8 July 2006, Action-Man, Kathmandu

As I write, our friend Pusa is busy in the kitchen. The ladies here at the YWAM base are unstoppable. They sing as they work. Across from me, a lady named Sabina feeds her children. They hungrily share a breakfast of bread and milk tea. Like all kids, they bicker. But mostly, they share. Adurs is seven. He dips his bread in his tea. Sundes is five. He scampers around barefoot and throws crumbs to the dogs under the table. Ayusa, baby of the three, watches me as she sucks up tea in her 18-month-old way--lips pursed and bobbing back and forth. Her big brothers take good care of her. When she was just one month in the womb, the Maoists killed her father. They attacked his bus as he rode to a gathering of Christians in the outlying villages of Kathmandu. Everyone here at the base speaks well of him; he was a mover and a shaker in the community. Sabina pointed to her side as she told me the story: "They hit him here with...grenade, because he was Christian." She abounds in joy most of the time, but tears well up as she remembers. Yet she remains strong. And she has a family of young Christians here at the base who love and care for her children.

Now they've trapped a bird in the room. They chased it around as it crashed into clear windows, weakening with every hit. Finally, one of them caught it behind a curtain and grasped it with two hands. A successful hunt! Dinner, perhaps?

Drew