My friend Katie always says, “While we breathe, we hope.”

So that’s what I’ve been doing around here lately…breathing…and hoping.  And all of that breathing and hoping is the reason that I’ve been quiet around these parts.

After returning home from Bangladesh, I was surprised that it took me almost 2 full weeks to really recover from the jet lag.  Maybe it’s that being Mommy doesn’t exactly afford one the chance to ease back into life that had something to do with it too.  I don’t know.  But I do know that since exactly a week after I returned home, my life has been in a bit of some chaos.

And I’ve been quiet in this space, because I’ve been trying to figure out how to process it all.  I’ve been trying to figure out how to sow into my family well, and be the friend that I am called to be.

Somewhere in here, I’m planning Allume too.

A week after I got back, the pastor of my church stepped down.  I realize this stuff happens, and pastors get tired and God calls them to other things, but this one has hit me hard.  It’s hard because our pastor, and even more so, his wife, is a really dear friend of mine.  She’s among the group of my closest friends…the ones I do life with, the ones we raise kids with, and walk through fire with.  And stepping away into the knowing that God has called them into something else, leaves a void…both in our church body, and in potentially the future of our group of friends.  Because sometimes, when God calls people away…he calls them away from home.  And aside from the questions about our church body, truly, I just don’t want my friend to go away.  I love her.

And then there’s my dear friend Melissa, who’s been battling cancer for well over a year and a half, and about 2 weeks ago took a turn for the worse.  She has continued to battle this beast, and it’s been getting the best of her.  We’ve watched it taking the best of her.  Watched it steal her hair, and her strength…robbing her of her capacity to care for her family the way her heart longs to care for them.  We’ve watched it rob her of joy of living and seen how it poisons her body.  And she is so strong.  She’s been fighting so hard and so long, and we’ve been fighting with her.  We’ve been the Aaron’s who held up Moses’ arms when he was too weary to hold them himself.  We’ve taken meals, and cared for kids, and prayed like I’ve never prayed before.  And still…this damn disease goes right for the jugular to rob my friend of the will to live.  And she does want to live….she wants to raise her 3 young children, and grow old with her husband.  She wants more girls nights with friends, and time spent with family.  And she deserves that!  She’s young…and she’s full of life…and she breathes Jesus on people in her life.  And right now, I’m honestly just pissed.  I want to cuss.  But more than that, I want to keep hoping right now.

Because I believe in a God who can snap his fingers and Melissa can pick up her pallet and walk.  And as one of the friends who has lowered her through the roof to sit her before Jesus to claim her healing….I want to see it.  I want to see His Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.

There is no cancer in heaven.

I want to see that reality invade.  I want to see that Kingdom flex its muscles.  And even if it doesn’t…even if God doesn’t…I still believe that he can.

And aside from the questions I’m asking God about why he doesn’t just flex his muscles and hasn’t yet healed my friend, truly, I just don’t want her to go away.  I love her.

I am blessed with really amazing friends.  And for right now, the walking out of life that I’m doing is with these people in my here and now.  And that’s where my energy is being spent.

It’s the right place to spend it.  Of that I have absolutely no doubt.

And while I struggle through this stuff along with my amazing friends and community, I do know that God’s word is true.

Always…

1 Cor 4:20 – For the Kingdom of God is not a matter of talk, but of power.

Matt 14:14 – When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

Mark 3:10 – For he had healed many, so that those with diseases were pushing forward to touch him.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!

 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity,

who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. – Psalm 103:1-5

So when I’m silent now, please know that I just don’t have the words…and that the only ones that give comfort or provide wisdom, sure as heck aren’t my own.

And truth be known, my own voice just isn’t the one that I need to be hearing right now.  So I breathe…and I hope…and I cling to the One who is the very breath of hope…the breath of heaven.

By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth. – Ps 33:6

Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. – Romans 5:2-5

I wanted to share something with you that was just sent to me today.  This is pretty much a glimpse into what we saw in Bangladesh. My friend, Max Dubinsky, who was on the trip with me, shot this throughout our time there.  It is just beautiful and such a picture of the land and people.

The video is about 4 minutes long.

I started crying about 45 seconds into it.

Enjoy, my friends.  And whether you sponsor a child through Max’s link  or mine, we don’t really care…we just want you to help…and to rest assured that it actually does.

Four days ago, I waved goodbye to Bangladesh.

I’ve been back for a couple of blurry-eyed days now.  Glad to be home, I fell into bed and hardly emerged for honestly almost 2 days.  The jet-lag is still kicking my butt today as I get back to my normal life routine of early-morning carpools, fixing lunches, menu planning, and laundry.

Amidst my kids arguing over who-knows-what yesterday, I found myself wondering if I’ll ever get to be a part of such an epic adventure again?  I LOVE my life, don’t get me wrong, and I missed it like crazy while I was gone too, but there are moments upon return where this “verbally processing mom” (as my friend Daniel called me) begins to wonder if I’ll ever get to do life so big again.

I want to matter in this life.  I want to matter well with the little people around me, and I want to make an indelible stamp on their lives, so that their hearts long for making a big difference too.  I want to matter well with my friends and my husband…encouraging and inspiring them to reach higher and farther and deeper.  And this past week, I realized that I can matter globally too.  I guess I’ve never so much realized my capacity to do that before. To matter big before.  I mean, I invest in worthwhile people and causes who are making global impact, but this time it was my voice that the Lord was using to make a difference.  And honestly, that feels good.  It feels good to think that I can be that instrument of change.

Maybe it’s a good thing?  Maybe it’s addictive?  Maybe it’s egotistical, or perhaps it’s just a taste of the things that the Lord really does want to use me to do?  I don’t really know, but I do know that the things I learned in Bangladesh need to be the things that stand taller to write my story, than my own new-found need for epic-sized matterings.  That if I come home and worry more about mattering big again than I do about loving well in my everyday moments, I may have missed the point.  If I start to look for the next big thing to focus my attentions on instead of on the next small face in front of me, I’ve lost all that I learned.

I want to matter big again, but the truth is, that we can’t ever learn to matter big if we can’t matter small first.

It’s the readjusting to the small that I think just might prove to be a part of the whole lesson.

It’s 4 in the morning here in Dhaka, Bangladesh and I’m wide awake on the one day that we actually have time to sleep in.  Isn’t that the way that it goes?!  We’ve heard about the tornado-forming storms crossing the east coast of the United States, and I can’t help but wish that despite my hatred of bad storms, I want to be home with my family to weather it.  But I’m not, and I won’t be for 2 more days, so I sit here clear across the world in the dark room, holding my computer tight as I view the red tornado warnings for home…and my friends and  family held loosely in hands towards heaven.  Father, please cover my family and my home with your protection and your presence.

It’s all a trust fall.  Coming here has been a trust fall.  You take one look behind you to make sure that someone is back there to catch you, and you lean in with all that you are to a fall that hopefully doesn’t leave you flat on the ground, aching and hurt, and doubtful of trusting so fully again.

It’s happened to us all…the lean and trust and fall onto the ground. So we know that it can happen, but I remind myself of the character of my God, who has goodness and mercy for me.  One who loves so much that he put his own son on a trust fall high in the air on a cross.  His own son who looked and fell backwards into the arms of His Father all for me.  I know He is good…but it’s still hard to be far from the things most precious in one’s life.

I was talking to my amazing new friend, Lauren, last night at dinner about how now is the time for she and her husband, Max, to travel, to explore, and to try new places and things. Not that you can’t do it once you have kids….obviously, because I was sitting in an Indian restaurant next to her halfway around the world from my family as I said it, but that once you do, your heart feels it all differently.

When I actually get out of bed, it’ll be Thursday and we’ll be leaving in less that 12 hours to begin the insanely long journey home.  On the way here, we somehow completely lost a Friday into the vortex of time travel it seems.  On the way back, it seems that we’ll pick up an extra Friday along the way.  So weird.

I’ve been trying to process all that I’ve seen and done here.  Processing the women who have been given hope and education through the presence of FH in their villages.  Processing the children who, because of the FH child sponsorships can now get good education and eventual jobs to better their lives and the lives of their children.  Thinking of young girls, who because of this incredible organization, have hopes and dreams to make something of themselves…and parents who don’t want to push them into marriages and family life before their young bodies are even ready.

I’m processing women who’s native tongue is so foreign to me, but who’s eyes I’ve learned to read like never before.  We’ve talked over explanations of bamboo handicraft making…

And they’ve shared with me about their lives.

They’ve told stories of loss and harsdhip, and of hope and education brought to them by a bunch of foreigners who for some reason even bothered to care.  I’m not sure that they still even fully know why we care, but they are all….ALL…grateful that we do.

And in this community we visited yesterday where 2 years ago, FH finished the process of education and empowerment of the locals to run these new programs themselves.  We saw people who’s lives had improved, and continued to do so because of the things that FH was able to teach and share with them.

I keep wondering about the big personal “take-away” for me from this trip.  The thing that when I come home makes me want to be different or live differently.  And I can’t help but think that maybe there’s not a thing I take from this, or an idea so much to be different.  Maybe now, I just am different.  I feel different.

Before this trip I found myself asking the Lord to “open the eyes of my heart” to see the things that He had for me here.  And throughout this week, and even reading back through my own blog posts of this week, I see the process of how he has done that.  He took a woman who felt somehow out of place and trapped inside of the way he made me, and showed me that he brought me here to be the way that he made me.  And in celecrating who He is to me, and how he’s created me to be…to love, and to sow into people…I’ve begun to see people like I never have before.

I have found that when the walls of language are built between us, the walls of the heart must come down if we want to connect.

And so we look deeply into the eyes of people who’s mouths we don’t understand, and somewhere in the gazing…somewhere in the moments of fixation, it’s like something snaps…something changes, and I can see them.  I really see them, and they see me.  And somehow in just the exchange of looks and expressions, they know that I care.  They know that I love.  And whether I have had the chance or not to tell them that I love, because HE loved…they still feel loved.

I think that’s why I came here.

To love.  To relearn what that looks like when you strip everything else away.

And to look deep into eyes, and to see souls, and to tell stories of this beautiful people that I have so much more in common with than one might think at first glance.

Our language and our dress, our customs and our landmasses, are all so different, but in the end, we all have hopes and dreams and struggles and triumphs.  We all want to love and be loved.

This week, I’ve been able to be a part of that process.  We’ve seen the processes and methods that FH brings to impact entire communities.  And, I am astonished by the needs these Food for the Hungry programs meet, the hope that they bring, and the ways that they show love and are the hands and feet of Jesus in real, life-altering ways.

But I’ve realized it’s not just that Food for the Hungry is engaging in processes of information or of learning with people.  The process that we’ve been a part of entering into here is really the human process.  It’s the process of people.  It’s the way that we love and the ways that we can tangibly enter into a place to show love.

That’s what we’ve done here.  That’s what Food for the Hungry is still doing here.  And I for one, will be forever grateful for this opportunity to be a part of that process.

And it’s funny as I have the clarity, that sometimes only comes in the middle of the night, to realize that our final day, we shared a hilarious experience with friends both Bangladeshi and American that I think is symbolic maybe for me.

We met a precious woman named Eti yesterday who’d had a bit of a rough go in life.  Married at 16, she was arranged into a really bad marriage.  Her husband left her for a period of time, and during that time FH staff sowed into her children, and into her and her education as well.  She became a part of a local village savings group, and through connection and investment with these women and training provided by FH staff, she was able to start her own business.  She realized what would have been an otherwise impossible dream, and my new friend Eti opened her own beauty salon.

We were able to talk to her and learn her story, and in doing so, we learned about some of the services that she provides in her shop.  She told us that she does hair and makeup.  She paints fingernails, and does facials, and threads eyebrows.

WHAT?!  Threading?!  I’ve heard of that before! So I asked our translator, and Bangladeshi best friend Shefa, to ask Eti if she’ll do the threading on me.  My eyebrows were getting a little raggedy, and it opens your eyes up so much more when they’re not creeping down towards your eyeball!  Eti made the cutest face and then said she’d do it!

WHOOT!  We ask one of our leaders if we had time and he said yes and then left.  Afterall, a salon is a place for girl time!  Plus, i figured that the worst thing that’d happen would be that I’d come home without eyebrows.  A small price to pay for an unforgettable adventure.

So I hopped in Eti’s chair and she got down to the business of threading…

Please forgive the awkward angle of my 17 chins!  But really…seriously… don’t my eyes look so much more opened up?!

We had such fun doing my eyebrows, that we engaged Eti’s services for all of the girls on our whole team!  And it was an absolute blast! Eti became more and more animated with each subsequent threading, and before long we found ourselves all laughing and connecting despite the language barrier!

And somewhere in the threading…amidst laughter, and compliments, and Joy’s uncontrollable tears and facial contortions during her session, we bonded with each other and with these 3 women from this beautiful foreign land.

In the process of eyebrows…in the process of “opening up our eyes”….the Lord did just that.  He opened our eyes and opened our hearts to one another.  And I hope that when I get back home, I keep on living with those same eyes wide open.

** I know that we can’t all visit Bangladesh, but we can all be a part of the human process that is happening here with these incredible people through Food for the Hungry child sponsorship.  Please join me…it’s a small price to pay for a great adventure in learning to really see people with the eyes of our hearts!

Click HERE to Sponsor a Child with Food for the Hungry!

I love meeting new people.  It’s kinda just a thing I really enjoy.  And today I met a new person who I think may have changed me forever.  Her name is Ritu and she lives in a tiny village in Bangladesh.

We drove probably an hour and a half outside of Dhaka past rice fields and brick makers.  Smokestacks for giant brick kilns lined the landscape as far as the eye could see in some places.  I watched people pushing carts of clay and making bricks by hand.  I saw men and women with water and mud-covered ankles as they stooped over to plant and harvest rice.  Bamboo poles and nets shot 8 feet into the air from the wetlands…set for catching fish when the rainy season comes and the waters rise dangerously high.  Dust settled on giant palm branches so thick that it made them look brown. It was beautiful land.  Foreign soil with a beauty all its own.

Our van pulled into the dirt road community and stepped out to more curious faces greeting us.  When I later asked Ritu and her family if they’d ever met anyone from America, the answer was no.  And from the fascinated stares, it seemed obvious they’d likely never seen anyone with light skin before either.  One question and answer later, and my suspicion was confirmed.  I bet that the indigenous people felt the same way when they saw Christopher Columbus in America.  I guess I just never considered that 500 years later, I might be Christopher Columbus.

Before we broke off to go and meet our sponsored children, we met with the local FH staff for some introductions, devotions, and tea.

Shortly afterwards, we split into groups to head out to the different parts of the village to the homes of our sponsored children. We drove a bit to get to Ritu’s house and then walked down a sandy road and wound through some narrow carved out dirt passages until we came to her home.

This is Ritu’s house.  It was made from corrugated tin and the ceilings inside were draped with fabric. The floors were concrete, and there was one large bed where the children slept.  Ritu’s parents sleep on the floor.

(Something strange happened in the panoramic action of this photograph, so please excuse that it appears that my face might peel off at any moment.  I wanted you to get the picture of her whole house though, so just know I’ve sacrificed my entire face for the sake of the cause here.)

I immediately picked her out of the crowd that had gathered.  She was even more beautiful than her picture.

But I tell you what, there was definitely a crowd gathered!  I’m not even kidding, the entire neighborhood turned out.  I was Christopher Columbus, the event!

Sweet Ritu, who’s just 7, was obviously nervous to have all eyes on her.  I’m not sure how they all expected the visit to be, and I’m not entirely sure that I knew either, but I can say that after the past couple of days observing the dynamics of communities and families here, I should have realized that this was going to be a major group event.  Maybe somewhere in my mind, I had a picture of Ritu and myself sitting together coloring while her mother adoringly looked on from the side or something, but I’m pretty sure I had never imagined sitting on a blanket surrounded by 40 additional people who were in awe of my general foreign-ness.

I shared the letters from my son’s first grade class, 

and gave the crayons and paint that my boys wanted me to bring for her.  She’d never seen watercolor paints before, so I unscrewed the cap of my water bottle, poured a little bit in, and showed her how they worked.  Immediately she drew a picture of her house and began to paint.

At the end of our visit, she tore it out and gave it to me.

There are so many beautiful things about this visit.  Ritu showed us her home…where they sleep, where they eat, where they cook.  Her father, a musician, played his trumpet for us.  And I took a video.

They showed us how they make a fire in a clay form above the ground, their stove of sorts, for cooking.

Ritu’s maternal grandfather made hats for a living for the rice farmers.  He just died 3 days ago, but before he died, he made a hat for me.  I am honored to have such a lovely hat.  They wanted me to put it on and make a super happy face…so I did!

I loved my time with them.

They showed me such love and hospitality.  I can’t believe that our family has the gift of being able to love another family so far away in such a tangible way for them.  When I left, they invited me to come back to visit with my family.  I told them that we will pray for them, and write to them, and that we hope to be friends for a long time.

They said the same.

It’s not just something we can do or money that we can give….this sponsorship is about giving life, and love, and building friendships.  It’s showing the love of Christ by loving others.

Sponsor a child today?

*First 2 photographs by Esther Havens, all the rest by the very talented Daniel White (who really didn’t mean to make me look like a muppet in the panoramic one)

Today in Dhaka, we went into a slum.  I’ve never been anywhere quite like it.

We got out of the van and immediately the children started to look at us with such curiosity.  I decided to quit trying to fit into this place and just be myself.  As I was praying this morning before we left, I was reminded that carrying the Kingdom of God and the love of Jesus with me breaks all of the chains that bind.  I heard the Lord say to just be the hands and feet of Jesus the way that I know how, so I smiled at them the only way that I know how…ear to ear.  Then, they gave this heart of mine a gift and smiled back.  Huge smiles…heart smiles…smiles with their mouths and smiles with their eyes.

We entered the courtyard of the school set in the middle of this community, amongst a group of people considered “untouchables” in this country.  This is a group of people who are street-sweepers, the lower than low.

The children immediately began to follow us into the school where Food for the Hungry has been working since 1981.  They gathered around us and I knew that all I needed to do was to love them well.  That would be enough.  That is enough.

So with the help of my sweet new friend and translator, Shefa, I began to ask the children questions.  I asked their names and ages. What subjects they like. The games they play. (By the way, all of them love cricket and hopscotch most.)  One had a backpack carrying books from school. I asked her to show me.  She did, and they all gathered around.  

They told me how in school they learn how to read and to count.  And then they counted to 30 for me in Bangla.  I asked if they’d like me to count for them in English and was met with a resounding “Gi, Gi, Gi!” (Yes, ,!)  So, I began.  By 8 they were all counting with me… all the way to 30 in English!  I showed them a picture of my family and they asked questions.

We smiled and laughed and hugged, and they melted my heart.  There is nothing untouchable or unwantable about these children.  These children are as loving and beautiful as any children I’ve ever seen.

We were called into a briefing meeting and devotion with the staff and teachers of the school.  During the meeting we learned that FH has been in this community since 1981, and that before Food for the Hungry came into this slum, the location of the school was actually a trash dump for the entire city.

A trash dump.

In clearing the area to build the school, they even found dead bodies in the midst of the rubble.  Dead bodies and trash…with homes full of mothers and fathers and sons and daughters living just steps to the side of death and stench and the stagnant smell of no chance for anything better in life.

Through the sponsoring of childen, Food for the Hungry was able to build a school in place of the pile of hopelessness and to give these people a chance in life.  By providing education and care, they are able to get jobs that otherwise would have been completely out of reach.

The staff shared the information with us, but then I saw it for myself.  I can read and hear about change in the world (and chances are that perhaps you have too), but what I want you to know is that today, I saw it.  I met people and learned their stories.  I held hands and sat in homes of people who’s lives have been altered completely because of this program.

It’s not just a program.  It’s a chance at living.  It’s the provision of hope.  I didn’t even realize myself until today that sponsoring a child isn’t just about going to school…it’s about changing everything for them.

We learned that in the 1970’s when Bangladesh became an independent country from Pakistan, during the war of independence, the Pakistanis killed the majority of the intellectuals and highly educated people in the entire country.  This is part of the reason that Bangladesh as a whole has struggled, and also a huge reason that education is so important to the future of the entire country.

We met Joseph (a teacher and the headmaster of the school), Sirajul, Menohad, and Esa who are also teachers.  Every single one of these men was a Food for the Hungry sponsored child.  They were educated within the communities impacted by FH and have grown up to be educators.  They all desire to give the same chance to other children that they have had in life.

We sat in the home of Lakshmi and met her daughter Radha.

All 4 of Lakshmi’s sons were sponsored children.  Radha also got a sponsor when she was 8.  She’s 18 now, and has the same sponsor.  They still write one another.

All 4 of Lakshmi’s sons have good jobs; a banker, one in a government office, one with a newspaper, and one in university.  Radha wants to be a sociologist, and because of her education, her parents haven’t pushed her to marry too young.  Lakshmi’s humble pride in her children’s accomplishments was perhaps one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

Today I was reminded during a devotion that of all the things that I can do or be or say, the greatest is to love.

 If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. ² And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. ³ If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. ⁴ Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant ⁵ or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; ⁶ it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. ⁸ Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. ⁹ For we know in part and we prophesy in part, ¹⁰ but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. ¹¹ When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. ¹² For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. ¹³ So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love . – 1 Cor 13 

Faith and hope are something we have, but love is something we give.  The greatest thing is what we can give. The greatest thing is love.  We love fully and deeply because we are loved so fully and deeply by the Father.  And whether I know a language, or understand the culture, or feel comfortable or uncomfortable, I know how to love.  I think that has to be why I’m here.  I can love people beyond the boundaries of a space or place because I know what love is.

Don’t try to figure it all out or fit in, just love.

Just love.

Be who you are…and just love.

And when you can’t think of what might be next….just love.

And then, the things that felt uncomfortable and scary even just a day before will suddenly all make sense.  And the chains that bound, will be broken.

*If you’re interested in sponsoring a child with Food for the Hungry in Bangladesh, which quite frankly is what I’m blatantly asking you to do, please click on the link HERE or on the FH graphic on the top left of my sidebar and it will direct you what to do next.  And if you’re not interested, I want to ask you to not think about it in terms of being “interested”, because honestly for us in America, it’s just a little, LITTLE bit of money.  I’m learning here, that what matters most isn’t what I find that’s “interesting” to me…it’s not about what I have, but what I can give.  And truth be told, we all have enough to give…but for these people, sponsoring a child isn’t just about us giving money… to them, it’s about a chance at really living…to them, it’s just love.   

Sponsor a child today?

PS. Once again the pictoral awesomeness is due to Esther Havens photographic awesomeness. To read more about today from my friends, the other FH bloggers,just click on their names to be directed to their pages Lauren, Max, Lindsey, Daniel, Joy, and Esther.

We made it to Bangladesh. I traveled almost 40 hours to get here from Greenville, SC to Dhaka.  I am very tired.  Very. Tired.

From the moment we entered the gate of the Istanbul airport bound for this foreign land, it became very obvious that we’re not anywhere familiar anymore.  The women were all wearing the Salwar Kameez, and the men certainly noticed that we weren’t.

I’ve only ever traveled to Western countries.  And even in poorer places I’ve been, I guess something about it all has still made me feel myself.  In Mexico a few years ago, I spent time in the rural mountains with people who lived in caves yet somehow, I still felt like me.  The cultures I have been in are wildly friendly and accepting, and that suits my outgoing personality.

But I have to be honest, since being here, I feel completely outside of myself and any notion of a comfort zone.

We stick out like a sore thumb even when we’ve made efforts to wear our Salwar Kameez and cover up appropriately.  People stare.  I even made up a term when we arrived this morning…owl-necking.  People staring so much that their heads literally turn farther than what seems possible just to keep looking at you.  And it feels really weird to be a spectacle. (posing for a picture certainly didn’t help that spectacle-ness.)

We went on a walk around a lake near this part of town after a briefing on the culture and language today, and I spent the majority of it on the brink of tears.

I feel foreign to myself right now.  I can’t seem to figure out what the balance is between the natural me and the culturally cognisant foreigner.  I kinda fell to pieces when we got back to our rooms.

It feels foreign to be aware of just how foreign I actually am here.

Bangladesh is 85% Muslim, and in this culture, women don’t really engage people they don’t know.  They are reserved and quiet until you know them well.  The men do most all of the shopping, and so when our team ventured into a really fascinating market, it was even more obvious that we were out of place.

We were definitely the objects of staring and catcalls.  I felt completely weird without any appropriate response beyond silence and ignoring some very un-ignorable behaviors.  I feel so beyond myself that I don’t quite know how to behave here.  It feels like nothing about this personality fits this place.

This culture of people is reserved and quiet.  It’s not acceptable as a woman to be gregarious or touchy feely.  That’s not who I am…and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be in this place where all that I am doesn’t quite fit.

I’ve been in plenty of different cultures before, but none like this at all.  I’m so far out of my element that I can’t quite get my bearings.  They told me it’s ok…that this is normal.  But nothing about myself feels normal right now.

I guess sometimes an adventure can be an uncomfortable thing.

Sometimes going somewhere may mean that it takes even ourselves a bit to catch up.

Tomorrow we are going to a slum community where Food for the Hungry has been investing for several years.  They just recently turned over the running of the school and programs there to the locals.  I’m hoping that faces like these will put me at ease.

They just played the call to prayer.  It’s beautiful.  It echos through the entire city.  And while it’s not the belief system that I’m a part of, or a culture that I understand or feel comfortable in right now, I know that there’s something about this place that the Lord will use to change me forever.

*any awesome photo here is from our amazing and talented humanitarian photographer, Esther Havens.  Also, to read more stories from my new friends on our team, go HERE and you’ll have a list of each person and web address.