You guys know those moments in movies, typically at the end of the film, where the hero is returning from their journey and finally sees it: Home. And you can just imagine the sense of relief, the sense of pride for what they had just accomplished, and something just wells up inside of you.
That's not at all applicable here except for the sense of relief. With about 54 hours in transit (including layovers, waiting for trains, etc.) I finally made it to the compound yesterday. I had my first actual sleep this past night since Sunday night, California time. And man, was I glad to finally make it.
The Journey
In the portion of time that I arrived in Delhi until now, it's been a time of just trying to take in everything around me. I had met a few people on my plane from London who had been to India before, and I had gotten to hear their experiences. All of them had only ever know India as a tourist attraction, coming out to go on guided tours to see the tigers, or coming out to visit a temple. That didn't detract from the observations that the had made, but it also let me know that their filter for seeing India was one that I wouldn't be able to use more than once or twice for this month.
Upon arriving at the airport in Delhi, I saw my guide right away. He was sent by MCIM to meet me and accompany me on my journey from Delhi to the compound. I wasn't quite ready for the fact that he spoke very little English. So we mostly communicated through gestures, which is pretty much how guys communicate with each other anyway so it was okay. We walked out to the taxi stand right outside of the terminal and tried to pre-pay for a taxi to our next stop. Right away the stand was swarmed by a half dozen people, all trying to push their way up front to talk to the operator. We managed to get our ticket and hoped into our taxi and right away I was afraid for my life. You hear about how different it is to drive in India, how traffic flows in a nonsensical, orderless manner. But hearing about it/trying to imagine it and experiencing it are two different things. Fall intents and purposes, there's no proper way to describe the feeling as you squeeze between a car and a bicyclist, trying to get ahead of them in time to zip around a bus. Something I figured out later, though, is that drivers give cows a very wide berth. There have been times when I was within 4 or 5 inches of the vehicle next to us, yet when a cow is on the road, drivers will make at least 2 or 3 feet regardless of how busy the road is.
We took some time to drive around Delhi while waiting for our train at 2 in the freakin' morning, passing by the Parliament building, some monkeys, the President's House, some monkeys, and the India Gate, which is a massive archway serving to memorialize those who died during WW1. The visit was made especially moving because of the crowds who gathered following the recent Pulwama Attack, an attack that occurred 8 days ago that claimed the lives of 40 members of the Central Reserve Police Force. There was a good deal of Indian Pride to behold.
For the rest of the night things were relatively nondescript. I had a chance to make some calls to let my family know I had made it to Delhi safely and let them know the plan for the night. At 1 AM we would leave the guest house and arrive at the train station for the 2 AM departure. The goal was to arrive in our city 12 hours later. I wasn't quite sure what the seating arrangements would be like, whether we would be in the general 2nd class seat carriage or maybe one of the sleeper cars. Fortunately it was the later. Unfortunately, the train wasn't made for tall people and I felt like the Hulk in an Ecuadorean Village. Or Baymax in a china shop. Or.... or.... uhhhh
Anyway our train ended up being 15.5 hours instead of 12 hours so that was great. I was sitting there at one point just thinking, "They told me it would be 12 hours.... But it's been 14 hours.... Is... Is my guide intentionally leading me astray?" But that wasn't the case. It's just that India's railway system is even more unreliable than Los Angeles'. And that's strange to me.
So there I was, finally getting off the train. We got off into a small crowd. Two guys were carrying garlands, one guy was carrying a camera. I thought they were peddlers so I was trying to let them know that, no, I wasn't interested in buying their flower garlands or paying for a picture in a rundown train station. So color me embarrassed when I found out that they were my welcome committee and I had tried just walking right past them.
The Mission
At the mission, I was able to rest before taking a tour of the facility the very next day. I got to do a walk-through their offices and meet the accountants and lawyers for the group. I got to see a little bit of the widow ministry being run, and the "eye hospital," the college, the studio, and the trade school. Then I was able to see the school, which serves Pre-K through 12th grade, and Oasis of Love, which is a program for disabled students. Just standing there in front of those children, seeing all of the joy that they had mixed with the obvious curiosity of seeing a new Westerner, warmed the very cockles of my heart. Which, I'm sure we can all agree, is an entirely nonsensical phrase. I mean, look at those guys. Those little cockles. Warm the bivalve mollusks of my heart. pfffttt.
Man, see how easy it is for me to get distracted when I start talking about mollusks?
All I was trying to do was say that the kids and their joy was infectious. A class of pre-schoolers sang me a song that melted my heart. The Oasis of Love kids sang a song that melted my heart. I walked into a third grade room and the excitement they had melted my heart. I just kept melting over and over. Later today, I'll get a chance to visit the two mercy homes here in this city, one for boys and one for girls. More than likely, I'll be spending a good amount of my time with them. And I'm so stoked for that.
The more and more I talked to the son of the head of the organization, let's call him Shawn, the more I realized how things were seriously stacked against these kids. Let's just s
ay there are a lot of laws in play, lots of government programs, that just tear apart these students and any chance they have of receiving an education. Of being more than just farmers from their little village. The boys mercy home was an unplanned project for MICM. The girls program has a building for the girls, there was a longterm plan setup to figure it out. The boys don't. Currently, there are 28 boys stuffed into the home of someone who volunteered to take them. They were used to sleeping on the floors, all they needed was a sheet to lay down on and they'd be okay. Some are from communities where the teacher at the school will only show up one day every week. Others are from an area where the "teacher" only shows up when the government is sending inspectors to the school. There are 28 boys crammed into a home that is filled beyond capacity, but they are loving every minute of it. And that hope is pretty cool.
If you've made it through the end, thank you. It means a lot that you would take the time to get through all of this. For the time being I have a few prayer requests.
Be praying that God would give me a clear picture of where he wants me to dedicate my time every day. I have options for where to work. I could go through a day and work with as many as 3 distinct missions, swapping them up from day to day.
Love for the kids. Regardless of their age, caste status, handicap status, et cetera., there's a whole lot of love that can be poured out. The organization has already shown so much love, as have their sponsors. But I think every bit of love in their lives makes a huge difference, even if it's from some stranger who just showed up and wants to invest in them.
Pray for the Indian government.
Pray for the heart of the nation. There is still a lot of animosity, it seems, between religions. There's a lot of separation in the country. They need healing. They need Jesus.
I appreciate your prayers and support so immensely. If you're interested in donating to support this trip, you can visit https://www.univcc.org/liam-thompson and designate your giving to "India Missions Trip."
In Christ,
Liam Thompson