With each new day...

Every morning in this conflicted land only serves to further entangle my every thought, prayer, and heartbeat. I can pick up the scent of Indian air on my arm as I lay curled up in my complimentary airplane blanket, the rays of consciousness just beginning to pierce my sleeping mind. Distant whisperings from the hearts I have come to love gently pull me into this world. When I gather the courage to open my eyes and greet the rapidly approaching day, I am warmed by the sight that tightens its grip on my soul with each passing dawn. Lined up across the window, their precious faces pressed against the glass and their imploring fingers cupping all-seeing eyes, the little ones that have filled my tomorrows watch and wait for us to rise. They excitedly report each new development, repeatedly whispering our names to themselves in the hopes that it will hurry us to their arms.

Their love leaves me broken. Their loyalty is something neither valiant leader nor great king has ever experienced. Their every breath fills me with shining truth. I have never before felt so exposed, so convicted, or so entirely unworthy than during my time here. Since we have but a few sentences of mutual understanding, our surface communication has been limited to greetings, thanks, and ‘I love you’. I can no longer hide behind my qualifications or my lengthy explanations. They simply look at my face and know. I can no longer impress with my resume, or contort my character with words to seem more appealing to the untrained eye. They see directly through the maze I have surrounded myself with. Because of this, I honestly believe that without feeling obligated to fill the space between us with accounts of our life experiences, lessons learned, hopes and dreams, success and failures, the very core of our beings closes the distance and intertwines our spirits. It is a connection that surpasses explanation. It is a breathtaking moment that I think God delights in, when a heart just as it was created meets another of its kind.

The constancy and comfort of my Johnson County life has no place here. I am astounded by the resolute and resounding acquiescence to the object of survival; if one’s in a hurry, it is no problem to simply form another lane on the wrong side of the road. Stop signs are ignored, personal space irrelevant, and all American senses of propriety, time, and social cues completely disregarded. This is a place that tears down my safety net entirely, leaving me raw and impulsive. Being so alive, so real, has been a pleading prayer of mine for the longest time. It is almost painful to realize that upon arriving home, the walls are sure to go back up if I let them. But I plan to fight it with all that I am. I want these unparalleled children to forever have a place beyond barriers, no matter the tears and hurt that comes with that vulnerability. They have pried open my heart with undeserved tenderness. I take so much in my life for granted, but that honor is something that will resound for all eternity.

They called it love...and now I know it's love.

Her name is Lakshmi. She has a smile that begins with a sparkle in her eyes and ends with a giggle that touches my soul. Her hand fits perfectly in mine and her heart was made to pull me into its beauty. We wander the grounds of the New Life Children’s Home arm in arm, much of the time spent with her nervously checking every few minutes to make sure I still remember her name. When we see my father, she turns to me with an impish grin and exclaims, “My father!” No matter how many times this exchange occurs, I can’t help but laugh and reply in protest, “No! My father!” We argue back and forth until finally we agree that he is our father, and that makes us sisters. It is a conclusion that never fails to delight us both.

This world is unlike any I have ever known. It is vibrant. It is insistent. It is alive. From my diluted perspective it seems that each moment is a raw fight for survival. The rickshaw drivers run with the weight of their family, their homes, and their lives on their backs. They make the choice between earning money for the present and cutting their life expectancy in half with the slow death of suffocating manual labor. The beautiful people that face abject poverty every day make the choice to build their shelter out of dried palm leaves, knowing that any moment their decision may end their lives in a fury of flames. In a matter of seconds, one spark could literally bring their lives crashing down on top of them. The darling children who press themselves against me, their stomachs swollen from malnutrition and their eyes unsure of what I have come for, have all had to make the choice between allowing their thirst to overcome them or to drink from the filthy water sources that are responsible for 80% of sickness worldwide. These are the realities that have sliced open the bubble of happiness that has surrounded me since being here. Thankfully, my blessed relief has come in the form of the children that have been rescued from these harsh realities.  When they tug at my hand, I feel a welcomed tightening on my heart. God is good.

This morning we began our journey to reach villages that Wells for Life has recently brought clean water to. The car window created a frame for the flashing insights into injustices, triumphs, and realities. I felt torn between our celebrated destination and my burning desire to know the story behind hooded eyes and veiled pain. The landscape rose towards the heavens in layers of color-rich rice paddies and palm trees embracing the sky, mountains that seemed alive enough to move, and perfectly muddied waters reflecting the entire breathtaking scene. It never ceases to amaze me that such beauty could be intertwined with a part of God’s creation I will probably never understand.

My bag is lost somewhere in the world, condemned to roam for an unknown amount of time. The clothes on my back are borrowed while the dust and smell of this land are beginning to coat my skin. My heart aches with the love I have experienced and the suffering I have witnessed in this provocative country.

The past few days have been entirely indescribable. But as is my style, I will no doubt do my best to describe the indescribable over the next few weeks, though I have braced myself for failure. Please pray for us as we experience the joy of God’s love with the incredible people of India.

So long, farewell, adieu to yieu and yieu and yieu.

In the spirit of Christmas (or, more accurately, the spirit of almost-Christmas...but let’s not get complicated) I have a question, a relatable situation, and a point to make. And now, let me call your attention to the first order of business.

Question: Do you recall the part in The Grinch Stole Christmas when our furry green friend began to list Who enemies from the Whoville phonebook? It went something like this, “Aardvark Who, I HATE YOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUU!!! Next Who, I hate you!” Very reminiscent of his equally stinky and bitter cousin, Oscar the Grouch, the Grinch peruses the page, all while assigning a variety of angry feelings to each name. He continues with, “Hate, hate, hate, double hate,” and now for the finale, “LOATHE ENTIRELY!!!” (If you would like a reminder of this scene: www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbNglJqHvCQ&feature=related)

Relatable situation: Although I tell the kids not to use the word ‘hate’ directed at anyone or anything, I am about to break my rule for the sake of this argument. Anyway, back to the relatable situation. I cannot entirely understand the Grinch’s animosity towards the Whos, as I myself have never even remotely disliked a Who. On the contrary, I have always found them quite agreeable. However, the one thing that does fill me with vengeful emotions is something as seemingly pain-free as a goodbye. To paraphrase the Grinch’s format, ‘Disgusting vegetables, I HATE YOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUU!!! Early mornings, I hate you! Hate, hate, hate, double hate. And goodbyes? LOATHE ENTIRELY!!!’ Simply put, good-byes have never, and probably will never, be easy for me. I cried for half an hour when my two goldfish, Marcus and Mia, died even though I hadn’t even owned them for 24 hours. And I kept them in my freezer until I could give them a proper Viking burial. But my mom threw them away before I could do so. And then I cried some more. I just couldn’t bid them farewell. When I have to part with friends or family, I’ve reverted to the ‘See you later’ line because that other word is like a furry tongue filling my mouth.

Point: I just said good-bye to 60 beautiful children. For five weeks, I won’t laugh with them or cry with them. I won’t learn with them or learn from them. I won’t hold their precious faces in my hands or secure a quick hug before they slip through my arms again. To be honest, it’s devastating. I have always thought life was best spent roaming and floating from place to place, person to person. But I have never been so happy than with these kids, grounded. For some reason, a line from Peter Pan keeps redirecting my thoughts; “Never say good-bye...because good-bye means going away and going away means forgetting.” Is that what scares me about good-bye? Do I simply refuse to acknowledge change, and the horrifying possibility of forgetting even a second? Maybe I’m just terrified that I myself am the forgettable one.

Then I realized something. Good-bye is just a word. A word that represents separation. But it never means that I’m apart from the overwhelming emotion, the beautiful awakening, and the enveloping love that came before the good-bye. So even if the next five weeks away from all my kids turned into forever, even if I never got to hear Gaby’s laugh again, or watch Octavio say his memory verse, or compare nail polish with Jazmin, all of those things would be buried deep in my heart, ready to resurface at any moment. Those memories aren’t lost with good-bye. So for now, all’s well in my soul.

Just a little girl time. No big deal.

Oh Octavio :) Way too precious for words!

Ashley and Perla, Sweet Pea #1 and Sweet Pea #2!

Just call us Party Animals.

I, like the awesome community college student that I am, spent my weekend partying hard…with some of the coolest kids on this planet. We went all out; Gummy bears, Doritos, Soda Pop, the works. The only downside was, well, there actually wasn’t a downside. A group of us obviously insane Mission Adelante staff and volunteers escorted the Leaders in Training kidlins to an epic mini-vaca at the Great Wolf Lodge. It is entirely possible that I was more excited than them, but then again a few of the little ones were practically twitching. And I must say, it definitely lived up to our extremely high expectations. The moment I entered that enormous sanctuary of chlorine-clogged air, there was a symphony of water gushing, children screaming, and whistles blowing when said screaming children broke the rules. The heavens literally parted as I stepped into the glorious epicenter of water-related magnificence they call Great Wolf Lodge. I always thought that particular effect was only possible when I took a sip of Dr. Pepper…I guess even I can be wrong. Who knew?!

Sure, there wasn’t exactly an ideal amount of sleep to be had but watching those kids act their age for once, away from the sadness, violence, and coldness, was worth the late bedtime and the even earlier wake-up call. I actually wish we didn’t have to waste a second of those two days sleeping. I probably would have been a zombie but I would have been a very, very pleased zombie.

I’ve had a couple days to catch up on sleep and some semi-nutritious food and I’ve had some time to really think about what that trip meant to those beautiful children. Yes, they have worked all trimester to earn this. And yes, it is an attraction created to cater to the younger population therefore their reaction (and mine) was probably nothing new. But while this weekend was so full of happiness, it was just a little bittersweet for me. What’s so sad about these kids is that they build these bullet-proof walls to protect themselves from the hell that often threatens to destroy any thread of love, or hope, or safety. Then, to see them so out of their element, so free from their lives, it’s like they didn’t even know how to rebuild those walls. It’s in those moments that their adorable, pure, incredible souls shone through uninhibited by the barriers they make between themselves and their realities. It’s truly a blessing to be apart of that.

Great Wolf Lodge 2010!!

We were only a little excited...

AHHHHHH!!! IT'S WATER!! THIS IS AWESOME!!

Oh, Caroline Meek. Only 11, but so beyond her years.

Life as I know it...until I know it differently.

Up until four o’clock this afternoon, I had spent approximately 1 week, 3 days, 17 hours, 52 minutes, and 34.9387 seconds away from the most incredible gaggle of Mission Adelante kids, a.k.a. my best friends. Because of that, my Thanksgiving Break would be more effectively phrased as being Time Spent Without My Heart, My Life, and My Purpose. A little dramatic? I think not.

Don’t get me wrong, I have the greatest family on this planet (in my highly accurate opinion, of course). And as a definite plus, Mom didn’t make me do chores while I was home either…but my world was significantly dimmer without the delightfully energetic, aggravating, and fantastical group of children I have affectionately termed My Reasons for Being Alive.

It never ceases to amaze me how a single person can fill holes in your life you never even knew you had. Sometimes I wonder how I had not known these kids were sharing the world with me. It seems like the day they were born, I should have been acutely aware that from then on nothing would be the same. Being around them makes it easier to breathe, although I must admit that occasionally lose that breath. Tunnel tag is no joke.

So this is life as I know it. But it is constantly changing. God is truly reforming me every second, even though this blog will only document my weekly status. In the meantime, please keep these beautiful children in your prayers. If you let them into your hearts, I can promise you that God will use them to rock your world.

Little Miss Gaby only stopped singing long enough for me to take a few pictures at the Leaders In Training Service Day. Without fail, I could hear her before I could see her when she returned to the mulch pile for another load. This little one is larger than life.

We group-hugged Jesus. No big deal.

In this little game I call Blind Date, one blind-folded girl gets her partner ready for a night on the town. Here are the results. I think it worked out splendidly :)

Rebel Without a Cause. Yet.

There are days when I have to firmly tell myself, “Courtney Colin. Act your age, not your shoe size.” However, the times I am acting beyond immature are indeed the times I rebel against any and all orders, even if they are orders I am giving myself. I part my hair on the other side just to spite God knows who. I try to take a different route to school, go exceedingly astray, and arrive ten minutes late to class. I eat cookie dough for lunch and wash it down with a big, fizzing glass of off-brand Dr. Pepper (Hoorah, Dr. Thunder!).

Then there are days when I skip along through my routine, content to feel ordinarily productive as I cross each task off my to-do list. I take notes in Biology like the straight-A student I used to be. I drive the speed limit from school to Mission Adelante, where I take approximately 3 to 7 1/2 deep breaths before stepping out of my car. I pass the dumpster that takes on distinct smells depending on the day of the week, and the amount of rain, before reaching the back door that is left unlocked for me. Most of the time. And from there, the rest of my day passes in a happy blur of knock-knock jokes, sweaty children, and excessively difficult math worksheets.

I wish I could say that following God’s purpose has made my life simple. But truthfully, it has become quite complicated as I search for the balance between doing what I have to do to keep everyone happy, doing what I need to do to keep myself moving forward, and doing what I want to do to keep the world from eating me alive.

So while I content myself with rebelling on occasion in order to counter the monotony of having all those gross things we like to call responsibilities, I am beginning to understand that perhaps I am rebelling against all the wrong things. Jesus was, in my opinion, the greatest rebel of all time. But he was a rebel with a cause. So if I carry the What Would Jesus Do mantra in my heart, then I need to find my cause. And I need to stop wasting my time waging petty wars on insignificant details.

Now that I'm done with endings, this can finally begin.

It started in a mud hut, as all good things naturally do. In the charming village of Mavhusa , red dirt glaring in the heart-warming sunshine, I sat on a dusty stoop; my bible in my lap, my mind in a million places at once, my eyes on distant hills and even more red dirt. With the coming of a flavorful breeze, I heard children’s laughter, pots clanging and banging to some unspoken beat, and a variety of poultry squawking in protest of their lot in life. I opened my bible and there it sat, as obvious as the distinctly African thorn still lodged in my arm. “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.” Amen, Matthew 7:7-8.

Within hours, I used a brick of a cell phone to contact my parents who were only thousands of miles and a few rather prominent bodies of water away. We decided that upon my return, I would no longer be Courtney Colin: Baker University student. I would be Courtney Colin: girl-still-trying-to-find-God’s-purpose-but-decidedly-closer-to-it-than-before.

I asked for direction, and it came in the form of a stirring in my heart that sparked change. I sought something that would allow me to live out my passion, and it arrived in a chance to work with the lost and hungry of Kansas City, Kansas. I knocked on the door of Mission ¡Adelante!, and they offered an internship that has already filled me with dreams of my life’s purpose.

The past few months spent in the embrace of my heart’s home, I am realizing that this is my beginning. The beginning promised with a new life in our Lord, the beginning I’ve been dreaming of since surviving so many endings, the beginning that falls nothing short of complete grace. So here lies the start of many blogs to come, a documentation of every gory detail making up the life of an intern. I sincerely hope you’ll join me on the journey.

In love,

Courtney Colin: Mission ¡Adelante! intern.

(If you would like more infomation about Mission ¡Adelante! please visit www.missionadelante.org.)






A snapshot of a time that changed my life in South Africa this summer.





At a Royals game with two darlings from Kids Adelante, Ashley and Perla.