She draws! She writes!

Let's face it...the girl is a budding little artist!  One of her very favorite things to do is to draw...helped keep her entertained through half of the 2.5-hour church service last week.  There are lots of similar drawings, but I think this is my favorite...



...albeit just a tad bit creepy.

Our Cramazing May: Episode XLI: Passport Office, Part 1

God is always at work around us.  That is true.  But once in awhile, we know that truth in a more real way than usual.  I wish that I could know it and remember it all the time, for it would surely change the way I live.  But for days like May 24 and 25, 2011, I am eternally grateful, as they push me to trust Him more the next time, and seeing His great power and His intervention in details of life here in this broken place is. simply. cramazing.

Remember, crazy + amazing = cramazing.  That was this day....and the next.

Because of our lack of success the day before, Tuna had agreed to take us to the passport office on this day.  He met us first thing that morning, along with our fabulous driver who was with us for the last three days in Orissa, driving us here, there, and everywhere!  Unfortunately, he wasn't the same driver as Saturday, so still no sign of the FLIP.  Supposedly, our Saturday driver had found it and was keeping it for us, but each day of not seeing it made it seem more and more unlikely that we would ever get it back.

Tuna (Have I mentioned what an incredible blessing he was to us?!) had done the behind-the-scenes arranging for us, and when he arrived, he informed us that Mr. D, the orphanage rep to the passport office, would be meeting us there.  Again, we gathered in the hotel lobby and prayed, knowing that we absolutely needed God to move and desired for Him to get the glory.

The whole drive to the passport office was this great mix of anxiety and faith and excitement.  I spent the drive looking our the window and talking to the Lord, asking Him to have His way, to make a way, and to prepare my heart for what was to come.  I remember arriving at the passport office--our driver dropped us off directly across the street--getting out of the van, and looking up at the shiny blue building that had given us so much grief over the last month, thinking, "Wow.  This is it.  This is the place where the kings live.  Someone in this building holds the key to Tom being able to leave the country or having to stay."  And God knew.  After all, "The king's heart is like channels of water in the hand of the Lord; He turns it wherever He wishes (Prov. 21:1)."  And we were about to watch Him work.

From the second I stepped out into the street, all my sensor alerts were up, watching, smelling, sensing the eyes and the curious glances coming our way, and particularly my way.  There were a few other women there, but not very many, and Scott and I were definitely the only people there without brown skin.  It's not a bad thing to be different, but when you stand out that much, you definitely feel it. 

We strode confidently behind our friend, Tuna, so thankful for his leading and his presence with us.  Of course, we were even more thankful for the leading and presence of Someone Else.  We had to go through the security gate, of course, and once we were inside, we saw the hoard of people.  Just a huge mass of people crowding to get into the building.  I followed Tuna, and Scott followed me, so that I wouldn't get lost in the crowd.  The guys were definitely watching out for me, and I was grateful.  Scott is 6 feet, 4 inches, and he snapped this picture with his phone as we moved through the crowd.

And move we did!  Tuna just walked right on through, and we followed the little path that he was making for us.  And when he finally got to the front, he was able to motion to Mr. D, who was already inside the building, waiting for us.  See, in order to get in the building, you have to have a number.  And once you get a number, you wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Until they call your number.

But we walked right through.  Cramazing.

Once inside, Mr. D informed us that we needed to head upstairs, so we followed.  At the top of the stairs, we turned left and entered the winding hallway lined with doors.  Many doors, all marked with a number so as to distinguish this room from that.  We were told that we were heading to room #6.

Inside room #6 was a desk that jutted out, perpendicular to the wall.  On one side was seated a man who seemed to be rather important and who was shuffling papers from here to there.  On the other side, another man was seated who appeared, perhaps, to be Important Man's clerk or aide.  Standing next to the desk were 10 or 15 other men, all with papers in their hands and all clamoring to be addressed by Important Man.

Someone motioned to me to sit down in the one chair that was sitting next to the wall.  Of course, he spoke to me in Oriya--no English here!--so I had no idea what he was saying.  He looked angry, like, "What are you, a foreigner and a woman, doing here?!"  But since I couldn't understand a word he said, I chose instead to pretend that he was saying, "Please, sit.  You are a woman, so I give you preference."  Denial was my friend just then. 

I sat and watched the scene for 10 minutes or so, having no idea what in the world was happening.  Mr. D was just one of many people trying to be heard by Important Man, and he lacked the assertiveness that I thought he probably needed.  But what did I know?  I didn't know the language or the culture.

But I knew the God who made both.

So I prayed.

I prayed for Mr. D.  I prayed for Tuna.  I prayed for me and Scott, who was standing by the door watching the same scene.  Every now and then, we would glance at each other and try to communicate using non-verbals.  I was so thankful that we were there together.  At least I had a partner in crime who also had no idea what was going on.

I also prayed for wisdom and for insight.  Finally, Mr. D was able to have an audience with Important Man, who told him that......our passports had not been issued and would not be issued now and to come back later.

What?

So I quick pulled out my screen shot (PRAISE GOD that He had prompted me to print that out!) that stated that Tom's "Passport has been granted and is expected to be dispatched by 20-05-2011.  Subject to all documents being in order."  I motioned to Scott who nudged Tuna, and Tuna delivered it to Mr. D explaining its seeming importance.  Mr. D went back into the fray again, and this time, when he reached Important Man, Important Man couldn't brush him off.  He seemed quite irritated by my little paper; even without knowing the language, I could figure that one out.  Tuna later told us that Important Man kept saying, "Where did you/she/they get this??!" over and over.

I got it from your very own website, silly Important Man!

Moments later, Tuna motioned that I should get out of the chair and follow, so our entourage moved quickly down the hall, now being told that we were to go to room #2.  At this point, I took some covert pictures on my own phone, which were then deleted by my eldest later in the trip.  I wish I had those pictures to display the hecticness of that place.  What was amazing was how people seemed to literally be shuffled from one room to the next.  While Scott and I were standing in the hallway waiting, we watched one man go from room 2 to room 4 to room 6 to room 7 and back again to room 2.  That happened multiple times.  Such commotion.  Such hubbub.  It was impossible to tell if the movement and activity was actually resulting in anything or if perhaps it was all just an exercise in futility.  Something must get done at some point, but it was hard to tell when.

So we waited.  And prayed.  Oh my.  I remember my heart beating so fast.  And sweat was pouring down Scott's face.  It was SO hot in there.  No air-conditioning....and so many people in such a small space.

After awhile, Tuna was able to tell us that the Important Man in room 2 spoke English, so he was likely to want to speak to us himself.  Tuna said that we should speak politely but confidently and ask for the passports ourselves.  Okay, sure.  I'm ready to speak to an Important Indian Man at a moment's notice--that's the kind of day it was, and we had to be ready for anything.

Scott went in first.  He told Important Man that he was there to pick up his daughter and needed her passport.  Then he motioned for me to come, and he grilled me with questions.  He seemed so stern and unmoving, but praise God.......somehow (It was God, obviously!), we found favor with him.  Cramazing.

Important Man told Tuna (who was now running the show...Mr. D had faded to the background for reasons we didn't understand at the time, but Tuna was doing great, so we went with it) that he had to go back to room #6 so that Important Man there could sign off on this.  So back to room #6 we went.  This time, Tuna went inside while Scott and I waited in the hall for more observation.  Everyone was moving so quickly!

Two things I remember from that part of the wait.  One--the bow at the top of my blouse had come untied, and when I noticed, I was mortified and told Scott that he had to have my back on stuff like that!  You gotta tell your sister when she is being inappropriate!  He said that he had thought that maybe I had done it on purpose.  Ha ha.  And two--we saw a bribe.

The area where Scott and I were waiting was right next to a glass door that said "No admittance.  Printing in progress." or something like that.  It was obviously the place where the passports were physically printed, and while we were there, a man came through the hall and talked to the family standing by the door.  Scott and I watched as the family all pitched in and pooled their money, handing it to the official who went in the room with the money and came back with a passport. 

That was crazy.  Not cramazing.  Just crazy.

Finally, Tuna emerged from room #6 and said that the Important Man there insisted that he could do nothing (more like he didn't want to do anything) and that Important Man in room #2 was the only person who could help.

So back to room #2 we go.  This time, Important and Compassionate Man sent us to room #4, saying that that was the room where the man who signed the passports sat.  Apparently, each room had an Important Man in it, but the Really Important Man worked in room #4.

Which we believed as soon as the door opened and the cold air from the window air-conditioner hit our faces.

Apparently, the guy in room 2 wanted to help us, but the reality was that the room 4 guy was the only one who could intervene in the process and make this happen without us having to just wait for who knows how long it might take for our passports to finally make it to the orphanage.  We had to have room 4 guy sign off.  Had to.  It couldn't be done without his approval.

So we headed to room #4 to meet with Mr. Das.

And God went before us.

The End of Progressions

Not that long ago, Progressions had just begun, and he could barely play a note on his violin.

 But now, he's done.  The 2-year commitment that seemed like forever is over...

Here he stands with his fellow-violinists, J and A.  Such talent there!  A is by far one of the best--his solo at this concert blew me away!, Rex has improved so very much--I'm so proud of him!, and J is faithful, always following through despite not always looking so confident.  I am thankful for these boys in Rex's life and for this whole Progressions experience.

 What a gift!  Two years ago, we opened up a letter saying that Rex had been nominated to be a part of this program.  The fee?  Twenty-five dollars per year.  That's it.  For private lessons, for instrument rental, for everything.  That's it.  What a gift!

 The concert was beautiful...they are SO  much better than they were at the beginning of last year!

 A little mid-concert non-verbal communication between Rex and J (who, by the way, is the only other person we know who shares Tom's first name)...

 K (below), is in Rex's class at school...another budding violinist!

 Mrs. Michaels (or Mrs. Williams as I accidently called her for the first year for some unknown reason) was their orchestra director; Rex was under her direction two evenings a week for the last two years.  I love the way she leads the orchestra!

 I am so proud of my Rex!

 Here is Rex with Ms. G, his private lesson instructor for this year.  Last year's teacher was great, too, but for some reason, Rex has really responded to Ms. G and has grown so much under her tutelage.  We're so thankful for her, and Rex is really going to miss her!  (I'm hoping that he will have her again for private lessons, but we'll see...that decision is still to come.)

Rex comparing his violin's size to that of Beth.  She's a lot bigger!

Ms. Sarah is the administrator for the Progressions program, and she, too, is wonderful.  Here, Rex is handing in the half-size violin that he has played for the last two years.

 Beth, Tang, and I were the lucky recipients of the three tickets per student.  Beth enjoyed the concert, but she really enjoyed the blue juice drink!

 Last but not least, a picture of Rex with the one-and-only Mr. Tony.  Tony is a volunteer with Progressions, and he is amazing.  Faithful, encouraging, and kind...he would often pull Rex out during orchestra during his first year when he was having trouble and help him work on a particular skill.  This year, a scholarship was named in his honor, so his legacy will live on year after year.  He told me that he was considering asking Rex for his autograph because he just knows that one day, Rex is going to do something great!

Thank you, Progressions!  We will miss you!

Our Cramazing May, Episode XL: Hotel Waiting

From my journal...

"Yesterday was a full and very emotional day, but in the end, we stayed at the Ginger again last night.  He’s amazing.  Right now, I’m watching him as he sits right next to the bathroom door.  He will barely let Hoffbeast out of his sight, and since Daddy’s in the shower right now, he’s camped out by the door.  We just brushed our teeth, and, of course, I used bottled water for my rinsing.  So now he has his sippy cup and is sitting by the door, toothbrush on the bathmat, trying to “pour” water onto his toothbrush like I did.

That is stinkin’ genius!

One of the most precious things I’ve ever seen is how he wakes, has this look of confusion on his face, sees Papa, closes his eyes in rest, puts his left thumb in his mouth and his right hand on Papa’s face.  He pats it gently, as if to feel everything about his Daddy’s face.  He loves Hoffbeast’s whiskers."

We really did enjoy our time at the Ginger.  It was minimalist for sure, but absolutely adequate and plenty comfortable.  Besides the restaurant that was right downstairs, the cafe offered coffee, hot chocolate, and other comforts of home--like ice cream and Snapple!

Tom was (and still is) a great eater.  As long as he was close to Daddy, he was good.  I love this picture, as he is so content with a fistful of food and sitting in Daddy's lap.

This day would turn out to be another long and taxing day, both mentally and emotionally for me as I tried to work on getting Tom's passport so that he was allowed to leave the country--and mentally and physically on the Daddy, as he tried to meet the needs of his new little shadow.  Every day was precious--don't get me wrong--God was in every moment, and we were accutely aware that He was going before us, even as our flesh wanted to fight Him and not trust.

One of my very favorite moments of the day came after Scott and I had returned from the passport office.  I came back to the room to find Rex and Tom playing together in the little hallway leading to the room door.  Daddy had quick run downstairs to get something (probably coffee!), and Rex was playing the easy role of Fabulous Big Brother.  Tom was cautious, waiting by the door for Daddy to return... 

...but was learning to relax and rest in the presence of his new and very loving brother.

In between these pictures, though.....the story had continued to unfold in dramatic fashion.  Next up?  The Passport Office.

Our Cramazing May, Episode XXXIX: Saying Goodbye

There was much laughter and tears during and after the ceremony, for all too quickly it was becoming clear that we were nearing the end of our time at Basundhara.  It was possible that we would have to come again at some point, but we were hoping that this would be the last time, only because that would mean that the passports were easy to come by and that we were on our way to Delhi.  This was the only home that Tom had ever known, and we were taking him to a place that was so, so different.  He would have to say goodbye to the big, beautiful garden/courtyard that he had seen each day...

...and I would have to say goodbye to one of the dearest women in the world, Soudemani, and to Naomi, the little girl who had captured my heart.  I have many favorite pictures from the trip, but obviously this one is right up there.  How precious is this?!  I love both of them, and I hope and pray that I will be able to see them again someday. 

When I got back to the Family Room, everything began to move in warp speed.  It was getting late, it was time to leave, and we still needed to meet with the office personnel to receive all of the official documents.  I gave Rex the camera and told him to sit quietly and wait.  Here's what he captured...

It was tense and it was wonderful.  Them asking questions.  Us wanting to answer them correctly.  Us wanting to get information from them, but not wanting to ask too much.  There was a little dance going on, and we were doing the gig blind....but in the end, we must have passed, because they handed us that important manila envelope, and off we went!

Our last stop was to visit once again with the director of Basundhara.  It was a summons, really, as in "Saila would like to see you now!"  When Saila speaks, you listen, and listen we did!  On our first visit to Basundhara, she had questioned us about our love for Tom.  On this day, it was more of the same.  She wanted to know what we thought of him, how we liked India, if we liked Indian food...and then she ordered a plate of dessert bread to be brought to us.  See it in the above picture?  It is a treat, and since the orphanage kids were eating it in the courtyard, they brought a huge plate to us.  Each of those pastries is hollow on the inside, so you take a spoonful of the green sauce (in yellow dish), pour it onto the center of the pastry, and pop it in your mouth before the whole thing disintegrates.  Part sweet, part spicey.  They were being devoured by the kids, but for me....well, let's just say that I'm glad Hoffbeast liked them as much as he did (Have I mentioned how much he salivated for most of the trip over all of the delicious food?  More than once, he said that he could live in India simply for the food!).  Rex and I weren't fans......but I ate them anyway, of course!  It would have been rude not to, but I will admit that I milked the whole my-weak-American-stomach-can't-handle-all-the-spices thing a bit.

Upon leaving Saila's office, we had no idea where Tom was.  No worries, of course, as he was with people who loved him.  Sure enough, one of the nannies had whisked him away for an afternoon snack, and he was sitting shirtless with the other kids, taking in (and enjoying immensely) his last meal at Basundhara.

R (in the middle) and her friends....the next day, a miracle would happen in R's passport case.  Stay tuned...

And then it was time to leave....and we did.  The drive back to Bhubaneswar that day was very strange.  We didn't know what to expect, but we knew that the God who had brought us this far could be trusted to finish it out.

There was one thing that made the drive back a bit easier, and that was a lovely distraction that came our way.  Tuna's mother (who lives in Cuttack) needed a ride to Bhubaneswar as she was planning to stay with Tuna's family for a few days.  We had lots of extra room in our rental van, so it made perfect sense that we would pick her up on our way back.  Of course, we were all so overwhelmed with all that had just occurred at the orphanage that we didn't really know what was going on until she was in the van with us.  No matter...we loved meeting Tuna's mom and were so happy that she could join us!

Just before arriving back at our hotel, one of the most precious moments of our trip occurred.  I keep writing and deleting, trying to decide how to put the moment into words.  In the end, after much insistence on both sides, Tuna's mother gave me her string of pearls.  (More like forced me to take them!)  It was an extravagent gift that I still don't fully understand, but it certainly was an incredible expression of love that said that even though Tom was leaving Orissa, he would always have "family" there, people who loved him and were praying for him.

I tried over and over to give the pearls back to Tuna's mother, but she refused.  With much force.  Not wanting to be insensitive or seem as if I didn't appreciate the gift (because I did), I finally agreed to take them...but right then and there I made a decision:  someday those pearls will be given to the woman that Tom will marry--perhaps she will even wear them on their wedding day!  We know nothing of Tom's birth family, but in giving me/Tom that gift, Tuna's mother handed down a "family" heirloom closer to any other that he has from the land of his birth.  I am honored, and I pray that someday, Tom's wife will understand the enormity of the gift as well.  I pray for her even now, whomever she may be...and look forward to someday seeing the string of pearls around her neck.

Sleep came easily again that night...