Mango Mama!

It's mango season in India! Since I've been looking forward to the fresh fruit, Nathan is eager for me to taste-test several varieties. Like a kid in a candy shop, his eyes grow wide when we hover over the mango bins at the corner grocery.

He explains that mango raspuri is juicy and sweet. Mango banguinpally has a firmer flesh. Mango alphonso is a popular export to the States. Some are small with greenish-yellow exterior, while others are large and either solid green or yellow. I'm looking for the ones I typically see in Kroger back home--you know, the red ones when ripe--but I do not see them. Nathan says that variety typically comes from Mexico.

Other varieties available include mango kesar, mallika, sindhuri, malgoa, and totapuri. I had no idea God was so creative when He fashioned this one fruit. Reminds me of Revelation 22:2 which says in the new earth the tree of life will bear twelve crops of fruit and yield its fruit every month. The leaves will be for the healing of the nations. I suspect this may be a fruit my eyes have never seen or lips tasted! Can't wait!

Later, after supper, Nathan calls to me from the kitchen. "Come and get your treat!" He has carefully chopped up three different types of mango and placed them in separate bowls. I taste each one. Hmm, tough decision. Which one do I like best? Mango alphonso, I think. The flesh is a deep orange color and pleasantly, but not overly, sweet. We carry the bowls to the table. Rachel has prepared homemade biscuits. We scoop some mango and pile it on top of our bread in shortcake fashion.

"Quite yummy!" I remark.

Rachel and Nathan seem pleased that Mango Mama has finally tasted the fresh fruit she's been waiting a year and a half to enjoy.

Koo, Koo for Coconut!

On the way home from grocery shopping, Nathan pulls the van over to the side of the road.

"Want some coconut water?" he asks, one foot inside the vehicle, the other anchored on the ground.

"Why not?" I reply. I remember our family trip to Madras in 1996 when it seemed like everytime we turned around someone was handing us a coconut. Just when we were growing weary of the drink, one Indian mentioned that the water helps form healthy bacteria in the intestines. From then on, I said, "Give me more!"

Nathan pulls out some rupees at the roadside stand (not exactly Sonic) and hands them to the Indian who stands behind the makeshift table piled with green coconuts. Another man behind him grabs a coconut. With a machete he lops off the top, punches a hole, and inserts a straw. He repeats the performance a second time. For 50 cents, Nathan and I have a refreshing drink. Yes, I actually like it, and so does Rebekah it appears. She sits in her car seat in the back begging for a taste.

Nathan tells me that the perfect blend of electrolytes in coconut water replenishes the body better than any sports drink. He routinely enjoys some after playing football (soccer) in the mornings with his youth group. However, he warns me not to drink more than two at a time. More than that can produce a laxative effect. Okay, I'll pass on that. Oops! No pun intended.

He also shares that coconut water is as close in composition to blood plasma as you can get. Apparently, doctors used it in IV's during WWII.

Well, all I can say is "Koo, koo for coconut!"

Mo-ped Mania

Va-room, va-room! I hear the downstairs neighbors rev up their motorcycles. I pull the curtain aside in my bedroom and watch them zoom down the road. I can't help but think of my CMA friends in Roanoke with their big, shiny machines. Monstrous in proportion to the scooters I see in Bangalore. Yet, this is a common mode of transportation for many. Often, in the midst of a busy street filled with buses, oxen, auto rikshaws, wagons, and cars, I see a saree-clad woman riding side sandal on the back of a mo-ped. How she hangs on is a wonder to me!

What a ministry my CMA brothers and sisters would have among these thousands of Indians who ride cycles every day!

Bangalore Baby

I walk down the street holding Rebekah's hand. We are on our way to the tiny park to swing. We pass garbage rotting in the sun, lazy dogs lounging in the street, and cattle grazing on tree leaves. Nineteen-month-old Rebekah simply says, "cow," and continues on her merry way. These are normal sights for my Bangalore grandbaby.

Once on the playground, I notice a small Hindu temple. The door is open and Indians line up for worship. In the foyer, three large bells dangle from ropes suspended from the ceiling. A worshipper rings the bell before entering the next room. Sometimes, he rings the bell on the way out, too.

On the way back home, an old man squatting in the dirt looks up, smiles and waves at Rebekah. She returns the gesture. Another neighbor dressed in a red saree comes out to greet her. She lives in a tattered, old tent at the end of the street, but you'd never know how destitute she is by the expression on her face. She is all smiles and hellos when she sees my red-headed, beaming chutki ("little one" in Hindi).

My Bangalore baby is a hit with the Indians who light up when they see her. And they are a hit with Rebekah, who feels perfectly comfortable with her Indian friends.

Up, Up and Away!

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast. -Psalm 139:9-10

I kissed Chuck and Stephanie goodbye at Roanoke Municipal Airport on Wednesday evening. As I waved, I called, "Dubai" instead of "goodbye," since my flight plan included a layover in Saudi Arabia. Once in the Emirates, I stood in the middle of the airport feeling somewhat akin to Tom Hanks (Victor) in the movie, "Terminal." People of mostly Middle Eastern nationality with a few folks of Asian persuasion passed by on either side of me. For a brief moment, my head began to swim as it seemed I was the only American around. I felt like a kindergardner on her first day sent off to school with a name tag hanging around her neck. Only my tag was a passport pouch. At that moment, I was extremely relieved to know that Jesus had this little chutki by the hand and was walking her (in this case, flying her) all the way to Bangalore.

The Lord has special gifts in store for those who love Him. And sure enough, I located my gate and sat across from another lady who was alone. I struck up a conversation. Turned out she was a Christ-follower whose daughter was on a summer mission trip to South Africa to work in an AIDS clinic. How encouraged I felt when we parted!

God added another perk to my trip by giving me three seats instead of one to stretch out during the last leg of the trip.

This trip over has been the best I've ever taken, except that my sweetie is not with me. No problem getting Rebekah's new car seat through customs. All baggage arrived with me. Nathan's smiling face on the other side of the airport door was a welcome sight, indeed. Rachel and Rebekah were waiting for me at the top of their apartment steps when I arrived, even at 3:30 in the morning! Lots of hugs and kisses while the stray dogs which grace their door barked throughout the night. Guess they were glad to see me, too.

Journey to Judah just released!

One woman. One God. One passion.

In an exotic culture of 7.5 million people and over 3 million gods, one woman resolves to follow her heart. . .


After several setbacks, my novel, Journey to Judah, has finally been released! As soon as the book gets established with Ingram Distributors, it will be available through national retail outlets. Capstone Fiction tells me that will take anywhere from two weeks to a month, so once again, I must be patient. The Lord's timing is always perfect.

While you twiddle your thumbs and tap your foot, here's a brief blurp to wet your appetite.

Maggie Osteder's given up hope of finding a man who shares her love for India. So while her friends plan dream weddings, she follows her heart, fulfilling a ten-year dream of becoming a career missionary. "Don't lose heart. Stay focused on serving, and God will take care of the rest," her mother always tells her. Yet upon arrival in Chennai, a fellow missionary makes a comment that strikes to Maggie's heart--that her ministry will be more effective if she's married. And her newfound friend says she has the perfect match: the new doctor, Gavin Munsfield. But Maggie isn't so sure she's ready to open her heart. . .especially to a man who seems to be struggling with his own issues.

Get ready for a love story you'll never forget. A great read while at the beach or mountains this summer. Stay posted for more information! In the meantime, catch a glimpse of the book cover in the righthand margin.

Ear Regardless

EARS are a funny thing, unless you belong to my family. Then you take them seriously.


I come from a long line of troubled ears. Nothing significant really, just a nuisance. Wax buildup, and I'm not talking about what you find on your furniture or car. No, this is the stuff that clogs the ear canal and requires multiple flushing sessions to extricate.


Only this time squirting a bulb full of water into my ear just wasn't cutting it. So, I sent Chuck to Nature's Outlet to purchase some ear candles while I fumbled my way to the couch. My head's been spinning like a top. I feel as though I am on a perpetual Merry-Go-Round.


I'm glad you never change, Lord. Even though my body serves as a reminder that this life is temporal, You are eternal!


Unnerving to have Chuck standing over me with a match as I lay on my side with paper plate rammed to my ear and candle sticking out. He sat amused, watching the flame work its way to my head. I told him to go get a marshmellow. My head's in flames, and he's just sitting there eating a sandwich.


Snap, crackle, pop--the heat draws the offensive wax out and into the hollow candle. I lay there at the mercy of the candle and my husband whom I'm sure doesn't know what he's doing.


Ice hangs thick on the trees as my candle flames and sizzles. I close my eyes against the dizziness.


The house lights flicker off, then back on. I don't notice but Chuck says, "Uh oh, power surge!"


I respond, "What do you mean, 'uh oh, power surge', with my head on fire over here! No, no, don't leave the room!"


I feel my brain shrinking by the moment. Probably be the size of a pea when this process is over.


Finally, when the candle has burnt down an inch from the plate, he douses it with water. Part of the charred candle falls off into my hair behind my ear. Nice!


I say, "Hope you're better with brains than bodies!"


He is a mental health professional, after all.


When all is said and done, and I am upright and walking, he says, "You must feel like a new man!"


I give him a wry smile. "Yeah, right, I'm the man I never was."


He laughs and grabs his lunch from the fridge.


Ear regardless of circumstances or momentary setbacks, or nuisances, or delayed goals, or sick bodies, life goes on and God is sweet. He remains good, because He is good.


Praising my Prince!