he and i, we introduced ourselves over the phone the first few hours after he took a breath. i declared my love to him for the first time and he responded with emotional tears (or maybe those were just hungry… pooping… or sleepy tears… i wasn’t quite sure) regardless, i know he heard me.

kellen paul sornson, i know that though there’s a lot of new stuff happening all around you right now, there is someone 1,854 miles away from you who will try her best to come home to see you soon. i’ll tell you face to face how thankful i am the world now contains you and that things will never be the same because you are here.

a new company…

a new school…

a new vision…

things are changing.

stay tuned for more is most definitely coming…

now to catching up after 10 days in the wild west…

Friends University senior and Wesley child life specialist assistant, died Friday, May 25, 2007. Service, 1:30 P.M., Tuesday, May 29, Covenant Presbyterian Church. Kelly was a member of Covenant Presbyterian Church and a counselor at Westminster Woods church camp. He was also active in the Olivet Baptist youth group, Friends University Campus Ministries, and a member of the Friends University soccer team. Kelly had a spirit of love that touched many lives from Wesley Medical Center to kids in Mexico, Thailand, and anywhere he had the opportunity. His smile was contagious and he knew no strangers. In all he did, he showed the love of God.

Survivors: parents, Thomas and Debra Cox of the home; sister and brother-in-law, Megan and Eric Sornson of Mission; grandparents, Frances Cox of Wichita, John and Jill Ledesma of Wellington, Virginia Campbell of Oxford, Barbara Johnson of Topeka; 15 aunts and uncles, numerous cousins, and countless friends.

the Listener
by kelly cox

imagine a world that had no ears
a place full of people but no one to hear
no way to talk, no way to sing
with no one to listen, who would we be?
all alone in our heads, no thoughts to share
on the faces of everyone, confusion and blank stares.
now imagine there’s a Man in all the world,
the only Man alive who could hear what He was told.
He walks city to city, He walks every day,
and listens kindly to what millions of people have to say.
on one afternoon no different from the rest
to your house came the Man, clean and plainly dressed.
the Man had grayed hair and weather worn skin.
His sandals showed signs of all the places He had been.
but something in His face just wasn’t the same;
its as if He knew me, as if He knew my name.
then all at once it struck me, He was the One!
the Man who could listen, the Listener had come!
the Man just stood there waiting for me to speak.
but what would i do, i couldn’t even think;
the thoughts in my head were all just a blur.
i was running out of time as the Man started to turn;
my chance to be heard, but nothing to say.
my heart began to sink as the Man walked away.
then through the clutter, one thought came to mind;
the only one that was clear, the only one i could find.
with no more uncertainty, i ran up to the Listener.
close to His ear, i spoke softly in a whisper.
the Man turned and looked at me with tears in His eyes.
He came close and whispered back, words that changed my life.
in a voice deep and kind, He said, I love you too, child.
and for the first time i could listen;
and for the first time i smiled.

India. What an incredible adventure. Our trip wasn’t a vacation, but it was the most amazing and enlightening adventure. If Jill ever decides architecture or writing aren’t for her, she would make a most wonderful travel guide. Each day was new and exciting, with someone else to meet, another place to discover Gd’s diverse creation. We truly enjoyed the trip of a lifetime.

Have you ever wondered if you might have been born into the wrong era, the wrong decade? Wichita has a museum called Cowtown. Walking through its aged doors is like stepping 100 years back in time. Dirt streets. Wooden boardwalks. Skilled craftsmen in their various shops. Dogs, horses and cows wandering about. A calm, relaxing, not-too-excited-about-anything kinda lifestyle. Going through this museum, my mind will wander to ‘it would have been so cool to live back then… life at a slower pace; less technology to detract from relationships; truth was truth and standards were high…’

Stepping off the train in India was not unlike stepping into Cowtown [but for the cooleys clamoring about your every move, grabbing your luggage, more than ready—for a price—to help you out]. Life is at a much slower pace. Nothing in India seems to be in a hurry, except maybe the traffic in Delhi. We didn’t see computerized anything. Hotel ledgers are paper and ink, with a sheet of carbon paper tucked in for extra measure. Restaurant tabs look strangely like ones back when Grandpa took us to the local diner.

Dogs and cows were everywhere. They owned the streets, belonging to no one, but anywhere seemed to be home. Some streets dirt, others paved, it didn’t appear to matter. Shops and carts were tucked in here, there and everywhere; craftsmen and shopkeepers selling their wares. Little shops, less spacious than our smallest bathroom, were crammed to overflowing with trinkets and treasures that lured you in for a closer look, the vendors eyes dared you to bargain with him. With his pre-WWII sewing machine, the local tailor managed to sew a straighter seam than you’d find on any designer jean in your closet.

But unlike the sprawling spaces of Cowtown, in India you find people everywhere you turn. The personal space to which we’re accustomed in the US has no meaning whatsoever in India. It’s a luxury most cannot afford… will not afford. Entire families work, eat and sleep within arms’ length of their other family members. In fact, incredibly, an entire family, including uncles and cousins can fit into a motorized rickshaw! (wish we’d gotten a picture of that!) Family is what’s important, not space. Even were it not so, space is not to be had.

We found Delhi crawling with people. Paul likened it to pre-Christmas at the mall (sans the pre-holiday frenzied pace… add in a few cows). But, it was neither Christmas nor the mall. This is everyday life in the city. People. Cars. Horns honking constantly. People. Bicycles. Motor bikes. People. Motorized rickshaws. Bicycle Rickshaws. Cows. Did I mention people? Somehow, it all works. And works well.

I’m still amazed, looking back over the pictures, at the vast amount of trash everywhere, standing in stark contrast the incredible beauty of the Himalayas or the lush green countryside that frames in each of the villages. Trash is strewn along the sidewalk, swept out into the street, or simply dumped down a hillside, in hopes that it will eventually be carried away.

We found respite in Jill’s cherished Mussoorie, where she’s surrounded by the precipitous peaks of the Himalayas and the dear ones she now calls friends. They graciously welcomed us to their table, their homes, their lives, as if we were the dearest of old friends. They loved us as they love her.
Words alone cannot even begin to describe the beautiful, rugged expanse in this region of India! The awe-inspiring view dwarfed our own vast Rockies. Treks throughout the lower portions were breathtaking—in more ways than one—for these old, Kansas flatlanders. But the break every now and again gave us time to catch our breath, and to catch some amazing photos as well.

Many of the material comforts that we left behind to travel to this foreign land, Jill has, in a few short months, distinctively gotten along without. Luxuries, not necessities. She has sought out All she needs, and so much more has been added unto her. Jill has managed to straddle two worlds. One foot in each. A slower, easier pace, less technology to distract, simpler days. I for one, however, am thankful that one foot remains planted on this side of the world, for her amazing writings and photos, and for opportunities to learn from the life He has designed for her in India. Clearly India has changed Jill. And Jill has changed India. And from my vantage point, both are better off.

The differences we experienced were a challenge for us; they made for a fun, exciting element to this adventure. I suspect, however, that returning home to a life of luxury will be more of a challenge for Jill; far more difficult than leaving it all behind was a few short months ago. Life in the US supposes luxury. Life’s more demanding here. More complicated. In India, Jill has slowed down long enough to savor the distinctive flavors in a life that she loves, a life that loves her and has blessed her immeasurably in return.

16 march
dad and i spent the day recovering from project trip and the infamous day in agra…i.e. we slept a lot. we explored delhi some and got a better idea of what we wanted to do when the family arrived. it’s nice to have my dad here…kind of a trial run, a small taste of what it will be like when the other five arrive.
we left in what we thought was plenty of time to pick them up at 9:30pm when their flight arrived. guess Someone had His hand in this reunion because literally as we walked through the doors, they walked out of customs, their flight 30 min early. seriously. when are flights early in india? ah well. my family is in india and oh, i had forgotten how wonderful mom hugs are! we all stood on the balcony of our hotel room for an hour, just catching up and watching the activity below. their first glimpse of india. what a sight.

17 march
probably the toughest day of their visit. we woke up with the sun to catch the morning train. the coolies hounded us more than ever to take our bags and i fought them off until they agreed to our price. still trying to con us at the end, i had to use my fingernails to make them let go of our bags. don’t let this innocent face fool you. if provoked, i can be vicious. i loved watching my family take in the sights from the train window…so much to see, endless entertainment flying by their view. a taxi up to mussoorie and finally to my mountains. oh, how i’ve missed them! the reservations i had made at the guest house had been changed and we were given rooms different then the ones originally intended. [i might add that EVERY single one of the hotel reservations i had made prior to their visit had to be remade or changed. india just doesn’t do reservations well] all were tired and weary, leaky rooms without showers was the last thing on their list of ‘things to experience’. but they were troopers and sucked it up. we’re not on a vacation, we’re here for an adventure, was their attitude. we walked my favorite loops and ate dinner with my eMi family. jet lag set in early and all were tucked in bed with hopes of things looking a little brighter and better the next day.

18 march
and they were. we ventured out into the city to visit CNC [chrch of nations chrch] and as i expected, my indian family there welcomed them with open arms. wrshp is a bit more lively here than at home but they jumped right in. we explored a bit before returning to the top of the mountain. one of the editor’s for the perspective’s curriculum i took last year is a good friend of ours here and each week we gather at his house for dinner and teaching. though our meetings have ceased for the year, a special one was called in honor of my family and we were much enlightened and inspired. this day ended far better than the last.

19 march
all lovers of the great outdoors, we went for a hike in the morning to flag hill. thankfully, the sky was relatively clear and they were allotted a spectacular view of the vast himalayas in the distance. we played around, laughed until my stomach hurt, and indulged in starbursts and cheez-its. oh, how good they tasted! the evening was filled with dining and shopping as asha and mumta joined us for a time in the bazaar. gifts for friends were bought and a real, puckah indian dinner was had. tandori chicken and buttered naan being their favorite. our evening excursion even included a ride on the infamous human-powered ferris wheel. no trip to mussoorie is complete without it!

20 march
one of the highlights from the week was definitely the day we spent in jordi village, 2 hrs hike away from mussoorie. brother samuel took the entire family to help him conduct a medical camp with the village children. he shared a lot of stories with us on the way, and the walk was simply breathtaking. when the children arrived after their school exams, organized chaos ensued. whether it was weighing and measuring, inspecting tongues or looking in ears, every sornson had a job. there were many cases of worms, one pneumonia and several ear infections. medicine was dispensed as needed, but candy was the favorite drug of choice. megan was constantly laughing as she handed out goodies, i’m sure these little brown faces were similar yet so different from her students back at home. she fits the teacher role well. before she left, her class collected extra clothing and toys for the children and the rest of the family gathered together medical supplies. every summer, samuel has a VBS program with over 100 children. these gifts will be perfectly put to use during that time.
though we were utterly exhausted from our day at the village, my family made their way down to rutan and ritu’s house for dinner. we helped make chapattis and chutney and i loved watching my family adapt to this indian style of cooking. the food was oh, so good, as always, but our night finished without a the customary round of dancing…we were spent.

21 march
let’s see…now my third trip to rishikesh…i can navigate like a pro. i wanted my family to see a ‘holy,’ more normal indian city, as mussoorie and delhi are far from ‘average’ india. i realize rishikesh, the yoga capital of the world, is still very much a tourist town, but it sufficed well. many monkey’s along the bridge and our feet in the ganges, we enjoyed a very relaxed day strolling down the main bazaar. we watched a typical temple ceremony for a bit, it’s quite a lot to take in. regardless of the depth of your walk, you can feel the oppression even outside the temple gates. crazy stuff, i tell you. oh, and i finally found yoga pants…they top any m.c. hammer look-a-like’s you’ve ever seen. can’t wait to start classes again when i return home!

22 march
an unexpected, wonderful surprise occurred on our taxi ride to delhi. our taxi wallah, manmohan singh [no, not india’s prime minister] knew of an elephant wildlife area and we were privy to a round of feeding the elephants. i mean really, you can’t come to india without seeing elephants! i also concluded that driving, er riding in a car, in india is utterly exhausting. if you could only understand what traffic is really like. i, along with the rest of our party, decided we preferred the train. we laid low in our hotel that evening, enjoying the goodness of subway sandwiches and the movie ‘cars.’ it kind of felt normal…i think i’m still in india.

23 march
tourist day! we hired a private taxi and tour guide [sounds expensive but really not] for the day to check out the sites and sounds of delhi. though this is the capital city and where i travel in and out of, i hadn’t taken time to really look around. we saw india’s biggest mosque and the lotus temple, hunmayan’s tomb, and walked ghandi’s final steps. the day was much better than i expected [hands down better than the day tour in agra!] milkshakes for dinner at the big chill. oh, how i love that place, and the familiar kind of feeling it brings.

24 march
ah, their last day in india…we spent the morning shopping and perusing the market place. the streets my father didn’t think we should venture upon were child’s play compared to the markets we were now traversing. my family, timid and overwhelmed when they arrived, were now bargaining as professionals and moving through crowds as if stares didn’t bother them in the least. oh, i was so proud of them! we enjoyed the kebab wallah’s famous chicken tika in one of asia’s finest parks, lodi gardens. the goodbye was hard. i wasn’t leaving them, this time they were leaving me. i hadn’t had a good cry in awhile so i let the tears fall. i took a hot, real shower and then the sulk was over.
there is still work to be done.
my eyes, though puffy, are fixed on the end,
my heart, though sad to see them leave, is excited to finish strong.

this is india…

this is my family in india…

any questions?

we will soon return to our regular scheduled programming.

brought to you by:
the G who orchestrates more amazing things than i could ever imagine…

scented candles, i had asked for these. when she asked me what i needed, i desperately wanted them; i didn’t like the way india smelled. i hated waking up each morning to the stench of an old house, weird spices, and unavoidable monsoon season mold. i opened the candles and breathed deep. ah. the smell of home. sometime between asking for the candles and a month later when i received them, i seemed to have forgotten that india smelled. i guess i’ve become accustomed to it. i am beginning to enjoy the way the kitchen scent make me hungry and what was once a stench is familiar as i walked in the front door. i turned my head to my shoulder…maybe i now smell like india.

there were notes too. encouragement, funny stories, and reminders of love. my eyes watered; these are always the best part of care packages. the words bring tears to my eyes. mom is full of sentiment, megan stirs me to laughter. and yes dad, you have lately told me that you’re proud of me, but i never get tired of hearing it.

within the contents, snuggly padded and secured, i found my christmas present. i didn’t know it when the package was sent, but my parents did. the Father had given them a peace about it long ago; they knew i wouldn’t be home to receive it in person this year. they knew i’d be spending this christmas in india.

as of sunday, the word was official, i’ve been given to this country for another term.
what needs to be done in me and through me here cannot be accomplished in four months, an additional seven are needed. there are a lot of other reasons why…a lot of other things which fell into place without any orchestration. i could tell them to you, list the number of ways which made this step so clear. but they cannot compare with the peace within and the leading of my heart. i’ve learned it to be a better guide am still struggling to put it to words.

‘there seems to be a glow about you,’ some tell me of my photos.
‘you look so happy, so full of joy.’
i guess that’s what happens when you’re where you’re supposed to be and doing what you’re supposed to be doing. it comes out on the curves of your lips and sparkles in your eyes. it can be heard through your words and felt in your touch. the internal happenings just might be impossible to hide on my shell and i don’t mind failing to do so.

arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the [Father] rises upon you….
then you will look and be radiant, your heart will throb and swell with joy [isaiah 60]

i read the notes again as i finish loading songs onto my ipod. i tuck the granola bars away with the rest of the stash of snacks above my bed and open the package of peeps to begin the ’stale-’ing process. [it makes them oh, so good] i pull two candles out to light and refrain after one…they’ll need to last a bit longer.

i was teaching my littlest sister how to drive a standard. the lesson occurred partly because she wanted to know, partly because i thought she needed to know, but mostly because i’m tired of being the only female in the house who can handle such a vehicle and hate driving it to work with heels.

she looked at me with all the confidence of one who only knows in her mind, camouflaging the real fear of never having tried it.

‘it sounds easy enough, it looks easy enough,’ i’m sure she thought. her nose crinkled up as she made her first attempt with the blue ranger out of the asphalt stall. the little pickup jumped forward like a grasshopper in a field, jerking us along with it.

she turned to me, eyes wide in shock, ‘what did i do?!’

‘it’s not what you did, it’s more what you didn’t do.’ i explained again how the clutch worked and how it must be let out slowly.

attempt no 2: jumping truck
attempt no 3: jumping truck

attempt no 4 got us around the parking lot and into second gear. she liked second gear better, less jerking. it was the starting and stopping that was the problem. she began asking questions, ones she wouldn’t have known to ask before and ones i couldn’t have answered until i watched her. we spent the next hour moving from row to row till her little body relaxed and the frustration on her face melted into an accomplished smile.

back in the neighborhood we went for loops around the block. i remember taking the same routes when she first learned to ride without her training wheels…we couldn’t go around enough then.
‘just one more time?’ she asked this time.
i smiled, ‘of course.’

as she got out of the truck, she turned back to me with her smart-aleck grin. she did a little hop in the air and tapped her feet together.
she had done it.
it was a proud, older sister kind of moment.

47 days, 22 hours, and 32 minutes i begin my trip for india. i can’t help but think i’m sitting in the driver’s seat as my little sister did this weekend. i’ve read my books, talked to people who have been on similar trips and had tea with native indians. i stand as one on the other side of understanding a culture, on the other side of mistakes i’ll make and on the other side of preconceptions. i don’t know what questions to ask or what answers i need.

i sit in this seat, my hand on the ignition, one foot on the clutch and the other on the break. the passenger’s seat is empty for i don’t know yet who will guide me when i get there. people tell me i’m brave for going on my own. i don’t feel like it, i guess i just don’t know what i’ll face to have to be brave about. i sit in my car on the other side of the world, on the other side of seeing, on the other side of understanding, knowing despite my preparation, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

p.s. yesterday, the day after writing this post i was rear ended in the little, blue pick-up waiting to turn by a car traveling 40mph. the poor little, fiber-glass accord… it really stood no chance against my steel bumper. ah…for once, it felt good to be a truck driving girl.

p.p.s. the post was originally named after cake’s song, though only because i had ‘stick shifts’ in the title. after the accident…the ‘safety belts’s seemed even more appropiate.