EyesWideOpen: Past the 1 month mark! *warning, longish post*

Crazy weekend, last weekend, through the straining of making it through the middle of the week. God is glorious, amen?

I don’t know where to begin or end. After teaching nearly all of the elementary schoolers the song we sang like goofballs in elementary school: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your path straight.” (with the hand motions, mind you), I need to preach it to myself! Sarah and I even asked that as we traipsed down the mountain at the end of a hard week, last week: that in God we would find our strength and our joy, and what an adventure it is! So much for me to overcome in learning every part of that verse. Oh the principles of proverbs.

Last week had many ups and downs with suddenly taking the class due to a family emergency for my cooperating teacher; other teachers and students also met challenges and had to leave school at short-notice, which is why I ended up singing and telling Bible stories and acting and leading games for religious education for a few days. I love talking about Jesus in school! Also, sharing sweet times of prayer is something I want to continue to cherish; it’s how we survive.
My class is talking about Freedom Fighters around the world. How fitting! The light shines through the darkness, which can’t even understand it!Teaching is quite the adventure in and of itself. Learning the ropes of working within an international school, being a semi-professional with awkward roles, working to submit and grow in confidence, along with just reaching out to the students in every way possible to grow them, too, make for a daily learning experience for me (life-long learners?). We’ve dealt with things in just my little classroom like silly-band distraction, silly songs with students, rambunctious kids, distraction and home-life issues, and every range of homework completion. One of my students decided her jingle would be “Freedom, glorious Freedom!” with eyes squeezed tight and voice singing proudly each time I mentioned freedom the first day. Monday and Tuesday, even as technology failed us, we had some thought-provoking discussion about the Dandi Salt March, the Boston Tea Party, and our own “pencil dilemma,” connecting to big ideas of oppression and freedom and legitimate solutions.

So, to fill you in on the craziness of the past weekend, it might be one of those, “you had to be there,” times, but your desire to “be there” might range from absolute repulsion to aching desire.

Sarah and I signed up to chaperone a “C” level (longer) hike down to the plains on Saturday. We left at 7am on the bus to our starting point, and from the get-go, Barbara Block (director of the hiking program and high-school coordinator) kind of forged a path through overgrown brush to connect us to the little trail which followed a fence through jungle-like woods. Beautiful.
We soon discovered that the lovely leaf-covered ground we were treading was leech-infested territory. More than you could ask or imagine. Like one of those horror films (ok, not really, but kind of), the leeches were not only near the streams, but all along the path because of the extreme dampness as of late—even more than usual for a place with monsoon season.
We’d come through tall grasses or out onto rocky areas and everyone would find a clearing to tend to their leeches, as in: scream for salt, beg one of us adults to pick off a leech, or proceed to smash it with a nearby rock. Really, it was at least 5 leeches per person, per stop. Sounds like I’m making a math problem for my students! Blood would pool in socks, through pants, on the rocks where we stopped—our large group became the walking wounded.
We carried on like this for about 5 hours due to the fact that our fearless guide got lost. As she would say, “We knew where we were, we just weren’t where we wanted to be.” You got that right, sister. As a friend of mine likes to say, “We aren’t lost, we’re just taking a different way.” Ok, well this new route included going up and down bison trails through intriguing forest and leech country and rock-hopping down the stream hoping to finally end up at the waterfall we all know and love (this hike was a different version of the rattail falls hike we did a couple of weekends ago). It donned on Sarah that she followed me to the point of swinging on a vine to get from one rock to another. I loved that part, but some did not enjoy it so much—thanks for those stream crossings on summer camping trips, Dad. Yes, we made it to the falls, coming through bursts of color from the lantana, and both Sarah and I enjoyed the most comfortable nap with our feet cooling in the water and our heads resting on the rock warmed from the sun—like Jacob, perhaps. Wrestling with God and resting in him.

The way down was not nearly so treacherous, even on the loose gravel portions. We made it down without so much trouble. Grungy and a little weary, we got ourselves on the bus for the ride to Bethania—an orphanage in Kanivavi to which some of our KIS colleagues are intimately connected. 9 of us stayed the night with this beautiful little community of “brothers and sisters.” Most were somewhat wary of me, until a couple of the little girls, who soon became my fast friends, got up the courage to tell me, “You’re so, uyaram, sister!” I’m long, or “height,” yes. We spent time talking, eating, and playing with the kids there. Real food, yum. My first idlies accompanied by delicious coconut curry for breakfast, and I ate right-handed the whole weekend! It was a sweet time of fellowship sharing back and forth in Tamil and English in their small chapel on Sunday. Gifts exchanged—silly bands for bangles, Bible, Tamil lessons. Hearts are quickly shared in small ways in places such as this. Frolicking up on the rocks and through the groves of guava trees precluded games and tours of the farm for the rest of the morning before lunch.

This week I am having more and more recurring moments of both déjà vieux and allowing myself to feel that strange belonging without belonging. Little things continue to make me smile. Sarah and I allowed ourselves to indulge in what we dubbed “yum-yum,” the mixture they’re always cooking which sends smells wafting by when we walk home past the lake. Teaching still has its ups and downs—my students, cooperating teacher, and I all let each other down and make mistakes every day, while at the same time growing to understand each other more and learn together. Even with friends and family, I am amazed by the constancy of God’s abounding grace as I reflected on Yahweh’s mishpat and tzadeqah.