had never before been in a relationship, and really did not even want one before we met and began talking about a future together.
I’m not going to go really in depth about this relationship. That’s not what this is about. Suffice it to say that I was very serious about things, and I really had a hard time when the relationship ended. Especially when I found out how much of it had been a lie. I felt stupid for trusting so completely, and I kept trying to figure out what I had done, and trying to find some way to make things right.
I spent way too long thinking about this boy I had lost. And the really sad thing about it was that I knew the relationship wasn’t a good one for me by this time. I had realized how much lying happened in the time we were dating, and I knew that I did not want to be with someone who seemed to enjoy being so dishonest. But I was still in love for some stupid reason, and I had a hard time letting go. I think it’s kind of a Webster girl thing. When we fall in love, we fall hard, and don’t fall out of love easily.
I’ve been thinking recently about the process I went through in letting go, and I think that the most important thing was when I realized that, in holding on to my past, I was ruining my chances for the future. So I had to let go. As you have probably guessed from the title of this blog, I realized that it was better to hold out for an amazing future than to hold on to a pathetic past.
And when I understood that, I saw that letting go was my best choice. And then, my biggest regret became the fact that I didn’t hold out, waiting for the best, but instead jumped into something that was obviously a mistake. But sometimes you have to make mistakes to see how important it is to wait for the great things that God has for you.
So now, I am holding out. Believing that God has great things for me, and waiting for those instead of settling for something that is less than the best. Who am I to tell God what should happen and when it should happen? He has far better things than the nonsense in my past that I let go of, if only I hold out for it, trusting him.

Dreamer

What is my dream in one sentence?
I had this question asked of me a few weeks ago. Actually, everyone at this conference had it asked of us. I don’t know how any of the others felt about it, but I was a little stumped. I could answer the question, “What is your dream in one monologue.” or, “What is your dream in pamphlet form.” You know, something like that, which gives a bit more space for my dream. It wouldn’t even have to be a book. Just something a little longer than one sentence.
What is my dream in one sentence? Hmmm...that’s a tough one. My dreams have always been multi-faceted. And I know that with God, I don’t ever have to choose a smaller dream. But still, it is good to have enough focus that I can bring that dream down into smaller wording.
I would have to say that the following is my dream in one sentence:

To use the unique, random gifts/talents/interests God has given me to touch people where they are, even in ways that may seem a little weird to others.

What is your dream in one sentence? Leave a comment and let me know.

Drawing

“We should be drawn to fellow Christians. We should talk to them about what God is doing.”

Sometimes I talk to family or friends, and I’m like, “You know, I don’t really like Christians. I should have more non-christian friends.” I know this is likely offensive to many people, but it is the way that I feel. There are days when I feel like it is easier to be around people who are not Christians, because honestly, they’ll act the same as my Christian friends, but at least I know where I stand with non-Christians. They don’t pretend to be living one way, while their lives demonstrate something totally different. They aren’t following Christ, and they don’t pretend to. Whereas, I often think that there is so much hypocrisy in the church that I don’t know what to believe about a person.
What I really hate though, is when God is doing stuff in my life, and I don’t really know if I can tell people, because I don’t think they’ll believe me, or I think that they’ll say that it isn’t God, it’s just the way things work, and sometimes things just fall into place. It seems that Christians are scared of giving God too much credit. Anything bad happens, and Satan gets all of the credit, but good just sort of happens. We should rejoice with each other though. Even in the little things. If someone comes up to you and wants to tell you what God has been doing in your life, you should listen. And you should listen without judging, or laughing because the thing that they are talking about is so small that “God wouldn’t bother with that”.
God cares about a sparrow that falls to the ground, and he clothes the flowers in the field. Why don’t we thank him for the “little things in our lives?

Because we’re humans and we’re dumb, that’s why.

There’s one person I know (outside of family), who I can talk to about anything that is happening, and not feel foolish, or judged. It’s nice to be able to share the smallest thing and not feel like it is just a small, unimportant occurrence, but have someone else also think that it is God working in my life.
And that is how we should be with other Christians. I’m not saying we shouldn’t talk about anything else, but we should talk about the things God is doing. Otherwise, what are we doing to encourage each other and build each other up?

Home Sweet Ooty.

It struck me as I was returning to Ooty after seeing Carla off that I won't have this experience many more times. Of coming home to Ooty, I mean. I'm down to mere weeks of living in Ooty. Less than two months at this point.
There are some reasons that make me ready to leave Ooty. But in general, I am going to miss living here. I'm going to miss my little house in my neighbourhood full of people who don’t really seem to quite know what to think of me most of the time.

Carla and I were driving down the mountain on Ali, and there were moments where we would come around a curve and see the whole valley stretched out in front of us, and it took my breath away. Even now, I see the fog rolling in, or I see the sun speckling the tea fields, and I can’t believe how lucky I am to live here.
But if I am leaving such a place, what is there ahead of me? There is such a belief among Christians that one cannot be doing God’s will unless you are suffering. I do not find this to be true, either from experience, or from reading the Bible. God has plans to prosper his people, and not to harm them. Does this mean that nothing bad will happen to me? Heck no. But it doesn’t mean either that he wants me to be miserable my whole life.

So, although I will miss so many things about life in Ooty, I am looking forward to seeing those things which God has in store for my future. And ultimately, my home is heaven, and there, I believe I will constantly have my breath taken away as I see the wonder around me. 

Redemption

I love Les Miserables (in case you haven’t figured this out…). But it always makes me sad. Which makes sense. It’s about miserable people. But that’s not why it makes me sad. And I have finally figured it out.
I was just telling a friend about Les Mis. She’s never read the book, or seen the movie, and really knows nothing about it. I was trying to explain in a nutshell (yeah, a 1463 page book in a nutshell...), and I finally said I like it so much because it is such a story of redemption. A story of how one person, by listening to God, can help another turn his life around, and in the process, touch hundreds of other lives that he may never know about.
But then I was thinking about Jean Valjean. He is the one who is redeemed at the beginning of the story, but throughout the story, he is constantly trying to redeem himself. He continues to see himself as the ex-con that he was. Even though he has been redeemed, and God sees him as a new man, he does not see himself that way.
There is a quote at the beginning of the book where it says, “Whether true or false, what is said about men often has as much influence on their lives, and particularly on their destinies as what they do.”
Valjean is told so many times that he is an ex-con, and he believes it, even as he is changing his life, and thinking of others. He gives his life to others, while punishing himself for his past wrongs.
At the end though, there is this paragraph:
"Cosette and Marius fell on their knees, overwhelmed, choked with tears, each grasping one of Jean Valjean's hands. Those noble hands moved no more. He had fallen back, the light from the candlesticks fell across him; his white face looked up toward heaven, he let Cosette and Marius cover his hands with kisses; he was dead. The night was starless and very dark. Without any doubt, in the gloom, some mighty angel was standing, with outstretched wings, waiting for the soul."
This sounds like someone who has truly been redeemed; someone who is not the convict who came out of prison, and ran from his identity his whole life.
I love the part where it talks about the mighty angel standing, with outstretched wings, waiting for the soul. I only wish that Valjean had recognized that in himself in the book. 

The plans of God. From the mouths of babes...

I give riding lessons to kids in 5th standard. So that’s what, 9 or 10? Somewhere around in there. Anyway, they were asking me how long the horses will be at Hebron, and I had to tell them that the horses leave at the end of Nov, because I’ll be leaving, because I don’t have a job here anymore.
One little guy, Droov, asked me what I plan to do when I leave. Now, Droov is an interesting kid. Sweet as can be; a skinny little kid with big glasses. He is also a very intelligent boy. So he asked me this, genuinely wondering what’s up.
I told him that I didn’t know. I know I am going back to the States, and beyond that, I don’t really know. I tried to keep it light, not show my disappointment or anything about how things are turning out. It’s not the kids’ place to deal with it.
Droov was quiet for a minute, then said, “It’s ok that you don’t know what you’re doing, Miss Laura. God knows. And his plans for you are the best.”
He was so calm and sincere about it. It was super sweet. And so true. I was a little embarrassed that it meant so much to be given that reassurance from such a young kid. Sometimes, the faith of children puts me to shame. And he was not at all awkward about saying it. It wasn’t like when an adult says things like that, where sometimes you feel like they are just saying it because it is the thing they’re supposed to say. It was so natural. It was what he believed, and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him for saying it. 

Worldly Pleasures

Was reading Les Miserables the other night (my puppy needs to know where her name came from…), and I read a bit that I hadn’t noticed before. It was at the beginning, where the Bishop of Digne is being described.

In my humble opinion, the Bishop of Digne is one of the most important, but least known characters in Les Mis. If not for him, and the fact that he listened so closely to God, the rest of the story never would have happened. Jean Valjean would have remained a hard-hearted ex-con. The people Valjean provided jobs for would have gone without jobs, Cosette would have remained with the Thenardiers, Marius would have died at the barricades. So much good would not have happened without this one man’s response to God’s direction.

What I have noticed about him before is how Victor Hugo describes him as pious and giving. Any money given him, he gives to those who need it worse. He worries not about his comfort when he can give comfort to others. Even his housekeeper thought him mad, because of the way that he lived.

But early on in Hugo’s description of the Bishop, you’ll find this quote:
“His early years had been devoted to worldly pleasures.”

Not exactly the description you would expect of a man so devoted to God. But true nonetheless. Well, true for a fictional character. And true of many non-fictional people as well. Your past, what you have done in your early years, or even earlier this year, does not define you. Who you are now does. You can make a difference that even you won’t know about if you are willing to devote your life to God instead of devoting it to worldly pleasures. It doesn't say in the book if the Bishop knew what an impact he had on Jean Valjean. I love in the movie, where the Bishop comes to meet Jean Valjean as he dies. I think that was a brilliant way to portray it. Like God was showing him what a change he had made in the world. 

The Bishop had an option in his early years to continue on the path he was on, or to devote himself to God. He had very little in the way of worldly pleasures after he devoted himself to God, but he took pleasure in knowing that he did what he was called to do. 

What gives you pleasure?

Beauty and the Beast. Yes, again.

Beauty and the Beast is the ultimate Disney Princess movie for women and girls who don’t necessarily believe in waiting for their Prince to show up on a white horse. I was told at one point that if my prince rode up on a white horse, I’d probably push him off the horse, steal the horse, and leave the Prince behind. Probably fairly accurate. Though I would hope he didn’t have a white horse. Another colour would be preferable :~)

But Beauty and the Beast is not about your weak princess who needs her prince to rescue her from anything, be it a tower, or an enchanted sleep, or an evil witch. Belle makes her own way, not caring that the people in her little village think she’s mental. She reads, she is intelligent, she loves her Father and helps him with his inventions. She wants more to her life, and she isn’t willing to settle for Gaston, who is supposed to be such a catch, even if it means that she remains alone. His plan for her to be his “little wife” is nowhere near her radar, and doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

She dreams of meeting her “prince charming”, but then when she meets him, he’s not nearly so charming as what she hoped. But she sticks it out, not even knowing that he is the one. Thinking actually that he is more of a thorn in her side than anything.

In this way, they rescue each other, instead of simply the prince rescuing the princess. He rescues her from the mundane life she is living, and she rescues him from his curse, and the life he had been trapped in. She teaches him to love, and learns to love herself. The rescuing is mutual, not the stronger rescuing the weaker, but each of them both strong and weak, and exactly what the other needs.

This is always the sort of relationship I have wanted. Not a man to complete me, not a man to rescue me, but one to whom I can give as much as he gives to me. Someone that I can be myself with. Headstrong, loving, difficult, goofy, whatever. The good and the bad. But I definitely do not want a prince riding in to save the day. 

Horse crazy.

A few days ago, I had an interesting conversation with a Mom of a little girl who takes riding lessons through Leg Up. She was telling me about the differences between her girls, and their loves of horses. 

Her youngest, the one who is taking lessons now, is your typical horse crazy little girl. She and I have ridden in rain that is pouring so hard it soaks through our raincoats. The first time we rode in the rain, I didn't have a raincoat, and I ended up wringing water out of my hoody. She pays for her own lessons from birthday money that her Grandparents send her, and she asks me about the horses, and her lesson every time she sees me. She devours horse books and movies, and it is so much better when she is actually able to have her own riding experiences.

That was the problem with her older sister. She started out just the same. Absolutely horse crazy. Read the books, watched the movies, pretended she had horses. But she seldom had a chance to ride, or spend any time with horses. And so, other interest got in the way of horses. What was the point when all she had were books and movies, which are really just other people’s experiences? Without your own experience, it’s kind of meaningless, and there is only so much you can do. So she still likes horses, and will ride if she has a chance, but it’s more of an afterthought than something that she is passionate about.

I think a lot of the reason I never outgrew my horse crazy phase was because I got my own pony when I was in the middle of it. Being able to spend the time with my pony was better than any book. I’ve usually hated horse movies, because they’re far too sad, and horse books are often just as sad, or sappy. But I didn’t need to worry about that, because I could just go out and jump on my little pony and head out.

Needless to say, continuing that love of horses has taught me that life with horses is not the peaceful, romantic setting it is made out to be in books and movies. It’s hard, it’s heartbreaking, at times it is infuriating. But it’s worth it. And when you go into it at a young age, with so much love, by the time you figure out that it is not all sunshine and roses, it’s too late, because you’re hooked. You’re passionate about those crazy, big beasts that you ride, and you (and everyone around you) might as well give up on ever forgetting about them and moving on. 

What We’d Become

Watching I Am Legend (yeah, a lot of my thoughts come when I am watching movies) and their portrayal of what New York would look like after being abandoned made me think about decay and entropy, and the natural way of things to fall apart when not cared for.

Think of a city, and how much work it takes to keep said city in working order. The thing that struck me in I Am Legend was the grass growing everywhere. It turned every area where there should have been nicely manicured lawns into fields you could lose a horse in. How quickly would that have grown there, once there weren’t people there to care for those areas? Nature takes over very fast when outside influences cease.

That led me to think of my life. How much maintenance my life needs in order to stay neat and ordered, instead of turning into an overgrown field. And how quickly my nature, my sin nature, takes over at those moments that I do not keep up with maintenance. When I don’t pray as I should, or I don’t read my Bible as I should, I end up spiraling downward, the weeds growing up to choke out the flowers and plants that I want there.

The one part of the city that it showed not being overgrown was the corn field, which he uses for food. It was important, so he cared for it. If I looked at the spiritual aspects of my life as food, as the very means to my survival (which they are), I would not ignore them so easily.

Stepping back for a while to look at my life, and see how overgrown it is. I think I need to do some work, but that’s the first step, knowing that you need the work. Only when you’ve realized the weeds are taking over can you do some maintenance. 

26

Strange as it may sound, given the fact that I am now 26, this year was only the 2^nd birthday I have spent away from home. And oh my goodness, was it different than the last one. My first birthday away from home was my 24^th, and it was not really the best birthday I’ve ever had.

I was working in VT at the time, and took the day off of work specifically because I did not want to spend the day at the farm. I took off 2 days in a row, and drove a couple of hours to go hiking. I spent a lot of time stressed, because my gps wasn’t taking me where I wanted to go, and spent a lot of time wondering what the heck I was doing in VT. I ended up having a fairly pleasant time, just exploring Queechee gorge, and checking out a farm and a glass blowing company, but it was still something that had to be forced. I knew that in order to enjoy my birthday, I had to really make a huge effort.

Here, I didn’t have to do that. I went get my folks from the airport (they got in about an hour after my birthday ended. Though, really, they got here when it was still my birthday in the States :~) ). I started the morning with coffee, a motorcycle ride, and breakfast with my best friend. Had to work, but hey, I love my job, so it was totally fine. Worked with my awesome little Hercules, snuggled with the kitten, then went to the office, and spent some time with friends here. Had a great lunch with the ladies in the office. Delicious indian food :~) Wasn’t hugely thrilled about the fact that the drive to Bangalore was 8ish hours, but it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering why I was going. And I really enjoyed being down on the plains in the evening. It was pretty neat. Everyone ending their day, and making their way home with bullock carts, and herds of cattle and goats. Groups reclining on sacks of vegetables and whatnot in the backs of lorries. In spite of the fact that we were racing down the road, attempting to avoid the motorcycles that darted out in front of us, it was somehow very peaceful watching everyone making their unhurried way home.

It was such a wonderful day. My sister said in her card that she hoped it would be the best birthday I’ve had thus far, and if it wasn’t the best, it was certainly close.  

The Movie Experience

I was struck by the wording in an ad for Blu-ray discs the other day. They talked about the fact that you get a dvd along with your blu-ray disc, so that you can “Share the movie experience with your family on the go.” What movie experience? How did we get to the point that the experiences a family has together are movie experiences, where truly, you are not experiencing anything together. Except sitting in front of a screen, watching the creation of someone else’s imagination.

Not that I am saying watching movies is bad. I watch movies frequently, and am in fact watching one as I type this. But I do not consider it an experience. It’s something to watch while I am typing, or doing something else with my hands. It is an amusement, and nothing more. If I want to have an experience with my family or friends, I will turn off the tv, and do something else. The only time I really consider watching a movie an experience is when no one cares if we talk through it. Like a few weeks ago, I watched The Hobbit with a couple of friends. One fell asleep a short way into it, while the other and I talked pretty much the entire movie. We discussed the philosophy of Tolkien, talked about his other books, and I think we even talked about who was attractive and who was not in the movie (In spite of the fact that the friend was a guy, and we were pretty much only talking about attractive guys…). I would call that a movie watching experience. A time where the movie takes a backseat to the relationships of the people watching, whether it is family, or friends.

I remember one time going to a movie with just my Dad and my sister. There were maybe 2 other people in the theatre, and they were sitting all the way at the back, so we were able to talk as much as we wanted. Which, for my Dad, was a lot of talking :~) I don’t even really remember what the movie was. I know it was a Harry Potter movie, but that’s only because I know the only movie the 3 of us have gone to together without Mom was Harry Potter, because she just didn’t care.

Or the time that my family went to see Prince Caspian without me. I think I was in India. And I was a little bummed. But when I got home, it was still in the dollar theatre. So Dad and I got on the motorcycle, and went to see it. I remember that I had to take my helmet into the theatre, even though he left his outside, because mine was nicer, and we were in a sketch part of town, and he didn’t want it stolen. Mine was also actually Mom’s new helmet. We talked during the movie again. That just sort of happens when you go to movies with my Dad. He’s not much for being quiet during movies, even in a theatre. We talked about how cool it would be to race a Friesian through a series of streams the way that Caspian did at the beginning. I’m sure we talked about other stuff too, but that’s the main thing I remember.

I hate being with people who freak out if you speak during a movie. I was recently watching a movie with a friend, and every once in a while, he would just stop the movie (I’d not seen it before, and he didn’t want me to miss important parts), and ask me what I thought of a certain part, or just to make a comment about it. Sometimes, if it was a slow part, he’d just talk over the movie.

Anyway, I am sort of rambling about “movie experiences”. All this to say though, I don’t really remember the movies I’ve watched half the time. Most of the movies I’ve mentioned, I remember details because they were also books that I have read. But movies to me are entertainment. Usually something to do as I am doing something else (typing, knitting, reading, etc). The movie experiences that mean a lot to me are the experiences that help me in some way to grow closer to the people I care about. And that definitely doesn’t include sitting for a couple of hours ignoring each other. If that happens, I usually fall asleep. 

Endless Possibilities.

"Endless possibilities..." 

I used to use this phrase a lot when I was dating. My bf would ask me what we should do, whether that particular day, or in the future. I would throw out a few ideas, then say that there were endless possibilities. Especially when we talked about the future. There was so much that could be done. And I definitely meant it.

Eventually though, endless possibilities devolved into watching a movie and snuggling on the couch, or in his hammock while we talked about the things that we should do. And never did any of them. Not that I was averse to cuddling, but I also wanted to do other things. I didn’t really care if we were doing something worthwhile like helping with an outreach together, or something completely pointless, such as playing tennis or hiking in the woods.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had we taken some of those possibilities. Perhaps we still would have ended up breaking up and not speaking to each other. But it’s a lot easier to end a friendship when you don't ever try any of the possibilities before you.

Endless possibilities don’t always have to be overly spectacular things, but it should mean taking advantage of some of the possibilities.

That’s a phrase I’ve tried to avoid for a while. Brings up memories that I’d just as soon not think of. But lately, I have been thinking about it again. There still are endless possibilities for my life. And I have a decision to make about those endless possibilities.

Any time things don’t work out as I expect, or as I want them to, I get disappointed. I think life is falling apart, and I feel as though I am set adrift for a time. But what I need to realize, and what my mind and heart are starting to grasp, is that when things don’t work out as I plan, that is when there are endless possibilities. And when life is so open like that, I can either lie in a hammock and watch a movie, or I can get up and search out some of those possibilities. Even if it’s something pointless like going on a road trip just for the heck of it, or if it’s doing some sort of mission work that has a bit more of a point, so long as I am doing something that I enjoy, that is not just sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I am taking some of those possibilities. And they are truly endless.  

Fog

It was one of those days. A day so typical of Ooty during the rainy season. A day where you know in your mind that the earth has features, but your eyes tell you that nothing exists aside from a great expanse of grey, which muffles each sound, and seems to slow time.
Standing in the paddock with Hercules, it felt as though the mountains and the tea fields beyond the fence had vanished, melting into the fog. Usually, there are constant sounds from the village below, and from traffic on the road. But there was nothing aside from the sounds that we made. The crunch of gravel beneath our feet, the swish of the rope telling Hercules to speed up, and my own commands to him. Even coming out of my mouth, they seemed muffled and faint. Everything felt close together, and interwoven.
It felt for a time as though the rest of the world was gone, and all that had been left was this tiny island on the side of the mountain, inhabited by myself and one little pony.
After a time, the fog cleared, blown away by the wind, and the world came into being once more. Voices carried up to where Hercules and I worked. I heard the sound of a bus conductor's whistle, and the crowing of roosters. The world had returned. And, while the colours and the view were spectacular as usual, there seemed to be something missing in the enormity of it all.  

Bemused

The dictionary definition of Bemused is “Confused or bewildered”. But I am a Webster, and as such, can make new definitions if I so desire.

My new definition of a bemused expression is as follows, “An expression that says, ‘I’m sure I would be amused if I had any clue what was going on.’”. And I feel like the past couple of weeks, I have had that exact expression on my face quite a lot.

I spent two weeks teaching jewelry making to girls who mostly did not speak any English. There were a few who spoke a bit of English, but not very much. And more just small-talk type English, not the kind that I needed to communicate ideas about jewelry making.

I started out the time not talking a whole lot. I would demonstrate what I wanted them to do, but I was fairly quiet. Then I realized that perhaps if I said what I wanted, some would understand a bit, and some would pick up new words. So I started explaining what I wanted them to do as I demonstrated it.

That seemed to amuse them, and when I finished, a girl would go back to her place, and I would hear some of the words I had used being repeated, and lots of giggling as all of the girls repeated words and looked at me. I often gave a little half smile, not entirely sure what to do. I didn’t want to join in the laughter if everyone was laughing at me, but I didn’t want to just act like a jerk either. That was what I came to think of as my bemused look. I wanted to be amused, and felt like if I could just understand more, I would be amused. Even if they were laughing at me. I wound up getting used to feeling that way. I had two weeks of giving jewelry lessons. It was either get used to it and have fun, or have a total meltdown.

The girls seemed to like it when I responded to their laughter and joking, even though they knew I didn’t understand them anymore than they understood me. And I came to the point where I didn’t really care if they were laughing at me. Their laughter wasn’t mocking, or rude, it was just laughter. The laughter of girls having fun, and amusing themselves while doing their work.

So as they chattered on in Hindi or Kannada, I would answer them in English. We would do that, barely understanding a word the other was saying, but using hand gestures, and sort of playing a game of charades to make ourselves understood. Sometimes we figured out what was being said, and sometimes we finally had to laugh, because neither of us had a clue.

It got to the point where they were so comfortable with me that they would come into my room while I was getting jewelry supplies ready, and just talk away to me. Or sometimes simply hang out in comfortable silence, watching me. It didn't feel like we couldn't communicate at all, it just felt like we were hanging out comfortably.

So yeah, my bemused expression had a good workout during the trainings, but it was a really good time, and I am glad I got the experience.

Rant, Luke, Rant

I was typing an email to my folks earlier, and realized as I looked at it that there are sort of three parts to any email or letter I write to them. There’s the newsy part, where I tell what has been going on, and keep them up to date on my life (though I often accidentally leave out key details and get scolded later), random musings about life in general, issues that I am concerned with, what I need to do to improve myself, relationships, and the world around me, etc., and rants. Bet you didn’t see that third subject coming :~).

I find it totally natural to vent to my parents. It’s been the way our family has worked since I can remember. Not that there’s necessarily anything that bad in my life, but anything that I need to talk about, I know I can talk to them about it.

We used to do that when we were going home from church. Especially once the stuff started that eventually led to us leaving the church. There would be things happening at church, and when we got in the van to go home, we would vent for a while. My Dad didn’t really like it at first. He thought we were just complaining. But Mom told him that we simply needed to get things out, and then we were fine.

And that is so true. Usually, I don’t expect my folks to do anything. I don’t tell them about issues with a friend, hoping that they will go and talk to that friend and sort things out. In fact, I would be furious if they did, and they know that. I’m not going to them to get things fixed, but rather, to just have a listening ear. Or in cases lately, a reading eye. There’s something about having someone sympathetic to listen to you. Even if whatever you’re ranting about really isn’t a big deal in the scheme of things, someone who cares is good to have.

And because I have that in my life, I try to do that for others. To listen to their rants, and genuinely care about what they are talking about, even if there is nothing I can do to help other than listen. Compassion and caring. I think those are two things that are important to everyone. 

A Fond Farewell

Mid-June, Leg Up said goodbye to two of our ponies, Lily and Orion. It was not an easy choice to find new homes for these two, as they have been with Leg Up for most of its existence. But there comes a time when changes have to be made, and this was one of those times.

It was March when these plans began to be discussed. Both of the ponies were having a hard time fitting into Leg Up. We tried everything we could, but some horses are simply not cut out to be therapy horses. And it is not fair to force a horse to do something that they are not good at, and do not enjoy. They will only be miserable, just like a person who has to do something they do not like.

We were not willing though to simply give the two ponies away. Finding a good home for a horse in Ooty is not nearly so easy as finding one in the States. Horses are not treated well in many cases. Even though we could not use the two, we still had to care for them.

Lily was easy to find a home for. Our vet Ilona has a young daughter named Emma, who has been taking riding lessons on Lily, and was very good with her. When we offered Lily to her, she was over the moon. They were also willing to take Orion, though he would not be a riding pony. He would be turned out with their herd of ponies, and basically become a wild pony. It was not ideal for Orion, but it seemed to be our best choice.

Every time Emma saw me, she talked about when Lily would be her pony, and how excited she was about it. She rode Lily for almost every lesson, and could get her to do things the other children could not. It was a perfect match. And Emma is little enough that she will be able to ride Lily for years.

Orion however, concerned me. The closer it got to the time that the ponies would leave, the more concerned I became about Orion. I did not want to see him become a wild pony. It was better than him being on the streets, or belonging to some guy in Ooty who would use him for tourist rides, but we have put so much effort into him over the years. He is our miracle pony, who God kept alive through so much. We have always said that God has a plan for him, and I didn’t see how being a wild pony, roaming around Masinagudi with a wild herd for the rest of his life would be the plan. But what was there to do about it? The ponies would be leaving in less than a week, and there wasn’t anything I could think of. \

Then Mala called, two days before the ponies were to leave. Someone else called, saying they wanted both ponies. We of course could not give Lily to them, but we offered them only Orion, being very clear that he tends to be a bully, and needs consistency in his training, and has reoccurring issues because of his leg. And they still wanted him. They have horse experience, and kids, including one who was part of the dorm that took care of the ponies. He is a very confident, good rider, and will do well with Orion. It was another of those cases where God came through at the last minute, when we had no idea what we could do to change less than ideal circumstances. More proof that God cares about even the smallest thing, and works things together for good.

We have heard from both owners since the ponies went to their new homes. Lily has fallen in love with Emma’s other pony, Polo, and is happy there. She was also having back pain, and the cold and damp in Ooty seemed to exacerbate it. Her new home in Masinagudi does not get nearly so chilly as Ooty, so she should not have problems with it. Orion’s family is thrilled with him. They have been riding him, and he is doing well. His leg, which had just been reinjured when they took him, is healing up, and they are very pleased to have him.

We now have Hercules, Shadow, and Firefly. Who would have thought a couple of years ago that if we only kept one of our ponies, it would be Hercules? But he is doing very well, and, aside from his driving, is even becoming a good children’s riding pony. We are excited about what the future holds for Leg Up, and for Lily and Orion as they start the next part of their lives. 

Goodness, you're mean...

Riding lessons. Ah...I seldom took them, never wanted to give them, not really a fan. My riding lessons as a child consisted of going on trail rides with my Aunt (who I later bought my first pony from), being taught as we rode through the woods and the fields and such.

Before coming to India this time, the closest thing to giving lessons I had ever done was showing friends how to ride my horses when they came over. Then I came here, and I was told that I would be teaching riding lessons to jr school students. In a way, I didn't have any idea how much I would enjoy it at times. But I also didn't realize how difficult it would be at other times. 

Today, I had a boy named Daniel come for lessons. He was part of the horse club, and has been doing these lessons for a few weeks now. For some reason, he has suddenly convinced himself that riding is scary, and he can't do it. He has always been hesitant, but he suddenly decided he didn't want to ride. Hercules was too tall, he would knock Herc over if he tried to mount. There were so many excuses for why he couldn't ride. 

And it finally came down to, "Miss Laura, do I have to ride? I don't want to ride." It was not the request of a boy who just isn't fond of riding, it was the request of a boy who has totally freaked himself out of riding. He has always asked me what will happen if he tips the horse over, but usually it isn't a terribly serious question. Today however, he was very serious. 

I coaxed Daniel into getting on Herc, and he seemed like he would be ok. For a few minutes. As we were going down the road, something surprised Hercules. He stopped, staring nervously, and did not want to move forward. Daniel panicked, feeling that he could not control Herc. 

His eyes filled with tears, and he said in a shaky voice, "Miss Laura, I feel like I need to get down." I almost let him get off of Hercules, but I couldn't let him quit. So, feeling like a horrendously mean person, I refused to let Daniel get down. Fortunately, he is not one to just jump down on his own. I held Herc still for a little while as I talked Daniel through his fears. We continued for a short distance farther, with him looking like a kicked puppy. Gradually though, that look started to fade. By the end of our ride, he was not exactly ecstatic over the fact that he was on horseback, but he was not terrified anymore, and seemed to be enjoying himself at least a little bit (though he was still trying to act like he was not enjoying himself. 

I felt mean during this time, but I would have felt far worse had I let him give up on riding. I have no problem with someone not riding because they don't like it, but when it's obvious that the reason for not riding is because they're scared, it's not ok. We're doing lessons with these kids, not therapy, but often even a normal riding lesson is a sort of therapy. We help these kids get over their fears, grow in confidence, and so many other things. Sometimes I get to looking at the lessons as just lessons, and that's when I get annoyed with the kids, and their hesitance, and complaining. And then I remember that lessons are not what Leg Up is for. They're not why I am in India. I am here, and Leg Up exists to show God's love through these ponies, and to make a difference in the lives of those we touch, whether it is rescued girls, or handicapped children, or kids that go to Hebron. 

Humility and trust

During Avalanche camp, each team had an opportunity to hike to the waterfall, and spend the afternoon up there. It was a gorgeous place to hike. Not something you would expect to come upon right there. I spent the time with a group of girls, swimming, and clambering around on the rock walls of the waterfall.

The area in the pictures was an interesting part. It was quite steep, and you had to just grip tiny areas with your toes in an attempt to get yourself up the side. I was the last one to go, and the rocks were wet from everyone's clothes dripping on them as they climbed up. As I neared the top, there were fewer and fewer toeholds, and each was so slippery that I could scarcely get a grip on them. To fall meant crashing into rocks on the way down, and then landing in a pool that was full of quite large rocks that formed the uneven bottom. There was nothing to catch on the way down. I almost changed my mind right there about going up to the top, but realized that this was not an option. There was really no way to go back down. I would have slipped for sure had I attempted it. Jyothi, one of our girls, had climbed up before me, and really wanted me to come with. She kept insisting that I take her hand and let her help me up the rock. I refused. What if she couldn't hold me, and let go? Was I going to let go of the rock, and put my faith in a person? What if she wasn't as well balanced as I thought, and I pulled her over the side too. Basically, I guess it all came down to trust. Did I trust that Jyothi could help me, and was I ok with letting go of control, and my 'if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna do it on my own.' attitude? I must admit, it took me far longer than it probably should have to figure out what to do in this situation. I exhausted every avenue I could to find a way to get either up or down without help. The whole while, Jyothi was standing there, reaching out to me, waiting for me to take her hand. Which I finally did. She helped me up to the top of the rock, and we walked on. Jyothi seemed to think nothing more of it, but I did. What is it that keeps me from trusting? What keeps me so insistent on the fact that I can do it by myself, and I don't need anyone else? It's curious the way one's mind works. Especially when I know that it is so much better when I trust people, and I don't do everything on my own.                     

                                           

Perspective

For a while, when I was in the States, I had people suggesting that I become a riding instructor with Path international, meaning I would be certified to do therapeutic horseback riding. I was thinking about it, but was very hesitant, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted the responsibility. I have been sort of a co-instructor for some time now, and I’ve even done classes on my own when none of the instructors could make it. And I managed fine. But I didn’t want it on a weekly basis. So much could go wrong. What horses should I use for each rider? What if the horse I wanted to use was lame, or a bit off that day? Who should I replace it with? What about tack? Should this rider use a western saddle? English? What size? Bridle, sidepull, reins, or would they not even be able to control the horse on their own at all? How should I set up the arena? How would I make sure that each rider was getting the most out of their session? It was too much.

And then I came here. And becoming an instructor in the States doesn’t sound so rough. Oh yeah, the certification process would be a bother, but the actual lessons? I’m starting to think they were easier than I used to believe they were.

Here in India, according to the internet (which, as we all know, is 100% accurate…), there is only one certified equine therapy centre. Leg Up is not certified, but we still do great things :~)

Here in Ooty, we do therapy 3 times a week. We have about 10 children who come on a regular basis, and we are working on ways to get transport for more to be able to come. There are a lot of challenges to doing therapy here. My Wednesday and Friday sessions are done here in town, with the Ashia home. It is also a partnership with Hebron school, so I have several of their students coming to help, as well as our rescued girls. I greatly appreciate all of our volunteers; please don’t think I am in any way complaining about them. I am super blessed to have every one of them. There is no way that LU could succeed without them. But we often have just enough people to be leaders and sidewalkers to our riders. This leaves me with the job during each lesson, of being instructor, leader, sidewalker, and backrider in turns. It is very challenging, but at the same time, I am often pleasantly surprised by how well I am able to do all of these. Work here challenges me in ways that work in the States never would (partly because it would probably be illegal for me to try to do all of those jobs during a therapy session), and there really isn’t a choice for me. I could refuse to do it, saying that it’s too much, but then these kids wouldn’t get therapy. And if you saw the kids’ faces; Ashwin giggling, and having his little dance parties on the horse; Sugash talking more and more every week, and doing his exercises and whatnot without even being told to; all the rest of the kids, smiling and waving at the staff while they ride; you would never want to tell them no.

So I have changed my opinion of what is too hard, or too much responsibility. It’s easy to turn down responsibility when there is someone else to do the job. It’s a bit harder when you know that if you say no, things just won’t get done.