Onions: political miracle?

For the past week or so, Bryon and I have been staying with Father Gilbert, a friend of the family, at his children's home in Mysore (about three hours from Bengalore).

News here from House of Love is that India and Pakistan are now bffs.

I'll explain: today, because I didn't pay very close attention in history (sorry, Olathe South) I wanted to know the specific reason Pakistan and India were not friends.

The kids here will play chess and assign one side India and one Pakistan, and the children at New Life had a simple Game Boy-like video game in which they would always call the enemies Pakistan. I wanted to know the full story.

I asked Harry, one of the older boys, why there were such shaky relations. Bryon told him to keep the answer short, to three sentences. Harry gave us a look that said three sentences would be difficult, thought for a while, and then simply said, "Because they are bad people."

Some of the other children chimed in, saying they were terrorists, that they had bombs, etc., but nothing specific. It was sad to see hatred indoctrinated into such young children.

Then Priya said, "No, they are friends now!" I asked her to explain, and told her that to come to India, we had to get visas, and that if you were from Pakistan, you couldn't get a visa. (The official clause says something along the lines that if you are from Pakistan, game over. [Um, edit: I was informed by a Pakistani friend of mine that they can, indeed, get visas. I'm just here to uphold the stereotype that Americans are underinformed; you're welcome.] If you hold dual citizenship, say with Pakistan and the US, you must apply under your American citizenship and renounce your Pakistani ties. The process also asks if any of your parents or grandparents were ever affiliated with Pakistan. It's serious. But anyway.)

Priya elaborated, and because of her thick accent I had to clarify: "So, Pakistan gave India onions and now they're friends?" Priya nodded, adding that Obama wanted them to be friends.

Whew. Glad that's over. I'm also happy that both countries could put to rest such an extended dispute thanks to a shipment of vegetables.

I knew I loved onions for a reason.

Be home in a few days. Happy New Year! Don't worry, folks at home (can I call you "homies"?), I'll test drive 2011 for you...or at least the first 11.5 hours of it.

Lots of love,
Jessica

Elisha.

I've started this post many times, to tell you about the most hilarious and incredible boy on this entire subcontinent, in my humble and unbiased opinion. I don't know where to start.

I've tried starting from the beginning, how Bryon and I came to start sponsoring him. I tried to tell about how securely he has captured my heart as he has slowly come out of his shell over the past week. Words don't suffice for what I feel for this seven-year-old, it seems, so I will just have to understate the matter: I love him, and he is wonderful. Instead I want to share how I have seen myself become a well-intentioned hypocrite over a beautiful boy named Elisha.

Before I describe that, however, I'd like to make an unfair sweeping generalization (you know, while I'm at it and doing things I find unattractive in others). Americans have a savior complex. We have seen how wonderful and prosperous an industrialized, democratic society can be, and we have elected ourselves to positions of beneficent superiority, bent on rescuing others from the muck and grime of anything we perceive as oppression, injustice, or lack of the rights to education or McDonald's.

But really, (now I'll speak for myself alone) I feel that I have been indoctrinated to believe that what I have is "more" and anything else is "less." I believe it was no one's fault, really, that I didn't fully grasp the concept that "different" could be just as good.

Which brings me to the point of my Indian baby, Elisha. Bryon and I have both fallen in love with him, and have both, at times, expressed our desire to bring him home with us. When I intially arrived, I saw a boy, too small for his age, with severely-decayed teeth, wearing a dirty, faded Titanic shirt (complete with Leo and Kate) for the first three days we were there. He was a tiny, shy boy whose entirety of life possessions fit in a tackle box. With no parents, all he had was his younger brother. He had so little, and I wanted to give him everything I thought he needed.

As the week has gone on, though, I have had to come to terms with the idea that adopting a child like Elisha may not be what is best for him. Despite what I had initially thought, he has everything he needs and, I honestly believe, he wants: he has food, shelter, an education, friends, his brother...he's happy. And on top of that, this life--this country--is all he knows. Ripping him away from his only security, his quiet, simple way of life, and bringing him to a life of flush toilets, supermarkets, mandatory shoes, and mega-everything would be unfair at the least.

Instead of "fixing" all the sadness I see in the world, I've been learning here to appreciate the positives of a different life. I absolutely want what's best for Elisha, his brother Rajesh, and all the children, but I'm beginning to understand just how beautiful their lives already are, and how little help they might currently need. (To be honest, I'm a little jealous of how simple their lives are. You can wear the same clothes twice here!)

If, some day, he wants to go to America (or Germany, or Kenya, or wherever), I already know I'd want to help facilitate that. But for now, I recognize the fact that I need to put my selfish desire for his goodnight kisses and whole-body laughs aside to shift my focus to encouraging him to lead the life he wants for himself, whatever (and wherever) that may be.

I hope that is all coherent. We played some violent version of Red Rover today and I got my brain scrambled a little bit. So the Cliff Notes version is that this post could be titled "Elisha, The Boy I Want To Adopt and Hug Every Day" or "If It Ain't Broke, Don't Fix It."

Love you all so much.
Jessica!

(This is also the background on my phone. Just sayin'.)

Regarding: walking on cultural eggshells (and failing).

Because of cultural traditions and local conservative values, Bryon and I decided to keep our relationship on the down-low, at least when it comes to how the Indians (and especially the children) see us, which has meant basically no touching of any kind, etc.

What I find interesting is how much little ones can perceive, even with a rather thick language barrier. The following are examples from the last few days of when the girls have understood more than I would have liked, in a hilarious way.

DEVI, pointing: Jiseeka, brotha, brotha? [Jessica, is Bryon your brother?]
JESSICA: No.
DEVI: Husbahn'?
JESSICA: No, no. Friend.
DEVI: Friend?
JESSICA: Friend.
DEVI: Juuust friend?
JESSICA, uncomfortable: Yes, yes, friend, friend...

-----------------

LAKSHMI: Jiseeka, you marries? [Are you married?]
JESSICA: No, no...
LAKSHMI: No??
JESSICA: Nope.
LAKSHMI, gesturing: Bron no husbahn'? [Bryon's not your husband?]
JESSICA: No.
LAKSHMI: Friend?
JESSICA: Yes, just friend.
LAKSHMI: No husbahn?? [Why is he not your husband?]
JESSICA, laughing: No, no. No husband.
LAKSHMI: You, Bron, marries. [You and Bryon should get married.]
(She takes hold of both Bryon and my hands and brings them together in front of her; we both draw away like we've touched a hot stove.)
JESSICA: No, no! Why marries Bron? Perrico? [Telegu, the local language, for "Why?"]
LAKSHMI, pauses to find the English words, then: Your face, very beautiful. Face, face, same. Good match. Very supah. [You are both good-looking, so it would be a good match.]

Awesome how we don't speak more than fifty words of the same language, and yet, huge concepts are still conveyed. Kids are neat.

As a side note, because the kids have a pretty limited vocabulary, they say "very super" with their hand making what we would consider an "a-okay" sign for just about anything. It is hilarious and, I have surprisingly found, highly applicable. Trust you will see me use it back on the States.

Still trying to come up with a blog about Elisha. Still don't know how to convey him in words. Just come to India and meet him, mmk? You won't regret it! Promise!

With love and the hilarity of awkward moments,
Jessica

I feel that I should write, considering we've been here about three days now. As much as I'd like to share something eloquent and well thought-out, I'm afraid my lack of proper sleep will prevent such a post. You can thank the friendly neighborhood rooster, who is apparently under the (severely mistaken) impression that I prefer to start each day at 4:30.

Let me first say that I love this country. It is so vibrant, so alive, that I can't help but be excited to just be here. That excitement, however, has unfortunately been only in theory at times; I have been so mentally/emotionally/spiritually exhausted over the end of this school semester (which wrapped up twenty-four hours before my flight left) that interaction has sometimes been overwhelming. While I love people and being social, I also cherish Me Time, something that isn't very plentiful on this trip. It breaks my heart that these beautiful girls have been in want of love and attention for so long that they literally cling to me any time I walk anywhere around the grounds, but it's even harder for me that I can't be what they so desperately desire because I've been so tired; I find myself easily irritated not only by these precious children begging for attention, but with the petty complaints of my fellow travelers. It's just not the type of person I wanted--or want--to be.

These children and their constant one-question quiz, "My name? My name?" are, to me, such a reflection of one of our most basic needs: to be known. Not in any sort of way that implies celebrity or enhanced status, but almost a validation that, yes, I exist, and someone knows else knows it. I think it is one of our base desires, one that is fulfilled in many of our lives by friends and family, regardless of how imperfect. It is both beautiful and heartbreaking that, for these children, a simple handshake and smile can brighten their day.

I woke with the following verse running through my head:
Create in me a clean heart, oh God, and renew your steadfast spirit within me.
This verse has slowly been changing me, and things are always getting better.

Switching topics: we planned on doing health assessments while we were here, and we've completed those for all the boys. In general, they are healthy, just skinny. We saw some scabies, general owies, one case of ringworm? (How do you have just ONE case of ringworm?) an ear infection, eye infection, asthma, and one kid with some raspy chest sounds that I wanted tested for TB. Other than that, the boys seemed in pretty good physical shape. Some had signs of rough pasts: one boy had a thick, horizontal scar across his throat, and another's arm was glossy, with similar stripes going across his torso and down his leg. (The latter told me later that it was from "current" and pointed at a light switch. Yowza.)

All their physical scars must pale in comparison to their emotional scars--loss, abandonment, abuse, neglect, chronic fear--but in most cases, you can't tell by looking. These kids are so, so happy and loving; they are such a blessing.

There is one in particular who has stolen my heart. His name is Elisha, and he's the cutest little boy on this entire subcontinent. I'll tell you more about him when I'm hopefully not so low on sleep. We'll see if that can happen. (I'm lookin' at you, rooster.)

Sorry this was so disjointed. I'm so tired I keep forgetting what I'm saying as I talk. Oh well.

Love you all!
Jessica

Grounded.

Had things gone according to plan, we would probably be about halfway to Chennai right now. However, that's not the case...instead we're in London still, in lofty, airline-paid five-star hotel rooms with down comforters and animals made of towels and eucalyptus-scented granite showers with--

Oh wait. Sorry, I haven't slept really since we left yesterday; I must be delirious. We're in our second hour of waiting to be cleared to push off from the gate, with at least another hour ahead of us. How did this happen? I'll give the Cliff's Notes version:
Got to London on time. Yay!
It's cold in London.
Plane needed to be de-iced.
De-icing crew (They have that? What a terrible job. That's why I'm going to college.) could not be acquired in a timely manner. Perhaps thirty minutes pass.
Finally saddle up to the gate.
They have to call an engineer because a door won't open? Or close? I'm not sure.
Finally free! Head to check in for our next flight.
Which has closed.
Wait in line for over an hour.
(They fed us, which was nice.)
Get rerouted through Delhi, which is northwest from where we need to be.
Most (all but four) of our party will go to Vishak directly, which is closer to the children's home. Also, no twelve houyr train ride, which is a +/- because I've heard that's an experience to be had.
The other four (Schaun and family) are going to Chennai and will meet the gang down south soonish. This is all assuming this delay won't change those plans.

As I'm writing this, the captain tells us we're pushing off to go taxi in a "remote hold area," which may help our wait time? He says it'll still be another forty-ish minutes. "At least we're pushing off and feel like we're starting on our journey."

I mostly just feel more stranded and anxious. Uh, yes, sir? Do you have some Valium on that snack cart?

I'm fluctuating between being upset and finding this whole thing hilarious. I'm starting to believe that the entire sub-continent of India is a hoax, and that we may never get there.

Kidding. Have to shut my phone off. This is a good sign!

Jessica

Oh snap.

I leave in, what, ten days? When did that happen?

I'm finally getting the chance to get truly excited about this trip; this semester has been crazy with school and extra hours at work, so a few months ago, even the thought of hopping on a plane right as Christmas break started was exhausting. Now, the end of my second-to-last undergraduate semester is near(!!!!!) and the opportunity to engage more fully with the kiddos at New Life Children's Home will be awesome; this trip is all about what I love: hanging out with hilarious children, immersing myself in a different culture, and providing healthcare.

December 1 was World AIDS Day. I went to a fancy-schmacy luncheon here in Kansas City, and while it bothered me that all the money spent on catering and Chocolate Torte To Die For (but seriously; it was wonderful), could have been contributed to AIDS research or relief efforts, it was still an event of which I was honored to be a part. The keynote speaker, Joseph Milan, Jr., was articulate and inspiring, and made a point to echo the theme assigned this year by The World AIDS Campaign: Universal Access and Human Rights.

Regardless of any political affiliations (as this is a time of flux for federally-funded healthcare and there's no shortage of opinions), I couldn't help but be convicted of the concept that the lack of access to healthcare--even the basic concepts of it--is a human rights issue; to me, it's as basic as the need for healthy food and clean water: healthcare and health-related knowledge, be it the opportunity for a child to eat normally after a cleft palate repair or how an HIV+ mother in an developing country can safely feed her child, should come standard. Not that I'm pro-nose-job for every twenty-something with low self-esteem, but I do believe access to the basics should be available, and that patients should contribute some form of payment for those services, if at all possible.

I'm not looking for a debate, that's just where my heart is right now, and that's why I'm so excited to love on those two-hundred-something little Indian kids through healthcare.

Stoked!
Jessica

Cool news!

Friends! The internet lets us do some pretty incredible things. I'm writing this message from my phone, for which I don't have the internet. It's like sending an email to the blog itself. Fantastic, yes?

The game plan is to sign up for unlimited international email a few days before I leave for India. That way, I'll be able to blog...even in want of a computer!

What a cool day.
With love,
Jessica

Next up.

So I'd mentioned in passing before that India plans were in the preliminary stages. School has been crazy busy, and now I'm only six weeks away from the end of the semester/the next adventure.

My last final is December 15; I leave for India the next day. I'll probably tweet (hopefully) daily like I did last time I left...people at home have told me they like to know I'm alive and stuff. Not sure how accessible a computer is going to be, so we'll see about blogging.

Anyway: the game plan for India is exciting. Mostly, we're going to hang out at a children's home our church sponsors and celebrate Christmas with the kids. There's about two hundred of them, and since they don't have access to very regular medical attention and I have a nursing background, we're going to give them all a quick head-to-toe and test kiddos we're concerned about for HIV and TB.

After that, most of the group goes home. Bryon and I are going to stay in the country, though, and catch a flight south-er, to Bengaluru, Karnataka. My mom had a friend who is a priest and has a children's home of his own in Mysore, so we're going to hang out with him and his kids for a few days and then head home. Should be fun! I'll post more detailed plans later...for now, I'm off to enjoy a crisp autumn Saturday.

Love love love,
Jessica

Delayed Detachment.

So, this time last month, I was just landing in South Africa. I've been home for two and a half weeks, and I still haven't written, I know. I've thought a lot about it, but just haven't even began typing before now.

I can't count how many people have asked, "Jessica! How was Africa?!" Where am I supposed to start? I was there for two weeks. Some of my friends came home after three months; I can't even imagine trying to explain their experience. But here, I'll try to say at least something.

The first week in Durban was...definitely trying. It was beautiful, for sure, but I quickly learned the downside to South Africa's cultural precedent of communalism and what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine: no personal time. Ever. It was great that Elani let me use the internet on her phone, but I can only think of one time in Durban where I was actually alone, and that's when I skipped something else early in the morning. I just wanted Me Time!

Each day there was pretty similar: wake up, prayer at seven, breakfast at eight, worship at nine, training until noon, lunch, training until five, supper, prayer, worship, fall into bed from exhaustion. A few times we went to the beach or the mall, but generally our time was scheduled (most agreed: over-scheduled).

But through all this, I really did grow incredibly close to the team there, both the Americans and the Africans, and by the time I went home, the idea that I wouldn't be sharing the bed with two other people was strange and borderline-saddening. It was strange how well we knew each other, considering the fact that on July 25, the only thing we had in common was our swollen ankles (thank you for that, two consecutive nine-hour flights).

The second week, though...words can't begin to describe. It was then that we actually got the chance to go into the schools, talk to kids, and really see fantastic transformations. I'll be honest: I wasn't completely behind the curriculum we were supposed to be teaching. It was abstinence-only, which I've never been a fan of. Here in America, I'm an AIDS Peer Educator*, and I consider that more comprehensive, so, admittedly, I rolled my eyes a bit at our lesson plan.

(* I do this through a program called the Dramatic AIDS Education Program. Basically we go into junior highs, high schools, and lockdown facilities and right off the bat present a monologue as an HIV-positive teenager. The kids think we're positive, then we say, essentially, PSYCH, I'm a nursing student and he's an actor and lets talk about sex. And the kids ask us whatever's on their mind; we answer their questions honestly and work in some key points. The program has an almost twenty-year history and has been pretty successful in changing kids' habits and clearing up misconceptions.)

But one of the coolest parts of the trip was seeing radical change in these kids when I was heartily expecting some half-hearted response: Jesus basically said, "Hey, uh, Jess. Hi, Christ here; I think we've met, but I just wanted to remind you: I can do anything. Regardless of whether or not you want to believe. So just drop the know-it-all attitude and watch this..."

On the first day, we had the kids write about whatever was on their minds or in their communities. We heard about rape, murder, theft, orphaned children, sick families, financial uncertainty, and lots more rape. The majority of the letters ended in "Please help me," or "What do I do?" I was shocked by the heartbreak that these kids had endured, and the inherent strength exemplified by the fact that they were still alive, but what impressed me even more was that they all had something beautiful in common: hope. The fact that they were asking for help and advice showed that they still held onto some belief, however faint it may be, that they were intended for something better, and that all the terrible things they'd seen and experienced didn't have to be permanent. (If only I could remember that more consistently.)

Two days later, we had them write again. You would have thought a completely different classroom of kids wrote these letters; they were radically changed. They said things like, "Thank you so much for being here; I've never been able to tell anyone what my cousin did to me. I feel so free now," and "I have hope now. I know I can change," and "I learned what it means to be a real man. I have to respect women." Especially that latter statement is a huge step in the right direction for this community. Women are consistently objectified, and men are taught (usually unintentionally and by example) that if they want it, they can take it, regardless of if the woman agrees to it.

I wish I could convey more fully the emotion I felt on the last day, but I'm afraid that within the constraints of human language, it will always be outrageously understated. I love each of those beautiful kids. The majority of them ended up pledging abstinence, and I'll fully admit that many of them might not hold onto it until marriage, but I'm fine with that. If they stopped having sex for a week, awesome; they reduced their risk of contracting HIV or getting pregnant for a week. Beyond the physical, though: the Spirit did something in that classroom that week. The ladies realized that they were not worthless; the young men began to understand that they they can choose to change stereotypes. If only for that moment, those kids were different, and it was the one of the highest privileges of my life thus far to be allowed to witness it.

Five of our team are staying in the area for the next year to support the kids we were able to teach that second week. Prayers for them would be awesome.

One day, we got to visit an orphan care center. I could write about that, too, but I feel that I've already gone too long. You can view my abridged trip album here, but here are some of my favorites, as well:



These the four in the middle picture are some of my kids; I have no idea who the rest of them are. I was an instant celebrity and people would walk up to me and say, "Will you take a picture with me?" or just whip out their camera phone and save us all the hassle of actually posing. My hair was also petted regularly.


This guy is incredible, and yes I bought one of those paintings, and yes he'll paint you one. It was only like thirty dollars.


I don't know these kids' names, we never spoke a word thanks to a thick language barrier, but we played for an hour and I love them to pieces.





Anyway. That's a little glimpse into my trip. Planning for India is underway and that should be absolutely awesome as well. Love each of you.

Jessica

Game time.

Today's the day, gang! (Finally!)

It still doesn't seem completely real that in less than twelve hours I'll be on my plane headed to London! Whoa!

I'm mostly packed. I just gotta get a few more last-minute items in my backpack (which I've been calling my "go bag" like I'm some sort of expectant mother?)

I'm ready. Our rough itinerary (all times local because I'm terrible at converting time zones):
3:45p - 5:15p - KC to Chicago
8:10p - 9:45a July 25 - Chicago to London
7:05p- 6:55a July 26 - London to Johannesburg
9:00a - 1010a - Joburg to Durban

We'll hang out in Durban for a week, then Lusikisiki for the next week. Then August 8:

12:00n - 1:10p - Durban to Joburg
11:00p - 9:15a August 9 - Joburg to London
11:40a - 3:40p London to Dallas
6:50p - 8:20p - Dallas to homeeeee!

Quick funny story: When I first looked at my itinerary print-out, I misread it and thought my last flight just left me in Dallas. I had a baby-sized panic attack like, Uhhmmmm I don't know anyone in Dallas! How would I get home?? But then I saw that I do, in fact, have a connecting flight.

I'm sure it'll all go by so, so quickly, and I just pray that we're all able to soak it in while giving to the people there; I hope we learn while teaching. Thanks for everyone's support up to this point, and I'm sure the whole team would agree when I say that we'd love for you to keep us in your prayers especially during these next two weeks. Love you all. I'll be home soon.

It's the final countdown!

Hi friends!

Yesterday we had our final pre-departure meeting for South Africa; basically I'm completely stoked. We talked a little more specifically about what we're going to be doing and when and where, but it's all subject to change, so I'm just planning on getting on a plane July 24 and just going along with whatever comes my way.

Things have been--and will be, for the next week and a half--pretty crazy. I have to wrap up my summer class before I leave. (Just for the record, I didn't choose to have class. We're forced into it. I'm loving my pediatric rotation, but missing my usual "summer vacay.") Basically I have to teach myself about 25% of the course material, finish up my contributions to the group project that will be presented while I'm gone, take two quizzes, a test, and the final. In the next eleven days. Wow.

As The Intern, I also have to pack supplies to take and assign folks to escort the suitcases three thousand miles down to the Dark Continent. I've already packed six suitcases (and their customs manifests--there's the kicker) and have at least two or three more to do tomorrow at work. And! Good news! I'm one of the people who has been assigned to update our global missions blog while we're on the ground there. I'm also still planning on updating my Twitter, so check that out too! (Also: you don't need a Twitter to read it! Think of it as, like, a mini-blog to which I can send text messages.)

Here's what's awesome: when I write all this stuff out, it sounds horribly taxing; and while, yes, I'm tired, there's no doubt in my mind that South Africa is where I'm supposed to be, at least for those two weeks. I am so excited, and so incredibly blessed that I've been given this opportunity. Thanks, God. Props. Prayers right now are for getting the pre-everything done, outrageously restful sleep, and a heart to do all that we're asked with graciousness and excellence.

Also: another pretty cool thing is that we're going to have about an eight-hour layover in London, so one of our leaders is setting up a little tour there. So that should be pretty neat, too. Hopefully I'll get an obnoxious picture with the guards at Buckingham Palace. That's definitely on the list.

Hi all.

Hey friends and family--

Here's where I'll write from Africa (or India...or wherever I find myself that isn't home...)

To the right is a feed from Twitter, because I can send text messages to there when I don't have access to the internet; you can read those texts even if you don't have a Twitter, so it's bookmark-able, if you're into that. (And if you have a one, follow me! I promise I'll only tweet when I'm on a trip!)

Here's what's up with this upcoming trip: It's called Beat The Drum, because it's based around an award-winning movie by the same name. We'll spend the first week getting trained and hanging out with some locals, and the second we'll be going into two high schools a day to teach kids about Jesus and HIV/AIDS and how to not-get the latter.

The schools we'll be going into are rough. At one, they've had eight suicides in the last twelve months, and at another, they regularly have 10% of their female students pregnant at one time. Yikes.

Here's a vague game plan with a map for reference:

We'll be flying in to J-burg from London (whoo 16-hour flight!) and then taking another plane to Durban. We'll be staying just outside Durban in a town called Winklespruit for training and stuff.

Then August 1 we'll be heading down to our base camp in Lusikisiki, where our classy accommodations have recently been upgraded from "big tents" to "big rooms" with (get this!) flushing toilets! And running water! (To be honest, I was pretty stoked about camping, but I guess I'll take a shower occasionally.)

The area we'll be staying/working in is called the Transkei region ("trans" = across, "Kei" = the River Kei) and when South Africa decided to get involved in all that apartheid business, the Transkei said, "no thanks," so they didn't get a whole lot of the funding and development that other parts o the country got. It's grassy, gorgeous, and just like any postcard you'd see from South Africa. If you're in the mood to feel a little jealous, go ahead and type it into Google Images.

I also have the opportunity to visit Hluhluwe-Umfolozi Game Reserve which I hear is about two and a half hours from...somewhere we'll be. I think north, along the coast. I'm not exactly sure on the details, but I paid the extra money to go because it should be legiiiiiit.

FYI: This is the blog for my boss/lead missions guy/trip leader, who might be able to write a little more often than me.

We'll head home August 8, and be back in Kansas City 8:20 pm on August 9.

Also! Plans are being made to go hang out with some orphans, folks with HIV/AIDS, and a group with Hansen's disease (leprosy) in India this December!(!!!!!!) Contributions/prayers/good vibes welcome. :)

Love you all,
Jessica!