More Awkwardness

On Answering the Phone

This is me, when my phone rings.

"WHY? WHY? WHYYYY?"

Like Jordan in the video, "Oh no! My day is ruined! It was going so well before you called me and brought out all my insecurities and now I feel like an idiot! THANK you!" (Well, maybe not that bad, but close.)

Ignore it for a while, and hopes that it stops, and that the person on the other end changed their mind.

Try to think of good reasons why I don't need to answer.

Put phone on silent and leaves it lying around, so I won't even know when it rings.

If it's a number I don't know, I assume it's a wrong number, and also that if it's important enough, the person will text me. (What, isn't that normal?)

When I DO have to answer it, I use my perfected method of keeping to business, and smoothly ending the conversation ASAP!

"So, yeah, anyway, got to go, see ya, bye." Hang up with a giant sigh of relief.

On Hugging

When I have the choice, and I don't know the person well, I just don't. No hug is better than fake hug.

It's not that I don't like hugs. I just prefer REAL hugs. So if I don't know the person well enough for a real hug, but they expect me to hug them anyway... I fake it. And following the phone rule, get out of it ASAP.

Actually, this is my rule for all awkward situations: FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT. (Says Sue of 'Keeping It Real' fame.)

Sending the Text to the Wrong Person

Thank the LORD this has not happened to me. However, it HAS happened to my brother more than once. And my over sensitive awkwardness phobia meter goes off the charts every time I even think of what happened, and I'M the one going "NO PLEASE GOD NO PLEASE BRING IT BACK NO NO NO WHYYYYY?"

I have often speculated on how horrible it would be to play a nasty prank on someone you know well where you got into their phone, and switched the numbers of their closest friend with the person they had a crush on. OHMYGOSH THE POTENTIAL AWKWARDNESS! I even stop a moment before I send texts like that, to contemplate how horrible it would be if it went to the wrong person.

Having to Ask What Someone Said the Second Time

I have mastered the art of noncommittally agreeing the second or third time I need someone to repeat something. I listen to the tone of their voice, judge whether it seemed like something I NEEDED to know, guess what they most likely said, and then "Mm- hmm" at them. I have occasionally had to be honest and admit I didn't hear, but usually it's just not worth it to keep asking. "What?" "Huh?" "What was that?" "You did what?" This only does not work if the person said completely unexpected things in a matter of fact tone, and you find yourself agreeing to something that you did NOT plan to.

Actually, I'm usually the mumbler, getting frustrated that people keep asking me "What? What?" As I keep mumbling answers back at them, I'm yelling 'WHAT ARE YOU, DEAF?' in my head. Yeah, this usually happens when I'm really tired.

Thankfully Indians don't have the toilet paper awkwardness situation. We do however have the same problem with the absence of running water, a mug and soap. This is why I don't use bathrooms outside my home. :-)

Actually, over the years I have learned how to deal with most potentially awkward situations where they don't rattle me anymore. However, sometimes horribly awkward situations just come out of nowhere and hit me over the head when I least expect it. One of them happened last week. I was at a wedding reception of a couple I didn't know well, with a family and culture very different from mine. The reception hall was basically a dim room with disco lights and deafening club music playing. I was also with the only white people in the room sitting on a sofa, and being stared at by all the other guests. No, that wasn't the awkward part.

The awkward part happened when the groom decided that there should be some 'couple dancing'... and when no one was getting up, shouted my name on the mic, forcing me to get up and dance with one of my American friends. COUPLE DANCE. TO CLUB MUSIC. (My rhythmic soul screamed 'Kill me now!') While multiple guests TOOK PHOTOS AND VIDEOS of my humiliation.

Oh awkwardness, my arch enemy. You won that round.

Misconceptions: Marriage is Just a Piece of Paper

I've often read such contemptuous opinions of the institution of marriage. In a lot of the books I have read, in many articles and often in movies (but not the rom-coms), it is assumed that believing in lifelong marriage is something only naive, clueless, very protected, or maybe brainwashed people believe. To be modern thinking, one must eschew this patriarchal, outdated institution.

"Why keep sex for marriage? If you love someone, go for it. After all, marriage is just a piece of paper."

"What changes before or after you sign a piece of paper? You are the same two people with the same relationship."

"We're getting married for the family."

But you know what? I know where they're coming from. They've probably seen terrible examples of marriage, and they KNOW this is not what it's about.

When girls are forced into marriage, just because they've crossed a certain age, when a wife and mother is seen as nothing but a household slave, when a marriage is about keeping up appearances, when emotional or physical abuse is seen as normal, when dowry or age dominate the conversation about marriage, when marriage is to prevent 'what people might say', when marriage is nothing but a legal agreement that can be ended... what's the point? Better keep yourself free, right? Makes sense.

But then why do I think marriage is such a big deal?

Because marriage is supposed to be primarily about love.

"Love?" you say. "Ah ha, this is about love marriages versus arranged marriages, right?"

Not exactly.

Because "Love is not merely a feeling, it is an ACT OF WILL that consists in preferring in a constant manner the good of the other over the good of oneself." Said Pope Saint John Paul II. So love could exist in so called 'love marriages' or 'arranged marriages'. Or neither.

So why sex for marriage? Why marriage at all?

Because marriage in its truest form is COMMITMENT. It is a safe environment to give yourself away* (And the best place and way to raise children). You don't have to keep trying to protect yourself, because as you give yourself to someone, he gives himself to you- Totally. Freely. Faithfully. And fruitfully.

Marriage isn't a piece of paper. It's two people freely choosing to make a promise to be there no matter what. If either party enters the marriage without that understanding, or willingness for forever, then yeah, marriage is pretty pointless.

If you're too scared to tie yourself to one person forever, then maybe you're scared to love at all. You are never freer when you live out your calling to love. We Catholics believe in lifelong marriage, because we believe our vows count for something, that when you promise to love and honour each other all the days of your lives, you mean it, and God joins you together in an bond that no human can break. Even when one or both totally mess up.

And sex? Why do we archaic Christians keep telling kids to save sex for marriage? Because why would you give yourself so intimately to someone who is not sure whether he or she wants to stick around? Sex is SO awesome that you want to do it right. With the right person, in the right context, at the right time.

There is nothing more beautiful than the witness of an older married couple, even more beautiful than the glow and the promise of a young couple earnestly promising forever on their wedding day. Marriage is worth promoting, worth sacrificing for, worth believing in, because COMMITTED LOVE is worth promoting, worth sacrificing for and worth believing in.

#picsstolenfromFB

'The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.' G.K. Chesterton

* Although there is always an element of vulnerability when you give yourself away- there are no guarantees that the other person will not change or stop believing what you both started off believing. And still it is worth it.

7QT: Seven Reasons You Should Read 'Something Other Than God'

T and I are equally excited! She's the one whose giving me a copy of SOTG

(In the absence of real copies of the book, this will have to do)

So you remember how excited I was when Jennifer Fulwiler said she FINALLY finished the book she was writing? The good news is... it's out! People all over the world are reading and writing about it.
The bad news is, I'm not. Not because I haven't ordered the book- I used two offers of gifts to buy two copies of the book.

But friends from the US are bringing my copies down next Sunday, so I'll have to wait for a whole week to join the #SOTG party. Which means I miss out on almost all the fun contests that Jen is holding. I mean, who doesn't want a chance to win a banana suit?

Anyway, without further ado, here's seven reasons I am recommending Something Other Than God, a book I have never read, and yet bought two copies of, and hope that as many people as possible buy and read. (Talk about blind faith.)

----ONE---

Jennifer Fulwiler is a GREAT writer. I used to read a LOT. In recent months, I've stopped reading as many books, mostly because I don't seem to have enough time or attention. Still, I have pretty high standards for what I do read, when I read. And in the past six years or so that I've been reading her blog, Jennifer's writing has never failed to make me think, laugh, say "Ah-ha!", post on FB, reblog or want to share with others. She's simple, clear, insightful and thank the Lord, funny too.

---TWO---

As I'm sure you've noticed on this blog, from the very subtle clue in my blog name, I'm all about authenticity and keeping it real. I don't have time or attention for anything that smells even a little bit fake, or clichéed, or too well-polished. Jennifer manages to present enough about the reality of her messy, awkward, scorpion-ridden life for us to know that she's real, and so is her story.

---THREE---

I love conversion stories. I know, I know, some people think that it helps validate my faith, reinforce my worldview. But look at it from another angle. I'm already convinced. I'm not reading to prove the truth of my faith to me, but I am VERY interested in how people get from one worldview to the one I believe is true. How does a smart, well-to-do, educated atheist become a convicted Catholic mother of six kids (under the age of 10)? I'm especially interested because her personality type (INTP) is very close to mine (INTJ), and so she is VERY rational, and analytical, and VERY committed to the pursuit of truth. It wasn't just a 'When you know, you know' kind of conversion experience, or a touchy-feely experience of God at a retreat (we INTJs DESPISE feelings... JUST KIDDING JUST KIDDING). She anticipates the questions I would ask, and answers them. Well.

---FOUR---

Most of the other Catholic bloggers that I respect have read the book already, and highly recommended it. When the highly critical Simcha Fisher recommends something, everyone pays attention.

---FIVE---

Jen worked on it for four years, and re-wrote it several times. And SHE says it's good. She said that her target audience was anyone who enjoyed a good story. So it's not just a Christian book for Christians. It's a good book. It's the kind of book I know I'm going to want to give away to everyone (or at least lend, since it costs $18.50).

---SIX---

It's kinda cool that Catholics all over the world (well, especially the US) are all reading the same book. It's kinda like we're all part of the same family. Oh, wait.

---SEVEN---

This video:

So what are you waiting for? Go buy the book! 

P.S. Yes, I plan to actually write a review of the book once I actually READ it! Now I just need to plan the perfect moment to enjoy something I've been waiting for for so long. I think it might involve a quiet spot, some Bailey's, chocolate and zero interruptions from the world. Oh yeah.

If you're planning to buy it, have bought it, or have read it already (SO jealous), let me know in the comments.

Story Club in the Slum

So do you remember my 30 before 30 post? I almost forgot about it.* Until I actually crossed one of the dreams off the list last week!

Yup-

5. Do a fun reading programme with kids from the slum.

Mission accomplished!

With generous donations of  money for the slum children from different people, R and I gleefully started ordering storybooks online over the past month. Then a few people donated books too, and we had a library ready to start with.

Most of our kids don't read for fun. Reading is a chore, a trap to make school harder than it is already. Not to mention, Reading = Boring textbooks. I wanted something more for our children.

All my siblings and I loved books. My parents had to ban books at exam time, and we would still find ways to get our book fix, including hiding them behind textbooks, sneaking them under our clothes into the bathroom for loong bathroom breaks. My parents caught on and would be waiting outside with hawk eyes for book shaped bulges under our clothes. So we hid them behind the flush tank, under buckets, on top of the water heater. One of my siblings tried to dig up a tile in the bathroom to make a foolproof hiding place. (Yeah, that didn't work.) Books gave us a taste of the bigness and the beauty and the magic of the world around us, something our slum kids have never had a chance to experience.

I knew we couldn't solve the problem in two weeks, but I wanted them to have a taste of how WONDERFUL books could be.

And they did!

Every morning for two weeks, we would head to the slums at 7.30 am (yes, I've been sleepy for two weeks). Friends who were free joined me. We'd sing a few songs, pray together, I'd read them a bible story in Hindi, and then we'd break up into groups and READ! I was blessed to find a place that sold storybooks with both Hindi and English, for the kids who didn't know English.

The two weeks got a little crazy as each day more and more kids turned up. But oh the joy of seeing the kids get sucked into the fun of reading. Two big hits were 'Are You My Mother' and 'Green Eggs and Ham'. So were the Hindi and Marathi books.

I know we have a long way to go- most of our children don't even know how to sound out letters, because so many schools don't teach phonetics. Their attention spans aren't very long. Since their English is so limited, I even had to explain the simplest books. And they go to English medium schools!

But.

For the first time I saw them ENJOY books. They WANTED to read. Many of them had 'favourite' books by the end. I saw some who never really interact with the teachers, start smiling at the pictures and jokes in the books, and glancing shyly at us as we enjoyed the joke together. I saw one little girl re-read a book we had read together, and her even littler sister creeping closer to listen to her read. One of our 12 year olds devoured books one after the next.

We've started something. And we plan to continue. Who knows what it will lead to?

P.S. Can I just say that cool as story club was, I'm excited about not waking up at 6.30 am every morning?

* It's surprising how much one can change in just 11 months. I'm looking at some of the items on the list and wondering 'Why on earth did I put all that in there? Star Wars, really? Who cares?' Some haven't changed though.

Six Awesome Holy Week Highlights

So a couple of days after Easter Sunday, I read this blog post by Simcha Fisher (one of my favourite bloggers): Show Your Weasel Spirit Who's Boss.

She had some great suggestions about how to keep the end of your Lent on track, and I was sorry I didn't read it before Lent was actually over. But the Lord took care of my Holy Week, and made it pretty awesome Himself.

Here are a few of the highlights of my Holy Week.

1. Stations of the Cross: My team led a Stations of the Cross at 7.30 am on Good Friday at our church. We used clips from the Passion of the Christ, and excerpts from Gabrielle Bossis' He and I. Just as we were about to begin, the videos stooped working. I began to freak out, because look, the church was packed, we had exactly one hour, and we had checked all the equipment minutes before. And then with a little grace from the Lord, and the reminder of a team member, I was able to let go, to know that God was there in the midst of it all. And as I worked the powerpoint, and prayed, I was able to enter into the intimacy of comforting my Saviour (wiping my tears between remembering to hit the keys at the right time).

After it was over, parishioners I had never spoken to came up and told us that it was the most powerful Stations they had ever attended. People were weeping, as they drew near to the Beloved. That whole morning I felt like I had never been closer to my Jesus, happier to fast for Him, and offer Him a little consolation.

2. Watching the Passion of the Christ: I hate watching violent movies. I have never been comfortable with Good Friday because I couldn't process the violence of the Passion. But in recent years Jesus has been teaching me not just to grit my teeth and face the violence, and but to watch with LOVE. Our guy team members invited a bunch of people over to their place to watch the Passion after the Good Friday service. The uplifted feelings of the morning had receded. After a three hour long service, totally tired and weak from fasting, we started the Passion.

And I was able to watch, not to look away. You know how? By looking at sweet Mother Mary. In the pain but tenderness of her tear-ravaged face, I was able to find a model of love. How could I leave Jesus alone? How comforting it must have been for Him to know that He was being loved. I joined her, and loved Him.

3. Holy Saturday Mercy Visit: I started off my Holy Saturday terribly. I overscheduled my day, and as a result struggled with anxiety most of the day. I didn't pray and didn't get enough sleep. And then I was asked to accompany a team member on a visit a family we knew in the slum who had just lost their 22 year old son in a freak road accident. Tired, anxious and hungry, I said yes. Because I knew that's where the Lord wanted me. We sat with them for two hours, in the midst of their great sorrow and trouble. We read the bible, we prayed, and we reminded them that Jesus COULD help them. I got to be Jesus AND meet Jesus that evening, as we entered into the reality of human suffering. I went home that evening, ate, prayed and got ready for the light to dawn at the Easter Vigil.

4. Easter Vigil: This to me is the most powerful liturgical service in the entire year. The darkness that we wait in, the light slowly proceeding towards the altar with the chant 'The light of Christ!' 'Thanks be to God!' and the sea of lit candles as the light of Christ is passed on. And then, the Exsultet!

Rejoice, let Mother Church also rejoice,
arrayed with the lightning of his glory,
let this holy building shake with joy,
filled with the mighty voices of the peoples.

and

O happy fault that earned for us so great,
so glorious a Redeemer!'

and

This is the night
when Christ broke the prison-bars of death
and rose victorious from the underworld.

Chills.



5. Alleluia after an Alleluia-less Lent: One of my team members refused to say the A-word (or the H-word?) even in random hymns during the whole of Lent because she was so excited about the Alleluia of Lent. We all waited with bated breath for the moment... The Alleluia before the Gospel was a bit of a let down. But then, but then... after Communion the choir broke into Handel's Hallelujah Chorus BEAUTIFULLY, voices soaring to heaven and joining with the angels. A little glimpse of heaven.

6. Easter Sunday family time: My Easter Sunday was spent with family. My parents opened their home to my team, to other friends who were family-less and of course all my siblings, brother in law, nieces, my brother's girlfriend were all present. It was a joyful and yummy lunch (even though I was so sleepy still). A full and open house seemed like an appropriate way to celebrate Easter. A game of Jenga, a nap, a chat over teatime chai, a visit to my grandparents' and a dinner with another hospitable family completed my Easter Sunday.

How blessed my life is!

Awkward Comments in India

You know my biggest phobia?

Socially awkward situations.

But I'm getting over it. You know what they say- 'Face your fears'. Well, life in India is so full of these situations, that you either get over it or emigrate to a more politically correct part of the world. I'm not going anywhere, so I've just been learning to accept the fact that conversations are not always going to be as smooth as I would like, and that it doesn't mean I have to lose my cool, be discomposed (insert dead body pun here), or uncomfortable at all.

In fact, I've gotten so good at them, that I often get picked to have necessary awkward conversations with people.

Sometimes the situation itself isn't awkward. But the comments and questions are just... special.

So in recent months one of the most wonderful conversations I've been having with EVERYONE is about how much weight I've lost. I meet people I hardly know and the first thing they say to me is 'Sue, you've pulled down!' (which in India means lost weight,or look haggard, probably both).

It's not just that they say it once. They say it every time we meet. They ALL say it, from people I work with, to aunties who have known me forever, to awkward guys who I hardly know. The phrase 'personal comments' is unknown.

"You're taking too much tension!"

"Why are you so thin? Aren't you eating?"

"What happened?" (ominous head shaking) "You have definitely lost."

It gets to the point that all I think people can see is my emaciated frame. But other people get it worse. We were in a group talking about how sometimes in the summer we don't feel like eating as much. My friend BA said, "I eat more when it's hot. I wish I ate less, then I would lose weight." (Wait, she brought it up first <--- pun alert, in case you missed it :-D) And then the person we were talking to said, "No, no, none of you need to lose weight" he paused, "except for you, R" We all looked at him, shocked. R is the healthiest member of our team, but she isn't stick thin... so she gets this. "You have a tendency," he said."You'll have to be careful."

Oh. My. Gosh.

So, yeah, weight. Favourite topic of all Indians.

But wait, there's a bigger topic! (<----Double pun alert, don't miss 'em!)

And that is of course, marriage.

Did I mention that I'm 28 and single? And Indian? Yeah, I thought so.

So my older sister texted me a few days ago. 'I just read an article about people asking personal questions like why you're not married. They said a good response is to ask them 'Why do you ask?' I thought you would find that helpful.'

Boy, would I.

In the next few days, I had not one but about three conversations with different people asking me about my marital status.

"Are you getting married?"

"How old are you?"

"Do you like Indians or Americans? Which is better?" (This, in the presence of a very embarrassed male American team member.)

"What do your parents think?"

"Arranged or love?"

"When are you getting married?"

And that oldie but goodie...

"Any good news?"

I also go some great advice about marriage: "Don't make ANY conditions. Don't be so picky."

Because the important thing is to be married. Because the worst fate for a woman in India is to be single and 28. The horror.

A Horrific Evening of Nightmares Come True

This is an old blog post I wrote two years ago when R and I lived on an island in the Philippines for a few months. (Yes, we have lived an interesting life.)

Yeah, that's us

Shudder.

Are you sure you are ready for this?

I’m not sure I am. Perhaps it is too soon.

Last night R and I were home alone, working on different things. As I sat on my bed with my bible, the blades of the fan suddenly stopped whirring. Uh oh… another blackout. It was dusk, but we weren’t too worried because we had an emergency light supplied by the priest, and a cool head lamp which made us look like the lamp in Pixar animations. R managed to cook a yummy dinner of eggplant, tomato and spices left to us by S. We ate in the kitchen with the flashlights. All was well. The calm before the storm. 

After dinner, R showered, and I settled down to one of the few things I could do in the dark- listening to an awesome talk by Dr. Peter Kreeft on ‘Arguments for the Existence of God’. Eight minutes into the talk, I heard R outside our bedroom. Her voice was a little stressed out.

“There’s a giant spider out here.”

“Yeah, it can’t be THAT big,” I thought. “Some people just have a phobia of spiders.”

“Do you want me to come rescue you?” I asked lazily. 

“Maybe… come give me some moral support…?”

 As I was getting up, she shouted, “Oh no! It’s going inside!”

In the shadowy half light from her flashlight outside, I saw a huge dark creature climb into our room through the window.

“AAAAHHH!” I screamed. “It’s in, it’s in! I see it!!” I desperately tried to switch on the headlamp, but I couldn’t seem to find the switch, and I was filled with all the terror natural to anyone trapped in a dark room with a giant arachnid. Finally I got the light on, and R burst in with her light… and then I saw it. Crouched in the corner of the room was A GIANT SCARY BEYOND IMAGINATION SPIDER! It was huge!

“That is HUGE!” I squeaked.

“What do we do?” R’s voice was shaking.

 “I don’t know. I need a weapon!”

I desperately looked over the room for anything that could serve as a weapon.The only vaguely possible thing I could find was a pillow, yeah, real deadly weapon. R managed to find a shoe.

“AAAHH! I don’t know if I can do this!”

“Me neither,” I screamed/laughed back.

“It’s in the corner. If I hit it, I won’t get it!”

“But we can’t let it get any closer to our beds!”

R, usually so calm and collected, danced back and forth, shoe in hand. “I can’t do this… Okay, I’m going to do it, but I need you to look and see if I get it. I can’t look!”

Finally she lunged for it, and missed, which was the cue for both of us to scream (like girls). Thankfully, it scuttled toward the doorway instead of the beds, and R attacked again, and got it. Now it gets REALLY creepy. One of the reasons it seemed so huge was because it was carrying an egg sac. Cue creepy, evil, psychopathic-killer-about-to-get-you music.

Yes, as she hit it, she hit the egg sac, and millions of little spiders burst out and began scurrying in every direction. This is when the screaming got serious. But in the midst of the horror of it all, R responded with action.

“POISON! We need POISON!” She rushed off, while I dragged her mattress back and began to kill baby spiders with her shoe. It was a spider massacre. Our entire neighbourhood was pitch-black because of the blackout, and at this opportune moment, we heard voices emerge from the darkness.

“R? Sue? Are you alright?” Without leaving my grisly job, I answered, “Yes, we’re okay. Who is that?” It turned out to be one of the school employees who lived two houses away from us. Yes, apparently the entire neighbourhood had heard our screams of terror. After we reassured her that we were okay, she and the other voices retreated. We heard them talking and laughing with some other neighbours down the street. “Spiders... ha ha ha.” That’s one way to get to know the neighbours, right?

R brought out our only supply of poison-Repel100 and sprayed the remaining baby spiders, then wiped down the entire area with Lysol. Shuddering, she climbed up onto my bunk bed, and we spent the next hour in a lecture room with Dr. Peter Kreeft listening to an interesting talk on the argument from design, the argument from desire, Pascal’s wager, and trying hard NOT to think about egg sacs.

P.S. Due to an overactive imagination, reading Charlotte’s web as a child had given R an extreme phobia of spider’s egg sacs. Truly a nightmare come true.