September 1987

Dear Saints.

Greetings in Jesus’ name from Nagpur.

Surrounding us are all the signs of the rainy season. Wet walls, mud everywhere, mosquitoes the size of baby-helicopters, coughs, colds and sneezes, clothes that won't dry. A sky packed with clouds pregnant with rain and an earth bursting at the seams with the good things of the soil. Yes, it is rainy season ... Yet for those with eyes to see and a heart to appreciate the rainy season has beauty all of its own. There are a million hues of green. (The flowers, most of them at least, wait till after the rainy season to appear. For after all they don't want their finery to get messed up ... ). The fields have clothed themselves with corn and some of the earlier pulses while the off vegetable is poking its head out of the ground. The trees almost seem to dance as the wind, accompanying the rains, makes them bend and causes water to be splashed where none was splashed before.

Watching the spectacle I am reminded of a mother, my mother, bending her unwilling offspring under the shower with the occasional, "now here is another spot ..." At night time, the scene becomes hauntingly beautiful. Leaning against the door post of my place I look into the night alone and undisturbed watching it rain. The darkness, hiding the open spaces behind the trees in front of the house, makes me feel I am somewhere in an enchanted forest and, with the heart of a child, wait with bated breath for the creatures of fairy land to appear: the dwarfs, the goblins and hobgoblins, the fairies ...The sights and sounds are right for it all. The rustling of the leaves and the sighing of the wind in the trees, the pitter-patter of rain drops and the drip-drip of the rain from the trees. In the light of the street lanterns the rain drops look like dripping gold. Splashes of fluorescent light escaping through the window of my room, add patches of molten silver. A sudden gust of wind makes the trees "explode" in a glorious burst of "fire" ...

Ah! It is great to be a kid again, even if only for moments ... To a tribal child, however, the Unseen World brings no happy thoughts, only fear. To him at least, when somebody suddenly dies it is due to somebody having cursed that person. Cows don't give milk for the same reason and a host of other bad things happen because some people seem to have the power to utilize the Inhabitants of the Unseen World (which in the mind of the kid are evil spirits) to harm those they do not like. Many, even those who are educated, call upon the witch doctor rather than a regular medical man to cure an illness. The result is that many people die premature, needlessly.

But back to reality were a frog remains a frog never mind how often kissed and the fair damsel, incarcerated in a castle protected by dragons and mother in laws, remains, for ever, an object of fairy dreaming ... Where no goose lays golden eggs and no fairy godmother, waving a magic wand, produces silver coins - not even copper ones ... Nevertheless ... I believe - that "money does grow on trees." The realists of course scoff at such an idea. Yet I for one agree with the tellers of fairy tales. To prove this we planted between 6000 - 8000 trees and pray that at least half will survive. We had planned on 15,000 but the rains played truant and we were forced to abandon our ambitious project. Should our gamble pay off we will gain, in about 4 years from now, enough money to survive 6 months. Who still is there, who claims that money does NOT grown on trees ...?

Our school building is now, except for minor things, completed. It is a beautiful and functional building. It has a nice design, it is well build, has large airy rooms and looks attractive. The class rooms will look colorful without being gaudy and the grounds nice but not so nice that kids can't play there. We gratefully acknowledge the generous $50,000 gift towards the building of it by the Jimmy Swagart Foundation. It was something thrilling even "slightly" beyond my dream ...

The printing of the Mawchi N.T. is in progress and we hope to have the dedication sometime in November. It is, as to be expected, a slow process and I am glad for the committee which taken the brunt of the effort and does the major job. Once completed we hope to make a go on the Old Testament ... Now, that the dust has settled and the comings and goings have ended we "ended up" with 227 people in the compound of which, including the kids of the staff, 205 are kids ...We now have 8 tribal groups represented and speak a total of 12 languages ... In spite of the increase the over all picture hasn't changed. God, true to His nature and promise, keeps providing and we - trusting. The limitations are with us and not with the God. Had the widow in Elijah's time stopped making bread because she was afraid the flour would run out she and those with her would have starved in the midst of plenty. In her place I would not have made bigger "cakes" just more of them just to see if I couldn't empty that barrel, Elijah or no Elijah. Our staff at times thinks I manage to do that with our money.

The kids are fine ...We added a lot of small "fry" to our home. They are not the best dressers and many disdain belts or, in their stead, strings. When they carry bricks, or what-so-ever on their head, some of them perform a veritable belly dance to keep the bricks on their head and their pants, well, you know where. Invariably the latter looses ...

Also our daily schedules includes now a 15 minutes exercise period and it is again the little fellows who take the cake. In comparison to their contortions a worm in its death throes looks immobile ... Unfortunately they don't contort in harmony ...

So far I have heard only "unofficially" that my request for a visa has been granted. At least I have not been thrown out which, to say the least, is a good sign ...

Well let me close this for now. And many many thanx for all your help and your kindness uswards.

Love from us all

The saint and saintlets