At the end of 2009 my husband and I decided to mission off to an Indian orphanage in Rajesthan, a "closed" province of India where there is still a lot of persecution of Christians. Something was pulling at our heart strings, and when people asked us why we were going, it was more a case of "why not?". There was nothing in out lives that could not be put on hold for 6 weeks.
Incredible India. The experience there was shocking and amazing. The overwhelming amount of people. The filth. The fact that you can fight your way onto an overcrowded train and sit for hours without ending up in the open coutryside. Just people everywhere, and poorer than anything I've seen in Africa, even in the rural communities. Then there's the caste system - the senseless and ruthless division of class and rights and the lack of them. The ridiculous rejection of humanity.
Now I've grown up thinking I've had a normal and easy life to date, and while one should only be grateful, that life also gives one a subtle arrogance. The idea that you have something to offer the rest of the world. But anyone who spends a day in an orphanage with the poorest children who've been rejected by society cannot help but be overwhelmed by the love they have to give. Some have lost their parents in gang wars. Some rejected by beggars. Some orphaned by political wars. Some disowned by their own mothers so that they could remarry. I got more in the time there than I could give in a lifetime. More love. More caring. More understanding. More sharing from those with nothing but their personalities and the love of their Saviour to share.
We left those 600 odd children perplexed by the reversal of roles and the mind shift we had to make from the experience we thought we would have. It took a year to work through the challenges presented to our faith, the little voices and faces in our dreams and the poverty that plagued our consciences. And a year later we went back, hopefully this time with something real to give.
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