Once Upon a Time- {How 1 month in India changed my life}

"How did I become to so blessed to grow up in the country that I did? How is it that, what I can pack in 80 gallons worth of backpack space, is worth more than what these kids will ever see in their lifetime?”  It feels just like yesterday, that I nodded in silent agreement, at loss for anything else, at my squad mate’s question.  She voiced what we were all thinking.  It was the same thoughts, questions and conversations with God, that I had each and every day as I walked passed the shanty village, to and from Grace Home; our sight of ministry for the month. 

If I am being really honest with you, India was the one month on the World Race that I was NOT looking forward to.  In fact, I will even go as far and say that I was dreading each and every moment of it.  Nonetheless, it is in India that I found myself in October 2013. 

Despite the fact that India has become one of those months that I don’t find myself talking a whole lot about, I am continuing to realize how perfectly timed it was that God placed it into my life when He did.  3 years later and the impact remains. 

It is in India, where I ate more rice and curry than I ever thought possible and it is in India that I TRULY discovered my love for authentic chai tea regardless of the sweat pouring off my face in the +40 degrees Celsius temperatures.  It is in India, where I (we) aimlessly followed our fearless (female) contacts through a literal wall of fire set ablaze across the street (after having been yelled at in a foreign language, by locals on motorbikes). It is in India, that teammates and I hopped on a Tuk Tuk and told the driver to “take us on an adventure”, all for only 10 cents. It is in India, that I learned that Larry the cucumber was right-not only does everyone WANT a water buffalo…everyone HAS MULTIPLE water buffalos! It is in India, where team mates and I unknowingly ‘crashed’ an Indian wedding.  It is in India, where I discovered that “OFC” was the next best thing to KFC- just don’t ask what the “O” stood for…and, thanks to India, I can officially take “survive an international newsworthy typhoon” OFF my bucket list.  Ironically enough, it is also because of my experience IN India, that led me to even consider the current profession I am in (direct support worker with adults with Intellectual/physical disabilities); I truly believe that my time in India, has given me an unique understanding/perspective (and passion) for my job each and every day.

More importantly; it was in India, that I truly began to become aware of the spiritual world around me.  It is in India, where the Holy Spirit began to make His presence known in my life.  It is in India, where a squad-mate spoke a bold Truth INTO my life; thus challenging me and giving me a different perspective on who I was.  It is in India, where rooftop worship became one of my highlights of the entire 11 months and sleeping in my one person tent-took one a whole new meaning.

It is in India, that I fell in love with the ‘lowest of the low’ on India’s Caste system; (special need) orphans and widows and it is in India, that God showed me what it truly meant to give up everything for Him through women younger than me, foster mom’s Hannah, Sarah, and Jenny.  Young women Natasha and Abby also gave up their lives in North America, to serve Jesus in India.  Shout out to all you ladies-thank you for being an inspiration. In India; God furthered showed me my passion FOR those with HIV/AIDS through Nora, a young girl with a world of opportunities before her.  India is where I met “Wendy”, a young lady who suffered a stroke at a young age which lead to Cerebral palsy; but it is her gorgeous smile, incredible strength and a bold uniqueness that God has used to change my life.  This Wendy also happened to share the same name of my own auntie Wendy- another lady with a story uniquely her own but who shares that same beautiful smile, incredible strength and a bold uniqueness that God has also used numerous of times within my life.  Through both of these ladies, God joined to totally different worlds and used them both equally to begin to teach me the power of (physical) healing power within Him.

I don’t know why God allowed me to be born into the country that I have been.  As I walked by the shanty villages, the thought of ‘that so easily could have been me’ wasn’t too far out of my mind.  Although India was FAR from being an ‘easy’ month on every level, what I experienced was NOTHING compared to what the locals live through each and every day.  Truth is, I honestly don’t know if the young naked child who held my hand every day on the walk to Grace Home, is still alive.  I don’t know if her home consisting of scrap metal, wood, cardboard and anything else random, withstood the latest downfall of rain.  I don’t know the last time she had a bath in clean water, or even DRANK clean, non-toxic water.  In North America; law suits would quickly be set up and fancy lawyers would be pointing fingers at one another because of human right violations…but for this little girl, and those like her around the globe who I’ve had the true honour of walking with and holding, if even for a moment, I can only pray.   I can only pray to God above that, above all else, He will hold them and never let go.  Believing that one day, God will rise them up and place them right next to Him in the eternal realm of Glory.  After all, the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to children such as these.

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To learn more about organization I worked along side; click here 

A Father to the fatherless (a tribute to my dad)

June 21 marked a special day this year, set aside as a day to celebrate dads.  It was Father’s Day.

Normally, being away from home on any holiday, doesn’t bother me.  I’ve missed all the major ones (Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter) before due to my year on the World Race.  I have missed birthdays and Mother’s Day (twice in a row!! Oops sorry mom!)  but for some odd reason, missing Father’s Day this year was one of the hardest days to miss.

So what was it about this year that made missing Father’s day so hard?

Easy answer.

It is because of where I am.

Instead of spending the day this year with my own dad, I spent it with children half way around the world who are ‘fatherless’ according to society’s standard.  Instead of going for an early round of golf (basically me being the caddy) with my dad; an early morning church service, African style, took place.  What followed was an impromptu photoshoot with a few of the older girls and a full day of hugs and laughter through hanging out with the kids.  Even through the laughter and silly moments, I could feel God giving me a ‘different’ set of eyes, stirring something up once again in my heart.

It took a ‘shoulder to shoulder’ conversation on the grass with one of the students (who has quickly become one of my favourites) in my English class, to reveal to me exactly what God was trying to teach me.  What started off as a simple question, “How is God?” (aka; what is God teaching you?) turned into her sharing a piece of her story with me.  Words cannot describe the very real, very raw pain that was still present in this individual’s voice as she shared.  She told of how her father had rejected her early on and that he wanted nothing to do with her.  I could feel the rage build up within me towards this man as I continued to listen to her share.  Thoughts of, “How DARE he? How dare he do that to her. Doesn’t he know how impacting a statement like that, can be? I’d love to get my hands on his neck and throttle him good.”  

Although I have heard more intense stories than this before, there was something about hearing this one that struck me.  Perhaps it was due to the fact that I knew I was missing Father’s Day at home.  Or perhaps it was that I knew I was (am) surrounded by kids and teenagers alike who do know what it is like to have a dad attend/coach their sporting endeavours, supporting and cheering them on from the side.  They don’t know what it is like to have a treasure hunt that last way longer than they should (sorry dad!), or spend countless number of hours getting help on that one specific math question (again, sorry dad!).  That is what broke my heart the most; the fact that these kids do not have memories of their own like that. 

While she was sharing and during this time of internal wrestling going on inside of me, I could feel my Father Above whispering into my ear. “Nikki, tell her about MY love.  About how I will never ever reject her.  How I created her for a purpose, for a specific reason.  How, each day, she is growing within me even though she does not personally know me.  I am what she is truly searching for”.

 

…A Father…

A Father to the fatherless.  A Pure, Perfect, Holy Father who literally sent His own son to die a painful death on the cross so that we may live in HIM and know HIM.  That is God.  Without Him in our lives, we are all 'fatherless'.  

My prayer that day, and every day since is that this girl (and those like her at home and around this globe) will know their Father Above.  That they will know that God has NOT rejected them and that He never will.  That they will know the love of a true Heavenly Father.

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For the record, I did call my dad back in Canada that day.  

We didn’t talk about anything to deep or serious.  We simply talked.  

Even from half way around the world, I could feel the support and love from my dad.  A support and love that propels me here each and every day to love these kids even harder.  To be there for them as they celebrate a soccer/netball win.  To encourage them to practice hard and study hard.  To keep them guessing with daily English related riddles and to embrace them with arms wide open as they (the young ones) run at me for a hug.  Although the only thing my dad and I would read together were the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper, my evenings are now free to spend time reading with the older youth.  This reading time is often one of the highlights of my day.

So much more could be said.  But for now, thank you Dad. 

Thank you for being my dad and for loving me the way you do. 

Reunited after 11 months abroad

To Save a Life

Even after spending 11 months abroad in 10 different countries, I realized today that there are still things (situations) that ‘burn my inner most being’ and make me go, “what the @&#% is wrong with this world and the people who live in it?”

Today started off like any other day here in Zambia.  

I arose with the sun and began my morning routine that I have already fallen into.  Today was different though, as the thought crossed my mind, “wow, I have been in Zambia for a week already! Some days it already feels longer than that, but at the same time, it felt as though I only left yesterday”.   

We had welcomed a small team of 5, from northern Alberta the day earlier.  Earlier that same day, we also welcomed a small video/musician team from the West Coast, consisting of 3 men and their gear.  That all being said, there were many more people around the breakfast table this morning, as they trickled in one by one still trying to recover from jet leg.   

Once the plan was set, we were able to put it into ‘motion’ and we loaded up the bus for our first destination.  We (myself and the two other teachers who are here ‘long term’ with me), got dropped off at the local Pick N’ Pay (basically a grocery store that is similar to Sobey’s at home) mall.  With the 5 person team in toe, we loaded our phones with more data and treated ourselves to Gelato at a local gelato store while we waited for our contact (which was also our ride) to come back and pick us up.

This short experience was the ‘calm before the storm’.

From there, we ventured to the local market, as well as a different orphanage that is set up by the local Catholic Church.  I have been to both of these places before, on my previous trips in 2011 and 2012.  In that regard, they were nothing ‘new’ to me.  

Given my many adventures in foreign markets while on the World Race, this market was no different and it fit right on in.  What was overwhelming and chaotic to me a few short years ago, now brought an unexpected sense of peace to my soul.  More so, my newly found sense of adventure (shout out to Marie and Sierra for that one!) was intrigued by the variety of different sights and sounds (don’t worry mom, I still have enough ‘common sense’ that I will not venture there alone).  However, I was not expecting the ‘pull’ that I felt in my heart as our leader pointed out a young child, carrying items to sell upon his head.  This wasn’t the first child I had seen, or experienced, selling things but for some reason, my heart sank a little deeper than it did before as I listened to our leader give us some facts about the area.  I couldn’t stop thinking that this child (and those around him) should be in school; learning, playing and having fun.  What struck me was that I knew, a few short miles down, kids his age were doing just that.  My “kids” at Grace, were hanging out, laughing, playing and waiting for us to return to join them.  The sight of the injustice before me, began to burn deeper within me

The stop at the orphanage followed next.

When I realized where we had pulled up to, I could instantly feel my heart ‘shut down’ purely out of trying to protect myself.  I knew, from past experiences, that this would not be an easy stop.  We were greeted by about 30 kids running up to the van and I barely had time to step out of the van itself, when I already noticed small hands being reached up to me and eyes begging me to pick them up simply to be held for a moment.  

With emotions shut off, I simply reacted and reached down to the child to embrace her and lift her into my arms.  10 minutes of holding her, was not enough but I had to put her down as we ventured into the Cerebral Palsy part of the orphanage.  I quickly discovered that my experiences working in India at a special needs orphanage (which included kids with CP), did NOT make this stop any easier.  In this building, I met a young child who had no (yes, NO) legs and moved herself around by literally dragging her arms across the floor.  She was lying on her side, clutching a small ball.  Looking at her I felt Jesus telling me, “Nikki, are you just going to stand there and look at me? Or are you going to bend down and tell me you love me?”  

In that moment, I could feel my emotions being ‘turned on’ and I knelt down and spent a few minutes rolling the ball back and forth.  In those moments, I experienced a joy on her face, through a way of her beautiful smile that caught me off guard.  Jesus was once again humbling me in a powerful way, through a small child, bringing to life the verse that talks about how the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to children such as these. 

Upon leaving that area, I could feel my own spirits continue to be lifted.  I followed our leader into the baby room where they were ‘getting ready’ a small new born baby.  To this I thought nothing of as I made my way over to another young baby in a crib.  I was once again blown away by their beautiful, innocent smile. 

What I didn’t realize was, this newborn baby that they were ‘getting ready’ was ‘coming home’ with us.  Seeds of Hope would be admitting the baby boy into their 0-5 year old care that they have.  While in the van ride back to Grace, I was given the newborn to hold.  Since we had his ‘file’ (basically papers stapled together in a light green folder) one of the ladies on the Alberta team read it out loud.  I learned that this baby was what they call ‘dumped babies’ here in Zambia.  The name says it all as these are basically babies dumped as soon as they are born.  This young child was born April 9 and he was found 2 hours after he was born.  It was at this point, he was brought to this orphanage.  Now, here he was, one day short of 1 month old and only 5 lbs in weight.  However, He was safe in my arms.  He has a bright future before him and a chance to live the life God has called him to live.  

I stayed back from a swimming opportunity to process and to simply soak in the sound of laughter coming from the kids already well established at Grace Academy.  Kids who have their own ‘rescue’ stories.  Some stories are similar to this one and others have stories that even Hollywood couldn’t write up.  But they too, are safe.  Like this baby, they are alive. They are getting a great education, 3 meals a day and the medical treatments they need.  They too, have a chance to fully live out and embrace the lives God is calling each of them too.

Today was hard.  But I truly learned today that it starts with a one.

One child.

One life at a time. 

The rest is up to God