Dear Friends,
I’m going to Nepal! Well, you know that, yes. But as I peruse the web for the best priced ticket from Los Angeles to Kathmandu, everything starts to feel a bit more real. It’s actually happening. In just a few short weeks, I am moving to Nepal. My schedule is as follows:
February 9 – one last hoorah – an open house at the Ulasich residence (you’re invited)
February 12 – fly to California to spend some time in solitude at a camp, then kick it with my dear friend Josiah during those final days
February 19 – leave California en route to Nepal
February 21 – arrive in Nepal; begin my life there
Thank you – all of you who have been reading and sending me letters and emails and messages and texts, those who have been encouraging me and challenging me during this time. Thank you for your gifts, your support, and your prayers. In just a short time I have, quite amazingly, received enough support to buy my plane ticket and get started in Nepal. I do not, though, have enough money to last me all three years. I am looking for people who will commit to give monthly during my time in Nepal to reach the needed $1100/month. If you’re interested, there is a response card enclosed with the option of committing monthly. Also, there is a form for automatically deducting that from your account each month, if that’s the way you roll. As always, those ‘one-time gifts’ are accepted and appreciated.
The thing that gets me the most excited about going to Nepal is thinking about the people to whom I will be returning. The shopkeepers I shared tea with. The boys living on the streets. The girls of Karuna Ghar (our Home of Compassion). The staff and families of Word Made Flesh. They are beautiful people. I miss them. And I am eager to return.
I was just discussing with a friend how much easier it can be (for us) to live among the poor than in the U.S. suburbs. Despite the poverty of those in Nepal, they have much that I think is seldom found in the U.S. They know each other. All of the walls are torn away and the depths of who they are, with glaring needs, are there to be seen and known. There is something about sitting all night with a friend at the side of a baby in the hospital, struggling for life, placing a hand on her and praying for her. Or holding the hand of a person with leprosy or someone dying of AIDS. There is life there. It is raw and unmasked. There are things wrong with life – but it is shared with others – and that is how it should be. Amidst the poor, we are free to dive into the midst of their reality and know one another, because many of the facades have been pulled back. That is what I love about the holidays. In our family, many relatives come together. Amidst all of the mess in our lives, we come and spend time together. Sometimes we’re together long enough for the walls to break down, the messes to spill out and we share them with others. And we catch a glimpse of how life is supposed to be, with all of our joys and sorrows, we are together and we know each other.
A coworker recently called me a saint as I shared with her what I would be doing. Surely, moving to Nepal will not be easy. But know that as I go there, I will have the opportunity to experience life with others. Know that amidst the pain, the sorrow, the despair, Jesus comes and meets us and brings hope for us, and for our friends. For those who mourn are comforted. This is why I am thrilled to be moving back to Nepal. But hopefully, I will learn to bring some of this back to the U.S. where I find it much more difficult to know people – to know their needs, their desires, and their souls. Hopefully, through the occasional letter you read, you too might be able to learn with me how to do life together in a place where walls of affluence are keeping us separate. For this is our poverty. And we have much to learn.
Peace friends,