More Plot Developments than an episode of "24", a Recap of Summer Missions... Part II.

Do you want to know what is NOT fun for an traveling team of 7 student and 1 professor? An 8 hour layover in the Chicago International Airport. Just trust me on this one.

Disclaimer: Please don't show this blog to my English 101 professor, Mr. Gogan. I haven't had to take his class since freshman year, but I know he would judge me for all of my erratic, grammatical, sins.

So back to the story, yes, we had an 8 hour layover in Chicago. No, we did not leave the airport. However it provided good sleeping time since we left our university to head to the airport at 4:00 am.

Our next flight was destined for Frankfurt and then to Shamasbad International Airport in Hyderabad, India. I'm feeling good. Over half the team is sleeping, the other India team had the same itinerary so would get to travel with them (they were a ministry team, and we loved them very much), and I have my old TL's satchel bag which I have affectionately named, "The Jungle Bag". The rest of my team has called it a glorified fanny pack but what do they know? Its a jungle bag. God has done amazing things in our team in just one week and I'm loving it. Of course, I'm sure God will have much more to do in the personal lives of the team and myself, but amen, we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Honestly though, I felt exhausted already. Sophomore year had been a difficult one. I'm always in this Kung Fu fight with one of my biggest flaws, which is getting over excited about anything and signing myself up to do everything. My fall semester I was a chaplain, an ATL, the news editor for the Oracle (campus newspaper), a student worker, and taking 18 hours, and maintaining a social life. Yeah, I almost died. Not really, but I felt like it. Spring semester was much better after I quit my job at the Oracle, but still the only commitment I let go of. Then BAM! Finals. BAM! Seniors graduate. BAM! Ropes Course. BAM! Then next thing I know I'm boarding a flight to Frankfurt and still trying to get my bearings. This is where that whole depending on Jesus thing kicks in.

I guess all this exhaustion makes me extra clumsy.

Ever since I was a little boy my mom told me I was a bull in a China closet. Now I'm no graceful, little, butterfly but I did not necessarily agree with such an outrageous accusation. Notice that I wrote, "did". The flight from Frankfurt to India was average and calm. Comfy seats? Check. Seat belts buckled? Check. Tasty airline food? Check. Huge German women flight attendants? Check. Getting some shut eye? Check. Elderly woman falling over backwards and having a seizure right next to me? Check. Wait.....

All my life, quirky little adventures have followed me wherever I go. Hilarious circumstances as well. Also some not so hilarious circumstances. I just always have strange experiences. I get handed my deck of cards and I attempt to play them the best I can. However, I seem to end up with injuring myself and on more rare occasions, other people.

Elderly European women falls over backwards, begins having a seizure, in the middle of the walkway. I don't know if this is a European thing, or mode of thinking, but in America, we help people when they are having seizures. On this plane, everyone just stared. I think that occurence was more unsettling than the old woman having a seizure. Now I'm no medical expert but dang it I was going to do something. I stand up, ready for action. Unfortunately I'm in the middle seat. The elderly Indian woman that was sitting next to me was asleep and completely blocking my way to the woman. What happened next was a blur. Facing her, I step over her legs in one great step with my left leg. I then try to swing my right leg over her head to exit the row, but because I'm convinced that God wants something to laugh at, I instead roundhouse kicked her in the face. Hard.

Chuck Norris would have been proud.

This woman looks like her face just got hit by a train. Wow. What a way to wake up. I say I'm sorry and then turn to seizure lady. By the time I bend down and try to grab her legs one of my team members Abby, is already with her and holding her head as this elderly woman starts to throw up. Abby had taken a first aid course and I felt a stab of pride knowing that my team member and I are the only people out of a plane of 300 that tried to help this woman. Score for ORU.

Eventually these huge German flight attendants run toward us screaming, "MOOVE!! GETS OUT OF ZEE VAY!!" I'm tempted to scream out "FLUGEN HAFLEN FLEEGEN LAUFEN", right back at them just to be difficult, but instead I obey. No lie, those women were a little scary.

The women was taken to the back and was fine afterwards, she just needed a lot of rest. Later I would sneak to that section of the plane and see her hooked up to an some sort of oxygen machine. The rest of the flight was uneventful. I apologized to the Indian woman that I had kicked in the face and offered her some Ibuprofen to which she politely declined and absolved me of my violent sin.

Finally we make it to India. After being screened by health officials because of the swine flu, we were greeted by our contact Michelle, an ORU graduate who has been living in India for the past 4 years. Michelle has an incredible servants heart and we leaned on her heavily during our trip while we were still getting our bearings. She was such a blessing. Stepping outside into a mugginess that I have never before felt in my life, we begin our Indian adventure. We were driven to our guest house in a small bus. The house was beautiful. It looked very colonial, two stories, white, with an enormous courtyard in front and back surrounded by large 12ft walls. There is no A/C, for the night, which is perfectly fine with me. I do a perimeter check outside, one of my ATL duties. The courtyard has many tall trees surrounding the walls which blocks any light from the neighborhood (which is like Indian version of Suburbia). I lock the entrance gate and begin to walk the perimeter of the wall. I hear foot steps, like someone is dragging their feet on the concrete, coming toward me. I run to the front of the house to investigate. Dang. I haven't been in India for more than 2 hours and I'm going to get attacked. Perfect. Luckily I have my flashlight which my mom had bought for me. I protested the purchase of such a tiny, yet very powerful and expensive flashlight saying I didn't need it. I silently thank my mom for refusing to listen to me, as there were no lights in the neighborhood since the power had blown out over the whole block. I shine the light, ready for whatever comes. It was just a large leaf of a banana tree, scraping the top of the concret wall in the wind. Fail.

Every country has it's smell. India, for example smells like Uganda, only sweeter. For the record, Uganda smells like burning trash, at least in the cities. I'm not discounting the country's variety of smells, but seriously, they had 12 foot piles of trash which they burned, which equals, the smell of burning trash. Parts of India look like Uganda, but they clearly are not Uganda. Its almost impossible to clarify in words, because it is so much a feeling.

Our first week in Hyderabad consisted of traveling back and forth between the Joyce Meyer Ministries building where our contacts were, hearing many different lectures on Micro-Finance by the top dogs in the micro-credit enterprise. It was such a rare blessing that they chose to grace us with their time.

As we drove throughout the city I'm affected by how little I'm affected by the sights and sounds of poverty and unhappiness that I see. I never want to be numb to such truths, but I cannot have my heart broken every time I open my eyes in a poor district in this country. I still don't think it has hit me that I am in India, I hope it hits me soon.

Hyderabad is a strange mix of poverty and wealthy. As I understand it, Hyderabad is one of the more affluent, large cities in India. I see and walk through buildings that look nicer and more beautiful than any place I've ever been, yet right outside there will be a vacant lot filled with dozens of tents made out of plastic bags.

On Saturday my team headed to a Joyce Meyer feeding center located around 3 hours from the house. Joyce Meyer Ministries had implemented a huge feeding program all over.

God and I were right. Co-leading this trip is one of the hardest things I have ever done. However, the Lord is good, and His mercy endures forever. Before I know it is Sunday and the team and I attend Pearl City Church. The affluent of Hyderabad attend as well as the not so affluent. It was very professional with video screens, sound systems, and comfy stadium seating. I forgot for a second I was in India, I felt moreso that I was attending Victory Church in Tulsa. Hillsong London was touring and was leading worship at this church this morning. Very cool. That night a team member and I attended their concert in an area of the city called Secunderabad. We showed up early and watched them rehearse on a huge stage. When worship started I realized I was surrounded by thousands of Indians, all worshipping God, pouring their hearts out to Him in fervency. The body heat combining with the already energy sapping heat of India is staggering. The concert was free and I'm sure many there did not know why they were. We all worship together, a huge mass of people. It was a powerful experience. Except for the certain locals who trying to scream in my ear to see what I would do, (I've gotten really good at ignoring such things) and being abandoned by our driver for about 15 minutes afterwards, it was a great night.

On May 20th we traveled 3 hours away by bus to a place called Chandrakal, a beautiful orphanage for HIV/Aids positive children. My heart broke for them because though they had such a horrible disease, their joy was so evident. They did not let it bring them down and they were eager to have fun with us as their visitors. Dang. How many times have let myself fall into the depths of self-pity and numbing apathy just because certain situations became "difficult"? I felt pathetic, yet encouraged. These beautiful children have true strength. The team worked great together that day, putting on performances, singing songs, and playing games with them. We ate lunch with them and played an interesting board game called "Charems" with them afterward.

If I'm not careful I fall into thinking such thoughts of defeat. David, you are a naive idealist. What good do you think you are actually doing? For them? For God? For His Kingdom? You come into this hospital and sing songs and play with them. Wow. Great job. Anyone can do that. You will leave, move on with your blessed Western life and these children will still be here. With illness. Your team's presence is so trivial. Even if these kids weren't sick, who cares? You sang songs and played games for one afternoon. No difference is made with that.

I can't believe that. I'm no doctor, I cannot fix these children. I'm not rich, I cannot give them the life of material and physical comfort that so many desire (though they are very blessed and taken care of in this place). I'm a junior in college. Right now, at this point in time, all I can do is go. All I can say is Lord send me. And if singing songs and playing board games on the floor for an afternoon is all I can do right now, then dammit, I'm going to do that.

These children have a blessed life though. As far as I understand it Joyce Meyer Ministries helped put this beautiful home together, and they have loving people to take care of them.

We make the journey to the hospital across the street and pray for people. All I can do is pray that God moves, for them. For every person that reached out to me. I trust God. He is more than enough.

Part 3 is coming soon.