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.