Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Hallelujah for the morning

August 11
9:32 am

"sorrow may last for the might,but joy comes in the morning," has never been so true in my 24 years of life.

Last night was a rough one.
I felt pretty rotten, and my bedroom was still full of paint fumes so I spent the night in the older girls' room. Satia laid down one of her blankets for me to sleep on, I protested, but it was 4 against one and I knew I wouldnt win. I slept in the corner of the room, on concrete, snuggled up to the girls' metal clothing boxes and a roll of cheap Indian toilet paper for my ever running nose. I wasn't even that sick, but being here seems to multiply the common head cold by 100, turning into a terrible, miserable illness. No air conditioning, couch, mom, Tylenol, NyQuil, or English makes the common cold awful.

Satia, the 18-year old "dorm mom," took care of me. I didn't want her to, because I wanted privacy, but she never could have understood that. So, when I went out to the hall to pray and breathe, she followed me. When I told her she could go back to bed, she sat down next to me. When I tried to look like i was trying to pray, she kept saying, "don't worry. Be happy." which, looking back, was the word of the Lord, but seemed like the word of Satan at the time. When I went back into the room, stepping over a pile of 15 sleeping girls, satia followed me. She laid down next to me, and when I turned my back to her and started a pity party for myself, crying a little, she patted my back. When I told her to stop, she patted for 15 minutes more. Somewhere in the middle of all this, she asked if I wanted some Vix. I was shocked that she knew the word "Vix" and didnt imagine it would be the same Vix I was thinking. I thought it was worth a shot, so I said, "yes, i do want some vix." she disappeared out of the room and showed up a few minutes later with the tiniest container of Vix id ever seen, but it was real, true Vix. PTL. She took it upon herself to smear it all over my face, neck, and back. It felt wonderful. Before the Vix, i had felt like i was on the verge of a heatstroke, pouring sweat and breathing thick, hot, wet air. The fix felt so good i decided next time i come to india im bringing a Big bottle just to cool myself off now and then. After the vix treatment, satia got out a big bottle of coconut oil and said, "daddyo pray." I knew this meant Joseph had prayed over it because I'd seen it happen 100s of times. People bring bottles of coconut oil to church services, joseph prays over them, and then people use it as annointing oil. I said sure, so she dumped some in her hand, rubbed it on my forehead and neck. Then, in my vulnerable state, she saw this as the perfect chance to pour oil in my hair, which is something all of the girls have wanted to do since I arrived. Indian women style their hair by greasing it down. I have refused for a month. Satia didnt ask, she just dumped it on my head and said something about how often i wash my hair but never use oil. If I hadnt been so exhuasted, i would have thrown a fit. Eventually, I went to sleep, only to be awakened by a banging door and yelling mans voice at 4:30 am, "time to pray." all 50 of us piled down the concrete stairs in the rain, and joined Joseph for pre-dawn prayer time. Joseph prayed and prayed and prayed. I accidentally called him a rambling pharisee in my head a few times. At the end though, he turned his prayers to English for me, and many of the prayers were for me. I conspired in my head during prayer time that no matter what the fumes in my room were like, I was going to sleep in my bed for a few more hours. So that's what I did.

When I woke up again at 7:30 am, pity and sorrow had left me, and joy was present.
Thank you, Jesus.

I spent the morning in my room with God, drinking coffee and tea. Joy comes in the morning.