This Beloved, is Moses Marie (A boy, despite the beautiful middle name).
And this is Melvin. My little kings.

Hello Dear Ones. Well, this week I do not have much to report, as I was only at the hospital for two days. The other three I spent at home, sick. I’d like to thank all of you who have been praying for my health however, because I have really only been sick twice in seven months, in four countries. So that’s really good. The fist time I was in India I was sick as a dog. The second, only once did I get sick. Now, I’ve been here for over a month, and just experienced my first bout. So thank you for you’re prayers. I have truly seen them at work. The first day I was sick I slept all day, due to nausea, and perhaps the built up tiredness of the last seven months. Then the next day was a bit better, I read a lot, and slept. The third day was feeling better, but still weak and thought it wise not to be carrying tiny, brand new little humans to and fro with shaky arms. So I stayed home and read. I began and finished Angela’s Ashes this week. It was good; however, I probably could have left it half way through. Now I have begun reading Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamont. There are parts where you laugh out loud, and parts that are so profound you have to stop and think for a moment, as she says things so “matter-of-factly”. It was a nice three days at home, however I found this morning as I left my house for the first time in three days, I had almost forgotten where I was. Then as soon as I was confronted with the harsh sun, mass amounts of people, rickshaws honking and “zipping” everywhere, I remembered just where I was. Yes. I am in India.

I began to think about the hospital this morning during my time of reading, writing and praying. I felt an immense conviction fall on me. I had spent the last three days at home. True, I was sick. But, some of these women are sick as well, many much more dyer than I. Some on the verge of death, and some just in labour. “Just in labour”. I can say that because I’ve never experienced it. I began to think of how for the last three days I had been imagining being everywhere else but where I truly am. I was in Ireland for a good part of the day as I read through the pages of Angela’s Ashes, I was in California as I read through Traveling Mercies, and as I day dreamt of my family back home. I was in Philadelphia, counting down the days till I return there. “Just over four more months.” I was in England, thinking about the trip I will take with my beautiful mother, and step dad this upcoming summer. And I will admit that we watched “Pride and Prejudice” and I was taken off to the 1800’s with long hair and long dresses, and big breakfasts in the morning in the country. Sigh. And I awoke today to find that I am better, and am India. As I realized again the magnitude of my present reality, I began to realize how wrong I’ve been. I’ve been dreaming about everywhere else but here, and here I am. Here I am, after three years of hard work, devotion, fighting, both on my part, and by so many others in my support. It has taken the commitment of so many to get me here, and I am dreaming of other places more comfortable than this. This is the problem I so often face, and am sure you could find entry after entry of my revelations and repentances. Yet, here I am again. I was saddened this morning by my lack of understanding of the deep need at my finger tips. I was shocked by my numbness, and self absorption. There are woman and children in this hospital that are desperate for a love that I have been given so freely. And here I am dreaming of places where people are too distracted to see the love I have to offer; never mind the fact that I am thousands of miles, and four months away from these places any way.

These women are amazing. These babies are amazing. This life I live presently is amazing. I am asking for your prayers. I am so in love with these women, with the doctors and with the nurses, with the babies. You know, I held a 700 gram baby the other day. The girls named him Roger. He died yesterday. He was the smallest little baby I’ve ever seen, perfect. And I got to stroke his sweet little face, and hold this tiny little hand. This life is such a blessing. I want to “be here”. I want to truly, truly live these next four months and some odd days. It’s funny, when I begin to understand the beauty of what I’m doing here, I begin to panic at how short of a time four months really is. The human mind is a funny thing. So fleeting. What a gift, to have such a strong Anchor. I need my Anchor. The Anchor that tells me how to love. The Anchor that gives me eyes to see these princes and princess disguised in rags. The people I touch daily are children of an almighty king. I am unworthy of such an honor. Pray for me. That I will walk in an attitude of gratitude and humbleness this next week. I want to understand truly, the beauty and the worth of these people at my finger tips. I want to be a woman truly alive. I pray the same for you. To the dry bones, we say, “LIVE.”