It’s my turn – Ruth Bell Graham

51eScsSHhyL._SX311_BO1,204,203,200_.jpgI picked up this book out of curiosity. I wondered what this famous preacher’s wife said about managing a home of 5 children mostly on her own, while her husband was travelling the world. I expected serious, deep theological advice, but was pleasantly surprised to find down to earth witty writing. Ruth describes her struggle with weariness, handling a difficult child and understanding her purpose in short passages interspersed with poetry.

A treat to Mummies struggling to have it all together.



You can find the book in amazon here.

You can read a nice article about Ruth Bell here.

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Don’t chicken out!

Bo Bo, the latest addition to our family had what you could call a “narrow escape”. She was brought to our home to be made into ‘biryani’ (which is a spicy dish of rice and meat) but stayed on alive.

My daughter took a fancy on her when my father in law told her it was an egg-laying hen. She wanted to see a hen lay eggs, and with no knowledge of chickens- except how to make curries and fries of them- we conceded. By day 2, my temper was rising and obsessive nature at full display. There were droppings on the door mat, on a chair and rice strewn over the floor. Bo bo had bad manners and there was no sight of eggs. On day 3 I came back from work to a chicken coop in the front room. The chicken was clearly here to stay. My tantrums hadn’t helped at all. My aversion to animals can be excused, having grown up in a nuclear family with no pets, except fishes when in high school. I learned a few things from BoBo anyhow:

  1. Animals make children happy

Over the next one week, I noticed my daughter looking much happier. She woke up in the morning on time to look out for her chicken. BoBo broke into a happy gurgle on seeing her. She responsibly fed it and took it for its daily walk, which was also a physical activity she badly needed.

2. Chicken are good at being chicken

Bo bo taught me the literal meaning of being a chicken. Being from an overcrowded farm grown, she had never seen real food. She cautiously examined the cucumber from all sides before making a peck at it and tried to hide from the tomato. When whiskers, the cat,  passed by the opposite wall, she broke into hysteric buck buck bukkks, which would not stop, even when reassured that she was safe in her coop.

3. Chicken and children have similarities

BoBo needed healthy mashed baby food since she had been debeaked- a common practice in large farms to prevent hens from hurting each other. It is difficult to toilet train her. She seldom learned from her mistakes. She did not learn that once she kicked down her water jug, the water would be gone. And once food was spilled, she refused to eat it.

4. Animals help you make friends

Bo bo  attracts the kids in the neighbour, who drag their parents along to see the ‘kozhi’, as a result of which we have gained a few new friends.

5. All we like chickens

We are all chicken in some ways. We have difficulties adjusting to new places, new food and new habits. We have fixed ideas about situations and have difficulties seeing a positive side of it. (Like the impossibility of growing a chicken in a small house and the possibility of writing a positive post about it.)

We resist change. Change looks messy, annoying, inconvenient and at times unreasonable.

As we start another year, I pray that we will be able to accept the changes it brings, gracefully trusting in God to change us into the kind of people He wants us to be. Amen


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Guilty and Charged

I completely realized that what I had done was wrong.

I would have felt better if I hadn’t. It would have felt good to justify myself and blame the other person. But didn’t want to.

I felt remorseful, pained and ashamed!

What was fuel to the flames were the reactions of others.

Judgment was unrestrained- cruel and brutal.

It was delivered through averted glances, words that ceased when I passed, missing invitations and a vacant place next to me in church.

I lost all my friends almost overnight.

Some of you may be thinking- of course, there is pain. Actions have consequences.

“The wages of sin is death”, and what I had done considered one of the worst.

There was one person who did not condemn me though.

He said all sin had consequences- jealousy did, so did gossip, greed, covetousness, anger, envy, pride, unforgiveness and self-righteousness– to list a few.

He said he didn’t see sin as a spectrum, from the smallest to the largest.

In fact, all big sin started with little wrong thoughts- thoughts of discontent, comparison and egotism.

He said: “Yes, there are consequences. But I still love you and I would never leave you.”

So while the world judged and condemned me, I understood that the One who knew me through and through didn’t.

I learned to stop seeing myself as a victim, or a trespasser.

I learned to see myself as a child who had taken wrong baby steps of curiosity, leading to a wrong path, leading to a wrong destination.

I submitted my wrong footwear and unguided feet to the One. He took me into his everlasting arms and said: “I forgive you, my child, do forgive yourself.”

I stayed in that place untilthe storm passed by and the waters ceased to rise. Then I took a new path, guided by a loving and firm hand.

There is forgiveness of sin- You just need to ask!


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I wonder if you’re hurting tonight.

“not all scars show,

not all wounds heal,

sometimes you can’t see the pain,

that someone feels.” – anon

I couldn’t stand another story of miraculous healing, cured illness or transformed relationship. While those seemed to happen in other’s lives, clearly it didn’t happen in mine. I’ve also had enough of Christian friends telling me to have more faith, pray more deeply and attend more bible studies. So at one point I shunned them and found myself alone in my pain.

The pain increased when I saw expecting mothers and little children- which was inevitable since I work in the new born unit of a hospital. It also hurt when colleagues didn’t tell me they were expecting in consideration of my feelings. My constant thought was “Didn’t God love me enough to grant me my little wish of a child?”

As I sat today with the results of yet another failed In-vitro fertilization, I questioned God again, “Why?” Why would someone who could move mountains, make me go through so much pain? The argument that it was to make me stronger, seemed cruel and void. I felt empty and drained.

The devotion of that day started with this verse: “Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.” Habakkuk 3: 17-18

At this time I couldn’t stop the surge of tears.

“This is not fair Lord.”

He asked me then: “Would you still love me- cos I do!”

Did he mean if my wishes don’t come true?

I read the verse again and again and teared up every single time.

And my heart spoke:”Yes Lord, I do love you- where could I be apart from you?”

I felt a peace envelope my heart. It’s alright if I don’t understand the why, as long as I know who matters.

That was enough for me.


“The Lord thy God in  the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.”

Zephaniah 3: 17


Dear Lord, I pray for all those who are hurting today. I pray that you give us strength to face all that life throws at us. I pray that your comforting words sustain us, when we want to give up, that in the midst of the raging storm, we feel secure, because you are holding us. And if possible Lord, take this suffering away from us, but your will be done. Amen.

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What’s the point with words?

Sometimes I wrote cos those words wouldn’t stop coming from somewhere deep inside, and I felt I would suffocate if I didn’t get them down on paper.

I wrote in glitter pens- when life was good; in pencils- when I wanted the content erased; in black ink in scribbles- when life was hell; and with tears- when I was in pain.

Some words turned into poetry, some into stories and some journal entries along life’s way.

I wrote for self-gratification- to make me feel accomplished, get ‘likes’, and get prizes when it was a competition I wrote for.

I wrote for myself.

Till I joined COMPEL.

COMPEL is underlined with the words- “Write words that move people.”

It is an online Christian writing community with courses on writing- with a focus on Christian Writers.

I don’t consider myself a good Christian, so while I wanted to learn to write, I wondered if I would be out of place. Also, membership was costly- about my one months’ salary.

On the last day of registration, I happened to have exactly about that amount in my bank account- I can assure you it never happens, and it had to be divine providence.

It was a leap of faith and one that was completely worth it.

Over the past two months, I have heard down to earth women talk about their lives, about writing and what keeps them going. I have seen and heard what faith can do and what happens when you heed your calling. I also learned how to write good titles, short sentences, and great first paragraphs.

But what moved me most was one speaker pointing out that with each sentence you write on a blog, you are asking people to ‘follow’ you. The last person who said that was Jesus. And that was responsibility!

I was ashamed of some of the posts I had written and struggled with the impulse to delete them all.

I didn’t.

I realized that the same person who asks us to follow him, accepted us the way we were then, just as he accepts us the way we are now and will be if we allow him to walk with us the rest of the way.

That was me then, this is me too.

I pray that God seasons my words henceforth to bring glory to him.

That I write words that soothe, strengthen and encourage people.

I pray that you who patiently read my posts will be lifted up by its content.

With love.

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The invention of wings.

The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd

She said “Once upon a time, Africans could fly. They would circle around the sun- like blackbirds. We lost that magic when we became slaves.”


“The invention of wings” is the best novel I have read this year and one that I will read again and again.

The book is based on the true story of the Grimke sisters- Sarah and Angelina, who bravely fought against racial inequality and slavery and for women’s rights middle of the 18th century in America. The story describes how Sarah – brought up in a wealthy aristocratic family, who owned lands and slaves, with strict roles that governed what women were to do and behave-  metamorphosed to a bold activist who fought for the rights of slaves and women against a lot of opposition.

The story centers around Sarah Grimke and Hetty Handful. Hetty was gifted to Sarah on her 11th birthday as a maid. Sarah had witnessed a maid being whipped in her childhood, which had traumatized her to an extent that it left a permanent stammer. She resists her birthday present and tries to write a letter to free her, which is promptly torn into two. Sarah and Handful develop a relationship, which may be called friendship, but also filled with anger, spite, and distrust on Handful’s part. Sarah teaches Handful how to read and they share secret moments together, going against the rules.

Handful is intelligent after her mother, Charlotte, who is also a slave and talented seamstress in the Grimke’s household. She has learned to get her way through cunning and manipulation and believed that her spirit could not be tied down. It may be ironic that while Charlotte and Handful rebelled against their slavery, Charlotte’s spirit is broken in the end, while Handful was willing to die for her freedom.

The story describes their transition to adult life and how both Sarah and Handful find their calling. It describes their disappointments, shattered dreams, and failed romances, but also on how they were able to overcome in spite of it all.

What I liked about the story was the raw honesty of the characters. Emotions are rarely easy or black and white in real life and that was well portrayed. It was great to see Sarah’s transformation from an insecure child to a confident adult. Finding your calling, making sacrifices for what you believe in are other themes of the book.

I would recommend this book to anyone who needs a good read.

You can get the book from Amazon here.

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Did you pass by the beggar lady yesterday?

I’m not a bad person, but definitely not a particularly brave one.

I work an 8- 5 job and go home to work some more.

My salary is enough for food, shelter, clothing-

Not much more, not much less.

Occasionally an event breaks the monotony,

But generally, life passes by.

But this is not about me.

This is about the lady, lying just outside the hospital wall,

That reeks of urine.

There are many like her, haggard, filthy, ill.

They told me, not to encourage begging,

The beggars were all rich, just disguised.

The lepers with deformed hands and bandaged feet-

they were getting government aid, so we need not worry!

There were regulars- you recognize them when you’ve been around a while.

There is the lady faking seizures,

The aggressive both arm amputee,

The young woman with a child, so unlike her in appearance,

The leper couple who begged together,

The old man, who almost looked holy with his long shaggy hair.

But this lady stood out- cos she was new.

I passed her every second day.

The first time I thought she was gone- she lay in her vomit and urine.

There were flies around her.

But she stirred.

I wished someone would take care of her.

There were so many charitable organizations.

Well, the next day, she was sitting up.

Someone had brought food and water.

The half empty packet was lying next to her.

The next time she was asleep again. There was a huge ulcer on her arm, the flies surrounded their target in swarms.

Today, she wasn’t there at her place, there was only a bundle.

There was no one else on the pathway either.

Then I realized, the bundle was her.

Curled up in fetal position, someone had covered her face in a sari.

They were pieces of a broken vessel near her and flowers stewed over the place, as per the custom.

I wondered who the ‘they’ were.

I wondered if someone was with her when she breathed her last.

Then I realized that in another life, another circumstance, she could have been me.

She may have been a wife, a mother, a sister, a friend; She certainly was someones child.

I was ashamed- Ashamed that I had seen her and not acted.

That I let my fears overcome my sense of humanity.

That I was so selfish in my pursuit of punctuality and order,  that I couldn’t stop for a moment to hold a hand and ask for the need.

I had failed as a human.

I wondered how different life would be,

 If we saw needs, instead of tear-provoking forwards on facebook.

If we would reach out for a hand, instead of the like button.

If we stopped following political news and celebrity thrash,

 instead looked out for a neighbor.

I am guilty of it too!

Can we challenge ourselves to reach out to at least one person a week?

Do you think it is too late to try?




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I Hunger, I Thirst.

Want to know the secret of contentment?

I Hunger, I ThirstIMG_5827

Ich habe Hunger. Ich habe Durst

Gudrun Pausewang

Mama Soto lives on a small goat hill in South America with her 7 children. Her ancestors settled on this land when conditions on the mountains became difficult. Her husband passed away soon after the birth of the last child. Mama Soto nevertheless lives a simple and contented life. The grass on the hill is enough for the goats. They provide milk for her children and cheese, which is sold. The money is used to buy things that can’t be grown. Occasionally they cut a chicken. The children spend their day playing on the hill and helping the mother run the house. Relatives, who stay nearby, help when a strong hand is needed. They look out for each other.

All is well, till a rich fabric owner takes fancy to the hill. She is forced to sell her land. As compensation, he offers her a sum which seems large to her. She later realizes that she has been cheated. She is unable to get a land of the same value. Her relatives advise her to move into the city. There she explores a new lifestyle: The children go to school, learn how to read and write; they wear uniforms and carry school bags; they learn the expectations of the rich and try to conform; they learn to sit on sofas and walk wearing shoes. She also takes in an old man who is homeless and a young woman with two children, whose husband is jailed.

All goes well till the money runs out. They shift to poorer quarters and Mama Soto has to find work. She is still not able to make ends meet working 3 jobs. Her oldest daughter drops out from school and runs away with a dancing troupe. One of the boys becomes the leader of a gang who steals things from warehouses. One day morning, they find the woman she has taken in missing, along with the rest of the money that Mama Soto had.

They are reduced to abject poverty and start living in a garage. Conditions of living are so poor that she loses her job, all the children have dropped out of school except one and the baby falls sick and dies. Mama Soto swallows her pride and returns to her village to stay with her relatives who would look out for her.

The story is written in a beautiful way. It portrays poverty and contentment very realistically. The poor are often blamed for their conditions and their lack of proper financial planning. We fail to realize their ignorance, lack of proper guidance and their simplicity of mind. Another theme in the story is community living- as cities increase in size, the interpersonal relationships deteriorate and looking out for others becomes scarce. We see how pride is lost with a loss of role in society and the means it takes to regain what is lost.

A book really worth reading.

I, unfortunately, couldn’t find an English translation.

The German version of the book can be found here.

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When yet another paper gets rejected…

They didn’t ask me how I dealt with all my rejections.

But when 3 research papers were finally published, they asked:

“How did you go about it?”


“Could you teach me how to write a paper?”

The only answer I have is:


I don’t have a Ph.D. or even a commendable MSc.

But I had research projects that I had helped complete. There was the data, and no one had time to write it into a paper. I remembered the efforts of the students who had done the research and the value of the results itself and decided: The world needs to know about this. I asked for permission to write a paper and it was granted. No one probably trusted me to do it. But I loved writing and wanted to try scientific writing.

Not knowing exactly where to start, and not having anyone to guide me, I joined a course on Coursera on “How to write and publish a scientific paper”. Then I picked up a second hand APA Publication Manual- and read it twice through.

Then I started to write paper 1. Once it was done, I was pleased with myself and sent it to a co investigator. I never got a reply. I sent it again, estimating the time that was polite to resend the mail. I still didn’t get a reply. I sent it to an Indian journal, which rejected it straight.

Then I gave up.

With a spark of enthusiasm, I started on paper 2. Once completed, I sent it to another set of investigators. They did not reply- despite monthly reminders. I took the courage to ask if I could send it to a journal- they agreed.

The first time it got rejected after 4 months. The reviewers left a few friendly comments though, which were encouraging. After picking up my reigns and making corrections, I sent it again. This time it came back with questions and queries 10 pages long; my answers to them were 15 pages long. I did it anyway. But it took a lot of courage.

And then it got rejected.

In the meanwhile, I was working on paper 3. I had little hopes that it would get published. But I wrote it because I was learning so much through writing papers. Besides, I felt that I was getting better at this. It did not meet the scientific requirements of the first journal I sent it to and was rejected.

While browsing the internet, I came across a journal which looked compatible with paper 2. There was nothing to lose and I decided to give it one last shot. It came back (after a few months) with a new set of queries and corrections. I had done it before and been disappointed, I really did not want the process repeated. But I did, I’m not sure what made me- maybe it was all the effort and time spent on the paper already. I pushed myself, gathered all my self-will and replied.

It got accepted, with minor revisions and then published- 2 years after I had written it.

That gave me enough momentum to send paper 3 to a pretty good journal. I didn’t wait for consent or approval this time. They send it after 3 months with pages and pages of corrections. Once I made the corrections I sent it back. This went back and forth 4 times before it was accepted.

By now 3 years had passed since I started writing my first paper.

The fourth paper I wrote got accepted immediately with minor revisions, to one of the best journals in my field.

What did I learn from my experience?

  1. I learned to trust my skills and abilities. I always felt before that my work wasn’t good enough and depended on others for validation. I wasted a lot of time in that, and realize now that I did not need it.
  2. I learned that no one has to teach you– you just need the motivation to learn. There are so many resources available which are free and so helpful.
  3. I learned to be patient. I learned not to check the journal updates every day. I learned to get on with life while waiting.
  4. I learned that hard work pays off– This is to all my colleagues who frowned when I didn’t join in the midday gossip sessions and typed away.
  5. I learned not to back down and give up. Your efforts are worth the results, it is just a matter of time.
  6. If you feel discouraged- Treat yourself with chocolate ( or pizza or whatever you like), pick yourself back up and give it just one last try.
  7. It’s never too late to learn. I thought I was well past my time of learning, but that is never true.
  8. Learning never ends. I thought once I had written 3 papers, I would be the master of writing. Nothing could be further from the truth! I am still learning with every sentence I write. I am currently doing this amazing course called “Writing in the Sciences.” I have so much left to learn!

And guess what- currently I’m writing paper 5 and 6, and I’m not going to stop!

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Can angels harm us?

The Guardian- Jane Hamilton


Tabris, a guardian angel has committed an unforgivable crime. A crime that deserved banishment from God’s presence forever. But God has chosen to give him one more chance to make things right.

The other angels are angry and amazed. Angry that he would do something so unforgivable to the child he was responsible for; amazed at God’s grace. They do not want to accept Tabris back in their midst and they do not trust him. In the meanwhile Tabris is plaqued by guilt and is tempted by Satan to forsake God. Will he be able to resist the temptation in the absence of friends?

He makes a friend however, someone who bears pain for his sake. Who doesn’t back down even when Tabris rejects him. With his friendship and God’s love, Tabris is able to forgive himself and accept God’s forgiveness.

The book makes angels come alive. My children loved having the book read to them. It provides reassurance of the protection God offers them. The theme of friendship and selflessness is emphasized. It can be recommended for young teens, but also for old people like me, who just want an easy nice read.

I also found a nice website on the emotions of angels which can be accessed here.

You can get the book from amazon here.



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