One last hurrah!

When we got to know that we were expecting our third child this year, we knew life was about to be flipped upside down — in a good way! Amidst the global pandemic and the lockdown, we were excited and so were our two girls. Both my previous pregnancies involved international travel from the US to India-at 25 weeks for the first pregnancy and at 32 weeks for the next (You can read it here).

When my cousin's wedding was fixed on December 4th, I really wanted to go but wasn't too sure about the travel. It was to be a lockdown wedding and would take almost 12 hours by car and I would be 36/37 weeks pregnant, almost full-term. I did not want to risk my health or the baby's but this was probably the last but one wedding in the family and I so wanted to go! Let’s be honest, once a baby arrives, there are often few opportunities to enjoy a getaway. Between the excitement of the wedding and the nervousness of a long travel, I was a bit worried. I went to the Lord in prayer. I told Him I needed a word from Him before we could plan our travel. I was reminded of Psalm 23. God assured me that he was my Good Shepherd and that he would take care of me. And so began our travel plans. We booked a flight from Chennai to Tuticorin so that I could rest a bit  at my in-laws place before making the three-hour car journey from Tuticorin to Nagercoil, the wedding destination.

Travel day came. Weather wise, it was a typical day in December, cloudy and moist. Only half an hour into the drive, we saw cops posted along the road. Few minutes later, before we could realize what was happening, we were stopped and a large group of protesters rushed into the middle of the road, sat down and blocked it. We were just a few meters away from the protesters with only a truck in front of us. My husband turned off the engine and we waited to see if the police would clear them up, or if the rioters would give way. Nothing happened. Realizing we were getting delayed for our flight, we made a U turn and took an alternate route to Chennai. Google maps took us through villages and narrow roads and when we finally caught the freeway after an hour of driving, we were disappointed to see that it was jammed. Traffic had come to a standstill and there was no way we could go. We were losing time. We prayed for the traffic to clear up and when it finally did after about 30 minutes, my husband turned into an F1 racer. We literally 'flew' to our home in Chennai, parked our car and waited for our cab to take us to the airport. When the cab finally arrived, we were relieved. But our relief was short-lived when the cab driver refused us to take us to the airport since the road to the airport was blocked due to the riots. We told him that we will show him an alternate route and even pay extra to which he finally agreed. A usual 20 minute drive to the airport took us 45  minutes and we reached the airport just 5 minutes before boarding closed. We had made it! What a relief!

The very next day a cyclone with heavy rains was predicted in the very place we were headed to. We all prayed that it would never happen. After a day of rest, my parents arrived at my in-laws place with my girls to pick us up for the wedding. Both the girls had caught a cold and my 7 year old seemed too tired and sick. She slept on my lap through the three hour journey to Nagercoil. The rains or the cyclone that was predicted never happened- an answered prayer. The journey though, was a bit hectic and my legs and lower tummy ached. I just wanted to lie down. The engagement night went off well but with my aches and pains I didn't even take a pic with the couple and went straight to bed. 

That night I couldn't sleep. I had caught a cold, my body ached and my throat hurt so bad. My kids were not doing well and I wasn't even sure if I could stay for the next three days as planned. I wanted to go back home and was mentally making alternate plans. I went to the Lord in prayer. Our God is faithful and when his children come to him he is always there to help. The Lord assured me that if he could stop a cyclone, how much more would he take care of me! I also realized that I needed to operate in faith and not in fear.

On the day of the wedding, my aches and pains had gone and my kids were doing well, despite their cold and cough. We finished the wedding, stayed as planned, enjoyed our time with our family and made the long journey back home by car. We reached home safe and sound. My heart was filled with  gratitude for the Lord's goodness and his faithfulness!

And I know that the Lord who brought me safe thus far will strengthen me in the days that lie ahead as we eagerly await our newest addition to our family!

Amy's birth story

 March 8, 2017

Two months had gone by since my arrival in India and I was looking forward to the birth of my second daughter, due on March 11, 2017. The transition in itself was a series of answered prayers (You can read it here).We had already chosen a name for her. The hospital bag was packed so we could go to the hospital anytime during the week. I had made a prayer list for my pregnancy and delivery. I had prayed for a short labour, an hour max with no pain and no epidural. I had prayed for a quick recovery because in the previous delivery I was unable to get out of bed for a month post-delivery because of a huge tear. I had also prayed for my husband to make it to my hometown just in time for the arrival of the newborn. My first answer to prayer came when the gestational diabetes that showed up during my first pregnancy did not show up during the second.

 My husband landed in India from the US on March 5th. He visited us and travelled to his hometown to meet his parents and sister. He was to reach my place at 8 PM. Around 2 pm on March 8th, I started feeling mild contractions. They were faint, almost unnoticeable, but my instincts as a mother-to-be told me that things might progress quickly. I calmly informed my parents, who had just left for work, that they might need to return home sooner than expected. I downloaded an app that recorded my contractions. I knew it was time to head to the hospital once the contractions were consistently 3 minutes apart.

After my parents returned at around 7 pm , the plan was to pick up my husband from the train station and then drop me at the hospital on the way to check for false labour (since the contractions were not painful and only mild). Knowing that I will be gone for three days, I gave my older daughter a good hairbath at 7 pm, re-checked my hospital bag and off we went to the train station. Although my mom was convinced that the baby might make her grand entrance soon , my dad was certain that there was no rush. After all, I was walking and talking normally, showing no overt signs of labor.

 We were so glad to see my husband at the train station at 9 pm. On our way back, My Mom and I got down at the hospital while my dad, husband and my three year old headed home. I walked to the labour ward and told the nurse I was having contractions. I was allowed into the labour room and an intern who came by looked at me and said ," No, you're not having contractions". I just smiled. My mom rang up my doctor, a family friend, who was on her way home from another city. She instructed another doctor to check on me and guess what? I was already 6 cms dilated!

 They quickly attached me to a monitor. And the contractions were getting closer and more intense. In half an hour, Amy was pushing her way out of my body (I must admit that the last five minutes had me in excruciating pain) and my doctor was right on time to receive her. The doctor had rushed to the hospital for the delivery and Amy was born at 10:50 pm on 8th March, on International women's day!

Our God is indeed a prayer answering God!

 

 

 

In His steps...

Very recently, when the disheartening news of the loss of a medical missionary couple's daughter came, it broke my heart.I had only heard of them and knew that they were good friends of my cousins, who were missionaries themselves in the Northern part of India. It didn't seem fair. They had given up the prospect of a lucrative career to respond to the medical needs of a disease-ridden tribal group that lacked not only the amenities of civilization but the very necessities of life.They had responded to their calling despite the many, many challenges that came their way.

Yet, amidst the insurmountable loss, their unwavering faith in God had been evident. Having walked the difficult path myself , I know that the pain caused by the loss of a loved one remains for a lifetime. I know that for them everything from now on would be different, it would be new, and life- altering.This loss, while tragic from a human perspective, are a part of a growing roster of men and women who have paid a price for the advance of the gospel.

Even as I write, I am reminded of one of the most well-known stories of missionary martyrdom, Graham Staines who was burnt alive with his two sons. I think of William Carey who had to bury his son in India and manage his wife who never recovered from a nervous breakdown. I think of the Scudders who forwent their luxuries and embarked on a journey to a poverty-stricken land where they had to bury four of their thirteen children.The rest - seven sons and two daughters - came back to India in response to the call of Christ.

I'm reminded of this letter Adoniram Judson to his prospective father-in-law when asking for his daughter’s hand as he prepared for missions in Burma:

“I have now to ask, whether you can consent to part with your daughter early next spring, to see her no more in this world; whether you can consent to her departure, and her subjection to the hardships and sufferings of a missionary life; whether you can consent to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean; to the fatal influence of the southern climate of India; to every kind of want and distress; to degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps a violent death. Can you consent to all this, for the sake of him who left his heavenly home, and died for her and for you; for the sake of perishing, immortal souls; for the sake of Zion, and the glory of God? Can you consent to all this, in hope of soon meeting your daughter in the world of glory, with the crown of righteousness, brightened with the acclamations of praise which shall redound to her Saviour from heathens saved, through her means, from eternal woe and despair."

While the temptation of worldliness and the lust for earthly power looms large in Christendom, we should remember, whatever form our cross may take, that there are matchless rewards promised to those who remain faithful unto death. God does not promise us freedom from persecutions and trials; but He does assure of his presence, His joy and peace that no man can give or take away.And there's no greater joy and fulfillment than doing what God has called us to.

Over the week, I have been unable to silence the question, " Have I truly denied myself and taken up my cross?".If our definition of being a Christian is simply to enjoy the privileges of worship, be generous at no expense, have a good time surrounded by comfortable things, and at the same time stay immune to the world's great problem of sin because it is too much pain to do something about it-if this is our definition of Christianity, we need to rethink.

Following Jesus doesn’t necessarily mean becoming a missionary or a preacher. Yet, would I choose to love people at any cost, to walk as Jesus did in every area of my life? Does the thought of millions dying each day without even having heard the name of Jesus bother me? If there comes a point in my life when I'm faced with a choice—Jesus or the comforts of this life—what would I choose?What would you choose?

Amidst the drastic growth of nominal Christianity today we need more of the real kind.We need revival of the Christianity of Christ.Have we put to death our own plans and desires and committed ourselves to His will for our lives?Are we ready to take up the cross? Is it possible for the church to sing with exact truth,

Jesus, I my cross have taken,

All to leave and follow thee?