Passage of time

Today marks two weeks in this strange new country, which seems little bit more familiar each day.  Well, familiar is a relative term.  I'm still seeing, doing, smelling or trying something strange every single day.  And I think that trend will last for awhile (I hope so at least).  For instance, this weekend in Bangalore: 

I saw the infamous sacred cows wandering not only the crowded streets, but in and out of shops.  No beef here, only animals begging (and getting) food for themselves.  Often the horns of the cows are painted blue--which of course has some religious significance.  Ahem.  

I slept in the middle bunk of a three-tier sleeper car.  I also had my first "touch of india" on the overnight train and was running a fever--on the bright side, I was so desperate to curl up and sleep it off I didn't have energy to be nervous of the other passengers bunked up all around me.  I did, however, sleep with my backpack strapped to my body underneath my own sheet, so sanitary and soft, thanks to a little planning ahead.  (Thanks Mom!  And Meggie, Anna, Uncle Chuck, etc, aren't you proud of my street smarts?)

I smelled dozens of delicious flowers, as colorful as they were fragrant, in the giant City Market featured in photos below.  Jasmine, Roses, some type of Peonies--my favorite flower--and many others I can only identify as Vibrant, Sweet and Colorful.  Seriously, heaps everywhere.

I went to the grocery store today during my lunch break and even this was an adventure!  One store for produce (which must be thoroughly soaked in dish detergent or mild bleach solution), two trips to the confusing store for basic stuff like milk (which isn't refrigerated until you open it at home), and then a trek to a hotel bakery or "French Loaf" for some bread.  Lots of funny looks along the way.  Serious sense of accomplishment unloading one and half bags of food that doesn't necessarily go together, at all.

Some things have been strange because they are familiar.  Which is strange.  Like going to KFC for one of the Legal Fellow's farewell dinner--she was dying to try it!  Or buying my first souvenir, a book called "America and Americans."  (1st ed. coffee table book by John Steinbeck--big photos of America in the 1960s with fascinating essays throughout on what it means to be American.  Who knew I would meet a favorite author here, learn about my American heritage, or find a stellar three-story bookstore teetering with used books?)

Yesterday marked another point in fleeting time: one year since I lost my dear friend Jess.  She has been constantly on my mind since I've arrived here.  To be honest, somewhat surprisingly so.  I long to share my silly stories, listen to her freak out about the street crossing chaos and commiserate over getting lost and not understanding directions; I wish I were reading her blog and learning vicariously through her ministry to Muslim women in Spain.  So I remember her patience and compassion, inspired to emulate these even as my heart lurches against this disorienting reality of death.

In spite of fluctuating emotions--bittersweet memories of my friend Jess, exposure to intense stories of heartbreaking dehumanization through work, and sensory overload on a mere walk across the street to pick up some variation of rice for lunch--I have found solid ground to stand firmly upon in the first few chapters of Isaiah.  My soul literally clings to the passages which paint a picture of Zion--a place/concept I've never really thought much about.  The prophet Isaiah explains that the once faithful and just city of Jerusalem has rebelled and abandoned the weaker members of its society.  But then, somewhat inexplicably, God chooses to redeem and restore this very people to become a place of righteousness and harmonious dwelling: Zion.  I've searched for other bits of Scripture alluding to "Zion," and my mind is being stretched to consider the realm(s) beyond this life.  Not just the ugliness of death, but the beauty of a new earth and the just community that is to come.  

I am also grateful for and growing a deeper understanding of the "communion of saints," which is not restricted by time-zones or bound by the passage of time.  Thanks be to our God, who has dwelt among us and shared our sorrows--but who powerfully reigns today that He might fulfill many  promises to all of His saints.