Security!!!!

Today at church there was a new lady visiting.  She wore a suit.  She looked a bit nervous, always looking around.  She sat down, looked around, moved to a new suit, looked around.  Every so often she would move to a new area.  Finally she sat down on my row a few seats away from me.  I smiled. 

During our church we have a welcome time where visitors stand and tell where they are from.  One of the regular guys introduced his guest, which happened to be the Honorable Diane Ablonczy, a Canadian member of Parliament.  Never heard of her.  It isn't unusual to have high ranking officials at church, like Ambassadors or others, but maybe this was the first time for a member of Parliament.

The lady by me didn't stand and introduce herself.  Maybe she was shy.  But she looked around uncomfortably.  So I decided that when I got a chance, I would scoot over and ask if she was new.  I got my chance during the offering.  After we passed the basket, I scooted.  I said, "Is this your first time or have you been coming before?"  "She looked at me strange and answered, "I am just here today."  "Oh," I said, "Welcome.  Are you staying at this hotel?"  She answered, "No, I am with the Commissioner."  And it clicked who she was.  But because sometimes I have no control over my mouth, the words came out, "Oh, you are watching her."  She said she was.  So it all made sense to me.  She was the security detail.  That is why she was fidgeting and looking around every time the door opened.  She didn't watch the pastor, she watched the people.  And then I felt nervous, like she was watching me.  I would catch her looking at me out of the corner of my eye (which was always watching her).  I was fidgeting now.  And every time the door opened I looked too.

I have this weird fear of someone coming into our church and shooting us all.  And knowing that someone else had this fear was not reassuring to me.  At least I was sitting next to at least one person who was carrying a gun.

I Tried To Buy A Gun

Yes, one time I went to a sporting goods store and tried to buy a gun.  I was at a point in my life that I needed some extra protection.  I was scared.

A few days before my trip to the sporting goods store, I was sitting in my apartment alone just minding my own business when all of a sudden some thugs (or teenagers) starting kicking my door, trying to break in.  There were 4 or 5 of them as I recall.  I could see daylight through the door.  I quickly called 911 but then thought, "Is this an emergency?"  So I hung up.  I dialed again and hung up.  The group had left by then and were going down the street.  The 911 operator called me back.  I told her what had happened.  She told me to call the police.  I told her I didn't know the police number and didn't have a phone book, so could she give me the number.  She said, "No.  Call information.  And only call 911 if they are IN your house."

I got the police phone number and wrote it down for future reference.  Then I started planning what I would do.  I knew that if a group of thugs actually got in my apartment that it would be too late to call 911.  I would either be beaten up or raped or killed.  So if I had a gun it would at least deter them.  I wouldn't want to shoot anyone, but if someone was coming at me after they kicked down my door, I would at least shoot them and try not to kill.  But if I killed them then I thought it would be justified.

I was a single young lady.  I worked for the church next to the apartment building.  I was the Youth Director.  So I often would have youth in my apartment.  I thought that it probably isn't a great idea to have a gun in the apartment with a bunch of youth around.  So maybe a knife would be better.  I made sure my knives were easily accessible for future confrontations with thugs.  Then I decided that I would rather have a gun, so I went to the store.

I looked at the guns in the glass case at the sporting goods store and saw the price tags.  I was hoping for something a bit cheaper.  Then I saw my weapon of choice... a fog horn.  You know the kind that boaters are suppose to carry with them in case of an emergency.  It was in my price range, so I bought it.  I took it home and kept it close to the door of my apartment so that if the thugs returned, I would blow the fog horn and let them know that someone was inside.  It would also get the attention of neighbors.

The other thing that I did was tell people about my talk with the 911 operator.  A man at the church thought it was pretty ridiculous and he called to complain for me.  So I hope that if someone else calls to say people are kicking in their door that they will send help right away and not wait for the thugs to get IN the house.  And some friends installed a dead bolt lock.  Just for some more protection.

I never had to use my fog horn, but I was ready.

Artsy

I was feeling artsy yesterday.  I found an interesting painting that I thought I could do something similar to and so I gave it a try.  Here is a link to the painting  http://www.artistrising.com/products/388445/Pink-and-Brown.htm  and here is what I did

I nailed it!

Why Did I Have To Go Through That?

Today in our staff devotion time we were looking at a passage about the wondering in the wilderness for 40 years.  And someone brought up the idea of the training we go through.  It made me think of an event in my life that I haven't shared with people.  I think because of this event, I am able to understand a small, little bit of some of the things the girls in our home have gone through.  So even though i don't look at it with thankfulness, I can look at it as a situation that God redeemed.

I had a boyfriend when I was 15 years old.  He was controlling and abusive.  Not anything like what the girls in our home have gone through, but in a way I can relate.  One day this boyfriend got angry.  He was angry at me for wanting to break-up with him.  He was angry at himself.  He was talking about killing himself.  He had to drive me home from his house since I wasn't able to drive yet.  As we drove, he was mad.  He pressed the gas all the way down and drove towards the sharp turn in the road.  As I sat in the passenger seat I remember thinking, "This is it.  I'm going to die."  I didn't say anything.  I felt helpless.  At the last moment he slammed on the brakes and we skid around the turn.

As I look back at this incident and remember what I felt, I think about the girls.  What they go through is 100 times worse.  But because of this incident I am able to sympathize with them.  I understand that they felt helpless.  They couldn't speak out.  They were in a situation that they had no control over.  They feared for their lives.  And now I know why God allowed me to go through what I went through.  God can use it for His glory.  And He can use me.  I know He was with me as I went through what I went through, and I know He is with these girls during their hardest moments.

Who is the judge?

I often times put myself in the place of judge.  I am critical.  I am judgmental.  I may even try to do the work of the Holy Spirit.  I guess I can put this on my list of things to work on. 

So now if I go on about something I am judgmental about it really shows that I'm not working on this issue in my life.  But I really want to speak.  I want to tell you how people bug me.  I want to tell you about the wrongs in other peoples lives.

I'm a minimalist (in my opinion anyway).  Although Steve pointed out today that I have a lot of bags/purses.  I was pointing out an item that he had a lot of and then he turned on me.  It is true.  I have a lot of bags.  People give me some of them or I have purchased them.  Several have broken zippers.  Many of them I don't use.  So why not get rid of them. 

So today instead of posting about the people who are purchasing expensive, unnecessary items, I will go home and go through my bags and get rid of at least two of them.

Electrical

I now know the smell of melting wires.  Kind of a fish smell.  I don't think I ever had a plug or wall socket melt in America, but for some reason I have had several incidents here just in the last couple of months.

Today the electrician came to change the plug and the wall socket.  I had smelled the wire burning when we turned on the hot water heater but we needed hot water so we used it a little more then we should have.  But finally we decided it would be safer to not use it.  The electrician pulled out the wall socket and showed me how it was melted and burnt.  And then the plug of the water heater also was burnt.  So both had to be changed.

Why is it that wall sockets melt here?  What is different?  Why does it happen so often?  Why do all our houses have bad wiring?  Don't the electricians care about the work they do? 

Difficult Name

My name can be difficult for many people.  Young kids struggle with it.  Asians struggle with it.  Africans struggle with it.  And even Americans have struggled.  I don't know how many times I have been called Lisa, even by a cousin.  Even a man named Leslie looked at my nametag and called me Lisa.  For many Asians, the L and R are hard to say, so I become Resrie.  On the phone when I am asked by name by the Dominoes Pizza people, I just tell them my name is Laxmi, a name they will know.  But at the hospital the other day, I had a confusing conversation.

When I tried to give blood, but couldn't (see post below), they looked at the form that I handed them and tried to say my name.  The problem is that the person who wrote my name down wrote it wrong to begin with.  Even though I spelled it out for them, they got it wrong.  Instead of Leslie, I had become Oeslie.  So the lady at the blood place didn't know how to pronounce it.  She tried, and I corrected her, saying that it is Leslie.  She asked, "Nasreen?"  I said, "No, that is the patient's name, my name is Leslie."  She said, "You both are named Nasreen?"  "No, my name is Leslie."  She looked at the form and tried to figure it out, but then moved on to the next question, leaving it Oeslie on the form.

I should have gone with Laxmi.  Maybe they would have taken my blood then.

Blood

I did not get to give blood today, but almost.  At the government hospital if someone has surgery then someone has to give blood on their part.  Not for the patient but for the hospital.  So I went to donate for a friend, but they said they would just give it to her for free and not take my blood.  I tried to convince them that I have great blood, but still they refused my blood.

We got a call from our friend that he was at the emergency room with his wife and she would probably need surgery.  We went to see what was going on.  They had gone to the emergency room and were told to go to the women's area for the next step.  Only women are allowed in the women area so it was a good thing we came.  I went in with her to the waiting area and we were ushered in to the examining room.  She had had an ectopic pregnancy and a tube had ruptured.  So they were scheduling her surgery right away.  The poor thing was in a lot of pain.  But even more pain when the doctor pushed on her stomach and did an exam.

I had the job of taking her clothes off as she really couldn't move much.  Then I had to take her earrings out.  Her earrings were the kind that you wear permanently and I actually had to cut them off.  It wasn't going too well so a nurse came in to offer her help.  She was not careful and was actually quite rough so her ear ended up bleeding on the first earring removal.  She was wearing four earrings.  I didn't want the nurse to do it anymore so I took over.  Finally I got them out.  I had to stop a few times to hold a bottle of blood or to hold her hand while they tortured her some more.  Couldn't get the needle in, couldn't get the catheter in....

Finally it was time to take her to the surgery room.  A orderly came in to help take her and she had to transfer onto a gurney.  I pushed the other end of the gurney through the dirty, old hospital.   There was a cat roaming around in the hospital too.  They wouldn't let me go all the way into the operating room so I sat in the changing area until they kicked me out.  That is when I went to go donating blood since they wouldn't start the surgery unless someone donates.

Interesting experience for me.  I would never want to be admitted into that hospital and felt like whisking her away too, but this is life for people.  This is what she expected and all she knows.  This is India.