A Desperate Act

This story on BBC.com grabbed my attention this week: "Builders Find Auschwitz Message." http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/8022667.stm.

While being held at Auschwitz-Birkenau during WWII, seven prisoners were forced to reinforce walls in a school building near the camp, that the Nazis used for storage. On September 7, 1944, they wrote their names, ages, prisoner numbers, and hometowns on a scrap of paper, put it in a small bottle, and buried it in the concrete walls. Two of the men survived the war, but the fates of the other five are unknown. Considering the reputation of Auschwitz, it's most probable that they died there.

Why did these men hide that message? What were they facing that they felt the need to leave some evidence of their existence - and to what end? It wasn't like they were trying to communicate with someone. I'm sure they knew that it could be decades before that message might be found, if it ever could be. Maybe it wasn't even really meant to be found.

Five months after the message was hidden, the Nazis began destroying the gas chambers and other evidence of crimes because the Russian army was quickly approaching. Prisoners healthy enough to walk were forced on a death march towards Germany. On January 20, an order was issued to murder all remaining prisoners. But because of the chaos of the Nazi retreat, the order was never carried out. The death camp was liberated by the Russian army on January 27, 1945.

We have been told since childhood that "be sure your sins will find you out." It was madness for the Nazis to try to hide evidence of 1.1 million murders, but they certainly tried to. Maybe these seven men decided - just in case - to leave a message for God and whoever else would find it to stand as evidence against the horror they lived at Auschwitz.

Devon Street Happenin'

We're up in Wheaton, outside Chicago, this weekend visiting Steve's brother Phil. We always have an interesting time when we're up here, and this weekend was no exception. Chicago has this awesome area around Devon Street, which is sort of like a Little India. A whole bunch of Indian restaurants, shops, and mosques are clustered within a few blocks. It's a glorious place. I had been there a few times before I'd gotten married, but that was like, almost six years ago. So, this weekend, I made it clear to the menfolk that I wanted to go to Devon Street.

We got there around dinnertime last night, just as Friday evening prayers were getting out at the little mosque we parked next to. It's strange that there's a place in the States that makes me immediately feel very much at home. And all I had to do was walk down a street. (Well, and drive about four hours)

We spotted a nice grocery store to visit after dinner, and then went to Tiffin Restaurant, which kind of means "lunchbox." I remember going there before a long time ago, but it was for lunch, and the place turns a lot swankier for the dinner crowd! It was unbelievably good - we ordered chicken tikka, veg curry, naan, and chicken korma. They gave us an eggplant curry too, as an extra. So good. Words cannot describe the amazingness. I was in curry heaven.

We finally stumbled out, and went to "Himalaya Grocery." I happily browsed around, gathering spices, dhal, henna, and bags of rice. When we were checking out, the shopkeeper chatted with us about what brand of rice was best, that mango juice was best served cold, etc. I asked her where she was from (She had an Indian accent, she was wearing a hijab, and she had brown skin) and she smiled at us and said, "Mexico." I laughed, thinking she was joking with us, and then she said,"No really, I am. My husband is from Hyderabad, though." We talked a bit more about how she and her husband met, and as we were leaving, she said, "Here - just a small gift," and handed us three little boxes of tea. How cute was that?

Everyone should go to Devon Street.

Unsolved Mysteries in Missions

Here's my shameless plug for WGM's magazine, The Call. This current issue is really rad. It looks at 28 "unsolved mysteries" or problems we see in the world, with four people commenting on each one. I'm in it, Steve is in it, my in-laws are in it, and a bunch of my friends are in it! (I was in charge of getting commentators for eight mysteries about Europe, and I happen to have a lot of family and friends who have lived in Europe for extended periods of time.)

Also, I'm on the cover. In a weird way.

If you would like to experience the joys of The Call, you can sign up at http://www.wgm.org/! It's free! There's a web version available too, but it's only a portion of the print version. Each issue is packed with practical information about how you can get involved in missions. If you prefer your media via podcasts, we're on iTunes, or go to http://www.hearthecall.wordpress.com/. Let me know if you want a copy of this issue!

Rachel's Weird Frugal/Green Tips

Just like salvation, being frugal and environmentally conscious is a process. Okay, maybe not EXACTLY like salvation. But I do try very hard to do what I can to take care of the earth, and it’s always a good thing when that saves you a few bucks. My main philosophy with all this is to be creative with what I have, wanting to waste less, save more, and not buy things when something I already have will work. So, with that in mind, I’ve listed a few maybe a little off-beat things I do to that end.

1. I use every freaking last ATOM of shampoo or conditioner, adding water to get it out of the bottle until it’s all completely gone. Savings: a few more uses means you get to put off buying another one for a little while.

2. Heels of dried-out-but-not-yet moldy French bread go in the freezer to be later processed into bread crumbs for schnitzel, casseroles, etc. Savings: you don’t have to buy bread crumbs, plus these taste way better than the stuff that comes in a can.

3. I turn off the water when I brush my teeth or wash my face. This requires some small amount of manual dexterity as you turn on the water to wet your face, squirt facial cleanser in your hand, get a little water to foam it up, turn off the water with your hands full of cleanser, soap up your face, squint one eye open to find the faucet, and turn the water on to rinse. Whew! Savings: I’m sure someone has done studies on the water savings. Go Google it.

4. Super ripe bananas go into the freezer to be later used in muffins or bread. Once frozen, they turn a disgusting shade of green-black, and then in order to use them, you have to let them thaw enough to squeeze the banana out of the skins, which frankly also looks disgusting. But the muffins or bread always turn out! And I'm a girl who loves her banana-themed baked goods. Savings: no more wasted bananas.

5. If I bring home my nalgene at the end of the day that still has water in it, rather than tossing it down the drain (where you’d have to pay for it), I give the water to my plants. I also do this when people don’t drink all the water in their glasses at dinner. Savings: pennies, but it makes me feel better about conserving water, and the plants get much-needed drinks, which they sadly don’t get very much.

Hope this sparks something in your gray matter to use what YOU have!

Normal Saturday with Steve and Rachel

Saturday was a lovely normal day, with sleeping in, meeting a good friend for lunch, a leisurely stroll around a pond, and playing cards with friends in the evening. Perfectly, completely, and in every way all things civilized, refined, and normal.

Well, and then this happened:


Here's how it went down: Steve is working on a phone system upgrade at work that means they have lots and lots of nice-sized boxes that I can use for my half.com bookstore. I get free shipping boxes, Taylor feels a little less guilty about trashing the environment, and everyone's happy. He recently brought home all those that you see in the picture. But Steve also is sort of mischievous. And I'm kind of a klutz. As we were carrying stacks of these boxes upstairs, Steve got to the top of the stairs, turned around, and decided to drop his stack down towards me, who was paused at the landing. I tripped on them, fell backwards, and ended up as you see. Definitely one of my shining moments. (Don't worry, no Rachel's were harmed in the carrying-out of this prank.)

But Steve also won major points yesterday for buying me a new bike and a 250 GB hard drive to upgrade my lappy. So, the way I see it, it all evens out. And I totally married Steve for his money.

The Namesake

I succumbed to my cold-ravaged head today, and stayed home from work. After sleeping half the day, I popped in my Netflix DVD, The Namesake, which had been sitting around for the last couple weeks.

It’s a beautiful movie about a Bengali couple who moved to the US, raised a family, and it morphs into a story of their son’s journey to reconciling with his Indian heritage. Mira Nair, who directed Monsoon Wedding, did a fabulous job of creating a story that is incredibly relevant to ABCD’s – American-Born Confused Desi’s (natives). I believe that term was actually coined from the novel that the movie was based on. Anyways, as an ABCD myself, I cried like three times.

And it got me thinking, will I be okay with wherever my kids call home, or whatever culture they become attached to? I’m sure it was difficult for my parents at times to realize that I did not feel attached to the US at all. I just know that my children’s culture will be radically different than mine – and will I be okay with it? Even as Ashima and Ashoke stayed in the US because they knew their children would have many more education and career opportunities than they would in India, it hurt when Gogol and Sonali rejected some aspects of Indian culture and heritage. Steve and I plan to live overseas eventually, because we want to follow God’s call to make disciples of all nations. But I know that it will mean that our children will be extremely influenced by whatever culture that is, and we will have to deal with the good with the maybe not-as-good.

What parts of my heritage are so important to me that I will feel the need to pass them on to my children? Will I want them to learn about Ghandi as well as Abraham Lincoln? Will I teach them how to get around an airport as well as how to cross the street? Will I want them to be equally adept at eating with chopsticks and fingers as well as silverware? How do I keep myself from passing on my own hang-ups and prejudices?

Oh, heaven help me if they’re picky eaters. It would serve me right, I guess.