Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Dead Next Door
**The content of this post may be difficult for those sensitive to death and dead bodies.
At about 1530 this afternoon I noticed a strange commotion in my neighbor's front yard. I peeked with curiosity through my window where I saw a crowd of men and women gathered around some form on the ground. They were throwing flowers over it, touching their foreheads, and then bowing at the base of the form. At first, I thought I was witnessing some form of puja (worship) or idol worship. It was indeed a form of puja, but when the space cleared I realized the focus of their puja was a dead body.
On Saturday, I took a small group to the four major tourist sights in Kathmandu. One of those sights is Pashupatinath Temple, the most holy Hindu temple in all of Nepal. This temple sits on the bank of the Bagmati river and is the site of cremation and Hindu ritual that carries the dead to the next life. I expect to see dead bodies burning and/or preparing for cremation when I visit this place. In fact, there were several bodies burning on Saturday. I sadly recognized my hardness to this sight of death when I watched the surprise, disgust, and intrigue of my visitors. It was then that I realized anew the significance of this sight. Before me were several bodies burning in the physical world. I watched. I prayed. Are they also burning in the spiritual world? Did anyone share the Gospel with them? Did they have an opportunity to know God? Only God knows. Still, it reminds me of the value of seizing every opportunity to share the love of God and His free gift of salvation.
Two days later I find myself face-to-face with this reality once again. Only this time, I wasn't traveling to a Hindu holy site. Instead, the dead were next door. What else is going on around me that I haven't taken the time to see?
At about 1530 this afternoon I noticed a strange commotion in my neighbor's front yard. I peeked with curiosity through my window where I saw a crowd of men and women gathered around some form on the ground. They were throwing flowers over it, touching their foreheads, and then bowing at the base of the form. At first, I thought I was witnessing some form of puja (worship) or idol worship. It was indeed a form of puja, but when the space cleared I realized the focus of their puja was a dead body.
On Saturday, I took a small group to the four major tourist sights in Kathmandu. One of those sights is Pashupatinath Temple, the most holy Hindu temple in all of Nepal. This temple sits on the bank of the Bagmati river and is the site of cremation and Hindu ritual that carries the dead to the next life. I expect to see dead bodies burning and/or preparing for cremation when I visit this place. In fact, there were several bodies burning on Saturday. I sadly recognized my hardness to this sight of death when I watched the surprise, disgust, and intrigue of my visitors. It was then that I realized anew the significance of this sight. Before me were several bodies burning in the physical world. I watched. I prayed. Are they also burning in the spiritual world? Did anyone share the Gospel with them? Did they have an opportunity to know God? Only God knows. Still, it reminds me of the value of seizing every opportunity to share the love of God and His free gift of salvation.
Two days later I find myself face-to-face with this reality once again. Only this time, I wasn't traveling to a Hindu holy site. Instead, the dead were next door. What else is going on around me that I haven't taken the time to see?
Friday, October 22, 2010
Three Weeks in Daduwa
Daduwa is a village comprised of several other smaller villages distinguished by clan. It is nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas of central Nepal with breathtaking views of the Annapurna and the Lamjung mountain ranges. Though I often lost myself in the magnificent beauty and majesty of God’s Creation, I couldn’t help but remember that God is not in the mountain. He is not in the wind that rends the mountains, He is not in the earthquake, or in the fire (1 Kings 19: 11-12). No - our God is the gentle voice that caresses the spirit of those willing to be still and listen. I listened for God in the three weeks I spent in this beautiful village with these beautiful people. He was with us. I saw what He saw. More than that, I loved as He loved.
My New Family
I lived with a family that embraced me as their own. I became younger sister, bahini. Deepa and Syano became my older sisters, didi. Suchandra, Deepa’s husband and the only follower of Jesus, became my older brother, dai. Together we lived and we laughed and together we cried when the time for departure came. I pray to never forget what we shared and I’m already making plans to return.I’m not sure how to adequately describe the bond that developed or the experiences we shared. Is it enough to know that I’m changed? Is it enough to know that I tasted a new love, both in my Savior and in this family and community? I am amazed and I am humbled by the love of God. Words fail to justly describe the love He bestows upon His children and how He desires to be in relationship with us. Yet Paul encapsulates God’s love in one word: inseparable (Romans 8:38-39). Jesus suffered the ultimate separation in body so that we wouldn’t have to (John 3:16). Why? For love.
I have seen and tasted a love that transcends cultural and language barriers. It has moved me in ways that I cannot explain. I am overwhelmed and filled to overflowing with desperation to share God’s love! I want nothing more than to spend eternity in the presence of God surrounded by the faces or these people.
One Sacrifice. . .One day
My timing in the village was unique. I was there during the greatest annual festival of the Hindu-Buddhist world, Daishan. In addition to cultural celebration and various forms of worship to ancestors and lifeless images, it is a time of animal sacrifice.
It was a dark day. I will not forget. The details are not important. Make no mistake, a day is coming when the darkness will be lifted. I long for the day when the people of Daduwa will no longer feel compelled to sacrifice goats and buffalos for the absolution of sin and the chance for salvation and know with full confidence that One Sacrifice was made for all.
One day, the earth will shake. The high places will fall, the carved images and sacred stones will be destroyed. In that day, the Church in Daduwa will stand unshaken and the lips of many will praise God in their native tongue. They will walk hours from their remote villages to unite in fellowship as one body. The children will know the Love of God. The Word will spread. It will be a beautiful day - one the Lord has already prepared. Amen!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
A Woman and her Home
It's one thing to pass through a Himalayan village and to briefly glimpse the inside of a home. I should know. I've seen hundreds over the past 4 years on various treks and visits to Nepal. It's also one thing to read of or hear stories of what it's like to live in a village here in the foothills of the Himalayas. However, it's quite another thing to actually experience it in the slowness of a visitor's day. Can you imagine living without electricity? Without running water? For that matter, without accessible water or hot water for a bath on a cold day? How about a kitchen sink set up outside to share with the chickens? Can you imagine counting the number of times you've traveled in a vehicle on one hand? What about life without internet, shopping, or the need to buy the latest anti-wrinkle ointment?! Does that sound like a hard life? Is it a hard life? I don't know. Does modernity and the latest technology or convenience really make for an easier life? Again, I don't know. Fortunately, the following description has little to do with the ease or difficulty of life. It's really more about my brief encounter with a woman in her home.
Most times, when I saw Deepa she was in her throne room, which is her kitchen. It was here that she ruled and nurtured. Her home is typical of a Gurung village. It's 2 stories of mud, wood, stone, and tin. There are a few windows as natural light is their primary source of light. She does have a few solar powered lights for evening time. These were nice! The main level was all that I was exposed to. I presume the upper level was for storage and sleeping. The main level was a large room that served as kitchen, dining area, and sitting room. Really, it was more than enough.
In Deepa's kitchen, which accounts for much of the main level, she has all the basic needs. You can see in the photos a small pit dug out for fire and various cooking materials spread throughout. Notice there is no ventilation. When she is cooking, the room fills with smoke, hence the darkness of soot you can see on the wood. You don't find many chairs here! Deepa's throne is a thin matt that provides a bit of cushion and separation from the adobe floor. She spends much of her day sitting, cooking, and hosting local passersby. For the few days that I was there, I found her home to be a hub of activity. Many people came to visit. Many came for her generosity with food and milk. Every day I drank warm milk from their water buffalo! Yes - it tastes very much like you'd think! It's milk!
When it it's meal time, Deepa serves each of us, ensures we each have our fill, then collects our dishes so we'll have room to talk and move around a bit. After we are satisfied, she serves herself and eats. This is a Gurung custom. When she is finished, she carries all the dishes outside to her stone washing area. It is a square area of smooth stone a short distance from the entrance of her home. With only a pitcher of water, some ashes from the fire, and a corn husk she washes the dishes. At the evening meal, she washes in the dark. When Deepa isn't in her kitchen, she is out in the wilderness of the village cutting grass for the many animals of their home: goats, sheep, and a water buffalo. She also has several chickens that help with the dishes. Chickens eat a lot! When her water supply is low, she walks 1-hour to the river to collect water in a metal vessel that she carries in a wicker basket and straps to her head. When the sun is out, laundry is done in a large bowl of soap and water then hung to dry after a good rinsing! The lady of the home is also responsible for all of the planting. She plants and harvests rice, beans and lentils, cucumber, onions, tomatoes, and more.
Doesn't she look like a happy queen? Watching her in her daily activities, I couldn't help but wonder about who she is on the inside. What does she think about? What does she enjoy? What brings her peace? I can't discern her heart, but I can certainly comment on her hospitality and her warmth as a host. I have a remarkable opportunity to spend 1-month with this woman in her home in the near future. I so look forward to that time! I know I will have many more stories to share from that time.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Dadhuwa
We spent this past week in a remote village in central Nepal called Dadhuwa (da-doo-wa). The way was washed out by numerous landslides so rather than bussing to this remote village, we hiked 10 hours to get there. Only one leech sighting! Within the first 40 minutes of our hike, I counted 8 road obstructions, either fallen trees or piles of rock and dirt. There were 31 obstructions in all. To say the least, the way can be dangerous during rainy season. I should also add that our hike was mostly uphill!!
Dadhuwa is a Gurung village comprised of 9 smaller villages. It is approximately 500 houses in total. There is no electricity, no running water, and no one owns a car though I saw 1 or 2 motorbikes. Water is collected via rain or at the river which is about a 1-hour walk one-way. However, modernity is not missing from this place altogether. Some families have solar powered lights (generally hand-held), radios, and even televisions. In the area that we stayed, cell phone reception was only available at the highest point of the hill. It was a little amusing to see people gathered in one spot to use their phones! There is a small medical clinic that is currently unmanned by a government appointed doctor. Instead, there is a gentleman with medical knowledge who is standing in for a doctor. Their supplies of medicine are limited as you can imagine.
There are a few shops that carry basic supplies like coke (my only caffeine source), biscuits, toothbrushes, pens, paper, alcohol, etc. Due to the many landslides along the way, supplies were scarce while we there and there were no vegetables available. We ate dal and bhat twice a day and at great expense to our hosts, consumed meat at 3-4 meals. The villagers grow their own rice, dal, tomatoes, onions, cucumbers (that was all that I saw), but vegetables are generally imported. They also keep livestock: water buffalos (I drank warm milk fresh from the water buffalo almost everyday!), goats, cows, sheep, and lots of chickens! I also saw the occasional dog.
The Gurungs have no written script! Their language is completely oral. Present day, the children learn Nepali and English pending which school they attend. Gurung is the everyday language for those that remain in the village. The caste system is still present here. I saw a glimpse of it in action. A low-caste woman came to our host family's home but she dared not set foot inside. She remained outside and spoke through the window. The constraint was not imposed by our host family but by social rules. The low-caste woman would risk death for herself if she violated these social rules despite any invitation offered. This was a new experience for me.
Gurungs practice a blend of Hinduism and Buddhism leaning predominantly toward Mahayana Buddhism. However, the Hindu influences are undeniable. Interestingly, while visiting 5-6 of these villages, I saw very few temples and/or shrines. It was explained that most worship is practiced toward shrines/idols within the home. The Gurung people are one of the least reached for the Gospel. I didn't realize it beforehand, but God brought us to this place specifically to visit with and encourage the 1 believer in the entire community. Due to the language barrier, I never spoke directly to our host family, but I found other ways to express thanks and love. My co-worker and our Nepali friend who grew up in this village shared much encouragement with them. Further, many others in the village heard the good news for the first time! Our Nepali friend explained that many are willing to listen and even ask questions, but none are prepared to make a decision. Why? The social pressure it too great. They risk losing their rights and privileges along with access to food and water supplies. The social bonds are deep. I hope to share more about what God is doing in this village in the coming weeks!
Dadhuwa is a Gurung village comprised of 9 smaller villages. It is approximately 500 houses in total. There is no electricity, no running water, and no one owns a car though I saw 1 or 2 motorbikes. Water is collected via rain or at the river which is about a 1-hour walk one-way. However, modernity is not missing from this place altogether. Some families have solar powered lights (generally hand-held), radios, and even televisions. In the area that we stayed, cell phone reception was only available at the highest point of the hill. It was a little amusing to see people gathered in one spot to use their phones! There is a small medical clinic that is currently unmanned by a government appointed doctor. Instead, there is a gentleman with medical knowledge who is standing in for a doctor. Their supplies of medicine are limited as you can imagine. There are a few shops that carry basic supplies like coke (my only caffeine source), biscuits, toothbrushes, pens, paper, alcohol, etc. Due to the many landslides along the way, supplies were scarce while we there and there were no vegetables available. We ate dal and bhat twice a day and at great expense to our hosts, consumed meat at 3-4 meals. The villagers grow their own rice, dal, tomatoes, onions, cucumbers (that was all that I saw), but vegetables are generally imported. They also keep livestock: water buffalos (I drank warm milk fresh from the water buffalo almost everyday!), goats, cows, sheep, and lots of chickens! I also saw the occasional dog.
Gurungs practice a blend of Hinduism and Buddhism leaning predominantly toward Mahayana Buddhism. However, the Hindu influences are undeniable. Interestingly, while visiting 5-6 of these villages, I saw very few temples and/or shrines. It was explained that most worship is practiced toward shrines/idols within the home. The Gurung people are one of the least reached for the Gospel. I didn't realize it beforehand, but God brought us to this place specifically to visit with and encourage the 1 believer in the entire community. Due to the language barrier, I never spoke directly to our host family, but I found other ways to express thanks and love. My co-worker and our Nepali friend who grew up in this village shared much encouragement with them. Further, many others in the village heard the good news for the first time! Our Nepali friend explained that many are willing to listen and even ask questions, but none are prepared to make a decision. Why? The social pressure it too great. They risk losing their rights and privileges along with access to food and water supplies. The social bonds are deep. I hope to share more about what God is doing in this village in the coming weeks!
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| my place of lodging |
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| washing dishes |
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| sifting chaff |
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Boldness to stop.
It's been a while since I've hit the blog site. To those who have been following faithfully, please forgive me. There's a reason for my absence. It's called avoidance. We all know that word, don't we?! God has been speaking to me about a subject that I have found too overwhelming to think about let alone write about. But I think it must be done. What follows below is the depth of my humanity.
I saw a man in the distance. He was walking toward me and I him. We were on a quaint back lane, one of many that sprawls my living area and provides a nice respite to the over-trafficked roads. There were many other passersby, but this man I spied from a great distance. He never saw me and I wish I could erase his sight from my memory. There was something different about him and it wasn't good. I looked to the ground and I urged myself to not look when we passed for I knew the pain would be too much to bear. "Don't look, don't look, don't look," I chanted. Despite my pleading heart, I looked the moment we passed. We were no more than inches apart. One misplaced step and I could have very easily brushed against him. I knew as soon as looked I should have stopped, but I quickened my pace as tears quickened from my eyes and my heart burst.
Here in Nepal, I daily encounter the disabled, the deformed, and the destitute. Daily I ask, "what do I do? How do I respond?" What do you say to a lame man with one eye who stretches out his hand? How do you respond to the leper who waits on the curb for a coin? What do you do when the hopeless reach out? I have no answers, but I have an abundance of tears. Like so many, I find it easiest to just go numb and pretend they're not there, to just walk by and look the other way. There are so many I sometimes find the only place to look is down. And I hate myself with every step.
Then there was this man. I wasn't going to look, but I did. Even though I looked, I didn't look at him, the man. I looked at his deformity. In doing so, I was forced to look at every disabled, deformed, and destitute soul that I've ignored for the past 2 months. Imagine with me now, as I did then, what it would be like to wear the ugliest parts of ourselves on the outside for all to see. The most grotesque and gruesome parts that we desperately hide in our closets. What if we wore these repulsive secrets on our faces? How would people respond? How would we feel? What if no one looked at us? What if disgust at the sight of us drove people to the other side of the street? What if no one dared to touch us and children cried in fear? Would we ask, "why me?"
Then I wondered: what would happen if I stopped? What would happen if I reached out a hand, touched, and prayed? What would God do?
Not many extend a hand to lepers, especially those begging on a street corner. But I think about Jesus and I think about what He did when He cleansed a leper in Matthew 8. The most powerful moment must have been in the touch. Jesus did more than pronounce the leper clean. He did more than stretch out His hand. Jesus touched. How long had it been since that unnamed leper felt the touch of another human being? How long had it been since that unnamed leper was given attention? He bowed before our Lord with a desire to be clean, but he rose loved, seen, and touched. Jesus did it. Jesus was willing, as the Word of God states. He stopped, He reached out His hand, He touched, He prayed, and God healed.
It was His willingness to touch that stirs me and convicts my fear and my shame for I can barely look in their eyes before I am consumed with tears. Where is the hope for these that are lost and wandering? I can't change the world. I can't make it a better place. I can't change circumstance. I can't save the lost and wandering. But I know what I can do: I can stop, I can touch, and I can pray. God, give me boldness to just stop.
I saw a man in the distance. He was walking toward me and I him. We were on a quaint back lane, one of many that sprawls my living area and provides a nice respite to the over-trafficked roads. There were many other passersby, but this man I spied from a great distance. He never saw me and I wish I could erase his sight from my memory. There was something different about him and it wasn't good. I looked to the ground and I urged myself to not look when we passed for I knew the pain would be too much to bear. "Don't look, don't look, don't look," I chanted. Despite my pleading heart, I looked the moment we passed. We were no more than inches apart. One misplaced step and I could have very easily brushed against him. I knew as soon as looked I should have stopped, but I quickened my pace as tears quickened from my eyes and my heart burst.
Here in Nepal, I daily encounter the disabled, the deformed, and the destitute. Daily I ask, "what do I do? How do I respond?" What do you say to a lame man with one eye who stretches out his hand? How do you respond to the leper who waits on the curb for a coin? What do you do when the hopeless reach out? I have no answers, but I have an abundance of tears. Like so many, I find it easiest to just go numb and pretend they're not there, to just walk by and look the other way. There are so many I sometimes find the only place to look is down. And I hate myself with every step.
Then there was this man. I wasn't going to look, but I did. Even though I looked, I didn't look at him, the man. I looked at his deformity. In doing so, I was forced to look at every disabled, deformed, and destitute soul that I've ignored for the past 2 months. Imagine with me now, as I did then, what it would be like to wear the ugliest parts of ourselves on the outside for all to see. The most grotesque and gruesome parts that we desperately hide in our closets. What if we wore these repulsive secrets on our faces? How would people respond? How would we feel? What if no one looked at us? What if disgust at the sight of us drove people to the other side of the street? What if no one dared to touch us and children cried in fear? Would we ask, "why me?"
Then I wondered: what would happen if I stopped? What would happen if I reached out a hand, touched, and prayed? What would God do?
Not many extend a hand to lepers, especially those begging on a street corner. But I think about Jesus and I think about what He did when He cleansed a leper in Matthew 8. The most powerful moment must have been in the touch. Jesus did more than pronounce the leper clean. He did more than stretch out His hand. Jesus touched. How long had it been since that unnamed leper felt the touch of another human being? How long had it been since that unnamed leper was given attention? He bowed before our Lord with a desire to be clean, but he rose loved, seen, and touched. Jesus did it. Jesus was willing, as the Word of God states. He stopped, He reached out His hand, He touched, He prayed, and God healed.
It was His willingness to touch that stirs me and convicts my fear and my shame for I can barely look in their eyes before I am consumed with tears. Where is the hope for these that are lost and wandering? I can't change the world. I can't make it a better place. I can't change circumstance. I can't save the lost and wandering. But I know what I can do: I can stop, I can touch, and I can pray. God, give me boldness to just stop.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Off to India!
Fun story! Our flight departed Kathmandu, Nepal airport for Bhadrapur with time to spare. It actually left 10 minutes early! I'm sure most of you would agree that a flight leaving on time is rare enough, but to leave early?! I thought we were off to a great start. After 50 minutes in the air, we landed at our small destination airport about 35 km from the India border. We gathered our bags in the steamy hottness only to learn there was a bandh in the town. This means strike!!! No taxis were available to transport us. Our choices were a 3-hour rickshaw ride to the border or a 30 minute motorcycle ride. Not a difficult choice with all things considered. So there I was! My red, 60-litre trekking pack was strapped to my backside and my blue backpack carrying my laptop was strapped to my frontside. As soon as my right leg straddled the bike and my left foot left the ground, my skinny Nepali "motorbike taxi" driver was off. Wind in my face! Two choices were before me: 1) hang on for dear life; 2) sit back and ride. I chose both!
We were a motorcycle caravan of three consisting of 1 American co-worker, 1 Nepali co-worker, and me. My driver liked to be in the lead! It was a beautiful but bumpy ride and a looming rain cloud followed us for the duration of our 25-minute journey. Thankfully, the rain stayed until evening.
At the border post for Nepal and India, a very primitive place, we passed through Nepal Immigration and then Indian. Not a computer was in sight! Everything was done by hand and all record of those entering/leaving the country were catalogued in large ledger books. Did I mention it was hot? It was hot! All rooms were open in the hopes of capturing a cool breeze. What a life!
We hired a taxi to drive us the 1 hour to Siliguri, India where we spent the night, then traveled the remaining 3.5 hours to Jaigaon the following morning. We drove by numerous tea estates. Beautiful! The best tea in the world comes from these parts!
More to follow on Jaigaon soon! Internet access is limited to a small internet cafe that runs very slowly. . .oh well. . .at least we have continuous electricity in India!
We were a motorcycle caravan of three consisting of 1 American co-worker, 1 Nepali co-worker, and me. My driver liked to be in the lead! It was a beautiful but bumpy ride and a looming rain cloud followed us for the duration of our 25-minute journey. Thankfully, the rain stayed until evening.
At the border post for Nepal and India, a very primitive place, we passed through Nepal Immigration and then Indian. Not a computer was in sight! Everything was done by hand and all record of those entering/leaving the country were catalogued in large ledger books. Did I mention it was hot? It was hot! All rooms were open in the hopes of capturing a cool breeze. What a life!
We hired a taxi to drive us the 1 hour to Siliguri, India where we spent the night, then traveled the remaining 3.5 hours to Jaigaon the following morning. We drove by numerous tea estates. Beautiful! The best tea in the world comes from these parts!
More to follow on Jaigaon soon! Internet access is limited to a small internet cafe that runs very slowly. . .oh well. . .at least we have continuous electricity in India!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Dinner with Nuns
Next great story of the Buddhist nuns!
As I've mentioned before, there was much generosity shared between the Buddhist nuns and I. If it were a battle of generosity, I most certainly lost! I couldn't walk by their little retreat habitats without an offering of water or food. Most times, I only had a smile and friendly touch to offer in return. Once, however, I was able to bring them apples. Their lives are so simple that a gift of fruit (which can be costly) can be a great honor. However, in thinking I was making a kind offering, they out did it by making a plate of fried doughnut things! Please don't get me wrong. We weren't in competition with each other, but I confess that I started to feel uncomfortable to walk by them never having anything to give!!
One night I will never forget. I was returning to my room after our afternoon meditation class. Dinner would be served in about an hour. I saw the nuns outside their rooms and cautiously approached. I just wanted to sneak by and use the potty! But they had different intentions spying me coming down the stairs to the lower level. I was invited inside. I felt humbled by this as I'd never seen the inside of their dwelling place. It consisted of 2 rooms of almost nothing, although they did have electricity running to 1 light bulb in the living area and a few wall sockets. The first square room was the cooking area; the second was the living area. No running water. No toilet. They would often leave buckets out when it rained to collect their water and then boil it for drinking.
The kitchen contained a small propane stove and a few shelves to hold cooking goods. They had baskets of potatoes, onions, ginger, and tomatoes. They had a few dishes and cooking utensils. The living area housed a bed and also a couch of hard cushions. The far wall was made entirely into a shrine with a few drawers and shelves below. I presume clothes and a select few personal items were housed in these. Each room also had 1 window for natural light and ventilation. These 2 rooms belonged to Pema, but they nuns seemed to share everything. The second nun, with whom I bonded the most (can't spell her name), lived closest to me. Though they had little, they had all that was necessary. Their days and evenings were spent entirely in Buddhist meditation and daily chores for sustenance.
I was led inside to sit on the couch. They must have been expecting me as I was served a boiled potato with a pile of chili powder to dip it in. Very tasty snack. They also served butter tea. This wasn't my first experience with butter tea, though I feel it necessary to add that I'd always hoped my first experience with this buttery beverage would also have been my last. Sadly, it was not so. There I was feeling trapped by 2 nuns with whom I couldn't speak and who were expecting me to drink what I feel no qualms in calling a vile beverage. The second none remained in the cooking area cooking while I sat in silence with Pema eating a potato and drinking vileness. I didn't just have 1 cup. I didn't just have 2 cups. Before the night was over, I'd had 4 cups!!! No more! My stomach is turning as I write. I won't mention my stomach ache the following morning.
I was somehow hoping that I could getaway after a potato and 2 cups of tea. At my first and only attempt, the second nun barred my path and bade me return to my cushions. I later watched her cook for awhile wanting a heads up on what I might be having for dinner. It looked and smelled good enough. Ginger, tomatoes, onions, and some sort of spiny cucumber looking vegetable sauteed in sunflower seed oil. She was also making roti (flat bread). Can't go wrong with roti. So I sat in silence exchanging odd glances with Pema. Then the food came. No worries, I thought.
My little bowl was very hot! And even though they offered me a spoon, I opted to eat with my hands as they did. The second nun waited for me to take a bite. She was clearly eagerly awaiting my response. So, with a piece of roti, I grabbed a large slice of the cucumber looking vegetable and popped it into my mouth. My thoughts went something like this: "hmmm. . .this isn't a cucumber. In fact, this isn't good. Please don't throw up in your mouth. How am I going to eat a whole bowl of this?! Please don't throw up in your mouth!" To make it worse, I only had the vile butter tea to wash it down!!
Somehow, I finished the bowl with a smile on my face. It was well worth it and I knew it then as much as I know it now. After dinner, we engaged in a wonderful conversation. . .as much as was possible considering the language barrier, of course. It was most fun! We were 3 teenagers at a slumber party exploring each others facial features and making fun of our figures. Not at all what I would have expected, but women are women no matter where they are! After about 70-75 minutes or so, the nuns kicked me out (very nicely). It was time for their meditation practice.
It was an honor to share a meal with these women. It was a greater honor to share humanity and a bit of laughter. I pray to not ever forget their darling faces and sweet countenances. I pray even more for their eternal salvation. My love is dim compared to the love of God, but I trust in His revelatory power. Perhaps I'll see their darling faces in heaven!
Let me offer a word of caution: DON'T EVER EAT A SPINY CUCUMBER LOOKING VEGETABLE!
As I've mentioned before, there was much generosity shared between the Buddhist nuns and I. If it were a battle of generosity, I most certainly lost! I couldn't walk by their little retreat habitats without an offering of water or food. Most times, I only had a smile and friendly touch to offer in return. Once, however, I was able to bring them apples. Their lives are so simple that a gift of fruit (which can be costly) can be a great honor. However, in thinking I was making a kind offering, they out did it by making a plate of fried doughnut things! Please don't get me wrong. We weren't in competition with each other, but I confess that I started to feel uncomfortable to walk by them never having anything to give!!
One night I will never forget. I was returning to my room after our afternoon meditation class. Dinner would be served in about an hour. I saw the nuns outside their rooms and cautiously approached. I just wanted to sneak by and use the potty! But they had different intentions spying me coming down the stairs to the lower level. I was invited inside. I felt humbled by this as I'd never seen the inside of their dwelling place. It consisted of 2 rooms of almost nothing, although they did have electricity running to 1 light bulb in the living area and a few wall sockets. The first square room was the cooking area; the second was the living area. No running water. No toilet. They would often leave buckets out when it rained to collect their water and then boil it for drinking.
The kitchen contained a small propane stove and a few shelves to hold cooking goods. They had baskets of potatoes, onions, ginger, and tomatoes. They had a few dishes and cooking utensils. The living area housed a bed and also a couch of hard cushions. The far wall was made entirely into a shrine with a few drawers and shelves below. I presume clothes and a select few personal items were housed in these. Each room also had 1 window for natural light and ventilation. These 2 rooms belonged to Pema, but they nuns seemed to share everything. The second nun, with whom I bonded the most (can't spell her name), lived closest to me. Though they had little, they had all that was necessary. Their days and evenings were spent entirely in Buddhist meditation and daily chores for sustenance.
I was led inside to sit on the couch. They must have been expecting me as I was served a boiled potato with a pile of chili powder to dip it in. Very tasty snack. They also served butter tea. This wasn't my first experience with butter tea, though I feel it necessary to add that I'd always hoped my first experience with this buttery beverage would also have been my last. Sadly, it was not so. There I was feeling trapped by 2 nuns with whom I couldn't speak and who were expecting me to drink what I feel no qualms in calling a vile beverage. The second none remained in the cooking area cooking while I sat in silence with Pema eating a potato and drinking vileness. I didn't just have 1 cup. I didn't just have 2 cups. Before the night was over, I'd had 4 cups!!! No more! My stomach is turning as I write. I won't mention my stomach ache the following morning.
I was somehow hoping that I could getaway after a potato and 2 cups of tea. At my first and only attempt, the second nun barred my path and bade me return to my cushions. I later watched her cook for awhile wanting a heads up on what I might be having for dinner. It looked and smelled good enough. Ginger, tomatoes, onions, and some sort of spiny cucumber looking vegetable sauteed in sunflower seed oil. She was also making roti (flat bread). Can't go wrong with roti. So I sat in silence exchanging odd glances with Pema. Then the food came. No worries, I thought.
My little bowl was very hot! And even though they offered me a spoon, I opted to eat with my hands as they did. The second nun waited for me to take a bite. She was clearly eagerly awaiting my response. So, with a piece of roti, I grabbed a large slice of the cucumber looking vegetable and popped it into my mouth. My thoughts went something like this: "hmmm. . .this isn't a cucumber. In fact, this isn't good. Please don't throw up in your mouth. How am I going to eat a whole bowl of this?! Please don't throw up in your mouth!" To make it worse, I only had the vile butter tea to wash it down!!
Somehow, I finished the bowl with a smile on my face. It was well worth it and I knew it then as much as I know it now. After dinner, we engaged in a wonderful conversation. . .as much as was possible considering the language barrier, of course. It was most fun! We were 3 teenagers at a slumber party exploring each others facial features and making fun of our figures. Not at all what I would have expected, but women are women no matter where they are! After about 70-75 minutes or so, the nuns kicked me out (very nicely). It was time for their meditation practice.
It was an honor to share a meal with these women. It was a greater honor to share humanity and a bit of laughter. I pray to not ever forget their darling faces and sweet countenances. I pray even more for their eternal salvation. My love is dim compared to the love of God, but I trust in His revelatory power. Perhaps I'll see their darling faces in heaven!
Let me offer a word of caution: DON'T EVER EAT A SPINY CUCUMBER LOOKING VEGETABLE!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Photo Journey of Asura Cave Retreat Center
A few more steps. Almost to class!
Blessing from a Buddhist Nun
Great story! As I mentioned in a previous blog, I lived next to 2 nuns on a much lengthier retreat than mine. It's quite common for monks/nuns to spend weeks to years in retreat at the Asura cave. These two nuns fell under the "years" category. As the days went by, we greeted each other joyfully depending solely on smiles and non-verbal gestures. From my very first day they exhibited great generosity - more than I was prepared for for reasons I'll explain later! One day, whilst walking to my room after a meditation class, one of the nuns, Pema, called me over with hand and arm signals (yes - that's military jargon). Thankfully, I had another young woman from class with me! She's much better at understanding non-verbal communication than I am. If I learned anything on retreat, it's that I'm terrible at charades! But I digress. This fine nun asked us to cup our hands together as if for drinking. Uh-oh, I thought. Then she pulled out an old 20 oz Fanta bottle filled with a lemonade like substance. I had my suspicions from the beginning. She poured a couple of drops into each of our hands and motioned for us to drink. Knowing full well what I was about to drink, I had to do it. I want you to know that I did it with great courage!! Not really! I gave my companion a doubtful look and waited for her to do it first!! When I saw that she had survived, I went for it. I licked the one lick's worth of beverage cupped in my palms. Yep - homemade alcohol. Then, she placed a hard candy in each of our hands and advised we eat it. Again, I waited for my companion. When I saw that her face didn't contort too oddly, I also partook of what turned out to be a rather sweet candy.
What happened?? I know you are all wondering. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure. But let me offer a possible explanation of this seemingly odd act of generosity. In Buddhist traditions, offerings are set before altars of Buddhist figures/deities (Buddhas, Bodhisattvas). This is common in most other idol-intensive traditions, as well. In fact, take a browse through the Hebrew Bible! Offerings can include lighting butter lamps, money, incense, flowers, holy waters, rice, and other food and beverage items. Sometimes rituals are performed. Other times, the offering is enough. Pending circumstance, food offerings are either left on the altar and later fed to animals or they are removed for consumption after they've been blessed. In the latter circumstance, the food offerings may then be shared with others signifying that one also partakes of a Buddha's blessing. Essentially, from what I've gathered from my teachers, Pema was sharing a blessing with me. Though our faiths are opposite and though I place no deities before the One God, generosity from positive motivation is still generosity and should not be taken for granted or cast aside.
Without a doubt this woman was exercising compassion for me as intensely as I pray God's revelation for her. I don't know that I'll ever see these nuns again, but I do know that we will not ever forget each other and the acts of generosity that we shared.
Paul remarks on food sacrificed to idols in 1 Corinthians 8. Check out what he says and let me know what you think or how you feel.
I have another fabulous food story to share regarding my neighborly nuns. Stay tuned!
What happened?? I know you are all wondering. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure. But let me offer a possible explanation of this seemingly odd act of generosity. In Buddhist traditions, offerings are set before altars of Buddhist figures/deities (Buddhas, Bodhisattvas). This is common in most other idol-intensive traditions, as well. In fact, take a browse through the Hebrew Bible! Offerings can include lighting butter lamps, money, incense, flowers, holy waters, rice, and other food and beverage items. Sometimes rituals are performed. Other times, the offering is enough. Pending circumstance, food offerings are either left on the altar and later fed to animals or they are removed for consumption after they've been blessed. In the latter circumstance, the food offerings may then be shared with others signifying that one also partakes of a Buddha's blessing. Essentially, from what I've gathered from my teachers, Pema was sharing a blessing with me. Though our faiths are opposite and though I place no deities before the One God, generosity from positive motivation is still generosity and should not be taken for granted or cast aside.
Paul remarks on food sacrificed to idols in 1 Corinthians 8. Check out what he says and let me know what you think or how you feel.
I have another fabulous food story to share regarding my neighborly nuns. Stay tuned!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Response from Reader
The value of dialog is that it takes two! A reader responded to my last blog "A Note About Love" concerned that I'd left out and/or misrepresented the love between a man and a woman joined in matrimony. Loved the feedback! As a single woman, I cannot describe the magnificence of such a union, but I imagine many of you can! I'm sure it would be a great encouragement to many single women to hear the beauty of love in marriage described. Make a comment! Tell us about it!
To clarify, my butterfly metaphor was not designed to imply marriage is fleeting, elusive, or unworthy of pursuit. It is to the contrary. From the beginning, God created us for relationship, not only for Himself, but also others. Recall in Genesis 2:18 that God declared it was not good for humankind to be alone. The Apostle Paul, a single man, also valued marriage. I greatly appreciate his remarks to the married and the unmarried. Being unmarried myself, I have chosen to live by his encouragement to focus solely on the Lord until such time that He chooses to bless me with a partner. He states,
This is where I am in my journey; everyone's path is different and that is not to imply that one is better than another. I can only comment on my path. I'm captivated by the One who saved me, the One who loved me first. My heart belongs to Him. I'm still very young in Love and not quite ready to divide my attention. I love my life and I love how God uses me in both my joy and my struggle. This is our time; I'm in the Garden. I pray that I will one day have a partner to share in the glory of God, but that time has not yet come.
So. . .to all the unmarried women who read this blog, let me leave you with a fabulous quote from Maya Angelou: "A woman's heart should be so lost in God that a man needs to seek Him in order to find her."
To clarify, my butterfly metaphor was not designed to imply marriage is fleeting, elusive, or unworthy of pursuit. It is to the contrary. From the beginning, God created us for relationship, not only for Himself, but also others. Recall in Genesis 2:18 that God declared it was not good for humankind to be alone. The Apostle Paul, a single man, also valued marriage. I greatly appreciate his remarks to the married and the unmarried. Being unmarried myself, I have chosen to live by his encouragement to focus solely on the Lord until such time that He chooses to bless me with a partner. He states,
"One who is unmarried is concerned about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and his interests are divided. The woman who is unmarried, and the virgin, is concerned about the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and spirit; but one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how she may please her husband" (1 Corinthians 7:32-34).
This is where I am in my journey; everyone's path is different and that is not to imply that one is better than another. I can only comment on my path. I'm captivated by the One who saved me, the One who loved me first. My heart belongs to Him. I'm still very young in Love and not quite ready to divide my attention. I love my life and I love how God uses me in both my joy and my struggle. This is our time; I'm in the Garden. I pray that I will one day have a partner to share in the glory of God, but that time has not yet come.
So. . .to all the unmarried women who read this blog, let me leave you with a fabulous quote from Maya Angelou: "A woman's heart should be so lost in God that a man needs to seek Him in order to find her."
Sunday, August 1, 2010
A Note About Love. . .
Love is as ineffable as its Author. My feeble words will never adequately relay the visions of color and emotion rising within my spirit when it comes to the matter of Love. Still, I cannot contain the expression of devotion for the One within!
I should first make a brief differentiation in the semantics of love. There is a common meaning of love that is rooted in fleshly passion. This is fleeting. We find this love in Hollywood and fairy tales. We also find it in selfish desire. Young girls (and some not so young) often blindly chase this fleeting butterfly along the treacherous paths of worldly existence. I'm all too familiar with the danger along these paths. You see, contentment cannot be found in chasing this elusive butterfly of love. Even if one lucky girl catches the butterfly in her net, she soon discovers her butterfly will not survive captivity. This kind of love resides solely in the imagination and will never manifest in tangible form. It is not the love I wish to share, for its pursuit is futile.
There is, however, a Love worthy of pursuit. It doesn't require a butterfly net or an all-night stakeout. It can't be found running and panting through dark existence. It isn't an object to be stolen or even conquered. How do you conquer freedom, after all? To think freedom is conquerable is to enslave it. What freedom is that? No - this Love is a gift, a free gift that leads to life. In fact, it is the very definition of life. This is divine Love, neither fleeting nor elusive. So, where does one find such unconquerable Love? One need only to lay down their net and look up. In the upward gaze, one will find Another looking down waiting to pour out Love unimaginable. And what Love He is!
He is the wellspring of life that overflows without containment. Filled to overflowing, there are times I'm ready to explode. Times when the One living within me bursts forth and shatters through the darkness of the world. Truly, He is the Light that enlightens all humankind (John 1:9). His Love reaches the deepest depths of my spirit and fills me completely. He lights my lowest valleys and stands radiantly on my highest summits. He transcends all that I am and carries me to the heights of life. Yet, it is in my descent to nothingness that God's love is strongest within me. For it is in my nothingness that God can love through me. I love deeply because God dwells deeply and in communion with Him, I live deeply. This is Love and love divine.
I should first make a brief differentiation in the semantics of love. There is a common meaning of love that is rooted in fleshly passion. This is fleeting. We find this love in Hollywood and fairy tales. We also find it in selfish desire. Young girls (and some not so young) often blindly chase this fleeting butterfly along the treacherous paths of worldly existence. I'm all too familiar with the danger along these paths. You see, contentment cannot be found in chasing this elusive butterfly of love. Even if one lucky girl catches the butterfly in her net, she soon discovers her butterfly will not survive captivity. This kind of love resides solely in the imagination and will never manifest in tangible form. It is not the love I wish to share, for its pursuit is futile.
There is, however, a Love worthy of pursuit. It doesn't require a butterfly net or an all-night stakeout. It can't be found running and panting through dark existence. It isn't an object to be stolen or even conquered. How do you conquer freedom, after all? To think freedom is conquerable is to enslave it. What freedom is that? No - this Love is a gift, a free gift that leads to life. In fact, it is the very definition of life. This is divine Love, neither fleeting nor elusive. So, where does one find such unconquerable Love? One need only to lay down their net and look up. In the upward gaze, one will find Another looking down waiting to pour out Love unimaginable. And what Love He is!
He is the wellspring of life that overflows without containment. Filled to overflowing, there are times I'm ready to explode. Times when the One living within me bursts forth and shatters through the darkness of the world. Truly, He is the Light that enlightens all humankind (John 1:9). His Love reaches the deepest depths of my spirit and fills me completely. He lights my lowest valleys and stands radiantly on my highest summits. He transcends all that I am and carries me to the heights of life. Yet, it is in my descent to nothingness that God's love is strongest within me. For it is in my nothingness that God can love through me. I love deeply because God dwells deeply and in communion with Him, I live deeply. This is Love and love divine.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Monkey Thief!
My 2-week meditation retreat started with a gift and the theft of the same gift! After arriving to my room, consisting of a small bed of cushions, private toilet, and cold-water shower, a neighborly nun brought me a small box of apple juice. I've developed quite an addiction to apple juice since being in Nepal so I felt pretty thankful to sit on the steps outside my room and sip this fine beverage. While taking in the monastery view of Pharping, enjoying the silence and the cool breeze, a monkey strolled by. He looked at me and then at my apple juice. I knew what he wanted. After recovering from the shock of making eye contact with this monkey, I quietly stood up and backed into my new room. I set my juice down on the floor and proceeded to stare at the creature before me. To my disbelief, this little guy walked up my steps into my room and snatched my juice before I could close the door! Ridiculous! I pierced the silence with violent name calling: THIEF! The dirty thief sat right in front of me tearing into my apple juice and licking it from the ground. The monks in retreat above my room heard my cry, probably giggled, and threw candy and other food goods toward the monkey. It wasn't quite the response I was looking for. I'd say the monkey won that day. He and I had 2 other bouts, but never again did he steal from me!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Inquire of the Lord
Joshua 9:14 ". . .but did not inquire of the Lord" (NIV) or "did not ask for the counsel of the Lord" (NASB).
I read the 9th chapter of Joshua this morning and found myself returning over and over again to verse 14. There is a certain weight of responsibility associated with this verse that implicitly demands we inquire of the Lord, that is, seek His counsel.
How can I seek daily communion with the Lord when I refuse to inquire of Him for all things? Time after time, I have declared my desire for the One Who knows all things. Yet, how many rash decisions I have made thinking they do not concern the God Who is wisdom! This is an independent spirit, not one that professes dependence on the only One worthy of dependence.
Psalm 27:4 is a declaration of David. It is one that I claimed early in my spiritual journey. I dare to say that rarely a week goes by that I do not recite this humble voice of David:
One thing I have desired of the LORD,
That will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the LORD
All the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the LORD,
And to inquire in His temple.
I confess this sudden realization of how far I fall short. I consistently stop at the threshold of God's sanctuary only to peek inside in hope for a glimpse of God's beauty. What would happen if I consistently stepped through the doorway? What if I did more than reverence God from the outside looking in? What if I truly inquired of the Lord by sitting in communion with Him at the banquet table? What if I never left that glorious communion with the Eternal One?
Words fail to capture the ineffable magnificence of the Author of life and eternity, for that matter. To think! He created each of us for fellowship with Him, before any other. This enhances the blow of my denial to walk into God and allow Him to consume me. I can barely fathom, let alone explain, His desire to engage in my company. Who am I to deny Him? As John says, "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" (1 John 3:1, NIV). And where do children dine? At the table prepared by their Father. Psalm 23:5 declares just that and in the presence of enemies no less! At the Father's table we are washed clean of impurities, made whole, and are recipients of wise counsel. My heart cries, "teach me your way, O Lord. . ."
Let it not be said that I did not inquire of the Lord. The responsibility is great. Lord, help me to walk into You and there remain.
I read the 9th chapter of Joshua this morning and found myself returning over and over again to verse 14. There is a certain weight of responsibility associated with this verse that implicitly demands we inquire of the Lord, that is, seek His counsel.
How can I seek daily communion with the Lord when I refuse to inquire of Him for all things? Time after time, I have declared my desire for the One Who knows all things. Yet, how many rash decisions I have made thinking they do not concern the God Who is wisdom! This is an independent spirit, not one that professes dependence on the only One worthy of dependence.
Psalm 27:4 is a declaration of David. It is one that I claimed early in my spiritual journey. I dare to say that rarely a week goes by that I do not recite this humble voice of David:
One thing I have desired of the LORD,
That will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the LORD
All the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the LORD,
And to inquire in His temple.
I confess this sudden realization of how far I fall short. I consistently stop at the threshold of God's sanctuary only to peek inside in hope for a glimpse of God's beauty. What would happen if I consistently stepped through the doorway? What if I did more than reverence God from the outside looking in? What if I truly inquired of the Lord by sitting in communion with Him at the banquet table? What if I never left that glorious communion with the Eternal One?
Words fail to capture the ineffable magnificence of the Author of life and eternity, for that matter. To think! He created each of us for fellowship with Him, before any other. This enhances the blow of my denial to walk into God and allow Him to consume me. I can barely fathom, let alone explain, His desire to engage in my company. Who am I to deny Him? As John says, "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" (1 John 3:1, NIV). And where do children dine? At the table prepared by their Father. Psalm 23:5 declares just that and in the presence of enemies no less! At the Father's table we are washed clean of impurities, made whole, and are recipients of wise counsel. My heart cries, "teach me your way, O Lord. . ."
Let it not be said that I did not inquire of the Lord. The responsibility is great. Lord, help me to walk into You and there remain.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Photo Journey to Chobhar
I walked up 470+ steps to the village of Chobhar and then another 100 or so exploring the village. It was quite a journey! Below are some of the sights and critters I encountered along the way.
Did I mention almost 600 steps!
Tree with 2 Shiva shrines. Trees are often homes to deities and are treated as shrines to which offerings are made.
Shiva Shrine at base of tree.
Cluck, cluck!
I thought these goats were there to greet me as I neared the top. I found out later that I was wrong.
Then, I thought this cute little boy was going to congratulate me for making it to the top. Again, I was wrong.
Lamps lined the upper stairs. I imagine during festivals and holy times these are lit. I also imagine they're quite beautiful against a mountainous night sky.
Yes - it's a goat protecting the laundry! Not really, I think he just found some good green stuff there.
View from the top? Nope!
Photo op! Still no congratulations. . .
Oh - I get it. I haven't made it to the top yet. What?! I just climbed 360 steps. I'm dripping with sweat and there are 110 or so more to go! Notice the sculptures in the lower left. Nepal has some of the most beautiful and historic sculptures. They're everywhere. There is a rich artisan's heritage in the this little country.
Lotus flower carved into stone steps. There are several of these as well as other images along the way.
Shrine with flower petal offerings.
Notice that the shrine is at the entrance to a home. It must be a house or protective deity.
Shiva Shrine next to the Buddha below. Nepal is unique for its religious pluralism. The Buddha is worshiped next to Shiva and
vice versa.
Look closely! You can see Swayambhunat in the distance. This picture doesn't do it justice. It's not hard to see/understand why the Swayambhunath stupa is steeped in legend.
Lady doing laundry. . .
Still not to the top, but I have a feeling I'm getting closer.
For those of you that like dogs. . .they're not dead. They're just sleeping.
Another lotus flower.
I made it to the village but now where do I go?? All the signs are in Nepali!
YES! Made it to my destination. . .a place to relax! Boy, was I ready to relax and cool off!
It's a quaint little resort with happy hosts!
At the cafe, I enjoyed a bottle of water, a cup of coffee, and yes, a grilled cheese (I've just been craving them lately). What a pleasant afternoon! Then, after a satisfied belly and cool brow (the breeze was pleasant) I did the only thing I could do. I walked back down!
Tree with 2 Shiva shrines. Trees are often homes to deities and are treated as shrines to which offerings are made.
Lamps lined the upper stairs. I imagine during festivals and holy times these are lit. I also imagine they're quite beautiful against a mountainous night sky.
Yes - it's a goat protecting the laundry! Not really, I think he just found some good green stuff there. 
Shrine with flower petal offerings.
Notice that the shrine is at the entrance to a home. It must be a house or protective deity.
Shiva Shrine next to the Buddha below. Nepal is unique for its religious pluralism. The Buddha is worshiped next to Shiva and
vice versa.
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