December 1997

Dear Saints and Aints.

Shalom from Nagpur.

As the composition of the perfect newsletter is taking too much time, that neither you nor I can afford, I am sending you my second best ... Due to the absence of the "kiss of the Muses" or from any others for that matter, it will be but a dull, unadorned communication that, hopefully, will express my gratefulness for your love and friendship uswards and my dreams of hope for great times ahead for you all. And so, regretfully -

I will leave out references to yellow rosebuds nodding on their stems in front of my window, of dew on leaf and blade and grass turning the field into a silver gray carpet, of wind softly sighing through the eucalyptus tress whispering wayfarer tales to all who care to listen and of the slanting sun turning into diamonds - common drops of dew...

I will not make mention of the smell of the Queen of the Night flower turning my room into a perfumery nor of the rustling of the wind in the banana plant that sounds like a bunch of tattle tales having come for a conference. Unsung will be the little red and yellow flowers blooming on my compound wall hailing - without sound but by sheer beauty - the bees to come for a feast.
No reference can be made to rain drops turning into molten silver droplets by the light pouring through my window or turning into liquid gold by the light of the lonely bulb at my gate.

The sun rising majestically out of an ocean of mist has no place here nor the glorious beams of light transforming the awakening landscape into a mighty hallelujah chorus of beauty. Its myriad rays of light having conquered the dark look into every nook and cranny proclaiming the glorious tiding - day has arrived.

Omitted will be any reference to the sounds of birds chirping joyfully in our garden and the happy note of a lark rising into the air with an inimitable song of joy that touches my heart and stirs within it a longing to follow it upwards and upwards into the very sky ...

"When in the setting sun every streamlet is gleaming. When a tremulous glow spreads over the fields of grain. A behest to be glad that seems from all things being. Does arise in my heart with pain. A behest to explore the utmost joy of being, in this day of my life - there while the evening's fair. For we shall all depart - as goes yon water fleeing. That to the sea. But we are where?"

I love these lines and even more so because, unlike the poet, who is uncertain as to where his path will lead him, I am as certain of my destination as "yon waters fleeing" . . . Also, unlike the sun who's conquests will again be swallowed up by night and darkness, ours never will be taken again from us. Light will follow light -­for eternity. No trail of darkness will ever follow it. We will leave a trail of light; we will retain our conquests for ever ...

Yohan and the staff turned Prem Sewa Day, which we had on the 25th of November into a beautiful, well organized event. The stars must have looked down with envy at the strings of colorful lights on boughs and building and the rows of little boys on either side of the road holding candles to light the path from the program area to the guesthouse where a simple sumptious supper was served.

In my mind's eye, I saw the various pillars of Memorial Stones that marked our progress over the 20 years of work with kids. The developments of our homes especially Nagpur and the girls' home, the growth in number from the few kids to over 900, the change in many kids who having left the home now turn to Bible college and the ministry ...

God has been good beyond our wildest expectations. It was His wisdom that guided me, His strength that enabled me and His love that kept me at the job when discouragement would urge me flee, your gifts of love that made it possible for me and a bunch of kids to accomplish all this. What amazes me, God has used my weakness rather than my strength, my fears rather than my faith, spiritual inadequacies rather than sufficiency to work through me. I marvel. I simply marvel. God qualifies the disqualified. Who is beyond the pale of the caring heart of the Eternal?

The other day I smiled thinking, that whenever I try to help God, He will probably say to himself: "Let him do it, We will fix it later. "

And so our present building projects are moving towards completion, not as fast as I want them to move but - move they do. Once a project is half done my mind is already on the next job and the next. It seems, God finally trusts me with the master plan, being sure I can't mess up things too badly now. Everything is laid out well. In my defense, I did not mess up too badly, only I did not dream large enough, did not envision a thousand kids ... We are not making that mistake at the girls' home - we are dreaming of a thousand girls ...

Yohan plans to go to his village spending Christmas there. His younger brother will get married sometime the middle of December. This besides, he badly needs a break. He looks tired, is weary and needs to get away from the constant demand on him by staff and outside people.

I did not manage to go to Germany after all in September. Now I told the Lord I want to go March 21St. I figure I might as well set a date. By that time it will warm up in Germany and also the kids will be on their way home. Not that I am needed here to look after them. I trained our kids here well. I feel deeply and genuinely satisfied with life. Of course, I can stand a lot of improvement but have come to the point where I refuse to keep at myself for not being better than I am. Loving myself and God will improve me not nagging at myself. And if it does not improve me, I will at least be a happier even if "unimproved" soul ...

Well, I did not intend to write a book but somehow it seems I managed anyhow. As we are called to be Living Epistles, just consider me an Amplified Version -
"The Good News in Broken English" . . .

In closing, let me again thank you for your wonderful friendship, your gifts of prayers, letters and money and precious thoughts uswards.

In His great love.

Frank, Yohan and Kids.