itinerary
flights
devotional
photos
blogs...
Ansley Chambliss
Thelma Cheetham
Becca Childers
Cathy Crosland
Mel Dunlap
Steve Hellier
William Hellier
Katherine McClellan
Sharon McClellan
John Miller
Jimmy Mitchell
Keely Naughton
Francesca Pefianco
Iain Robins
Marijane Robins
Amy Seefeldt
Matt Simpson
Brittany Stokes
Janek Witharana
Matt Wright
katherine mcclellan blog...
wednesday, march 19
relativity...
Let me begin by apologizing for not posting in a more timely manner, all excuses aside, I have been avoiding the "computer lab," out of fear that I would write yet another lengthy intense post (the past days have been increasingly emotional for me.. I've actually cried several times- which I detest doing..) So, here it goes...
Yesterday, Tuesday March 18th, we piled into cabs for a scenic (and rather bumpy) ride down to the village of Sainji. Sainji houses one of Manoj's two village schools. Upon arriving we toured the school facilities - two dim rooms and a top story "gathering place" (concrete slab without any walls). Next we ventured down a rugged path to the teachers living quarters, which had a rather large porch - that provided sufficient shade for all the students (both Sainji village school students and Whitefield students). As the small school children first sat down, an adorable young girl (without a uniform) clumsily tottered towards me. Hesitantly she hoisted herself up over the ledge and speedily glanced around for a seat. Keeping her eyes down, she approached the front row, I patted my hands to my knees indicating an open seat, in my lap.
Questioningly she placed her hand on the concrete porch floor and fell down into my lap. I couldn't believe she had actually sat down (during our introduction, I had cautiously approached her, and attempted to make a fast friend - she wanted nothing more than to be left alone - whimpering as I gently placed my hand on her shoulder and shrugging away). Pleased to be making some progress, I asked her what her name was, "Aap ka naam kya hai?" No response. Ok, one battle at a time, I encouraged myself. I gently stroked her hand as Mr. Hellier told the story of David in the lions' den, and as the other children sang praise and worship songs (which she politely declined participating in). Then came prayer time, as Manoj asked the students for prayer requests the little girl grabbed hold of my fingers, clenching them as though she were holding onto the edge of a cliff.
Surprisingly enough, just as the girl clung to my fingers, the prayer requests only intensified the emotions running through my heart at that instant. A young girl purposefully stood up, and said, in Hindi - translated- I would like to pray for all the poor kids who are so much worse off than we are, please pray that THEY will receive food and clothing. I was speechless, dumbfounded. The village of Sainji embraced us all, the warmth I personally felt from Petru and Petra (the little girls - there were two, one of whom took a bit more coaxing to warm up to me) and the love imminating from the village school overwhelmed me.
I will not pretend that all of the impoverished are joyful and selfless, but the people of Sainji certainly were. Petra, the little girl, insisted upon sharing the package of Fruit Snacks I gave her with myself and her sister (who had received her own package) as well. Ideally, all people would be a little more like Petra - you see, she was willing to share even her gifts- with those who bestowed them upon her, and with OTHERS who had received gifts of their own. Some people call this selflessness.. though it is, perhaps in a childish way - it is good stewardship. Needless to say, the children in Sainji taught me many important lessons, and I left the village with a broken heart. My heart broke when I recognized the absolute relativity of poverty - you see even the slightly "better-off" poor of Sainji yearned to help those whose conditions trumped their own impoverished state.
Manoj and Nasreen opened up their home to our team that evening for dinner. The climb to the top of the pathway at his home defines treacherous. So, breathless and enthusiastic I entered their home. His mother, father, brother, sister-in-law, niece, nephew, wife, and two vivacious little girls all congregated at his home to greet us. Again, the warm embrace overwhelmed me. Up to this point I had managed to go nearly 24 hours without shedding a tear, needless to say, as Manoj proceeded to tell us that he was so grateful to have us in his recently rebuilt home (the house fell prey to a monsoon, and lay in ruins until Ms. Seefeldt's church collected an offering to help repair Manoj's house) the tears welled up in my eyes. Manoj continued saying, "When I received the email from Sister Amy I thought oh, I must have gotten the numbers confused, she must have meant she will be sending $400. I went back to the internet cafe to recheck my email and starred at the numbers again; I was amazed when I realized she really did mean $4,000." At this moment, the tears began streaming down my face. Here, a grown man, with a wife and two children, is marveling at the $4,000 sent to repair his home, and left in awe of the church's generosity- so much to the point of thanking us, yet in America $4,000 is (now) less than 1/4 of a year's tuition at Whitefield Academy. How utterly blessed am I?
As Manoj closed his testimony of God's faithfulness - my mind began replaying over and over again the child's prayer for the less fortunate. Poverty is relative, and regardless of what the media may suggest, we are exceedingly blessed, blessed to the point of absurdity. We must begin to give back. I close with this song (we sang after Manoj's testimony).....
The Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace, Where there is hatred, let me sow love;where there is injury, pardon;where there is doubt, faith;where there is despair, hope;where there is darkness, light;where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
monday, march 17
comfortable compartments...
Sorry I have not posted in several days, to say the least "jet-lag" has gotten the better of me the past few days. I think I have finally gotten over the worst of it, but then again, the weariness comes at the least expected moments..
After nearly 24 hrs of traveling, we arrived in the Delhi International airport. My expectations for the airport were rather low, I assumed the building would be in an on-going state of "renovation" (combination of a dilapidated building and attempts to modernize it simulatenously); walking off the plane onto a broken escalator only to view a sea of hundreds of people swarming to form a "line" (I am using this word loosely, you see the line was much more of a blob than anything..) shocked me. We proceeded through customs, gathered our luggage, and braced ourselves to walk outside. The airport doors slowly parted and I walked outside. The smell of India infectiously bombarded my nose. I can honestly say, I have never smelled anything like India before in my life.
If words could describe the scent, I would try to record the smell to share with you, but words do not give the scent justice. Some may call it putrid, others may call it welcoming, if possible- it is an odd combination of the two. Jasmine mixed with pollution (and other sickening odors)... The city smog of Delhi engulfed us all, my vision was literally blurred by the filth floating in the air. Trash lined the roads, the houses, the slums, the rivers, the restaraunts- essentially waste blanketed India. Despite the waste (and other unappealing aspects of India), history, culture, architecture, beauty, and joy seep through "the cracks" of India.
In other words, this country rather rudely deemed "the armpit of the world," by some possesses great amounts of beauty, it is simply overlooked and ignored, and thusly ignorantly categorized. "Categorized" in the sense that people apply a label to something that deserves a more in-depth investigation; afterall- I hate to imagine a picture of myself painted with only my very worst attributes. Delhi offered mounds of trash, smog, and "shanty towns," but the diligence of the craftsmen, the beauty of ancient tombs, and the presence of believers (singing Steven Curtis Chapman, Hillsong etc. at the top of their lungs) shone through the dismal side of Delhi.
160 miles from Delhi lays Mussoorie, though this should have been a short trek, our bus and ultimately cab ride lasted 12 long hours. I cannot complain, during these 12 hours I soaked in 160 miles of India. I was expecting some uninhabited zones, yet none appeared- every inch (slight exaggeration, though foot is definately not) of land hosted a minimum of one person. I marveled at Matt's observation, God knows each and everyone of these people intimately. Whether they acknowledge His authority or not, He alone knows the needs, desires, fears, hopes, dreams, even number of hairs on their head of every last person.
Once our 22 seater bus completed its' ascent (the most beautiful scenary, perhaps that I have seen in my entire life) to the mountain top town of Mussoorie our rather self-interested bus driver announced he could not drive us to our final destination ( I say self-interested because he stopped for a leisurely lunch break, after we had already stopped, ignoring instructions specifically stating not to stop again...). So in the center of the city, at 8 pm all of us piled off the bus and walked briskly to 6 cabs, gaurding our bags, and avoiding eye contact with crowds of amazed Indian men.
I say all this simply so that you may have a better understanding of our arrival into the city of Mussoorie, and the country of India. Our initial greeting with India was nothing short of shocking. The poverty, the desperation of some of the people, the humble living conditions, the sickness, and the trash colliding with the beauty of the mountains, the history of the country, and the great potential painted my initial picture of India. Then I met Manoj, Nasreen, Mr. & Mrs. Seefeldt. My picture of India as category 1. poverty 2. disease 3. natural beauty and so on immensely changed.
As we were welcomed into Mr. & Mrs. Seefeldt's house a sense of peace came over me, I truly felt at home while singing (rather attempting to sing) praise songs in Hindi led by Ohn ( the music director at the Seefeldt's church). Manoj and his wife Nasreen shared their story of God's faithfulness, as we students fought off jet-lag induced drowsiness. Fellow believers in India greeted us, and at this moment I realized exactly where the "potential" I sensed earlier originated from...
The potential of India is this, that committed Christians are here on the ground - not brewing over the grim aspects some choose to dwell on, but rather planting seeds of hope, redemption, and love within the hearts of all they encounter. In India, the people do not live a fragmented life, they simply embrace "the good, the bad, and the ugly," incorporating them all into their life. The overwhelming mounds of trash pale in comparison to the view from the roadways or the joy within Manoj's Christian schools. I could give you a briefing of all our daily activity, but I do not know exactly what I would say.. We went to the market in Delhi, drove for 12 hours on a bus, worked with beautiful children in a village school, painted murals on the walls of the schoolhouse, and hiked through the Himalayas... But this simply isn't enough.
I want to share with you what I am learning, the impacts this gorgeous place is having on me, specifically my heart. I urge anyone reading this to not compartmentalize their life anymore, I know this is a strange request, but I am working on this also - so join me. Embrace the totality of America, and the World we live in, the problems it has, and the hope we have in Christ to change our current depraved condition. I shared with my group this evening, while crying (which I hate doing) that witnessing experiences such as "misssion trip highs" are only as permanent as we allow them to be. I grow angry (bitter as well) when I witness myself and others returning to America only to forget, or worst distance themselves/myself from what they/I experience. Time stands still for none, as we return to the absolute abundance of our lives, our brothers and sisters in Christ here on the ground in India and elsewhere are still struggling to earn enough money to feed their families and recieve enough funding to further the gospel.
We, who know of the needs of our brothers and sisters, we, who pray for their needs to be met, we, who cherish the time spent working alongside these spiritual family members, are obligated to assist them in whatever ways we can. I have learned the hard way that I cannot force my convictions on anyone other than myself, I can only simply share with you what exactly I have been taught. So here it is, that the blessings I have in America, are more than I need.. and that if I am not doing absolutely everything in my power to aid the orphans, the poor, the unloved, and unreached (even if they are NOT my literal next door neighbor) then I am failing to boldly proclaim my faith as I should.
"Behold, this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy. They were haughty and did an abomination before me. So I removed them when I saw it." -Ezekiel 16:49-50
Those are God's words, and they have humbled me greatly, to put it lightly. As many of you know, my trip to Zimbabwe ignited a deep passion for missions within my heart, I share this passion with many of you as well! Once again, I am brought to tears thinking about the faithfulness of God's people living in less than fortunate circumstances, yet again their joy abounds.
I implore you, please do not think of God's faithful followers and the group they witness to as "those people in India," or the orphans in Zimbabwe merely as "one of the starving Africans." Please do not compartmentalize the gravity of their situations, as I have so often done. They are God's living breathing creations, many our brothers and sisters, their needs are tangible, concrete, and large. We must come to their side, help them meet the needs they cannot meet for themselves, and do so out of sacrificial giving, and love. After all, until we break the divisions we place between "hunger, poverty, and disease in foreign countries" and our life in America, we will not be able to face these issues head on. The intense realization that these problems plauging the church are UNIVERSAL will not resound in our hearts until we can honestly say, my sister is hungry, I am going to give up _______, ______, and _____ so that I can feed her (and so forth).
Sorry this is so long, thanks for hanging in until the end, and listening (or reading rather) as I pour out my heart.
friday, march 14
thoughts of a weary traveler...
I must confess that sometimes I allow myself to get carried away in the present circumstance. I'm not talking about a "live in the moment" mentality, but rather an ignorant unawareness of exactly how much else exists in the world outside Atlanta, GA or the United States of America. Frequently I think it is simply more convenient or comfortable to live inside a defined (known) area. Whenever I find myself basking in all things "American," somehow God manages to expose a portion of the world, in Atlanta, in Zimbabwe, in the Amsterdam airport (.. anywhere really..) that I was unwilling to acknowledge before.
Yesterday this came in the form of two curt Dutch men. They were both fairly young and had come to Atlanta on business. Luckily I was only sitting behind them- not next to them, you see I probably would have become noticably awkward after the third or fourth uttering of "STUPID AMERICANS- always creating such a fuss." Initially I sort of angrily huffed, thinking what an unfair generalization! Granted many of us (myself included) do disrespect other countries' cultures. After sulking for about 30 minutes, I felt awful because what they had said was dishearteningly true. Though each culture has their varying forms of obnoxious-ness- I am becoming painfully aware that in America, we do often make a "huge fuss."
My mind immediately drifted to Starbucks- something I'm sure all of you are familiar with(ha.) Picture the menu for a moment, rows and rows of drink choices, 3 different sizes, yet think of all the "tweeking" we must do to our drinks- we LOVE customization. I know that nothing will agitate me more in the morning than going to Starbucks, getting my drink, driving off, then taking a sip only to snootily whine, "ewwww, they didn't sweeten this!" or "ugggh, this is not non-fat!"
Perhaps I'm off base, but I think the desire to always be instantly gratified has far too deeply infiltarted our culture. As I was strolling through the Amsterdam airport I noticed that other than the clanking of rolling suitcases the airport was relatively quiet. People purposefully walked to their gate and in essence out of respect for others refrained from cell phone use, or shouting. Food for thought: What if each of us set out to truly be polite- not polite as in "please" and "thank you" but polite as in we put others ahead of ourselves. What would it be like if everyone were to cancel their subscription to the "me-first" mentality? I think it would be revolutionary, and I think we should try.
Another piece of food for though is this, I know people always say, "What a small world..." and often it seems small; say for instance when you stumble upon an old friend while out shopping.. or a mutual friend at a restaraunt... but could this sense of a tiny interwoven world be purely a figment of the Western World's imagination? Standing at security in Amsterdam, preparing to board the flight to Dheli (which I am currently on) I heard at least 7 different languages- saw passports from multiple countries and thought to myself, this world is anything but small...
There are so many people beyond my limited sphere of thought, it's shocking. I remember when I cam back from Zimbabwe (a southern African nation) I told people, "you've never seen anything like it before.." That is mostly a true statement, but simply because someone has not physically traveled to a country certainly does not mean all connectivity to that country vanishes.
As a christian, I have been convicted (very strongly lately) that our duty is connect ourselves with the bigger world as well as the smaller one. Despite initial discomfort I think forcing an exit from the usual, common, and known portions we contently dwell in will greatly enrich our faith. Personally, God has never been as big to me as when I sat in church services in Romania as the congregation of a gypsy church stood and proudly belted out hymns accompanied by an accordian. I know I will have these moments here in India as well, and I absolutely cannot wait for these! In moments where people of different "nations and tongues" worship the only Savior of the universe together, my heart rejoices. The unity, the brotherhood, and the bonds of peace between people of differing backgrounds will continue to inspire me.
tuesday, march 11
and so the journey begins...
I am still somewhat hesitant about this "blogging" business.. I guess the idea of any sort of journaling makes me uneasy. In fact, shoved somewhere under my bed lay roughly 5 journals with 2 entries apiece. The first entry, "Wow, I cannot believe I have finally convinced myself to write a journal..." The second entry dated 2-3 months after the first entry, "Oooops. I guess this journaling thing isn't for me.."
That said, the real reason I am doing this, is to share my experiences in India with whoever will listen. I must say that writing, with the knowledge that at least one person (perhaps even expectantly) waits to read my entries brings a level of much needed "journaling-accountability."
I'll quit rambbling.
I leave for India Thursday, March 13th. I have heard this date thrown around for awhile now, but suddenly a mere 65 hours stand between myself and the Check-in station at the airport (shocking). Fortunately I pride myself in being a first class procrastinator, and will manage to once again deposit all that is needed for my trip (or, nearly all) into a suitcase the morning I leave. Despite my ability to pack my physical belongings in record setting times, I would ask for your prayers regarding the readiness of my heart.
I desperately desire to experience all that God has for me to experience; essentially that all of my physical preparations will not block, impair, or taint any of the readying God is doing in my heart. As the departure date grows closer, I would ask if you would be praying this for me.
I hope that as I record the details of the trip and share what God is teaching me, this journey to India will bless you as well.