Oh, the adventures to be had . . .

I am thankful I am traveling with someone who has traveled more than me. In certain situations--like border crossings--I wish I had more experience to lend wisdom in, but, alas, the only border crossings have been in the air, and compared to what we experienced yesterday, all my customs and immigration passings have been relatively painless up to this point.

The first thing to know is that most things about India appear on the surface to be exceedingly chaotic, but in the midst of the chaos, things get accomplished . . . somehow . . . sometimes . . . after much wandering and going from here to there with lots of activity and "Yes, okay, maam. No problem," and a bob of the head.

Melissa and I set out at 5 in the morning for the bus station. Our bus left at 6. There wasn't too much exciting about that part of the adventure. However, the excitement started at the border where everything that we are told not to do we did. For example, we had to hand over our passports that then got passed around a bit. This is very irksome. If there were signs where to go, they were hidden by all the other signs, so thankfully, we were herded to where we needed to go. So when we got to the exchange place, our passports were handed to an older man who put them in his pocket and then walked out, motioning for us to follow him. Our eyes were glued to that pocket.

We then went to immigration to get a stamp. It was an open room with three random chairs. "Sit down," we were told, and off our passports went to the men on the other side of the room behind the counter. The question on our minds was, where are our bags? We had been taken off the bus and told not to worry about our bags but not worrying about our bags is very difficult to do. Then we walked from one building to another amidst a very busy street. How on earth would our luggage make it to us? Oh, but somehow amidst the language barrier, we got our stamp and found our luggage outside this room, surrounded by men who wanted to carry our bags for us (because a tip is expected). At the customs counter, a gentleman asked where were from in the States. We proceeded to tell him, but when I said Ohio, he said very matter-of-factly, "In my country we call it Okio."

Huh? Just go with it.

Then we walked across the border, through the fence (we had our passports at this point). Confusion persisted with the tipping problem and not having small bills. Then off we were hustled through customs, where the man just waved us through. He didn't care about our bags or even our passports. Down the busy road filling with men and trucks and bicycles we walked and into a small room we led where someone again took our passports and filled out our immigration papers for us (he even put in an address to where we will be staying . . . I didn't even know this information). Then off we went, he with our passports and our bags once again left deserted in this small, crowded room. In immigration, we stood close to the wall that read, "Waiting corner." Before too long, we were motioned out of the room back to the small crowded room from whence we were then herded onto a van. Eventually, we saw our bags make it onto a cart, but when the van went down the road, our bags remained motionless on the cart.

All this to say, we and our bags made it onto the bus. Maybe an hour and a half total elapsed and then we were off--but only for a little bit. Too soon our bus came to a halt. We thought maybe it was just a jam. And it was, but it was a traffic jam to get onto the ferry, and this traffic jam lasted 7 hours. We were expected to make it to Dhaka by 7 in the evening. We arrived at 2 in the morning.

Through it all, though, we were taken care of. Melissa was able to call ahead and let our friend know we would be very late. For that reason, our drop-off point changed, but once arriving in Dhaka, it changed again because the bus driver intelligently ran over a cement median that scraped the bottom of the bus bringing it to a very quick halt. I saw a median. Melissa saw a median. What did he see?

At two in the morning when Melissa and I were sitting atop our luggage on a bicycle rickshaw, I had to smile at this bit of the adventure. I can't say I want to relive any of it, but we made it.

All this to say, I am very thankful for Melissa.

On the move.

This past weekend in Chennai, the k-town staff was with the Nepali, Thai and Chennai staff. We had many meals and meetings together, gathering updates and prayers from one another. In the current of these events, there were many languages being spoken and translated. It was so beautiful. One of the Nepali staff commented after he had translated for one of the Bengali staff, "A Bengali speaking in Hindi while a Nepali translates into English." It was great.

We were by the beach in Chennai, soaking in the sun and warm weather. Kolkata has been in the 60's mostly. Not bad, but chilly in the evenings. We arrived back late, late Sunday night (Monday morning). In the morning we saw off the Nepali staff.

These past two days have been preparing and gathering what I need for Bangladesh. Today is India's Republic Day, a holiday. I woke up to very loud music blaring that has not stopped all day. Where I am staying, the flat is on the 5th floor, but the height of a building does not diminish noise. Last night as I was going to sleep, I had the feeling of trying to fall asleep at a tractor pull . . . and that's only a slight exaggeration.

I think I am over jet lag by now. I am feeling good during the day and at night I sleep well. Walking the streets hasn't felt nearly as foreign as it did two years ago, but it still takes so much getting used to--all the stares, all the crowds, all the pushing. I find myself getting defensive too easily when someone tries to push past me in line, and then I remind myself to let the fight go; it's not worth getting upset over. Right now I am able to keep a balanced perspective because I have not been here long. I think my fight lies deeper within. What I know happens, though, is the longer I am here, the more quickly the fight comes out. I just keep praying for a soft heart always. And then I pray that I keep praying that . . .

Tomorrow, bright and early, my teammate, Melissa, and I head for the border. We travel by bus to Bangladesh where we will be spending the next four months. New adventures are coming our way. School begins Sunday.

If I pop into your mind, send a quick prayer up for me in learning this language. I need to be confident and outgoing, both of which are difficult for someone who hates to make a fool of herself. Silly me.

Always with hope . . .

I'm back to Kolkata.

On arrival, I waited until the conveyor belt stopped, telling me that although there were no hitches to my arriving safely to K-town, the same was not true for my luggage. Alas, for the first time while traveling overseas, my luggage did not make it. Poo.

However, waiting for me outside the airport were the WMF staffers, and a whole lot of welcome. The feel in the air was not what I remembered because I have never been here while it is "cold" (50's-60's); most everything else feels slightly familiar. It doesn't seem like a lot has changed with the exceptions of new stops on the metro (extending farther than Tollygunge, for my old Servant Team who might care), new buses around the city (that might even have a/c, I'm told), and green rickshaws (rather than black & yellow--those are now outlawed). The streets are still very crowded, the horns are still blaring constantly, and the food is just as spicy.

Today we called the airport and found out my bags had arrived--I just had to go clear them through customs. We went to the airport and other than running around a little to find the Air India offices, we had no difficulty. My bags were intact. Thank God for my luggage! I felt like I was receiving a gift today . . . it was very fun to unpack.

Tomorrow bright and early we leave for South India. From now until Melissa and I leave for Bangladesh, we will be traveling a lot. It feels more like vacation right now than it does a big life move. All the transition is going well. I am feeling pretty okay.

Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers!

Until next time, always with hope.

Hello, Reality.

It's around change and death when we really take stock of what we have. I have the change part bearing down on me strongly--the reality of my coming move is setting in. This holiday season (from Thanksgiving to Christmas) has been completely amazing. I have been able to be around friends and family I haven't seen in years, and I have been able to spend solid quality time with those closest to me. Taking stock of what I am about to leave, even though it's only for three years (to begin with), has played with my emotions: I am excited. I am nervous. I am scared. I am ready. I will be brave. I will adjust. I will thrive.

But the home I know may not be here for me when I come back to the States. Interstate 77 will have a new on-ramp by Buehler's. Some of my closest friends will change their last names. Some will begin dating; some will have babies; some will move; some will graduate. People will endure things and change in the process (for better or worse) so that when I come home I will have to become reacquainted with old friends. None of this is huge in and of itself, but it adds up. Life as I knew it is over . . . as dramatic as that sounds.

I've been told it's okay to grieve what I am leaving behind.

Most days I can hold myself together pretty well, but today, grieving is easy and holding back the tears is too hard. My family was given another dose of reality: my uncle Ed, my mom's brother from North Carolina, died just after the new year began. The heart seems to get the Byler family: he passed away from a heart attack.

What was so beautiful about this Christmas was that Ed came up to Ohio to spend ten days with the family here. It had been three years since we had seen Ed--time somehow gets away from everyone--but he was able to take the time this year to be here. God's sovereignty is beautiful especially with the events of this morning. We cherish the moments we had with him. And, oh, how lovely it is to know Ed is with Jesus, basking in peace.

My uncle Ed began supporting me in my journey to India this year. When he first told me of his intentions, I felt humbled: I knew he didn't have much money, but he was giving out of what he had. At the time I felt hugely encouraged by that. Now, I feel doubly blessed to know that he believed in me and supported me. Not that I am going to be on his mind when he sees Jesus and when he sees Grandma, Grandpa and Uncle Simon, but hopefully over the course of them catching up, he'll tell them what I am about to embark on. I like to think they already know.

Tell Grandma, Grandpa and Simon I miss them here.

It's now that I realize what I always take for granted . . . I'll see you next time. Three years really isn't that long and I'll be home in between, but much can happen, especially as my family gets older. When my mom called to tell me the news this morning, my mind jumped a million different places before she told me what had actually happened. I didn't realize I could be so negative! It made me see all the people in my life who are so dear to me. Lord, help me cherish these moments.

So, hello, Reality. The romance is gone. My decisions are made, my course is set.

Lord, give me strength to walk this out.