Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
in the past 4 weeks...
i have eaten chicken curry, prawn curry, mutton curry, veg curry in india, mangoes, fuul, tamiyya, roz bi-leben, shwarma in egypt, falafels and nutella pancakes and thai food and pizza with wine and kosher bagels in israel.
i have been to the wailing wall, and seen the apartheid wall.
i have hugged kids and cried and laughed and sang, swam in the mediterranean and the bay of bengal. i have listened to conversations in arabic, telugu, hebrew, yiddish.
i have walked the old city, coptic cairo, hyderabad. i listened to hymns at the church of the holy sepulcher, sang songs at church in an orphanage, visited a museum of art from the coptic church. i have been to a church of expats in a suburb of cairo.
i have listened to the soundtrack to king countless times. i have listened to arabic pop, patty griffin, derek webb. this american life. j's lunch song. i've shared an i.pod and a zune for countless hours of travel. i've listened to car horns and calls to prayer and songs in telugu that warm my heart.
i have listened to the soundtrack to king countless times. i have listened to arabic pop, patty griffin, derek webb. this american life. j's lunch song. i've shared an i.pod and a zune for countless hours of travel. i've listened to car horns and calls to prayer and songs in telugu that warm my heart.
i have slept on trains, on planes, on couches, on mattresses on the floor, on buses and in taxis and graciously loaned beds. i have even slept on half a bed on a sleeper train.
all of this, this entire adventure, i shared with the one i'll share the rest of my life with. i'm so incredibly thankful for these past 4 weeks, and to say that i'm looking forward to the future is a gross understatement. God is so good.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
goodbye, my heart.
khan al-khalili: scarab beetles, shisa and mosque toppers.
felucca ride on the nile.
is this my life? is it real? i still can't shake this feeling that soon i'll wake up and this whole thing will dissipate, that, like a dream, i'll only have fleeting memories of all of this by the end of the day.
it's truly amazing how much a year can do, how drastically some 365 days can change the course of one's life. i am so, so thankful for this gift- this past month, this promise of a future. i can scarcely believe that this is forever.
or, that this trip is over.
salaam for now.
felucca ride on the nile.
is this my life? is it real? i still can't shake this feeling that soon i'll wake up and this whole thing will dissipate, that, like a dream, i'll only have fleeting memories of all of this by the end of the day.
it's truly amazing how much a year can do, how drastically some 365 days can change the course of one's life. i am so, so thankful for this gift- this past month, this promise of a future. i can scarcely believe that this is forever.
or, that this trip is over.
salaam for now.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
i love my life.
it makes me deeply convicted to consume less. it deeply re-enforces my beliefs on living simply, on globally conscious consumption, on stopping to THINK where my money, my waste, my excess goes... and who it hurts.
date night. dinner on the nile and sufi dancing at the khan. holy wow.
7 years ago i became weirdly intrigued by whirling dervishes. tonight, j took me to see them. i just sat next to him and grinned the whole time.
at one point i leaned over and said, 'did you know i've wanted to see this for 7 years?'
he smiled at me and said, 'when you talk, i listen.'
Friday, July 24, 2009
on safety and home
back in cairo.
salat and smog.
and this feeling of familiarity, of home.
did i feel safe in israel?
i suppose in all of the conventional ways, yes. i mean, stories of bombings in sbarro and other trendy young hang outs didn't really scare me. it's the kids with guns, the settlers, the explosions in the distance and the uncertainty as to whether they're fireworks or semi-automatic weapons that frighten me.
i never really feared for my own safety, but for the palestinian kids trying to walk to school every day, for the jewish kids who would grow up and join the idf and be socialized to fear, to hate, to defend at any cost that i feared for.
again, i understand why jesus stood here and grieved for this city.
salat and smog.
and this feeling of familiarity, of home.
did i feel safe in israel?
i suppose in all of the conventional ways, yes. i mean, stories of bombings in sbarro and other trendy young hang outs didn't really scare me. it's the kids with guns, the settlers, the explosions in the distance and the uncertainty as to whether they're fireworks or semi-automatic weapons that frighten me.
i never really feared for my own safety, but for the palestinian kids trying to walk to school every day, for the jewish kids who would grow up and join the idf and be socialized to fear, to hate, to defend at any cost that i feared for.
again, i understand why jesus stood here and grieved for this city.
home is relative.
i had every intention of uploading the photos both mata ji and grace took of j and i, but this internet connection isn't much faster than what we were working with in india. :) i promise, i WILL post them here when i get back.j and i just got back from a few days in israel. i must say, i think i fell in love with jerusalem. it was everything i thought it might be and so much more than i could have imagined or really, could have fathomed. photos and reflections on our trip (and egypt and india) when i return.
for now, though, it's nice to be back in cairo. it's funny, i found myself while in israel saying things like, 'when we get back home.' cairo, in all its craziness and pollution and scary street crossings, does feel familiar. don't get me wrong- i know i'm in some great, very capable hands here and i don't pretend to have any idea how to actually do life here, but the (relative, of course) familiarity is nice.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
israel.
jerusalem.
i'm kind of in love.
calls to prayer and church bells, cobblestones and carts and gummis, shoes and shwarma and saints. church hymns at the holy sepulcher. frankincense and falafels and delicious orthodox bagels in the jewish quarter. spices and head scarves and beads and passionfruit slushies. the via dolorosa, the mount of olives, dominis flevit. the dome of the rock. the fortified walls of the old city. delicious nutella pancakes in the cool cavern of the hebron hostel tea room. God speaks in the breezes rustling through the olive trees in the garten of gesthemane. He calls the nations back to Himself in this place, and those who can hear through the hype and unfathomable drama will hear, "Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the ages."
this place is, in addition, pretty crazy. i'm kind of in hate, too. i struggle to sum up the rest of this in sentences that aren't peppered with expletives. kids, 18 years old, walk around with chips on their shoulders and huge guns slung across their backs, olive green uniforms optional. jewish settlers with their guns and their inflated sense of manifest destiny. ultra orthodox men in black, felt- hatted and ear-locked and four-tassled, bobbing as they recite from the torah at the wailing wall, not daring to ascend the temple mount. muslim women in higab, men in kippas (a fashion statement here), orthodox women in wigs, all somehow manage to live relatively peacefully alongside each other in this place that emanates history and sacredness and a tenuous peace. it's amazing.
it's equally horrifying to me to know what's going on here behind the beautiful cities, the history, the hills dotted with trees and new buildings. to know of the horrible atrocities committed here in the name of national security, of a homeland... i just have no words.
i understand why jesus, on the mount of olives, looked out over this place and wept for it.
i'm kind of in love.
calls to prayer and church bells, cobblestones and carts and gummis, shoes and shwarma and saints. church hymns at the holy sepulcher. frankincense and falafels and delicious orthodox bagels in the jewish quarter. spices and head scarves and beads and passionfruit slushies. the via dolorosa, the mount of olives, dominis flevit. the dome of the rock. the fortified walls of the old city. delicious nutella pancakes in the cool cavern of the hebron hostel tea room. God speaks in the breezes rustling through the olive trees in the garten of gesthemane. He calls the nations back to Himself in this place, and those who can hear through the hype and unfathomable drama will hear, "Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the ages."
this place is, in addition, pretty crazy. i'm kind of in hate, too. i struggle to sum up the rest of this in sentences that aren't peppered with expletives. kids, 18 years old, walk around with chips on their shoulders and huge guns slung across their backs, olive green uniforms optional. jewish settlers with their guns and their inflated sense of manifest destiny. ultra orthodox men in black, felt- hatted and ear-locked and four-tassled, bobbing as they recite from the torah at the wailing wall, not daring to ascend the temple mount. muslim women in higab, men in kippas (a fashion statement here), orthodox women in wigs, all somehow manage to live relatively peacefully alongside each other in this place that emanates history and sacredness and a tenuous peace. it's amazing.
it's equally horrifying to me to know what's going on here behind the beautiful cities, the history, the hills dotted with trees and new buildings. to know of the horrible atrocities committed here in the name of national security, of a homeland... i just have no words.
i understand why jesus, on the mount of olives, looked out over this place and wept for it.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
hair cropping!
as it turns out, de-lousing and cutting hair on the heads of about 150 children is quite the project.
8-10 hours. lots of work. and lots and LOTS of lice.
and bob-haircuts on the fly. who knew it was possible to make this stuff up?
photos to follow, of course!
8-10 hours. lots of work. and lots and LOTS of lice.
and bob-haircuts on the fly. who knew it was possible to make this stuff up?
photos to follow, of course!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Engaged!
(Originally a mass e-mail sent by ya habibi)
Dear Loved Ones,
It's yet another hot and steamy day in Bapatla, this little town on the coast of southern India where Kandyce and I, along with my parents, her mom, and another friend of ours are staying. There's a crowd of smiling children hanging around outside the door waiting for me to emerge from the relative coolness of the dining room, where open doors and a ceiling fan keep atolerable breeze blowing through. At select moments you can just catch a hint of the sea - only five kilometers or so distant - in the smell of the air.The past few days have been a blur of activity, crazy, complex, but all centered around a single moment that both of us will remember for the rest of our lives.
On the evening of July 4th, I asked Kandyce to marry me.
For most of you, I imagine this won't be a surprise. While Kandyce and I had only been dating for a short period of time, the two of us have been close friends for several years, and, when that friendship blossomed into something deeper (Quite a story in itself!) both us knew that this was the direction we wanted to be going. I've known that Kandyce was the kind of woman that I wanted to marry for many years. Those of you who know her well will understand.
Over the past six-seven months Kandyce and I have been intentionally asking the hard questions, exploring the depth of our relationship and seeking God's will and guidance, as well as the guidance of the people in our lives who we trust and respect. And again and again this plan for our future has only been confirmed. The time hasn't been easy - as many of you know, inJanuary, shortly after we started officially dating, I moved to Cairo, Egypt to work for the Middle East Studies Program - a job which will keep me in the Middle East until this December - but the challenges of a long-distance relationship have been an incredible blessing to us, a chance to be intentional about growing and deepening our relationship in preparation for taking this next step.
We were both blessed deeply when Kandyce was able to visit me in Egypt for a week at the beginning of March - a wonderful chance for me to introduce her to Cairo, a place which is so close to my heart, and to be a part of MESP, my job and my community in Cairo which is such a wonderful blessing to me. We're both looking forward to returning to Egypt when we leave India in a couple of weeks.
So, in the weeks after Kandyce's visit to Egypt I decided to start acting on the intention that I'd had since we started dating, and wrote Kandyce's parents to request their permission to ask her to marry me this summer while we were together in India. Their blessing - along with the blessing of my own parents - was something that was extremely important to me. The lazy speed of the Egyptian mail service kept me in desperate suspense for several weeks, as my first semester working at MESP came to a close and the time for our departure to India began to get closer and closer. I started to consider just e-mailing them, to give my over-wrought nerves a break. But then in mid-May Kandyce's mother got in touch with me and let me know that they had received my letter, that I had their blessing, and that they were looking forward to welcoming me into their family.
The minute I had that, I bought the ring I had picked out weeks before. As per the information I'd known from Kandyce for some time (Long before we were even dating - but again, that's another story) it was a white gold solitaire, size six - simple and yet elegant.We both arrived in India on June 25th, and had a wonderful first week at the BIRDS farm in southern Andhra Pradesh, meeting kids who both of us sponsor (And all of you should as well. Check out their website to find out how) and spending time with Kandyce's mom and friends Jess Rodgers, Kevin Wellwood, and Grace Farson. Then it was a night train to Hyderabad to visit the OM base where Kandyce has a number of friends from her job at the Dalit Freedom Network and do some art projects with kids in impoverished villages. We also made a couple of late-night trips to the airport to pick up my parents - and, with my dad, an important little white gold size-six item in the money pouch around his neck.
We arrived in Bapatla on the morning of July 4th. This place is incredibly dear to both of our hearts. This is the place, in many ways, where Kandyce fell in love with India and, seeing the passion and joy with which she poured herself out on the kids here, this place is one of the places which made me fall deeply in love with her. Our hearts are both in Bapatla, and so, as I told the people here, this was the only place in all the world where I could kneel down and ask for her hand.
Since Kandyce's good friends Jess and Kevin were leaving on the morning of the 6th, I planned to propose on the evening of the 5th. Envisioning a quiet, intimate proposal on the roof of the orphanage followed by a small celebration with the kids, I asked Babu, the director of the orphanage, and Johnson, an evangelist and someone who works here, to help me arrangingthings with the kids. But in India they don't do things small. A small celebration with the kids quickly turned into a planned feast with songs, all of the pastors from the surrounding area, and hundreds of guests. And that evening Johnson whisked Kandyce and I away to the nearby city of Guntur to buy us (Against our loud protests) a new set of clothes - a formal shirt and pants for me and a gorgeous blue-green sari for Kandyce. Kandyce and I, both of whom had been looking forward to a much more intimate moment, were grateful, but taken aback (And, of course, my surprise was blown - Johnson tried to say: "Well, we're buying clothes...in case we have a function. Suppose we have a function - what sort of sari would you like?" A wonderful man, but not the subtlest.)
And so I decided to move things up. After returning to the orphanage that night - when everyone else had gone to bed Kandyce and I were sitting on the front porch talking. I asked her if she would come up to the roof and, as we whispered to each other about our love for this place and our gratitude for all the events that had taken place since we were here last a year ago,I knelt down and, heart racing, told her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, and asked her to marry me.
And she said yes! Quickly followed by: "As long as you promise not to make me eat eggplant!" (A reference to Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "Love in the Time of Cholera" which we both read last fall).I hadn't informed anyone of my change of plans, and so everyone at the orphanage (Along with our friends and parents) were still expecting a proposal the next evening in the lead-up to the big celebration. Kandyce and I even briefly considered me taking the ring back and going through the proposal again the next night, to keep our moment the night before a secretjust between the two of us. But we decided it would be much more fun for her to keep the ring and see how long it would take everyone to notice that there'd been a change of plans.
Now, our parents and friends are perceptive people, but Kandyce did manage to sit all through two hours of church AND breakfast the next morning before ANYBODY noticed! In fact, we had to quite forcefully point out the fact that something was just a little bit different about Kandyce's hands before anyone said anything.
And then, that night, came the celebration. A huge tent was rapidly put up on the field outside the orphanage with some two to three hundred chairs and a raised stage inside. A band (Drummer and keyboardist) was reserved, and a massive sound system set up to carry the sound of the function to every corner of the town. A huge banner was erected behind the stage proclaiming the "Joyes (yes, 'J-O-Y-E-S') Engagement of Miss Kandyce Jean Kingsley to Mr.Jonathan Craig Pinckney." And, as a function like this would be inconceivable without a feast, some one hundred pounds of rice and gallons of curry were cooked to go with it.And then at six, just as the heavily-involved process of getting Kandyce "sari-ed" finished, we walked to the stage arm in arm to get engaged Indian style.
I won't go into all the details of the ceremony. Kandyce and I spent most of it whispering commentary to each other (Until one of the pastors called us out) and smiling at the rows and rows of beautiful children sitting below the stage and enthusiastically giving us two thumbs up whenever we glanced in their direction. There were introductions in alternating Telugu and English, a wide variety of songs, an engagement message from my Father enthusiastically translated by the effervescent Johnson, more blessings from more pastors than I can remember, and finally, at the climax, Kandyce and I rose to exchange garlands of flowers - an Indian tradition. We were both rather startled at that moment, because the Lutheran priest who was standing at the time held up the microphone and asked us first: "Do you have any objection to this person, and do you love them very much?" and then, after our affirmatives, continued with: "Do you accept this person as your life partner?" To which we both also assented. The verdict's still out on whether we might have accidentally gotten married - though my dad, also apastor, assures us that, as the priest never said "man and wife" we aren't actually married, just "very, VERY engaged...the MOST engaged couple I've ever seen."
The garlanding was followed by the unveiling of a three-tier cake proudly emblazoned with: "Happy Birthday Jonathan and Kandyce!" and topped by a massive mechanical candle which, when lit, opened into a huge pink lotus flower (Which also, by the way, was playing the tune of "Happy Birthday"). Kandyce and I fed each other pieces of cake (Steering clear of the fly whichhad met an unfortunate end on the lefthand corner), and I fed both my parents and Kandyce's mom. I also, very distinctly, heard Johnson at that moment call out: "Feed your wife!" which I count as a serious piece of evidence that he pulled a fast one on us and got us married without usknowing.
When the service was over there was a huge dinner, and then, when the several hundred guests had slowly made their way out of the orphanage, Kevin, Jess and I pulled out a package that they'd picked up in Hyderabad and, with the kids from the orphanage watching for the balconies, set off a fireworks show to conclude the nights festivities.
Babu - the director, gave the kids a school holiday - "Jon and Kandyce engagement day" - the next day. We're wondering if, in the future, the date will remain fixed (July 5th) or if instead, like Labor Day, it will be moved to the Monday closest to July 4th each year.
That's all for now. Look forward to pictures and even some video of the ceremony in the next few weeks as our travel plans allow. We'll be heading to Egypt in two weeks, and making a brief trip up to Jerusalem a few days after that. We love all of you, and are so excited to continue to share our lives with you as the two of us walk together in this wonderful path that God has laid out for us. Blessings and peace be with all of you, and keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we keep all of you.
With much love,
Jon and Kandyce
Dear Loved Ones,
It's yet another hot and steamy day in Bapatla, this little town on the coast of southern India where Kandyce and I, along with my parents, her mom, and another friend of ours are staying. There's a crowd of smiling children hanging around outside the door waiting for me to emerge from the relative coolness of the dining room, where open doors and a ceiling fan keep atolerable breeze blowing through. At select moments you can just catch a hint of the sea - only five kilometers or so distant - in the smell of the air.The past few days have been a blur of activity, crazy, complex, but all centered around a single moment that both of us will remember for the rest of our lives.
On the evening of July 4th, I asked Kandyce to marry me.
For most of you, I imagine this won't be a surprise. While Kandyce and I had only been dating for a short period of time, the two of us have been close friends for several years, and, when that friendship blossomed into something deeper (Quite a story in itself!) both us knew that this was the direction we wanted to be going. I've known that Kandyce was the kind of woman that I wanted to marry for many years. Those of you who know her well will understand.
Over the past six-seven months Kandyce and I have been intentionally asking the hard questions, exploring the depth of our relationship and seeking God's will and guidance, as well as the guidance of the people in our lives who we trust and respect. And again and again this plan for our future has only been confirmed. The time hasn't been easy - as many of you know, inJanuary, shortly after we started officially dating, I moved to Cairo, Egypt to work for the Middle East Studies Program - a job which will keep me in the Middle East until this December - but the challenges of a long-distance relationship have been an incredible blessing to us, a chance to be intentional about growing and deepening our relationship in preparation for taking this next step.
We were both blessed deeply when Kandyce was able to visit me in Egypt for a week at the beginning of March - a wonderful chance for me to introduce her to Cairo, a place which is so close to my heart, and to be a part of MESP, my job and my community in Cairo which is such a wonderful blessing to me. We're both looking forward to returning to Egypt when we leave India in a couple of weeks.
So, in the weeks after Kandyce's visit to Egypt I decided to start acting on the intention that I'd had since we started dating, and wrote Kandyce's parents to request their permission to ask her to marry me this summer while we were together in India. Their blessing - along with the blessing of my own parents - was something that was extremely important to me. The lazy speed of the Egyptian mail service kept me in desperate suspense for several weeks, as my first semester working at MESP came to a close and the time for our departure to India began to get closer and closer. I started to consider just e-mailing them, to give my over-wrought nerves a break. But then in mid-May Kandyce's mother got in touch with me and let me know that they had received my letter, that I had their blessing, and that they were looking forward to welcoming me into their family.
The minute I had that, I bought the ring I had picked out weeks before. As per the information I'd known from Kandyce for some time (Long before we were even dating - but again, that's another story) it was a white gold solitaire, size six - simple and yet elegant.We both arrived in India on June 25th, and had a wonderful first week at the BIRDS farm in southern Andhra Pradesh, meeting kids who both of us sponsor (And all of you should as well. Check out their website to find out how) and spending time with Kandyce's mom and friends Jess Rodgers, Kevin Wellwood, and Grace Farson. Then it was a night train to Hyderabad to visit the OM base where Kandyce has a number of friends from her job at the Dalit Freedom Network and do some art projects with kids in impoverished villages. We also made a couple of late-night trips to the airport to pick up my parents - and, with my dad, an important little white gold size-six item in the money pouch around his neck.
We arrived in Bapatla on the morning of July 4th. This place is incredibly dear to both of our hearts. This is the place, in many ways, where Kandyce fell in love with India and, seeing the passion and joy with which she poured herself out on the kids here, this place is one of the places which made me fall deeply in love with her. Our hearts are both in Bapatla, and so, as I told the people here, this was the only place in all the world where I could kneel down and ask for her hand.
Since Kandyce's good friends Jess and Kevin were leaving on the morning of the 6th, I planned to propose on the evening of the 5th. Envisioning a quiet, intimate proposal on the roof of the orphanage followed by a small celebration with the kids, I asked Babu, the director of the orphanage, and Johnson, an evangelist and someone who works here, to help me arrangingthings with the kids. But in India they don't do things small. A small celebration with the kids quickly turned into a planned feast with songs, all of the pastors from the surrounding area, and hundreds of guests. And that evening Johnson whisked Kandyce and I away to the nearby city of Guntur to buy us (Against our loud protests) a new set of clothes - a formal shirt and pants for me and a gorgeous blue-green sari for Kandyce. Kandyce and I, both of whom had been looking forward to a much more intimate moment, were grateful, but taken aback (And, of course, my surprise was blown - Johnson tried to say: "Well, we're buying clothes...in case we have a function. Suppose we have a function - what sort of sari would you like?" A wonderful man, but not the subtlest.)
And so I decided to move things up. After returning to the orphanage that night - when everyone else had gone to bed Kandyce and I were sitting on the front porch talking. I asked her if she would come up to the roof and, as we whispered to each other about our love for this place and our gratitude for all the events that had taken place since we were here last a year ago,I knelt down and, heart racing, told her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, and asked her to marry me.
And she said yes! Quickly followed by: "As long as you promise not to make me eat eggplant!" (A reference to Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "Love in the Time of Cholera" which we both read last fall).I hadn't informed anyone of my change of plans, and so everyone at the orphanage (Along with our friends and parents) were still expecting a proposal the next evening in the lead-up to the big celebration. Kandyce and I even briefly considered me taking the ring back and going through the proposal again the next night, to keep our moment the night before a secretjust between the two of us. But we decided it would be much more fun for her to keep the ring and see how long it would take everyone to notice that there'd been a change of plans.
Now, our parents and friends are perceptive people, but Kandyce did manage to sit all through two hours of church AND breakfast the next morning before ANYBODY noticed! In fact, we had to quite forcefully point out the fact that something was just a little bit different about Kandyce's hands before anyone said anything.
And then, that night, came the celebration. A huge tent was rapidly put up on the field outside the orphanage with some two to three hundred chairs and a raised stage inside. A band (Drummer and keyboardist) was reserved, and a massive sound system set up to carry the sound of the function to every corner of the town. A huge banner was erected behind the stage proclaiming the "Joyes (yes, 'J-O-Y-E-S') Engagement of Miss Kandyce Jean Kingsley to Mr.Jonathan Craig Pinckney." And, as a function like this would be inconceivable without a feast, some one hundred pounds of rice and gallons of curry were cooked to go with it.And then at six, just as the heavily-involved process of getting Kandyce "sari-ed" finished, we walked to the stage arm in arm to get engaged Indian style.
I won't go into all the details of the ceremony. Kandyce and I spent most of it whispering commentary to each other (Until one of the pastors called us out) and smiling at the rows and rows of beautiful children sitting below the stage and enthusiastically giving us two thumbs up whenever we glanced in their direction. There were introductions in alternating Telugu and English, a wide variety of songs, an engagement message from my Father enthusiastically translated by the effervescent Johnson, more blessings from more pastors than I can remember, and finally, at the climax, Kandyce and I rose to exchange garlands of flowers - an Indian tradition. We were both rather startled at that moment, because the Lutheran priest who was standing at the time held up the microphone and asked us first: "Do you have any objection to this person, and do you love them very much?" and then, after our affirmatives, continued with: "Do you accept this person as your life partner?" To which we both also assented. The verdict's still out on whether we might have accidentally gotten married - though my dad, also apastor, assures us that, as the priest never said "man and wife" we aren't actually married, just "very, VERY engaged...the MOST engaged couple I've ever seen."
The garlanding was followed by the unveiling of a three-tier cake proudly emblazoned with: "Happy Birthday Jonathan and Kandyce!" and topped by a massive mechanical candle which, when lit, opened into a huge pink lotus flower (Which also, by the way, was playing the tune of "Happy Birthday"). Kandyce and I fed each other pieces of cake (Steering clear of the fly whichhad met an unfortunate end on the lefthand corner), and I fed both my parents and Kandyce's mom. I also, very distinctly, heard Johnson at that moment call out: "Feed your wife!" which I count as a serious piece of evidence that he pulled a fast one on us and got us married without usknowing.
When the service was over there was a huge dinner, and then, when the several hundred guests had slowly made their way out of the orphanage, Kevin, Jess and I pulled out a package that they'd picked up in Hyderabad and, with the kids from the orphanage watching for the balconies, set off a fireworks show to conclude the nights festivities.
Babu - the director, gave the kids a school holiday - "Jon and Kandyce engagement day" - the next day. We're wondering if, in the future, the date will remain fixed (July 5th) or if instead, like Labor Day, it will be moved to the Monday closest to July 4th each year.
That's all for now. Look forward to pictures and even some video of the ceremony in the next few weeks as our travel plans allow. We'll be heading to Egypt in two weeks, and making a brief trip up to Jerusalem a few days after that. We love all of you, and are so excited to continue to share our lives with you as the two of us walk together in this wonderful path that God has laid out for us. Blessings and peace be with all of you, and keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we keep all of you.
With much love,
Jon and Kandyce
samudram
today may have very well been one of my favorite days in india, ever. maybe even one of the best days of my entire life (i've been having a string of those lately.)
all of the children at nidamarru, the second orphanage run by babu and hepsy, are here this weekend for the jon and kandyce party (yesterday, which was completely ridiculous). today, babu uncle canceled school for all of the children in honor of "jon and kandyce engagement day," rented two huge lorries, piled all of the children on/ in them and we all went to the beach.
we rumbled and honked our way past mango carts and frying jilabies, through streets crowded with staring brown faces, by shop selling shoes and sarees, and children waving, standing in the streets. it was all i could do to thank God over and over again for the incredible gift of this place, these kids, this beautifully precious, perfect moment in time.
it was funny at times, too. every now and then the truck would lurch forward or to a halt, dumping the wardens off their chairs and throwing all of the girls forward or backward on top of each other, each time in hysterical laughter, all clinging to one another. we sang, we clapped, we laughed, we danced.
the beach was, in short, awesome. 300 or so kids, crashing waves, the salt and the breeze and the deep grey sky threatening the first hard rain of the season... oh, my heart! (and my gut when bindu pointed to the crabs scurrying along the waterfront and said, 'sister! craps!' i laughed so hard!) the joy these kids shared with us, with me!
after about an hour's swim and a half hour's walk on the beach, we piled back into the lorries and sped homeward, face first into the oncoming storm. mary, in her pink salwaar, danced and sang and cried with joy the entire ride home, only speaking the words, "so happy, sister!" the trip slowly grew miserable, as it began to rain harder and the drivers drove faster and faster. the girls all huddled together under dupattas for warmth, the little one nearest to me shivering so badly that she couldn't even get any words out. one little girl sought refuge under a flap of sweet norah's salwaar. we rode the second half of the trip home this way- hugging and shaking and trying to stay warm, headlights from the cars shining through wet dupattas and casting shadows.
my favorite india moments are those where my white skin doesn't matter. these girls shared an incredible intimacy with me this evening- this whole beach trip, really- moments of sheer, deep joy and moments of need and apprehension. God, thank you for how you grow my heart and shape it to look more like ours every time you bring me back to this place!
i love my life. (you can read j's account of this trip here.)
all of the children at nidamarru, the second orphanage run by babu and hepsy, are here this weekend for the jon and kandyce party (yesterday, which was completely ridiculous). today, babu uncle canceled school for all of the children in honor of "jon and kandyce engagement day," rented two huge lorries, piled all of the children on/ in them and we all went to the beach.
we rumbled and honked our way past mango carts and frying jilabies, through streets crowded with staring brown faces, by shop selling shoes and sarees, and children waving, standing in the streets. it was all i could do to thank God over and over again for the incredible gift of this place, these kids, this beautifully precious, perfect moment in time.
it was funny at times, too. every now and then the truck would lurch forward or to a halt, dumping the wardens off their chairs and throwing all of the girls forward or backward on top of each other, each time in hysterical laughter, all clinging to one another. we sang, we clapped, we laughed, we danced.
the beach was, in short, awesome. 300 or so kids, crashing waves, the salt and the breeze and the deep grey sky threatening the first hard rain of the season... oh, my heart! (and my gut when bindu pointed to the crabs scurrying along the waterfront and said, 'sister! craps!' i laughed so hard!) the joy these kids shared with us, with me!
after about an hour's swim and a half hour's walk on the beach, we piled back into the lorries and sped homeward, face first into the oncoming storm. mary, in her pink salwaar, danced and sang and cried with joy the entire ride home, only speaking the words, "so happy, sister!" the trip slowly grew miserable, as it began to rain harder and the drivers drove faster and faster. the girls all huddled together under dupattas for warmth, the little one nearest to me shivering so badly that she couldn't even get any words out. one little girl sought refuge under a flap of sweet norah's salwaar. we rode the second half of the trip home this way- hugging and shaking and trying to stay warm, headlights from the cars shining through wet dupattas and casting shadows.
my favorite india moments are those where my white skin doesn't matter. these girls shared an incredible intimacy with me this evening- this whole beach trip, really- moments of sheer, deep joy and moments of need and apprehension. God, thank you for how you grow my heart and shape it to look more like ours every time you bring me back to this place!
i love my life. (you can read j's account of this trip here.)
Sunday, July 5, 2009
engagement party blessing:
may you be a modern day mother teresa.
i hope and pray that this becomes true! i want to be worthy of this blessing. i want to not just let these words be something spoken over me years ago at a crazy indian engagement party, but words that take on an ever deeper and more real significance as i begin this new stage of life (minus the nun part, of course.)
i'm so thankful to have someone to share in this journey!
i hope and pray that this becomes true! i want to be worthy of this blessing. i want to not just let these words be something spoken over me years ago at a crazy indian engagement party, but words that take on an ever deeper and more real significance as i begin this new stage of life (minus the nun part, of course.)
i'm so thankful to have someone to share in this journey!
this is what love is...
i'm continually surprised and blessed by how much this place fills my heart, by how the love in the hearts of all who live here pushes out all of my darkness and small ideas of what this business of truly, sacrifically loving each other is all about.
four years ago i came here and experienced selfless, unconditional love. i continue to be absolutely blessed, astounded, floored by that same love today.
yesterday, johnson took j and i to guntur to buy us "wedding clothes." he spent a fortune.
all i could think about was how skinny skinny these kids are, about how they don't have meat or fruit. i know the gifts johnson, babu and hepsy bought for us yesterday are incredibly generous, given out of deep sacrifice. this is aside of God's love i struggle with, because i want to earn it, to feel like i deserve it. this i do not deserve- any of it: j, this generosity, this promise of an incredible future, this solid, deep, real man of God. i pray that the significance of this gift in its entirety is one i will continue to remember and bring before God with thanksgiving.
in the meantime, may india keep dishing up heaping doses of 'get over yourself.'
four years ago i came here and experienced selfless, unconditional love. i continue to be absolutely blessed, astounded, floored by that same love today.
yesterday, johnson took j and i to guntur to buy us "wedding clothes." he spent a fortune.
all i could think about was how skinny skinny these kids are, about how they don't have meat or fruit. i know the gifts johnson, babu and hepsy bought for us yesterday are incredibly generous, given out of deep sacrifice. this is aside of God's love i struggle with, because i want to earn it, to feel like i deserve it. this i do not deserve- any of it: j, this generosity, this promise of an incredible future, this solid, deep, real man of God. i pray that the significance of this gift in its entirety is one i will continue to remember and bring before God with thanksgiving.
in the meantime, may india keep dishing up heaping doses of 'get over yourself.'
bapatla
I love this place. I am continually astounded by how much and how well these kids and people here love. I wish I could put to words their incredible generosity and sacrificial giving.
I love this tiny little dusty village and the children who live here. Four years ago I came here and I was changed. I am so, so thankful for how this place messed me up.
I should write a real post, but for now there is much to celebrate. Bust out your sarees, bapalta. Its time to party!
I love this tiny little dusty village and the children who live here. Four years ago I came here and I was changed. I am so, so thankful for how this place messed me up.
I should write a real post, but for now there is much to celebrate. Bust out your sarees, bapalta. Its time to party!
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
arrivals gate
sometimes i feel as though i'm living half-awake.
today, though, that feeling of sleep-walking through my day makes sense. j and i headed out from OM around 1.30 this morning to the airport to pick up beth amma and spent a good 4 hours there, between the drive and the wait. standing at the arrivals gate waiting; sitting with j, two white faces in a sea of brown, sharing samosas; watching people watch us, watching the clock tick and the flights arrive; it all felt so right... so surreal, and so deeply right. my j, in this place. us, together. sweet, competent, caring, capable, strong, passionate. love embodied. the one for me. the man i can't wait to spend my life with.
and little beth, teary eyed and smiling as she pulled her luggage toward us. i'm so thankful for the chance to share all of this with beth amma and coty naana!
thank you, Father, for this incredible gift!
today, though, that feeling of sleep-walking through my day makes sense. j and i headed out from OM around 1.30 this morning to the airport to pick up beth amma and spent a good 4 hours there, between the drive and the wait. standing at the arrivals gate waiting; sitting with j, two white faces in a sea of brown, sharing samosas; watching people watch us, watching the clock tick and the flights arrive; it all felt so right... so surreal, and so deeply right. my j, in this place. us, together. sweet, competent, caring, capable, strong, passionate. love embodied. the one for me. the man i can't wait to spend my life with.
and little beth, teary eyed and smiling as she pulled her luggage toward us. i'm so thankful for the chance to share all of this with beth amma and coty naana!
thank you, Father, for this incredible gift!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
