February 1995

Dear Saints and Aints.

Shalom from Nagpur.

I have waited in vain for inspiration to write this newsletter. So I had to discard the idea of titillating your literary taste buds with word pictures of moonlit dappled playgrounds, whispering trees and roses nodding their heads wisely to whatever gossip the bees bring to them; perish the thought of presenting the view of the city from the top of the Bernice Gerard Building - a gorgeous necklace of light. I shall simply content myself to relate the happenings of this place - in humdrum, everyday language ... All this of course while the caress of the cold wind from the north makes me shiver as I slowly pace back and forth on the moonlit, now empty playground. I wrap my shawl closer around me against the cold, unwilling to seek the shelter of my room. Worries and troubles seem more bearable when I am out in the open.

My room holds too many mementos that would fuel my uneasiness: A desk full of unanswered letters, a couple of magazines - two months behind schedule, unpaid bills, other office work ... The short tour through the dorms make things worse. The kids, wrapped in whatever sheets or blankets they can find, lie curled up in the big dormitories or the smaller rooms. Some, in order to share their resources, huddle close together while others, preferring independence to comfort, sleep alone trying at times to fit a small body under a sometimes even smaller blanket. One little boy, his eyes half open, stares unseeing at the ceiling, muttering something unintelligible. I briefly wonder where he is in his dreams and what the dreams are about. His face, looking peaceful, makes me think it is a happy dream. Another little boy, not far away, coughs, his body shaking violently. I stop for a moment, wondering what to do. He suddenly looks up, smiles, says, 'Bhaisahib' and, pulling his blanket tighter around himself, goes back to sleep. In one of the rooms the 10th and 12th graders are studying. Their exams are drawing closer. Looking at their tired, worried faces makes me wish I had not dropped in. I smile, say a few stupid things and quietly move back out onto the playground.

Now, less mindful of the biting wind, I continue my aimless wandering battling in my mind with our bills, debts, devalued Canadian Dollar, a stagnant income and stacks of incomplete work ... The partly completed buildings seem to mock me. "Quo Vadis, Man of Faith? Where are you going?" I love the quiet of the night ... To mind come the happenings of the months that so effortlessly slipped by. And with the memories my mood changes from sadness to joy, from fear to faith, matching my feeling to the shadow-dappled playground, a picture the moon, skipping in and out of tattered clouds - paints with shadows and light ...

There was the death of a little boy in early July. The morning after, floods ravaged the area and left us cut off from the rest of the world for several days and when communication was established, it meant walking through water and mud. Then everybody got conjunctivitis - including myself. Looking at the monsoon induced mess is one thing; looking at it through half-closed swollen eyes is another. Of course - there was the plague with the fear it brought and nightmares it conjured up. What a waste of good worries. Nothing happened to us ... The constant lack of money is the greatest burden. We struggle with a 1992 budget paying 1995 prices which, like the number of kids, have doubled ... We are months behind in paying our wages to our employees; they almost went on strike and the things we had to hear were not nice even if revealing. The kids had no school books and no school clothes, The school threatened to throw them out if the fees were not forthcoming. And God seemed to be silent ... Yet those times he talked to me and encouraged me - though the situation remained unchanged - cheered and encouraged me. When one evening, weary beyond belief, I told God, "Father, aren't you overdoing things a little bit?" He replied, "What is happening to you is for my glory." Implied was, "And for your good." Our God is great and beautiful, kind and wonderful beyond our wildest imagination ... I never get tired of saying that. Looking at things from His point of view, from His perspective makes things easier to bear. Unfortunately it does not change the creditors view about us ...

The 31st of December was one of the happiest days for me. Yohan became officially president of the Society. In his acceptance speech he said something like this: I came here 14 years ago with a pair of half-pants, a shirt and a towel and God prospered me; I came as a Zero He raised me to be president of this Society. I am very happy tonight"

Of course other nice things happened ... One day while yapping with a bunch of kids while working, I remarked, "I am a bad old chap." One of the kids shook his head and said, "If you were a bad man this place would not exist." Whatever, it is nice to get a pat on the back from your own kids ...

I am now Senior Pastor of a little slum Church with great potential ... A bunch of friends and I formed a society called "New Hope Ministry" and by May we should have established three more small churches - one more in Nagpur and two in some small villages. With Yohan in charge of Prem Sewa I now have more time to teach and preach. Another nice thing that happened is Dave and Lorraine Dickson, a young couple from BC, who are spending a year here helping us with a variety of things around the home. Among other things we bake bread and cookies. My first humble effort, a loaf of bread, fell off the table and broke a floor tile ...

Saints we love you. We are busy doing that for which you spend your hard-earned money and that cuts down the time for letter writing. I promise you, when we come on furlough January 1996 for, may be five months, we will be able to catch up with all the gossip.

Love from us all –

Frank, Yohan, Staff and Kids.