Let the Games Begin!

Let it be known that I am a tall guy. Also let it be known that although not unheard of, my size is not typical for India. After being here for three weeks, I am no stranger to having to sit in the front seat of small cars, ducking into shops and then remaining hunched under the merchandise hanging from the ceilings, and hanging my feet over the end of the bed. These are all occurrences I have experienced elsewhere, including the states. Today marked a brand new ballgame, though. Mandiram celebrates its founding annually with a weeklong convention (which is kicked off by a weekend of games for the residents—I will get there later), consisting of a large revival-like religious service every evening for a couple of hours. Now, a lot of people from the community come to these events, which is great. Unfortunately for me, in order to accommodate the added people, more pews are added and then shoved closer together. I went in to sit with the cook, found a reasonably comfortable spot, and got settled in. As more and more people started coming in, though, I was ushered forward to the pew of my nightmares. Imagine the pew in the back right corner of First Presbyterian Church, Shelbyville, that the Orem clan unwittingly chooses much too often, in which Dad, Josh, and I all have to decide between sitting completely sideways or legs spread wide open (adding width while subtracting length of leg room), with knees being slammed into and ultimately branded by the hymnal holder or communion cup holder. Now cut two-thirds of that space out of it. I actually could not stand up straight in this area because my pew held my calves at one angle and the pew in front of me my quads in a different position. Indeed, there was not enough room between the legs of the pews for my foot to lay flat. There was a packed house and a very distinguished panel of white-robed clergy on stage looking over us, there was no movement that would go unnoticed. Luckily, with much concentration I was able to squirm enough through the service and keep up circulation without having to resort to my backup plan of jumping up and shouting as though overcome by the Spirit. In retrospect, that backup plan probably would have only resulted in slamming my legs into contortions and falling back down. Ironically, it turns out that the sermon of the night was about taking pain as a gift from God and using the experience to help others.

This little scene has the makings of a possible metaphor for my time here. For obvious reasons—whiteness, height, utter lack of language skills, inability to eat comparably huge amounts of rice—I do not and will not perfectly fit in here. It will be a constant struggle, with much squirming, to keep my energy and passion circulating. And I will probably come up with lame excuses to get out of tough spots or challenges, much like my sad backup plan (Hopefully I will actually feel the Spirit, though. That would be wonderful!). Don’t get me wrong, I love it here and know I will experience lots of joy on a daily basis, but I doubt I will ever be fully comfortable. Truly I hope that I do not become fully comfortable, because the discomfort and pain is what forces me to look to God in humility and ask for help, something I need to learn oh so very much. Then I can take the experience and share it with others who need to hear about it, because perhaps it can help them through their pain.

Anyways, back to the joyous part. The week was kicked off by a weekend of fun for the residents and surrounding community. Opening day consisted of competitions for the residents. Events included: solo singing, Bible reading, elocution, group singing, flip through the Bible fastest, lime on a spoon races, lit candle races, draw the tail on the elephant, and best of all, SMILE COMPETITION! Line up in front of the judges, including myself, and smile without showing your teeth. It was glorious. The ammachees and appachens really got into all of the events, and it was great to see the vigor still in them as they belted out songs and ran, walked, and trudged across the dining hall with limes on their spoons. The next day was community singing and elocution competition day. Thankfully I got to take part in the youngest bracket. These kids were hilarious and courageous. Some walked up and sang very well. Some walked up, forgot why they were there, and just stood behind the mic staring. Some even sang English, causing the whole audience to stare at me, hoping for some exciting reaction. Please note that Lord I Lift Your Name on High has made it to India.

Next on the horizon is a retreat with my fellow YAVs this coming week and then decision time on what exactly my role here will be. Here are some pictures to hold you over until next time (If I can get it to work. If not, use your imagination).

Peace and love,

Tyler