Everyday Heroes

If you have not read the book titled, Half the Sky, you should.  It is not an easy read but worth your effort.  It is a book that shook my heart. It speaks of women worldwide, the trials they face and the things they do to overcome them.  They are ordinary people who do extraordinary things in their villages and neighborhoods.  Today I met some “Everyday Heroes”.

The school I have been visiting this week is in the middle of a slum.  Families live in homes made from scrap metal, wood, and tarp.  The roads are winding and muddy.  Dogs, chickens, and pigs (lots of pigs) roam freely. There is no electricity, running water, or bathrooms. The school consists of two buildings – shared by seven grade levels.  The school rooms have only one window and no lights. Children sit on the ground on mats with their backpacks, a notebook, and a slate.  There  are no “luxuries” -  no crayons, no colored charts and only a few students have books.

Yet it is here that I found some “Everyday Heroes”.  All of the teachers specifically requested to be at this school. They could have been at schools with painted walls, multiple stories, and electricity but instead they asked to teach here. 

Hero # 1-  Stays after school every day for two hours of tutoring.  As I sat waiting for my ride I asked her how much students pay for tutoring. I assumed the small fee required would pay her expenses.  “Nothing,” she said.  “Then how do you get paid?” I asked.  “Well, I don’t. You see, the children's parents can’t come for them till late at night and the homes have no electricity so it is too dark to study.  I felt they needed a place to work, so , I stay.”

Hero# 2-  Helped start this school.  Each school day I spend 45 minutes with the teachers,  sharing and discussing teaching strategies.  One day I noticed that this teacher was just leaving the school an hour after the school day finished.  Another teacher commented that she stayed late today in order to make up time with the children that she didn't get to during the day. She knows that education is hope. Today, this same teacher showed up late to my session.  Later, she apologized.  She explained that a particular family had been on her heart all morning. As she prayed and fasted at lunch she felt moved to check on them. She found that the couple was fighting.  She opened her hand to reveal what looked like black rocks.  “Poison,” she said.  “The husband was going to feed them to his wife.  I had to stay until it was settled.”  She knows this community, lifts them up in prayer, and in this case saved a life.

Hero # 3- A nurse, quiet, English speaking but timid when using English.  On her own, she would not have made my hero list because she would never share how hard she works.  Only when the others on the staff spoke of her dedication did I come to know that she stays late - sometimes until 8:00 in the evening. She goes into the village, checking on people and taking them to the hospital if necessary.  She stays long past her time.

Hero # 4- A student in fourth class (around age 9).  She is lovely. Her hair is neatly braided and she has a sweet, shy, smile.  Her teacher say she is very bright but has difficulty focusing on studies. This is understandable since I learned that her father abandoned the family and her mother has seizures.  The young lady leaves her home by five each morning in order to arrange fruit at the market. She and her 11 year old brother are the only money makers in their family.  She returns home in time to make breakfast and feed her mom and brother.  Next she heads to school. When she returns home it is time to cook and clean again. 

Hero # 5- I met her a few years back but didn’t know her very well.  In school the lessons are memorized and understanding is expected.  For those who don’t understand it can be a lonely battle.  There are so many students to reach so giving individual attention is not easy. But this hero is well aware of the strugglers in her class.  I watch as she rests her hand on the back of one student and reassure him that mistakes are alright and she will help.  When asked about how she teaches she says, “I want the children to learn to think - not to just memorize.”

Hero # 6- Cleans at the school. She is tall and lean, her cheeks sunken, and her hands rough.  After school a small two year old becomes her shadow.  This little one's mom and dad are still off at work.  Her cleaning task would go much faster if she shooed this little shadow out the door but she does not. She lets the toddler help by giving her a job and nurturing her pint sized, strong willed spirit.  The small amount this woman earns is just enough to feed her children and herself.  Her husband has left.

As I was leaving today Hero #2 asked what she should be doing differently in her classroom and what she should improve.  My response, “Nothing..... I cannot answer that question,” I said. “You are my hero and I should learn from you.  You reminded me that I should pray for my students and care for my families as you do. In this case, I feel that I should be the learner.”

 Maybe, I was lucky enough to have shared an idea that will assist her in her desire to reach all of her students.  She certainly was receptive but, in this case, in the presence of these ladies I can only stand in awe and be humbled by what I have witnessed.  I am blessed to be here and to meet true “Everyday Heroes”.

Cheap Good

Crossfitters please don’t judge. Today, it is possible, that I ate spoonfuls of sugar straight from the bag.  I was feeling desperate (I should not have felt desperate since I DID also have ice cream today...a rare but wonderful treat). I took just a tiny dab of peanut butter and attempted to satisfy my craving by coating it in sugar.  UGHH!!! Not only should I not have needed the second dessert but I certainly should not have picked sugar straight from the bag.  I could have walked to the store and easily picked up a small chocolate or something but I didn’t.  I ate spoonfuls of mildly satisfying sugar from the bag.  Sounds a bit like life sometimes.  I find that I often settle for things that are kind of good because they are convenient and familiar and easier than walking to the store or making a change. I like comfort (who doesn’t) but I don’t want to settle for something comfortable and familiar if giving up the something comfortable and familiar could lead to something great.  But mostly, unfortunately just like today, I pick to eat bagged sugar on a spoon instead of striving for something more satisfying.  So, I guess my prayer today is that my life choices do not reflect the eating choices of July 19, 2012.

Good Stuff

My heart sank. I was thinking that I still had a long time left but when I looked at a calendar I noticed that time is fleeting. I feel so confused. I never want to leave but when I think of staying my heart sinks too. I picture missing my parents and having to hug them good-bye at the airport...and I just can’t do it.  I picture my red electric blanket from Elda and I imagine not being able to curl up in my chair to sit and read with a cup of tea in the morning.  These are some of the favorites I would miss. 

I picture unending days of freezing cold showers that feel terrible no matter how hot the day was. In reality, and I  can’t imagine having a solid rice diet forever.  But on the flip side I have favorites here too.  My heart aches that I have not been to church in the villages even once this year. I know if I stayed longer I could make going a regular routine.  Nothing encourages my heart more.  I am sure it sounds crazy but I love to “lift people up." While I often don’t like the drawbacks of being a foreigner, there are some pluses that go along with that status. 

I love making people laugh at my failed Telugu attempts. Mostly though, silly as it seems, I love holding people’s hands....especially old ladies' wrinkled hands....hands that have weathered more than any hands should. I also like holding young hands that question their worth or hands that worry about pending marriages or how to raise small children.  Sometimes the hands I hold are ones with past regrets and/or questions about the future.  I guess I like to think that in a small way, those whose hands I hold are as blessed by our brief moment together as I am. That is the kind of stuff I want to have more of in my life...the really, really good stuff. 

Shanua Niequist (You should read her books)

I am fairly certain that Shauna's books have spoken to many hearts but somehow when I read them I feel fairly convinced that she is talking directly to me.  It is almost as if she has my mind because she so clearly articulates my thoughts, chapter after chapter. I feel like I am reading something I wrote (only she is much funnier). Today there was a strike in the town where I am staying so I had time to read this morning.  The chapter was on anger.. how often we get so mad at something or someone that we play it over and over in our minds, playing over whole conversations that never take place.  She talks about how debilitating that can be. She points out that really only one person is having the argument and only one person is being held back.  You know, she is right.  When I have any unsettledness or "unfinished business" it weighs me down, I can't enjoy the present moment, enjoy God's presence, or anything for that matter. I can't see beyond the problem to enjoy the beauty that the day offers. 
I am not upset, India is wonderful...but I am just thinking about how much I need to learn to live in the moment, work to clear up old junk, and trust that this day like all the others is unfolding exactly as God intended it. If I learn to listen and act as directed I will love it all even more.

Committed Teachers

I think, that when I first started coming to India I felt more confident. Over time, it seems that it should get easier to stand in front of a group of teachers and speak but it has not. Often now, I am speaking the words I planned to say but my brain is thinking something completely different. Usually, over and over again these thoughts are repeating in my mind..."You have no business talking to these teachers. You know nothing about Indian education."


In reality, that voice is probably more accurate now than it was years ago. These teachers are amazing. They tech in their third or fourth language, sometimes not even able to speak a common language with their students. There are often 50 (or more) students in a class, in rooms that are packed so tightly that you cannot walk from the front of the or back of the classroom without having to shuffle students around or step over them. Teachers do not have full cupboards... or any cupboards of supplies for that matter. They face the same pressures we do- a curriculum to follow, content to cover and students who do not always understand. There is not a resource room or extra help available. So they alone carry the burden of moving student forward.
There is no copy machine so tests and papers are written by hand. Teachers come to school by bus, sometimes traveling for more than an hour. If they miss the bus they may wait a very long time before another comes. From the bus stop they may walk a mile or more before reaching school. All receive less pay than they might elsewhere. Despite all of these truths, they accept me and allow me into their classrooms to speak with them and teach their children (me who comes from a class of 7 children with access to lots of help and full cupboards and endless resources).

I am humbled by the work done here and thrilled to be a small part of it. I am so happy this week to work with teachers who are able to use some of the ideas I have shared despite my own insecurities. I think I am the one who has much to learn.

A Lesson in Living/Loving By: Mom

  My short airplane trip from Hyderabad to New Dehli was diverted to Jaipur due to poor weather conditions in New Dehli. I was not worried because Jaipur was only a 30 minute plane ride from Hyderabad and I had almost 4 1/2 hours before my flight to the United States. Although I'd had some concern that once I left Hyderabad I would have no way of communicating with anyone (only having a U.S. phone, no computer or i-Pad), Lauren assured me that the time between flights should allow for smooth connections.


  As we continued to sit in the airplane, with delay after delay, my concern grew. Four hours after landing in Jaipur, we finally were airborne. We landed in New Dehli with only 30 minutes remaining to catch my flight to the United States and I still had to go through immigration, navigate through the airport to find my gate (gate had not been assigned on my boarding pass), and make it onto the plane. Only two immigration stations were open. The official scrutinized the address I had given as a location while in India. I realized that I really didn't know any of the addresses and had written the address of the airport hotel we stayed in upon arriving in New Dehli.  Time ticked by - he finally let me through but the time for departure had passed.  Some passengers behind me speculated that the plane might be held because of the unforeseen weather delay (pre-monsoon showers). I raced into the airport and found the first arrival/departure screen available (hoping to find my gate number). There flashed the stark reality....the plane had departed. Two young girls looked at the screen with me and I conveyed the message that the plane had taken off. They ran to tell their dad....who joined me, in disbelief.

  Thus began the formation of the randomly displaced group of 17 who missed their flight to the United States. The time was 11:30 P.M. I was the only non-Indian in the group and the only single female. Whatever level of calm I had clung to thus far quickly began to erode as I realized my communication limitations and my minimal understanding of travel rights. Verbal exchanges in Hindi or Telegu began but I had little clue of the content. I knew that my best chance of a successful outcome was to cling to the group. By 3:00 A.M. we were still in the airport going through procedural paperwork and were told that the missed flight was not the fault of Jet Airlines. Thus there were no guarantees for a flight out the next day and no hotel accommodations were being made.

  Families began to make plans to leave the airport and find a hotel for the night. As they began to move towards the exits to hail a cab, I tried to stay close. I didn't want to camp all night, by myself, in the airport guarding my luggage. One of the group, a young man named Meer, who seemed to be an organizer, said, “You can stick with me.” He secured cabs for the two of us and three other families and we headed for a hotel near the airport. From then on, each step of the way, he oversaw my needs.

  I am in awe of these generous people, words cannot convey how I was taken in as one with, rather than as the “foreigner” I was. At the hotel, Meer said that he was going to order some food and asked what I would like. I explained that I had no money, having given almost all of my remaining rupees to Lauren, knowing that I would not need them. He said not to worry, we would have the food put on the hotel bill and I could pay by credit card when we left. So he placed the order and the food was delivered. He made sure that I was not alone in the hotel, getting a room next to mine, checking out the accommodations, making sure the air conditioning and fan worked. When I mentioned that nobody in my family knew of my situation, he offered his phone so I could try and reach Lauren (at 3:00 A.M.). She was asleep so I left a text.

  At 8:00 A.M. there was a knock at my door, I was afraid to open it but did. The hotel clerk stood with a bill for the food ordered during the night and wanted payment. I tried to explain that I had no rupees and thought that I could pay the total with the hotel bill. However, since the food was actually purchased off-site that probably wasn't going to work. He eventually left and two hours later there was another knock – Meer appeared and told me he had taken care of the bill.

  For breakfast I decided to make due with the granola bars I still had left and I wanted to offer some to the other families. I knocked on the doors of the two families who actually made it to the hotel with us and found that the family of 4 and the family of 3 had all slept in one bed. While my room left something to be desired, their situation was worse. After sharing what I had, I returned to the room.

  An hour later, there was a knock at the door and Sati was there, offering the breakfast she had purchased for me. I once again explained that I had no money – but she said that it was not a concern. Shortly thereafter Rao appeared and wondered whether I had been able to contact my family. I explained that my husband did not know and I wasn't sure whether my daughter did either. He said that he had a friend in India who had an international phone and he would call him and ask him to call Doug. He also let me use the phone to call Lauren, who had a local phone. I was able to reach her and let her know the circumstances. Once I was able to get word out to them, I felt a sense of relief. I then was able to sleep a little bit more.

  I snacked on granola bars until we left for the airport around 5:30 P.M. I was able to pay the hotel bill with my debit card (the first time I had ever used one) and offered Meer the 200 rupees that I had left to go towards the returning cab ride. I told him that once we got to the airport, if someone would help me use an ATM machine, I would pay him back – he brushed my offer off. However, things did not go smoothly at the airport. As we approached the ticket counter we thought we had vouchers for the same flight we had missed the night before but that's not how things unfolded. By about 7:00, fourteen of the 17 airplane refugees got tickets and 3 of us were put on standby. The group rallied around me and would not leave me side while I waited. At around 8:00 they were ready to head towards the gate, and I was still without a ticket. Meer said to me, “You have to eat,” and bought me a doughnut and a beverage. He then took 500 rupees out of his wallet and gave it to me. I told him, “No,” but he insisted, stating that I could return the money when I finally was issued a ticket. He instilled hope. Bijay took me to an ATM and together we were able to obtain 500 rupees. I returned the money to Meer. Rao called his friend in India and once again asked him to make another international call. Meer allowed me to try and text Doug with his phone. A call was made to Lauren to let her know that a flight had not been secured.

  My support group started to the gate and I was left with a single man, I had not met previously, and a father with two daughters who were still short one ticket assignment. Their focus appeared to be on their own needs … and I knew that I was somewhat more on my own. One of the ticket agents indicated that by 9:30 they would be able to tell us whether we would be seated on the flight. The plane was scheduled to leave at 10:50 P.M. By 9:30 we moved towards the ticket counter...where we waited and waited. The ticketing agent acknowledged us but still did not attend to our needs. Finally, around 10:00 he told us that we would all get on but the process of issuing tickets seemed to drag...and time was ticking. It was after 10:00 before I had a ticket and I still had to go through immigration (for the second time having done it the night before) and then security. Immigration went quickly this time but I got stuck in security because the people in front of me had packages that were falling apart inside the scanner. (At this point, I was the last of the 17 still not on the plane.) Meanwhile, the United Airlines agents told me that I needed to hurry because the plane was boarding. I tried to get into another lane but that was not allowed. Once cleared, I ran to the gate, where there was yet another screening process. When I finally boarded the plane....my group, who were scattered throughout the plane, rose and cheered. Meer found me and handed me his phone saying, “Your daughter has been worried, talk to her.”

  Over and over I thanked these wonderful people who took me under their wing. I was so appreciative of their kindness and generosity. I kept thinking, would a foreigner be so warmly adopted in the United States, would we so lovingly share our time, resources, and money? Would we be so caught up in caring for our own needs that we would not risk anything that might jeopardize that? I have tears in my eyes again, right now as I remember and relish the love I was shown.

  I have many wonderful memories of my time in India but this one is a memory of the heart. While it was extraordinarily special, I must say that inclusion was the predominant theme wherever I went. I never once felt like a stranger in India. I was always treated as a familiar friend. There was an openness of spirit that exuded “one with.” These are lessons that I want to remember. I thank God for teaching me in this way.

  Before I left the plane, I walked to the back and located Meer. I handed him the remaining 500 rupees I'd gotten through the ATM. It was the last I saw of this wonderful young man.

Her Life in India by:Mom

She said, "I am different in India," and perhaps she is.
Anticipation built from the time we boarded the plane in Cleveland - soon she would reconnect with dear friends, reunite in worship, pray in village homes, laugh with shoeless children while seated on straw mats covering dirt floors, and share chapati, dhal, rice, and curd around a small table while reminiscing over shared experiences.
In the Hyderabad airport she gazed up at the blue sky and breathed in deeply. The blue sky and sultry air wrapped tightly around her with welcoming arms. When the familiar voice of our driver greeted her she nearly leapt into the van that would carry us to our destination.
Upon driving onto the campus greeters were drawn to the American girl, many running up to say, "Hello." She called them all by name, remembering details about each of their families. There was a camaraderie one would expect among long time friends rather than annual acquaintances.
All of this was magnified once she stepped foot into the villages where people living in squalor ventured out of tentativeness into relationship - recognizing genuine sincerity and warmth, emanating from one who neither looked or sounded familiar. Perhaps she is a Pied Piper of sorts - with children clamoring for attention whenever she walked by.
Relationships are not formed by accident - people are drawn in by eyes that truly see, ears that truly hear, and a heart that truly cares.  Children through adults sought her out, teachers invited her into their classrooms because there was no sense of judgment but rather a sense of partnership that offered possibilities.
Time and time again I heard that she was seen as an "Indian girl," one who became one with rather than a foreigner passing through.  A dear Indian friend calls her, "daughter," a title lovingly bestowed.