Wayfarer: n. a traveler, especially one on foot.

R & R

2011-06-30T17:14:00.000-07:00

Ok. So as cliche as it may be, Dorothy said it right when she said, "There's no place like home." I am convinced that there is no place in the world as far away from Tellico Plains, TN as Oxford, England. I had had mixed feelings about leaving the city of dreaming spires, but as my taxi drove down High Street as the sun rose on Sunday morning and I saw all the ladies and gents in their ball gowns and white bow ties wobbling their way back to their colleges after a night of unspeakable shenanigans, I realized I was very much ready to be home where I could take a deep breath and just be still. I've spent the last five days absolutely soaking up everything I love and have missed about a good Tennessee summer: sunshine, starry nights, great friends, the Tellico River, sweaty runs, and blackberries galore. On Monday after I arrived home, my parents threw an awesome welcome home bash for my brother and I (it was the first time we had both been home at the same time in over a year and a half). Several of my friends were able to drive in, and the lovely Katie Hayes blessed us with her wonderful photography skills. Her photos from the party can be found here. She did a beautiful job of capturing the joyful hello's and spirit of the evening.

For now, I'm packing up my bags, getting ready for the next leg of my crazy summer adventure: Alaska. I'll be following my brother up there tomorrow to spend the next six weeks interning with 49 Writers Alaska. This is something I've been looking forward to for months, and I can't wait to be writing to all of you from a place so beautiful. . . I can't even imagine it.

For now I'm throwing all of the heels and dresses and my commoner's gown deep into the closet and pulling out the fleece, rain gear, and hiking boots and trying to imagine what Alaskan air will smell like. I'll be sure to let you know.

Here's me and the fam today before we took Jesse to the airport.

Winding Down

2011-06-21T06:52:00.000-07:00

So here it is, my last week at Oxford. I just walked out of my last tutorial meeting with the brilliant and ever-gracious Dr. Anthony Cross, with his suggestions for thesis revisions in my hands. For now the thesis is fifty-three pages long and will probably hover around that for the finished product as well.

Hannah and I have spent a lot of quality time together in the last couple of weeks since my last blog, and when asked, I've had to truthfully say that the highlight of my Oxford experience has been the research I've been able to do on her. At times it has been frustrating and seemingly impossible. I have often felt incredibly unworthy and ill-qualified to undertake the writing of her story-- or, at least, to undertake the small and modest attempt at writing her story that I, a wet behind the ears undergraduate, have tried my best at. In the end, though, I can say that I am proud of what I've been able to do and the things I have found. Someone told me once that when you have a clear purpose, motivation inevitably follows. In my time here I have relished the purpose driven motivation that I have found in my work. There has been something so refreshing in knowing that I have one goal, one very specific, and close to heart, task to work toward.

I hope that if this thesis of mine ever gets published that I'll be allotted a very generous amount of room for acknowledgments. There are so many people I want to thank, so many people that, without whom, this dream-project would have been impossible. Along the journey I've been encouraged and inspired by so many people. Just last week, while I was wasting away after thirteen hours in the library, I thought to myself, "I just wish someone was here to say, 'You can do this.'" About thirty minutes later I checked my email, and there was a generous and encouraging reply message from a professor from home, and halfway down the page he'd written "YOU CAN DO THIS!"

I have had so many moments just like that, where people have gone out of their way to love me and to make this possible. I have been so humbled on so many occasions, and when I look back on how I wound up here, there is a mystique that shrouds it all and I am left in awe of what God has done.

I want to share with you one of the most moving things I have read about Hannah, her obituary, penned by her son, John Clark. In this piece of writing John Clark captures much of the spirit and t thrust of what I want to say about Hannah-- what I think the world deserves to know about her-- a woman who changed the world.

Friend of India (weekly: March 1847) n.p.

It is our melancholy duty to record the death, on Friday last, the 5th instant, of Mrs. Marshman, at the advanced age of eighty, after a residence of more than fortyseven years in India. She was the widow of the late Rev. Dr. Joshua Marshman and the last remnent of that band of missionaries who came out in the year 1799, and estatblished the Serampore Mission, which has been the instrument under God, of such great usefulness in this country, and the impulse communicated by which, the extensive missionary efforts of various denominations at this Presidency, are in a great measure to be traced. In the labours which have given the Serampore Mission so distinguished a place in the recollection of Christian public, she bore a larger share than was to have been expected from her sex. So completely she outlived the generation of her contemporaries, that the great majority of our readers may perhaps now hear for the first time that Dr. Marshman and his colleagues, on settling at Serampore resolved to create the funds necessary for their operations by their own labours, instead of dependent on assistance from England. In pursuance of this plan he opened a seminary and his parner in life a ladies’ school, the returns from which, with some reservation for domestic and family claims, were devoted for thirty five years to this sacred object. The establishment continued for many years to be the most flourishing and popular in this Presidency and often yielded a clear annual income of Rs. 25000/-. The pecuniary contribution which the deceased was then enabled to lay on the alter of Mission, entitled her to the grateful remembrance of all who take an interest in their progress. But in addition to this task of Christian zeal and disinterestedness, she contributed in no small degree to build up the missionary cause at this station by her unremitting and affectionate labours in the families of native converts. Of those Christian virtues which gave a bright luster to her character, it is scarcely possible for the writer of this article to speak in adequate terms without appearing to transgress the bounds of modesty and a feeling of delicacy restrains him from dwelling on the happy conjugal union which subsisted for forty six years with unabated confidence and on the affectionate discharge of those maternal duties which render her memory so dear to the objects of her solicitude. Still it may be permitted us to affirm that never has any one in the town been followed to the grave with such deep and universal regret. There were few of its inhabitants who had not grown up amidst the influence of her benevolence. In every emergency, the poor and the distressed resorted to her, in the first instance, with the certainty of obtaining advice and relief. She appeared indeed to be intimately acquainted with condition of every poor family in the settlement, of whom there were few who could not advance hereditary claim on her kindness. Her time and her purse were at the command of every suitor and the great object and delight of her life was to promote the welfare of others. Her deep piety and unaffected humility thus combined with utmost activity of benevolence exhibited the Christian character in its most attractive form. In connection with these virtues, if not indeed as springing from them, she exhibited the greatest sweetness of disposition and a perpetual smile of cheerfulness. She was blessed with the full use of her mental faculties to the very last stage of her existence, and it was only within the last two months of her life that her bodily strength seemed to be seriously affected. It was then that she began to realize the approach for the change for which she had long been prepared. It was then that the Christian hope of immortality through the merits of Redeemers’s sacrifice, not only sustained her mind but enabled her to exult in the prospect of dissalution of her mortal frame, which would unite her spirit with those who had shared in her earthly labours and preached her to the heaven of rest. While lying on her couch and expecting her immediate departure she repeated without hesitation or ommision six stanzas of sublime ode, descriptive of the triumphant feelings of the soul on the verge of eternity, which she had treasured up in her memory sixty two years before. Thus she was enabled to close a life of extraordinary duration, activity and usefulness by bearing her dying testimony to the value of Christian truth and the vitality of Christian hope [sic].

Below are some pictures of the last couple weeks, including a regular sunset on the Thames, another trip to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, and Regent's extravagant Final Fling.

Love to all,
KB

Regents Final Fling (advertised as the cheapest Oxford ball of the season) with my fellow American girls from Georgetown, KY.

Oh, you know, just a woman on stilts juggling enflamed sticks-- typical Oxford party stuff.

Decidedly one of my favorite places in the whole world-- Shakespeare's Globe. Some friends and I went to go see Dr. Faustus, which made me feel a bit like a traitor because it's a Christopher Marlowe play. See "Shakespeare in Love" for context.

The great thing about groundling tickets is you can literally prop your elbows up on the stage while you watch the show, and catch the fruit that rolls off of Dr. Faustus' table. I left with a grape in my pocket. I felt like Megan McSwainwhen she caught John Paul White's guitar pick.

A favorite spot of mine along the Thames pathway where I like to run in the evenings.

Enjoying a sunset on the Thames.

London at night is a beautiful thing.

Nighty, night, England.

Excusable Clutter

2011-06-07T08:56:00.000-07:00

I thought I would get away with not blogging this week. I hadn't taken any good pictures or done anything spectacular, so I tried to skip out on it. But my mom wants a blog post and since somewhere in the Bible it says that you'll live for a really long time if you listen to your mom, I decided to write a brief post.

This week has been wonderful. I have decided four things:

1) I want a PhD in English so that I can read all the Hemingway I want, have excusable clutter, drink coffee all day long from mugs with Shakespeare quotes on them, teach people how to use semicolons, and have a library in heaven (as I'm sure all PhD's in English have upon entrance into the Great Other Place).

2) After testing all the coffee shops within a quarter mile radius of Regents, Greens Cafe is the best for the money: my daily white Americano = £1.30

3) Summer Eights (a series of rowing races between the colleges of Oxford that happens every Trinity Term) must be the Thames River's favorite time of year: the rowers, the sun, the Pimms, the bow-ties, the burgers, and . . . did I mention the rowers?

4) Writing Hannah's story is, and will always be, one of the greatest privileges of my life.

Here's me with my Green's loyalty card all filled up getting ready to have my first FREE chai latte

More to come next week. For now the thesis writing is rolling, so I'm rolling with it.

Love to all, KB.

Oh Man is a Giddy Thing

2011-05-29T15:56:00.000-07:00

Week 4 here in Oxford has come and gone, and as unbelievable as it is, I am halfway finished with Trinity term (or rather, Trinity term is halfway finished with me). This week has been filled with nose-to-the-grindstone research. The realization that time is halfway up has given my work a sense of urgency. This sense of urgency has been frustrated by the challenges that come with trying to read hardly legible two-hundred year old letters. Getting to work with primary documents is one of the best and hardest things about being here. It is an unbelievable feeling to get to hold Hannah's letters in my hands, but there have been many times when I've wanted to send a letter into the past telling her that she should pay particular attention to her penmanship because centuries later there will be people dying to know the nuances and particulars of her life and heart. I've started journaling very neatly because of this.

The highlight of my week was getting to see Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London. Much Ado is one of my favorite Shakespeare plays and seeing it performed live at the globe with such an amazing cast was one of the most amazing experiences I've had here in England.

Overall, things are still going great here. Even though the research is challenging I truly love it. It may have something to do with my over-centimentality, but I feel so connected to Hannah and her story. I've gained so many new insights into what life was like for the missionaries at Serampore, how hard it was, the many sacrifices they made. There are so many untold stories regarding their endeavors. I believe scholars could write for years and years and never unpack all of what happened there. There are days when I leave the library with a heavy heart, but I feel so privileged to be privy to the private records of such a world changing group of people.

In the words of Hannah, "Thanks be to the Giver."

Researching away! All the Marshman papers are in the gray boxes.

On my trip into London this week I met my friend Kelsey whose studying in Nottingham and her friend Beck. They took me to this awesome open air food market called Borough Market that has cuisine from all over the world. The "Wild Boar Sausage" reminded me too much of Steve Moore for me not to take a picture. I think the Moores should open up a "Taste of Tennessee" food stand in Borough Market.

In the course of my research I've found that Hannah's son-in-law was Sir Henry Havelock whose statue stands in Trafalgar Square. Imagine that, a statue of a Baptist in the center of London! I swung by Trafalgar Square to grab a picture (and check out the awesome Impressionst exhibit in the National Gallery: Monet, Van Gogh-- pinch me) before heading over to the Globe.

And there she is, ladies and gents, the beautiful Globe. Kelsey, Beck, and I paid five pounds for groundling tickets. The play was so great that standing for three hours felt like nothing.

Cheesing in front of the stage with my program. The cast was wonderful and I walked away wanting to be both an actress and a Shakespearean scholar. My new ambition in life is to take over for Dr. Lee at the App Center at CN so I can sit in the floor and talk with undergraduates for hours and hours about the beauty of lines like "man is a giddy thing."

A Great Day for the World Not to End

2011-05-22T11:26:00.000-07:00

I used to be afraid of the Rapture. I mean, like, really afraid. When I was little my family lived on a farm and I can remember when I was very young waking up after a nap and everyone being gone out of the house and thinking to myself, "Oh no, I've been left behind!" I'm sure that I cried more than once on occasions like this because I distinctly remember the sinking feeling in my gut and the ensuing break out of panic sweat and the thoughts of "What on earth am I supposed to do now?!"

One evening my brother and I were outside playing about the time the sun was setting. The sunlight was beaming through the cracks in the clouds in big, wide rays that were landing on our faces and my brother said to me, "Yeah, I think that's how the sky is going to look when Jesus comes back." Something in my stomach jumped and I'm pretty sure I must have asked if he thought that Jesus was going to come back right then, to which I'm sure he responded that even if he did I wouldn't have anything to worry about, that it would be a good thing-- for us anyway.

My friend Megan came to visit me in Oxford this week. On Friday night after formal hall we were sitting around planning our big excursion into London the next day and Meg looked up from my computer and said to me, "Hey, I think tomorrow is the day the world is supposed to end." Perplexed, I put down my half folded t-shirt and asked her to expound a bit. I'd never heard of Harold Camping or his doomsday predictions, so Meg enlightened me via Wikipedia and some news articles. She found a story about a family that followed Camping's teachings and they said that they had sold their home and budgeted out all of their money and resources so that on May 21, 2011 (the day Camping told them Jesus would come back and they would be raptured out of here) they would have nothing left.

Megan and I both had a similar response, "Hmmm." And then we went on to planning for London.

The day was great. Sunny, warm, windy-- perfect weather. We (Megan, Jennifer, and I) met up with Megan's friend, Rachel, who lives south of London and she was a very gracious tour guide. Meg and Rachel met in Africa where they worked together at a baby's home. Seeing these two friends reunite was priceless! We hit almost all of the big stops: Buckingham Palace, Tower of London, London Bridge, The Globe Theatre, The London Eye, Big Ben, Parliament, and Westminster Abbey. We did tons of walking and by the end of the day had the Underground whipped. It was a precious day full of great conversation, tons of laugh, and great food-- all spent in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Once Meg and I finally made it back to Oxford and got the chance to rest our tired feet we talked about Camping and what would happen to his followers now that everything they had planned their lives around has fallen through. I was reading an article today about one of Camping's followers who had driven his family from New York to California to Camping's headquarters in preparation for Saturday's expected events. In a moment of obvious vulnerability the man told the reporter, "I do not understand. I do not understand why nothing has happened [...] I had some skepticism but I was trying to push the skepticism away because I believe in God [...] I was hoping for it because I think heaven would be a lot better than this earth."

Sometimes we believe really weird things. Sometimes we're coerced into believing really horrible things: about God, about ourselves, and about other people. Sometimes our paradigms of understanding the world and God get smashed on the head. Looking back now on my childhood fears of being "left behind," it's easy to laugh. But it wasn't then. As an adult I can easily point out the fallacies in my theology and logic-- but that's all in retrospect. Then, when I was little and would wake up in an empty house, I could only understand my situation in the context of what I had been taught to believe.

As Megan and I talked about what it means to live without fear and how we think that God doesn't want us to live waiting for the next big anything, I realized what a great day it was for the world not to end. Eschatology (our beliefs about the end things) informs our ethic [word to Dr. David Crutchley on that one]. What we believe about tomorrow strongly effects how we live today. So for today-- let's go do cartwheels in Westminster Abbey and pray for those of Camping's followers who are left with an understanding that God has failed them, for He surely has not.

Below are some pictures of the week.

Megan arrives in Oxford! Stopping by the Rad Cam on our way to my house.

On Thursday Megan and I had a C.S. Lewis Day. First stop, lunch at the Eagle and Child. Second stop, the Kilns, Lewis' home. Third stop, Holy Trinity Church, where Lewis is buried. Fourth stop, an outdoor play at Magdalen College where Lewis taught for over 30 yrs.

In awe.

Sitting on a Narnian bench.

View from the tower at St. Mary's Cathedral in Oxford.

The Meg-Rachel reunion!

Buckingham Palace!

London Tower Bridge

London Tower, where all those wives of Henry VIII's went to the chopping block.

Palace Guards on the march

The Globe Theatre! The girls had to drag me out of the giftshop. Hamlet and Much Ado are playing this summer-- I plan to attend both.

The London Eye! Rachel had half-off coupons-- wonderful.

Meg and Ben

Ending the day with a round of cartwheels at the Abbey.

Will you keep a place for me beside you in the grass

2011-05-16T16:19:00.000-07:00

Smelled some smoke on my way home today.
Made me homesick.
Gave me a hankering for some Maurice Manning.
Thought I would share.

My Summer: A Two-Dimensioned Crucible of Experience

2011-05-15T10:04:00.000-07:00

Saturdays are my favorite. I love the way you can wake up on a Saturday morning, even if you have somewhere to be and things you must get to, and still allow yourself five extra minutes of eyes-closed-slow-breathing-I’m-just-going-to-lay-here-for-a-minute time. I had a good, Oxford Saturday yesterday. My tutor had invited me to a conference of the Baptist Historical Society being held at Regents and I gladly attended, arriving five minutes late via my new(ish) one-speed bicycle that I’ve just purchased (my impossibly charming Southern accent landed me a free chain lock with the purchase—score on that one). Of course, I’m very much aware that a day spent with Baptist historians discussing seventeenth-century Baptist confessions and William Carey’s Fullerite Calvinism and the revolutionary, imperative hermeneutic he brought to the reading of the Great Commission wouldn’t exactly constitute a fantastic Saturday for everyone, but for me it was wonderful. I find that there’s something really gratifying about being the only person in the room under the age of fifty and still, somehow, finding yourself capable of fully engaging in intelligent conversation with your seniors, especially those whose books and articles you’ve happened to have read and whose work you’ve long admired. So my morning was something like a meet and greet with some of my intellectual heroes—chalk it up to another incredibly surreal Oxford experience. I walked away from the conference feeling incredibly grateful. I made some very helpful connections in regards to my research on Hannah Marshman—if there are any people living who know anything more about her beyond what little is written of her, they were most likely at the conference. I left with information on the current whereabouts of her diary, as well as a private family archive that exists, and it seems that a day trip to Yorkshire may be in the cards for me in the near future. At least, I sure hope it is.

I spent the rest of the day reading things that have nothing to do with my research, as it is my firm belief that if one wants to keep their brain and spirit from shriveling up into a prune of academia and lackluster, they must maintain a steady diet of pleasure reading. Some Rob Bell and Mary Oliver were in the mix, as well as a book by Paul Fiddes, a Regents scholar, on faith and culture that I recently picked up. I’m finding Fiddes’ work fascinating and pertinent. I feel as if Fiddes could have written the introduction to his book after walking away from a Carson-Newman conversation, one of the typical ones between professors, professors and students, or among students, in which the dynamics of faith and culture are explored, questioned, and critiqued. There were two things he specifically mentions that I know I’ve had conversations about with my CN profs: the Incarnation as metaphor and what that means for metaphor in general, and the ways in which words are employed in both poetry and theology to create layered levels of meaning and reality. I got really excited reading Fiddes’ ideas and it made me really proud of my CN education, one in which the issues of art and faith and the wider culture are explored and engaged and challenged.

It isn’t news to any of you who know me that my hope for this summer is that it will be something of a two-dimensioned crucible of experience. Because you see, I am a rising college senior without a plan for the next step. Actually, that isn’t quite correct. It is probably more accurate to say that I am a rising college senior with about twelve plans for the next step. Obviously, this poses a problem—I cannot take twelve steps; I must choose only one. Here are some of my current options expressed in terms of Master’s degree programs I’m considering:

1.) The ever-alluring MFA in Creative Writing

2.) Your run-of-the-mill, endearing Masters of Divinity

3.) The fast-track to professorship via MA in Literature

4.) Theory meets deeper level of theory via the MTS

5.) Theory meets a more practical level of theory via MTh or MA in Applied Theology

6.) Theory meets praxis via the Masters of Social Work

7.) A combined MA in Literature and MDiv dual-degree program

And, of course, these choices all become even more complicated and convoluted when you take into account various emphases or tracks within these programs. With the MFA, for instance, I would have to choose between poetry and fiction. Basically the equivalent of saying, “Hey, Kayla Beth, today you have decide if you would like to keep, for the rest of your life, either your left or right pinky finger.” With the MDiv, you have to take into account the theological underpinnings of the seminaries you’re looking at. In order to choose the seminary that’s right for you, you typically need to know your stance on certain key, theological issues. Problem— in regards to theology I have way more questions than answers. Granted, some schools I could easily rule out (ie. those who would only let me take classes in how to be a good wife), but narrowing the scope down to anything less than five or six seems pretty much impossible. Then, apart from decisions such as these, you also have to take into account affordability and location. Depending on which program and school I choose, I could end up in Seattle, Asheville, Sana Monica, Nashville, Greensboro, Atlanta, and lots of places in between. And then, the ever-frightening realism that everyone in thinking about grad school tends to avoid: the fact that there’s a good chance you won’t even get in. Thus, my quandary. Hence, my summer.

I’m hoping to decide if I am truly an academic or not. I’ve tried to be strategic. I would, in fact, love to credit the agenda for my summer to my own efficient planning and management; however, the whole truth of it is that I am unreasonably lucky, and have somehow wound up in a primo scenario. My summer will be split into two halves: the first being a thorough dose of academic life in the form of a term spent as a semi-full-fledged Oxford student, the second being an internship at a non-profit writing center in Alaska (check them out 49 Writers Alaska, you may see a familiar face on the staff page).

I want to know-- what is it that is going to make me want to get out of bed in the mornings? Baptist History or Literary Theory? My own creative work in the form of poetry or prose? Working in a non-profit? And what about ministry? What does that even look like—church (yikes!), parachurch, some kind of grass roots thing?

Fortunately (or unfortunately), I am aware of the fallacies inherent in my plan. I realize that there is a very slim chance of my waking up one morning this summer and saying all of a sudden, “This is it. This is what I want to pursue for the rest of my life.” I don’t work that way and I am very much aware of this. I know that whether I choose to study poetry or fiction, I will still always love and be interested in both poetry and fiction—and theology and ministry and ethics and church history and Appalachian studies and non-profit, etc.

I also know that I don’t have to pursue only one thing for the rest of my life. In theory, I could get Master’s Degrees in all of those things! But, like I said, I do have to take a next step after graduation next year. I have to choose my thing, or at least, my something for now. And I was reminded of this as I walked home after the conference yesterday and realized, “They were cool. I could be a Baptist Historian?”

One thing I am trying my best to avoid through all of this is an attitude of ultimacy—life, my life, is not a blue print and my eternal happiness and well-being will not rest on whether or not I come back to Tennessee in August with a brilliant plan. I could very well make a very wrong decision in choosing my next step, and that would be OK. I happen to believe in a God who loves getting his hands dirty and redeeming the messes I make of things.

I’m also trying to remember that, “Oh my gosh, I live in Oxford!” Regardless of any insightful perspectives I do or do not gain in regards to my future and myself, I am here, today, right now—and that is a precious, precious gift.

I was reminded of this last night while I was reading some Maggie Anderson (yes, I did allow myself to bring one book of Appalachian poetry with me to England). This poem is from Anderson’s COLD COMFORT and is, at least for today, my favorite poem of hers. Here’s to being here, now. – KB

“The Thing You Must Remember”

The thing you must remember is how, as a child,

you worked hours in the art room, the teacher’s

hands over yours, molding the little clay dog.

You must remember, how nothing mattered

but the imagined dog’s fur, the shape of his ears

and his paws. The gray clay felt dangerous,

your small hands were pressing what you couldn’t

say with your limited words. When the dog’s back

stiffened, then cracked to white shards

in the kiln, you learned how the beautiful

suffers from too much attention, how clumsy

a single vision can grow, and fragile

with trying too hard. The thing you must

remember is the art teacher’s capable

hands, rough and grainy,

over yours, holding on.

The rabbit I've chased around the world

2011-05-09T10:33:00.000-07:00

Greetings precious family, friends, and followers. I haven't touched this blog in many moons, but now that I'm finally getting settled in here at Oxford I thought this would be the simplest way for me to keep all of you back home posted and up to date on what my life looks like here. One of the strangest things about being here so far is that I have a room to myself! No one is coming in or out but me, no spur of the moment sharing of chips and salsa, no immediate influxes of urgent life updates-- it is so bizarre. I haven't lived alone in years, and now that I am it's made me realize how many people I share my life with on a regular basis back home. I've never been this far removed from my people-- my community, you guys reading this right now!-- and it's weird and I want you to still be connected to me because I never feel that I am without you. Thus, blogging.

Just a quick thanks to everyone, first of all, who helped make this all happen for me. I feel like the thesis I'm writing here is something like a rabbit I've chased around the world. I'm reminded of this every time I walk up the steps to the library in Regents and see the portraits hanging on the walls of men and women whose stories I've studied and read and discussed and researched and written about for years-- heroes of mine. I felt it most of all the other day when I walked into Helwys Hall at Regents and saw the picture of Hannah Marshman hanging on the wall. I remembered immediately the feeling of wonder I felt the day I came across her plaque on the wall in Carey Church in Serampore. I remembered the squeak of the gate outside the church and the breeze of the Hooghly River that made its way in through the open windows as I scribbled down the description on the plaque and wondered about this woman's life: why she came to India and what kept here there. I'm humbled by feelings and memories like this and sometimes I wonder if God is up there laughing at my reaction to it at all, snickering through his God-teeth and saying, "I bet she won't see this one coming." But it's true that my being in Oxford is part of a journey that began three years ago in a refugee camp in Thailand, eventually sent me to India, and then here, to Oxford. Along the way I've found myself sleeping under mosquito nets, walking through red-light districts, crying in the basements of libraries, and sneaking across borders. I walk down the streets here sometimes and stop dead in my tracks just to look around me at all the who-knows-how-old buildings and then back down at my Chacos to make sure it's all real, that I am actually here, in real life. If this all turns out to be some sort of Truman Show-esque scheme against me, I really wouldn't be that surprised.

But all of that to say, I couldn't have done this, I couldn't have gotten accepted into this program and gotten onto a plane and lugged two massive suitcases across the Atlantic, down a little road in Oxford, up some cobbled stairs, through a skinny hallway and into my little room here to live, if it hadn't been for all of the people-- all of you-- who loved me and listened to me and gave of yourself to support me. There are very few things I know absolutely for certain in this life, but one of them is that I am not worthy of it. So, to parents and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and the greatest friends imaginable: thank you, and please believe that this is your story, too.

Oxford is wonderful. I've never really lived in a city before, so the adjustments that I've had to make are similar to those I would have to make if I moved to some place in the US bigger than Jeff City: more walking, public transportation, actually locking my door when I leave, etc. My house is about two miles from where I'm studying, Regents Park. Everyone at Regents has been incredibly friendly and helpful and kind. They're quite a small college which makes for a really great community of people and they've all been so welcoming.

While I'm here, I'm specifically researching a female missionary to India,Hannah Marshman. The Wikipedia article there gives about as much information as is published about her. She was key to the success of the Serampore Mission community. Serampore is said to be the "craddle of modern missions" and it was her hand that rocked it. Or so I hope to prove. She was the matriarch, counsellor, the only direct link any of the male missionaries had to the Bengali women of Serampore who suffered from sati, which, thanks to the social reform movements that began in Serampore, was abolished by law in 1829.

So here I am, at Regents Park, home to the largest archives of Baptist History in the world, with access to every book (over 8 million) in every Oxford library (over 100), trying to figure out what book to open next, which cider to try tomorrow, and which bus is the one that gets me home.

Below are just some shots of my everyday life here in Oxford. More to come soon. -KB

This is a shot from Magdalen Bridge. I walk across this bridge everyday on my way to Regents. The night of our first formal hall I was walking across this bridge all starry-eyed and touristy, and my heel slipped off of one of the tiles and I took a bit of a tumble, resulting in a bloody foot for formal hall. Typical KB.

This is a closeup of Magdalen Tower. On May Day (1 May) the Magdalen choir came out and sang hymns to bring in the first day of May-- lovely.

Radcliffe Camera.

Martyr's Memorial. This is a memorial to protestant martyrs Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer who were burned at the stake during the Reformation.

And here it is, ladies and gentlemen, the real reason why I came to Oxford-- The Eagle and Child, the pub in which the most imaginative minds in the universe shared beers on a regular basis. I think I could right a book in there too, it's so . . . cozy, and literally a two second walk from Regents.

Village Outreach Garden

2010-07-18T12:05:00.000-07:00

This summer it has been my privilege to be a part of Coker Creek Village's first ever Outreach Garden. The idea for this community gardening initiative sprung up from the request from multiple groups attending CCV for summer camp and retreats to have outreach opportunities available to students while at camp. After much prayer and searching and lots of orchestrating from the Lord, the Village Outreach Garden was born. This is my fourth summer at CCV, and as late as this spring I had no intentions of coming back to Coker Creek. As a rising college junior, the demands of summer classes and finances for the coming year were so much that it seemed a return to CCV was not in the cards for me. But the Lord has poured out his provision and made a way for me to come back to help be a part of this amazing endeavor, and I honestly don't know if I have ever been more thrilled about anything.

The vision of the Outreach Garden is to offer free food and gardening labor to those in need in the Coker Creek community through volunteer network gardeners and guest group outreach. We as a staff have been blown away by the response of our community and the groups that come as guests to Coker Creek.

I am not a professional gardener, and neither are any of our other staffers. Thus, this summer has been a learning process. We are still working out lots of kinks concerning what we should grow and where, how much we're capable of producing, the best methods of distribution, and the best times to plant which crops. It's been a dry summer and one of our biggest challenges have been keeping everything weeded, watered, and bug-free. But the Lord is good and is working in spite of our weaknesses and ignorance. Things are growing, people are showing up to help us work, people are being fed, and lives are being touched.

The pictures above are of a church from Nashville who brought us 250 volunteers this past week. They helped us in weeding, hoeing, and painting our windmill which will be going up soon to help us pump water from the creek to irrigate our plots.

If you or your church is interested in volunteering at the Coker Creek Village Outreach Garden, please contact the Coker Creek office at 423-261-2310 or email me at kbmoore@cn.edu.

Confessions of a Sorry Blogger

2010-05-18T11:21:00.000-07:00

Ok... so it's been a while. My last blog post was in February, and it's June. I could give you excuse after excuse as to why I have been so negligent toward my blogging. I could tell you that I simply didn't have the time (which would be semi-legitimate because as a college student, friend, tutor, Young Life leader, and CCV staffer the time I do have is limited, but everyone knows that if you want to do something badly enough you always make time for it). I guess the whole truth of it, then, is that I just really didn't want to blog.

In the midst of everything that was happenening with my friend Sonny and his sudden and mysterious illness, blogging became a petition for the prayers of my community. It became the means by which I informed others of his condition, and the way I came to grips with the reality of it myself. Blogging about it made it real.

I learned more about prayer from that experience than any other trial (for lack of a better word) in my life. The words of one of my professors during that time still resonate in my heart and have forever changed my perspectives about prayer. He said "We have to pray believing that our prayers matter, and that they can change the world." He told me that it is our prayers that move the arm of God. For most, or all, of my life I have prayed expecting that God already had his mind made up, and that my petitions no matter how sincere or heartfelt, ultimately would not sway his predetermined decision. But I can tell you that asking for miracles and truly believing that God will listen and act on the pray you bring him, changes things. My friend Sonny, whose brain was only funtioning enough to keep his heart beating, has made a full recovery. He just woke up somehow, went back to school, became himself again, finished this semester of classes, and even found an awesome summer job. He was made well, miraculously and without any medical explination at all. His illness disappeared as mysteriously as it came, and his family and friends have none but the Lord to praise for it all.

Richard Foster says about prayer in his classic, Celebration of Discipline,

The Bible pray-ers prayed as if their prayers could and would make an objective difference. The apostle Paul gladly announces that we are 'co-laborers with God'; that is, we are working with God to determine the outcome of events (1 Cor. 3:9). It is Stoicism that demands a closed universe not the Bible . . . Moses prayed boldly because he believed his prayers could change things, even God's mind. In fact, the Bible stresses so forcefully the openess of our universe that, in an anthropomorphism hard for modern ears, it speaks of God constantly changing his mind in accord with his unchanging love (see Exod. 32:14; Jon. 3:10).

I cannot tell you what a tremendous impact this insight has had on my life, not only on the way that I pray, but the way I think about God, his heart, and what that means for my life, my present and future. I don't really know when or at one point I came to believe so strongly that the Lord's plan was a blue print, and that any wrong turn I made away from that initial layout meant things for me were eternally screwed up. That meant that everything that happened could be attributed to "God's will." I see now that this is SOO not the case. There is so much freedom in that! I'm coming to see that God gives us choices. We are allowed to choose where we go to college and who we date and what we study. And these choices aren't always black and white; the choices aren't always between one good thing and one bad thing. I am coming to find that more often than not, I have to choose between two seemingly equal good things. And knowing now what I know and prayer and the heart of God, I know that I have the liberty to make bad decisions, as much as I have the liberty to make good ones.But that's ok too, because you see, nothing is beyond redemption. Foster writes later on in his book that God's greatest pleasure is to forgive . . . Wow.

So, while that may make absolutely zero sense to anybody else out there, it has totally revolutionized my life this semester and for the rest of my forever. Go read Celebration of Discipline, it will rock your planet, too.

Other news from this semester/summer that I hope to elaborate on soon:

1-- I have a kitten named Amos now.
2-- I am managing/pulling weeds from a new community garden at Coker Creek!
3-- I'm going to Oxford next year!!

Thanks for reading, folks. More to come soon. Pinky promise.

KB

New Miracles Each Day

2010-02-06T16:01:00.000-08:00

As I sit here in Vanderbilt Hospital catching up with Krystal and listening to all of the things Sonny has been able to do today, I am blown away by his progress. There is a world of difference in his condition today compared to the last time I saw him on Tuesday night. Sonny is off the ventilator, sitting up, feeding himself ice cream, recognizing his family (and Krystal too!), and throwing stress balls at his nurses! Thank you so much to everyone who has been praying for him. While the progress he's made is amazing, he still has a long way to go both physically and cognitively. But everyone around him remains both thankful that God has done so much, and faithful that He will continue to work miracles with Sonny. "His mercies are new each morning..."

Keep praying for Sonny and those who love him.

Here's a funny pic of Sonny playing with some seaweed, and Krystal being a little grossed out by it... :)

KB

Please Keep Praying for Sonny

2010-02-04T14:53:00.000-08:00

Sonny has been transferred to Vanderbilt Research Hospital in Nashville, TN. He is receiving excellent care from a special team of doctors, but they still don't have answers for what is causing his seizures. The doctors, as well as his family, remain hopeful and appreciate your prayers.

Below is a great pic of Krystal and Sonny dancing in Maine.

Believing in a God who Turns Mourning into Joy

2010-02-03T08:01:00.000-08:00

As I write this, I sit and wonder if my blog title should be changed for this particular post. Nothing is grand about the following situation, and I feel silly for having written about anything having to do with chicken parmesan, or the woes of minced parsley.

I am twenty years old, a healthy college student, full of dreams and hopes and loves. Two days ago, my friend Sonny was all of those things too. I've known Sonny since my sophomore year of high school. Back then he was scoring touchdowns and skipping Spanish. Everyone loved him, he was just that kind of kid. He was in love with my best friend, Krystal, and everyone saw it but her. The three of us came to college together in the Fall of 2008. I remember that day clearly, my car was loaded to the brim, my Mom was in the passenger seat, and me, always the nervous driver, was doing 55 in the right hand land on the interstate. Sonny came zooming up, laying down on the horn. I swerved over the right line, hitting those bumps on the road meant to wake you up if you fall asleep driving. Sonny drove by me, laughing and waving. Krystal soon realized how crazy he was about her just about this time last year, and they've been an inseparable part of each other's lives since then.

People always say life can change in an instant. I thought I knew what that meant, even what if felt like, but my perspectives came crashing down Monday night when Sonny was found in his room seizing. He was rushed to the hospital, where his family soon arrived. Sonny has been unconscious since Monday night, and the doctors simply don't have answers for what is happening inside his body.

The next 24 hrs are critical. I ask that you join me in prayer for my friend, his girlfriend who loves him so much, and of course, his parents and siblings. His friends could use your prayers as well.

Monday morning I read these words in my quiet time, as I asked the Lord to help me to live more in the power of the Holy Spirit: "And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever... I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you... Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid" (John 14:16,18,27).

Last night these were the words the Father put in my lap: "Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them and give them gladness for sorrow... my people shall be satisfied with my goodness" (Jeremiah 31:13-14).

Thank you all for your prayers. I know God can heal Sonny, and I truly believe He will.

This is Sonny and his friend Jeff in Maine this past May. Krystal, Sonny, and I made a trip up there for Jeff and his wife, Hannah's, wedding. As Sonny's thumbs up indicate, it was a blast.

Julie vs. Julia Round Two: Chicken Parmesan!

2010-01-03T04:46:00.000-08:00

For this round of the Julie vs. Julia cook off, I decided to forgo the desert table and jump headlong into a main course. My selection-- a fantastic chicken Parmesan that I happened across on myrecipes.com.

May I begin by saying, this was no easy feat for me, and the culinary novice within me was, at first, quite afraid. Here is the recipe that I used:

Ingredients
1/3 cup (1 1/2 ounces) grated fresh Parmesan cheese, divided
1/4 cup dry breadcrumbs
1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon salt, divided
1 large egg white, lightly beaten
1 pound chicken breast tenders
1 tablespoon butter
1 1/2 cups bottled fat-free tomato-basil pasta sauce (such as Muir Glen Organic)
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/3 cup (1 1/2 ounces) shredded provolone cheese

Preparation
Preheat broiler.
Combine 2 tablespoons of Parmesan, breadcrumbs, parsley, basil, and 1/8 teaspoon salt in a shallow dish. Place egg white in a shallow dish. Dip each chicken tender in egg white; dredge in the breadcrumb mixture. Melt butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken; cook 3 minutes on each side or until done. Set aside. Combine 1/8 teaspoon salt, pasta sauce, vinegar, and pepper in a microwave-safe bowl. Cover with plastic wrap; vent. Microwave sauce mixture at HIGH 2 minutes or until thoroughly heated. Pour the sauce over chicken in pan. Sprinkle evenly with the remaining Parmesan and provolone cheese. Wrap handle of pan with foil, and broil 2 minutes or until the cheese melts.

After acquiring my ingredients (thanks to the help of a very trusty sidekick who searched ardently for my provolone cheese), I had to decipher the meaning of "minced" parsley. This instructional video proved quite helpful... How to mince parsley.

My mincing, however, took much longer than the guy in the video. I chopped and chopped, blaming my lack of ease on the dullness of my knife rather than my lack of skill, until I felt that my parsley was finally, properly, minced. I then scraped it all up into a teaspoon, and turned to pour it into the saucepan, but as I did, a ferocious sneeze came upon me, and I blew my little minced parsley slivers into the air, then dropped the spoon. The remainder of my precious slivers of parsley landed in a pile on top of my shoes. Thus making this part of the process something more like: mince, sneeze, repeat.

But the parsley smelled terrific and added a ton of flavor to the chicken! Here was my precious herbed chicken as I poured the sauce on top

And after the cheese was added...

And (drum roll.......) the finished product, served with broccoli

It was a hard fought battle, but I came out victorious and the meal was a huge hit! I hope to attempt one more culinary endeavor on my own, before my opponent, and dear friend, Katie Hayes and I combine forces for one final miraculous feat-- my birthday cake :)

KB

Julie vs. Julia

2009-12-29T10:24:00.000-08:00

Soon... this will be me. I have come to a point in my life where I fee it is time that I become at least a little bit domestic. Now, I have never been much of a culinary expert myself, but before we left for break, my great friend, Katie Hayes, and I decided to have a blog cook-off, inspired by the movie Julie and Julia (which we both probably watched 5 times a piece during the approx. 60 hours of flying we did going to India and back). If you haven't seen the movie, please do so immediately. But just to catch you up to speed if you haven't seen it, it's about this girl named Julie who decides to cook through each recipe in Julia Child's cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. The movie tells the story of Julia Child's life and journey in writing her book, and parallels it with Julie's journey of writing her blog and cooking Julia's masterpieces.

So, since I am a complete novice, and an aspiring writing (like Julie) who has a soft spoken voice (and also because I love all the dresses that Julie wears in the movie), I have decided that I am JULIE and Katie is JULIA. She gets to be Julia because she's pretty much leading the way in this endeavor, and she's bilingual (Julia Child spoke French, and Katie speaks Spanish). Her next culinary adventure is some kind of toffee "torte,"-- I don't even know what a torte is, therefore, she gets to be the legendary pro played by Meryl Strep, and I get to be the rookie writer, played by the adorable Amy Adams.

We've decided that we don't necessarily have to cook the same things, but if we want to, we most certainly can. SO, when Katie told me that she was cooking a "Double-layered Red Velvet Cake," I jacked her idea.

This part I stole from Katie's blog, since I did the exact same thing :)

"Because I was pressed for time, I did not make the actual cake, but bought a Betty Crocker box of Red Velvet cake batter, and cooked it as normal from the box directions. "

Both of us, however, did make the icing from scratch. I found my recipe for the icing on allrecipes.com. Here is the recipe that I used:

Ingredients
2 (8 ounce) packages cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 cups sifted confectioners' sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions
1.In a medium bowl, cream together the cream cheese and butter until creamy. Mix in the vanilla, then gradually stir in the confectioners' sugar. Store in the refrigerator after use.

I ended up having to add a little extra sugar, after I slung the stuff all over the place with the electric mixer. But it turned out awesome, and I was actually quite proud of myself!

Here is the finished product, though it's a little sloppy and lacking in semi-sweet chocolate shavings like Katie's cake, I was still very proud:

And here I am trying to look as cute as Amy Adams in the kitchen:

A far cry perhaps. But I had a lot of fun trying!

So while Katie may have won this first round, there is still lots of cooking to come!

Home... and Rethinking Christmas

2009-12-23T13:01:00.000-08:00

Hello world!! Sorry it's been forever! Coming back from India the week before finals was... intense, to say the very least. But after a whirlwind series of finals and papers, I've finally wrapped up this super tough semester! The grades are in, all is well in the world, and I have never been so glad to be home in all my life! Kolkata has had everything to do with that. Never in my life have I been so aware of and grateful for all of my blessings. I feel lavishly blessed to be able to look around the room and see all of my family safe, healthy, and in the same place (my brother is home from Alaska!!). I have a safe, clean, comfortable home, plenty to eat, and the luxury of being able to take all of this for granted.

Coming back from Kolkata just before Chritmas has caused me to do a lot of thinking about what Christ's birth meant for the world, what Christ's life, death, and resurrection means for the world today. And quite frankly, I've never been so thankful that he chose to come and be born into this humble world, becuase it means that there is hope for it. It means that there is hope for all of the people sleeping on the streets of Kolkata tonight, and that a better world is possible because Christ came to bring the Kingdom on earth, to set a new standard of social ethic and responsibility, to usher in a kingdom in which people give and love each other, and put others before themselves. Of course, coming to set the captives free not only held a weight of social ethic, but was also the ultimate redemptive work of the Father-- a once-and-for-all reconciliation of God to man. What a beautiful gift he was to the world.

In the spirit of social ethic and responsibility, and putting others before ourselves, I want to share with you something that's made me think about Christmas in a whole new way. It's called Advent Conspiracy, and I've shared the promo video below. You can learn more by checking out the website at adventconspiracy.org and ordering the book. I'm reading the book myself and it's awesome!

Here's wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas! I'll be spending break with my family, continuing to sift through and process everything India, resting up, and eating lots of yummy things. Katie and I are also contmeplating a bit of a blog cookoff, inspired by the movie Julie & Julia :)

Peace to all on this special holiday

Home at Last and Some Lessons Learned

2009-12-01T16:57:00.000-08:00

After a lot of long and insane flights, I am home and settling back in at school. I experienced the misery of being sick on an airplance for the first time (Kolkata to Dubai was the longest plane ride of my life, and I'm sure that the poor English woman beside me was miserable too). I feel much better now though, but it seems that everyone I've talked to has managed to come back with some sort of crudiness, some sinus infections and pink eye cases are in the mix. Prayers for starting back to class tomorrow would be greatly appreciated. I know I speak for all when I say that jet lag is a beast and is making a bit of a zombee of me.

Just wanted to share some of my favorite moments from India with you guys. The first two are at Serampore, the college founded by William Carey and his associates, the third is at the steps of the Queen Victoria monument, and the last is Katie and I enjoying a good cup of chai (miss that stuff already).

Of course, there are many more moments and stories that stand out. For now I'm keeping those close to my heart, trying to guard them until I can understand and wrap my brain around what happened a little more, and decifer more fully what the Lord is wanting to teach me through them.

I do, however, know this-- this was hands down the most amazing experience of my life, and I have never been more challanged to engage the world creatively for the advancement of the Kingdom. Through the people at Free$et and $ari B@ri I learned what loving people and transforming lives is supposed to look like. Christ came so that we could have life to the full, and the people I met and came to know in Kolkata are running with that hope and making it a reality in the lives of women trapped in the sex trade.

I also realized that poverty around the world is an issue more staggering and heart breaking than anything I have ever imagined before. I saw people everyday living on the streets, men, women, children, newborns, without anywhere to go, with no privacy or comfort to speak of. I saw people naked and dying, who, although it is tragic, simply blended in with the scenary. They were everywhere.

Thank you, friends, for giving me the space to sift through these things and guard my stories for now. Perhaps in the future I will be able to share more specificly instances that impacted me and are shaping the way I think about the world, about our loving God, and about humanity.

Until then, here is a brief list of a few important lessons I learned in Kolkata.

1. Think twice before getting a piercing in a foreign country. You may end up with an earring in your nose.

2. Curry is yummy, not scarey.

3. William Carey had a very large forehead.

4. Starring is not a culturally inappropriate thing in India.

5. While sari shopping is a blast, walking in a sari is much more difficult than it looks. Take small steps.

6. Mother Teresa did, in fact, have bunyons just like mine, and her shoes were worn in the same places that mine are.

7. Rickshaw night rides are pretty much the funnest things in the world.

8. A shoulder shrug and a nod to the side means "YES" in India.

9. People really do use the barf bags that are stuck in the back of airplane seats, and sitting beside a large drunken Indian man with tremendous b.o. will make you use one yourself. Also, stewardesses can look very much like nurses when your on the verge of passing out and they hand you a 7up.

10. Traveling with people you love makes everything a million times more wonderful.

2009-11-27T21:55:00.000-08:00

It's Saturday in Kolkata, our last full day here and more than likely my last blog post. Today will be spent catching up on journaling and writing and running to a a few last minute shops or going back to a few places for the last time to say our goodbyes and farewells to friends that we've made.

We had a good debriefing session this morning and processed together some of the experiences that impacted us the most. There is still so much to sift through, however, and I'm sure that I'll be processing for a long time to come. I have a batch of three poems due on Thurs. next week and I was hoping to have an Indian theme to them, but I'm finding that I'm going to need some space from all of this to write about it justly. So don't go expecting any terrificly grand tales just yet, Dr. Underwood.

The streets are pretty quiet today because of the Muslim feast of Eid (no idea if I spelled that correctly), but today all of the Muslims are recognzing the time when Abraham went up to sacrafice Isaac, so there are thousands of little goats and cows that are going to go under the knife today. It is also a day where the sacrafices are shared amongst the poor, and I noticed on the way to the internet cafe that there weren't as many beggars out on the streets. Maybe a day of relief for the people on the streets of Kolkata then...

Thanks so much for all of the prayers and support. We've got a real beast of a flight schedule ahead of us, so you all can definitely be in prayer about that. We'll return home on Monday night- so see you then America!!

Peace,
KB

P.S. It seems that every decent female in this country has a nose ring, and I might try to become culturally apropriate on my last day here :) See ya soon mom!!!

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T08:41:00.000-08:00

By the time all you friends and family read this, I will have already lived Thanksgiving Day (time zones are such weird things). Know that it was spent in a really great place, with really great people, doing some pretty cool thins. Each person in our group was challenged to think of things we are thankful for and share with the group. It was hard for me to think of just one thing to share because being here has reminded me of how truly blessed I am. First of all I am thankful for my family. It's great to know that when I get off the plane next week, there will be people there to welcome me and want to here my stories and just be with me. I'm thankful for my home, that I have a place where I am wanted and can feel. I'm thankful for friends who are like-minded, who love the Lord, and are on this adventure with me. I'm thankful that I have the opportunity to pursue an education, that I have the liberty to choose what I want to do, where I want to go, who I want to be with, and when. Then I thought about all the things I'm learning here, and what the Lord is reminding me of, and I think the thing I'm most thankful for is that the Lord is who He says that He is, that He is faithful to his promises and his word. I am thankful for Christ, and the reality of the freedom that he brings, that he came to bind up the brokenhearted, and proclaim liberty to the captives. I am thankful for the realization that freedom can be a reality.

I would like to leave you with an excerpt from a Bengali poem that we were challenged by earlier this week.

"Whom dost thou worship in this dark corner of the temple with the doors all shut?
Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee!
God is there where the tillor is tilling the hard ground; and where the path maker is breaking stones. God is
with them in the sun and in the shower, and in the garment covered in dust.
Put off thy holy mantle and come down
on the dusty soil...
what harm is there if thy clothes\become tattered and stained?
Meet him and stand by him in toil and in the sweat of thy brow."

-"Gitanjali" by Rabindranath Tagore

To my family-- I love and miss you all, and have thought about chocolate pie all day. Save me a piece?? Hugs to all. See you soon.

KB

2009-11-24T04:24:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we had the incredible opportunity to visit Serampore College, founded by the famous Serampore Trio (William Carey, William Ward, and Henry Marshman). To say that it was an amazing experience is an incredible understatement. I've seen pictures and paintings of the place, but it was much bigger and more lovely than I could have dreamed. Visiting there was a pilgrimage experience of sorts for me. I saw WC's desk and chair, his pen, and letters he had written.

Experiencing the public transportation has also been fantasticly exciting. We took the train to Serampore, passing through Howrah Station, supposedly the busiest train station in the world- I can believe it. I've never seen so many people in one place in all my life!! India is also the only place in the world that still utilizes man-powered rickshaws. The pick above is of Katie and I and our rickshaw driver who took us from Serampore Station to the college. He was a rather jolly fellow who like to flip his scarf behind him and honk his horn a lot.

I continue to be amazed by this wonderful place. Wish I could say more.

Love to all of you back home, and sorry that the comment option isn't working out for you guys. Hopefully I can get that worked out when I get home.

-KB

Kolkata the Beautiful

2009-11-21T07:31:00.000-08:00

This morning we attended a service at Carey Baptist church, founded by William Carey in 1809. This was our first chance to meet the faces of Freeset, and I was finally able to shake hands with Carrie and Annie, the founders who I feel like I already know through our advocating of their ministry and vision on campus. As I walked into the sanctuary I saw a plaque on the far wall. I walked over to read it, and I found that it was in the honor of Adoniram Judson who was baptised by William Ward,an associate of Carey's, in that very church before heading off to Burma to minister to the Karen. For those of you who know me, you'll know that this was huge for me! I have such a heart for the Karen, and their stories changed my life when I spent 12 days with them on the Thai-Burmese border this past spring through CN. I have done quite a bit of research on Adoniram Judson, and knew that he had crossed paths with Carey in Kolkata, but did not realize that he had been baptised there. And I certainly didn't realize that the church we were visiting was the place where it happened. I could not help but tear up as I saw how remarkably God has brought me to the key places of his ministry. I was totally blown away.

Later, as our group was speaking with the current pastor of the church, he told us that the baptistry that Adoniram was baptised in was still in use and that they cover it with boards while it is not in use. He pointed my way and said, "She's standing right on top of it." I looked down at the boards, took a quick breath, and hopped right off- I felt as if I were desecrating sacred space! Later, we also saw William Carey's pulpit (I got a pic standing behind it). Standing there in that sanctuary I felt as if I were breathing in history- it was so amazing.

Our afternoon was filled with street walking, and Dr. Pound gave us a bit of a scavenger hunt assignment. We were to find certain monuments and shops throughout the city and meet back at a coffee house in two hours. It was a great way to see the city, get our bearings, and get a sense of where we are and how to get around. Local transportation is really something- a blog in and of itself perhaps.

Part of our assignment was to visit a park. When we arrived at the park we came across some kids playing on the playground. We gradually approached them, asked for photos, and eventually joined in with their fun. We had a blast sliding down the slide with them and taking funny pictures. Katie even gave them her camera and let them take their own pictures. They were great little photographers!

I am overwhelmed by all that I am experiencing. This place is beautiful and heartbreaking and friendly and cruel all at the same time. I have so many questions, and there is so much I do not understand. Amongst all of the chaos and tragedy of this place, I must keep reminding myself that God is who He says that He is. I keep reminding myself that "the steadfast love of the Lord never fails. His mercies never end. They are new every morning."

The need here is overwhelming. Homeless and street people are everywhere. Whenever I walk down the street I feel as if I am walking through people's bedrooms and bathrooms- I am. I step over people sleeping, covered up with tattered blankets. People wash in public hydrants on the side of the road. I have never seen so many people in all my life. I wonder how it got to be this way, what the church could and should be doing to help it, to put an end to it. I know I can't save all the street people, and that my short days here won't even begin to scratch the surface. But maybe I will mean something to someone, and show someone some love. I know that that the conditions these people are living in cannot be changed by one person, or ten, or fifty over night- but change has to start somehere, with someone- with me? with you?

The Lord is good, the darkness is not dark to Him, and Kolkata is beautiful.

Love to all! Thanks so much for the prayers and thoughts.

KB

Safe in Kolkata!

2009-11-20T04:07:00.000-08:00

After a series of whirlwind flights (3 continets in 2 days) I, along with my friends, am alive and settled well in the bustling city of Kolkata! The flights all went very smoothly and everyone's luggage made it too!!

We are staying in the BMS Guest HOuse here in Kolkata, which was founded by William Carey himself. It is beautiful and everyone working there is so friendly. I'm finding Kolkata to be a very welcoming city. But the overwhelming prescence of poverty is all around.

We've just come from a mass in the Mother Teresea Home. I saw her sandals, and letters she had written, and her sari. We will have the chance on Wed. to volunteer at her home for the destitute and dying this coming Wednesday, and had our first orientation for that today.

I am so thankful to be here. It is more than I could have ever imagined it to be. More later- love to all!!

Sorry for the lack of personal emails, Mom and Dad esp. This internet is sketch and I'm on a timer :) Later in the week when i have more time, and more ruppees, I will write you all.

And feel free to throw up prayers for our smooth adjustment- this jet lag is killer!! Katie Hayes and I had to smack each other to stay awake in mass :)

KB

Prepare My Heart for the Streets of Kolkata

2009-11-15T18:05:00.000-08:00

My countdown to departure has begun! The past couple weeks have been very intense. I'll be missing six days of class, so there have been a lot of assignments and papers and exams to get ahead of. But, I am so thankful for all my wonderful professors at Carson-Newman for being flexible and working with me on all of that. I am amazed by their gracious and loving and encouraging spirits, and I'm so thankful that the Lord directed me to a place where I could truly be a part of an amazing family. I would tell you how many pages I've written and read in the past week, but I'm afraid you might cry- so on to more important things!!

I know that this is going to be an amazing, once in a lifetime, opportunity. I feel so blessed and I'm so excited to be traveling to a place with such a rich history. I have read so much about India, about William Carey, Mother Teresa, and even Ghandi- It hasn't really sunk in that I'm going to be tromping around their stomping grounds, and seeing the place that captured their hearts, the place where they poured out their lives.

I was thinking about this idea of pouring out our lives for the Kingdom and for others and what that looks like, while I was driving home to spend some time with my family before I leave. I was thinking about Mother Teresa, who I would say was one of the greatest lovers of people that ever graced the planet, and how she said, "Kolkatas are everywhere if we only have eyes to see. Find your Kolkata." It was while I was pondering this, that some Christmas music came on the radio.

Now, I am not a fan of Christmas music. Don't judge me- I know, I just can't handle most of it. But, the one song I do love, and always have, is "The Little Drummer Boy." It's just my favorite. Well, like I said, I was thinking about Mother Teresa and how she loved people and how she encouraged so many others to love people, and I was mulling over how I'm trying to love people and seeking ways to do that more effectively, and searching for the place and cause for which I will pour out my own life, when "The Little Drummer Boy" came on the radio. The part came on that said "I have no gift to bring pa rum pum pum pum/ That's fit to give a King pa rum pum pum pum..." And then the poor little boy asks, "Shall I play for you pa rum pum pum pum," and then Mary nods, and the little boy goes to town on his little drum. And I just had this mental picture of the little boy, in ratty clothes and bare feet, with his eyes closed and his head nodding to the beat, hoping with all of his hear that the tune he's playing will please the baby King- that's about the time I started crying. And the song said, "Then he smiled at me... Me and my drum."

I feel like that's what I'm doing most of the time, just beating on my little drum the best I can, using what gifts I know I have and hoping (with an eyes closed tight kind of hope) that it's good, and that it pleases the Lord, hoping for a smile in response. Kolkata is just part of my drum solo. I know that I'll probably learn way more than I'll be able to teach while I'm there, but my prayer is that by going and being there, I may be able to better grasp what it means to truly love people well.

As I journaled this week I prayed, "Lord, prepare my heart for the sites, smells, faces, sounds, stories, and streets of Kolkata," ... and may the song I play bring You pleasure.

I hope to keep you all posted, but I'm not sure what internet connection and time will be available. Thanks for traveling with me through your prayers.

KB

Sonagacchi

2009-11-01T16:50:00.000-08:00

It is estimated that there are more people in slavery today than there were during the Trans-Atlantic slave trade in the 1800's. Slavery is an issue that most of us Americans are not exposed to; we presume it is resolved. This is not the case. Sex-slavery is a major problem in our world today. It plagues countries around the world, and even our own. As I have already written, this Thanksgiving I will have the opportunity, along with some of my very close friends, to travel to one of the biggest red light districts in the world- Sonagacchi. Located in the heart of Calcutta, it is estimated that nearly 6,000 women service nearly 20,000 men each night. The majority of these women have no choice. For many of them, prostitution chose them more than they chose prostitution. They are slaves to their profession.

FreeSet's mission is one of freedom. Something we Americans love to talk about. The truth is, if we are all honest with ourselves, each of us has areas in our lives in which we are not free. There are things we allow to control us, burdens and weights that we so often refuse to relinquish. These chains of ours manifest themselves in many different ways: insecurities, past regrets, fears- you fill in the blank. We allow these things to define us, and sometimes we can't even imagine our lives without them. There are places in our hearts in which we are captive- We all have our own Sonagacchi. But freedom is not an unatainable ideal, it can be a reality within us. God does not intend for us to be held captive by anyting. He says in his Word

"...the Lord has appointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound" -Isaiah 61:1

As we endeavor to pray for the women in Sonagacchi, let us examine ouselves and bring to light those areas of our hearts we so often hide, the things that keep us bound, and may we have the courage to lay them before the feet of Christ. May we remember that he came to give us "life to the FULL."

We've no need to be slaves anymore.

For more information on how you can support the women at FreeSet, or if you're interested in purchasing FreeSet bags, just shoot me an email and I'll be glad to fill you in.

Thanksgiving in India

2009-10-11T20:40:00.000-07:00

Next stop, India. The next mission class that I wil be taking for my missions major is called Discovering the Mission of God. It will be taught by Dr. Geoff Pound, an awesome man of God, good friend, and incredible Catch Phrase player, whose blog you can check out here. As some of you know and remember, Dr. Pound taught last semester's class, Cross-Cultural Missions and World Awareness, through which I had the opportunity to travel to the Thai-Burmese border and spend time with the Karen refugees- an amazing and life changing experience that I hope to write more about later on.

For now, I'd like to highlight some of the ministries we will be working with. My plan is to write a seperate blog for each of the three, so be on the lookout for updates. The first is called Freeset.

Freeset was founded by Kerry and Annie Hilton, two New Zealanders who traveled to Kolkata to live amongst and minister to the poor. To their surprise, however, they had signed up to live in Sonaggachi, the largest, most infamous sex district in Kolkata. Their new neighbors were the thousands of women who had been forced into the sex trade by human trafficking and poverty. To make a real difference in the lives of these women, the Hiltons soon realized that they were in need of a business alternative to offer these ladies. So now, after a long road, Freeset offers a way out of prostitution for these women by teaching them how to make bags called jute bags (super cute) and marketing them for profit.

I encourage you to PLEASE read more about this phenomenal ministry and the ladies they serve by checking out their website at freesetglobal.com. You can read stories of the women whose lives have been changed and even purchase Freeset goods!

You can also find information about the widely acclaimed documentary, Calcutta Hilton, which tells the Freeset story.

I ask you to join me in prayer for these amazing women and the ministry that serves them.

Syallabuses...

2009-10-09T21:00:00.000-07:00

I love words. I love writing them, reading them, and even pluralizing them. Words can, however, be much trickier than they seem. My first year of college was pretty much amazing. I was opening up a brand new chapter and daring to reimagine my entire life. I felt so big. My first week of class I enjoyed picking out new folders, organizing them, and collecting my first big batch of "syllabi," as I called them. I loved using that word. It made me feel smart and cool, like I was finally a legitimate college student. I was soon informed, to my utter dismay, that the correct plural form of the word syllabus is, in fact, "syllabuses. "Even though "syllabi" is fun to say and sounds really smart, it is entirely incorrect. I had been deceived my entire life, and I was stunned. This news came from my English advisor, a brilliant, very together lady with a PhD in Literature- she was not to be disputed, and I walked away more than a little demoralized.

This story came to mind when I considered my first blog post. I was sitting here at my computer typing away things all about myself, trying to lay the ground work for this dazzling piece of brilliance that is to be my blog, when I realized, I have no idea where I'm going with this thing. I have no syllabus to give. And even if it could give a syllabus, even if I could tell you upfront all the things I'll be writing about and when, I promise it would change. Sooner or later I would learn something new that would change my entire perspective and even purpose.

This blog is for anyone that wants to journey with me. I am a traveler, an aspiring writer, a baby poet, a sister, a friend, a learner out in the world, encountering places, people, and a loving God along the way. I am a wanderer, and I wish to share my encounters with you...

So whether I am writing about places I've been, places I'm going, things I'm learning, theological debates I'm having in my head, or people I'm meeting, my prayer is that a piece of my story will resonate with something in you. As I have learned from most of my endeavors, I will probably mess this up, I will call this or that something it is not, but that's OK. Mistakes are great teachers, and I hope to be open with the lessons I am learning...

Syllabuses it is then.