We were asked by one of the Woodstock teachers if we could put on a barbeque for thirty students.  They would bring a band and all their equipment and make a night of it.  We agreed happily.  It was a big job but we pulled it off. 

Imdong screamed his head off and Gettem did every electric guitar lick he knew.  There was no holding back.  Right in the middle of the show, Jordan, just three at the time, tapped Tony on his arm and said, “Dad, I want a turn.”  Tony tried to distract him.  He kept coming back. “Dad, I want a turn.”  “Dad, when is my turn?”  Tony told him to get his guitar and wait.  He went upstairs to get it and sat impatiently next to Tony.  When the band took a break, Jordan got agitated.  “Dad, can I have a turn now?”  Tony knew he wasn’t going to give up.  He REALLY wanted a turn. 

Tony set him up with a bar stool and a mic.  He settled down with his guitar.  The students were all chatting and eating and not paying any attention to him.  They thought he would play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.  Everyone was surprised when he belted out “Take me off the edge, I’m willing to die.”  They cheered and clapped.  It was hard to get Jordan off the stage.

With all the daily activity and busy-ness, we felt we needed more time with our kids.  We either had people eating upstairs with us, or we ate downstairs in the training centre with sometimes up to twenty people.  One evening I noticed Ash trying to say something but she couldn’t get a word in edge-ways.  She tried a few times, and then gave up.  The adults had taken over.  The next day we talked to our friends and told them we needed to keep dinner as a time for our family.  They were fine with that, but our girls weren’t.  The first night we sat at the table by ourselves, they burst out crying.   They wanted to know why people couldn’t eat with us.  We explained that we wanted time with just them.   They didn’t get it.  It took them a while to enjoy just being with us and we loved hearing their voices at the table again.

One of their favourite things to do was to go for walks in the forest with Bhaktu, Amar and the boys.  They would climb the big Rhododendron trees; collect the huge red flowers and bring them home to make chutney and jam. 

The more we watched our children loving their lives, the more we realised how vital they were to our call to India.  They opened so many doors for us.  They loved unconditionally and totally, with no holding back.  They saw foreign language as a door, not a barrier and it didn’t scare them.  The games they played, the simple lifestyle they were happy to live and their appreciation and gratitude always challenged us.  We were so glad we didn’t leave them with granny.  So glad they were on the journey with us.  It wasn’t long before we realised that India was the best place to raise our kids.  We could not have chosen better.  Once again, the will of God was good, pleasing and just perfect.