The Strong Girls

 

It happens in the briefest of moments at sunrise while we’re moving the table outside.

Every day following morning worship, I’m accompanied back to my room by the three youngest girls, Any, Gam and May, who are carrying my Bible and note book, slippers if it has been cool enough, and basically anything I might have in my hands.  Ahjahn Ruth is not allowed to carry her own things, apparently.  This we do for her.

Sometimes in the evening this is harder work.  I will have filled my two Sobey’s bags full of all that was needed for the lesson; the speaker I plug into my computer for learning One Way Jesus in English, the small lesson-related token that will be added to their themed paper bag (or various other ways to collect them), the flip cards for our 100 words vocabulary, the phonics book I’ve read with gusto, pens, papers, large pink dice.  Like that.  And perhaps we’ve even had a completed reader in the group who will be receiving their prize, so all of that has come along too.  On those nights I politely express my concern that perhaps my bags will be too heavy.  These children are healthy and strong, but they are comparatively little wisps of things on North American growth charts.

And every time I express my concern, these girls reassure me.  Mai ben rai, Ahjahn Ruth.  Mai nak!

‘Never mind, Ahjahn Ruth.  It’s not heavy.’

And every time I make the comment.  Pooying kemkrang.   ‘Girls are strong.’

I’m being rather intentionally subversive in this. 

Thailand is a mixed bag when it comes to attitudes about women.  In the cities things are modern enough and opportunities for women are noticeably improving as the effects of conducting international business and the desire to do well in the global economy influence both attitude and practice.  Still, this is, at its deepest core, a tribal culture steeped in thousands of years of tradition.   And in that tradition, one of the most prominent characteristics of femininity is the ability to sit down, be quiet, and do as you’re told.   At its worst, this cultural bent contributes insidiously into the sex trade industry.  Submissive Asian women are part of the attraction for certain kinds of tourism.

At Hot Springs, girls are treated with great respect, without question.  [And it’s actually an interesting side story as to what Suradet and Yupa initially thought about making a partnership with a church that had a female pastor, but I’ll leave that for another time.]  But some of the culturally-ingrained mind-set about gender roles is present.  And this leaves me in a delicate place.  How can I demonstrate biblical equality without imposing my own cultural mores?   How can I make sure not to impose Western ideologies that do not represent a gospel priority?  And how do I discern what does and does not represent the gospel?

I do not call myself a feminist, with great respect to my friends who do.  I prefer the term ‘egalitarian’ because of how passionate I am about women AND men working TOGETHER towards the plans and purposes of God.  In my years of serving in varying capacities as a woman leader, the scenarios where true partnerships of reciprocity and respect existed, are the ones that have been the most effective, and I don’t think one has to be a theologian or a sociologist to figure out why.   

When I come here, there are no end of ways of thinking and doing things that are very different from my own culture.  That does not mean my own culture is correct.  Nor does it mean this culture is correct.  But somewhere in between there is a biblical ethic to aim for.  And in all of this I am careful.

But I’m still intentional.  Girls are strong.  They just are.  So I say it.  Every time they heave those bags onto those tiny shoulders and beam that smile of self-confidence at me.  Yes, these girls, my girls are strong.  I want to speak that into them.

Which is why when it happens in the briefest of moments at sunrise while we’re moving the table outside, I can’t help but be ridiculously satisfied.

We’re moving the table because I will be working outside for the morning.  That’s the normal rhythm of my day; to work outside writing sermons and preparing lessons, and emails and such for work still happening back home that the world wide web makes possible no matter where you are.  The table is not heavy, but it’s a little awkward for me to do by myself.  So after they drop off my things, I just ask if someone could pick up an end of the table and we’ll just take this outside.

And we’re in the middle of doing that, and I am thanking them for their help.  And one of them says, without my prompt,  Pooying kemkrang.  ‘Girls are strong.’

Oh yes, little warrior, they are.  You are.  Don’t forget it.  Long after I am able to come here and be with you, I hope this will ring in your ears, in your heart.   And I hope you will say it to yourself as often as you need to.  And I hope, even more, that you will add an essential dimension to this mantra.  A Thai phrase you know well and have actually taught me.

Prajao sum gum lung.

God is my strength. 

Because He is. 

And in Him you can do anything.

 

A Very Special Thank You

As I post this blog, Highview is in the happy throes of our annual Haiti Dinner and Silent Auction.  This has been an 11 year effort, raising funds for badly needed building projects to support the amazing people of Haiti and our partners there.  I find it ironic that there is something of a bookend thing happening here.   I was not at the very first Haiti Dinner because I was here, in Thailand, leading that now historic first trip to Southeast Asia.  

It is hard to express how overwhelming it is to watch God do this kind of stuff!!!!!!!
Oh the richness of what has happened in hearts at Highview, at Hot Springs and in Haiti over this past decade.  I can hardly wait to see what He's going to do next!

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We marked an important moment at Hot Springs today.  All the official documents and releases have now been signed, transferring the care of the children here from our previous umbrella agency,  Asia’s Hope, to the newly formed New Family Foundation.

This is the result of a long and careful process that included a sincere desire to end our time with Asia’s Hope well.  That could not happen without a proper acknowledgement of the support and care we have been provided over the past ten years, and all that we have learned from Thailand’s National Director, Tutu.

I could write pages about the work and legacy of this woman.  She has literally helped to change the lives of thousands of children in locations all around this country, in various circumstances and through different, creative means.  She’s been dubbed the “Mother Teresa” of Thailand, and it fits her well.

She was the one who connected Hot Springs with Asia’s Hope, and with then Highview in the first place some 11 years ago.  So we wanted to say thank you in the best of ways possible.

We’ve been planning since I arrived (and before), but today was the flurry of activity to make sure all the details were in place.  Flowers and fronds and magnificent archways decorated the church sanctuary.  More flowers were gathered into bouquets for presentation later on.   Food was specially purchased and prepared. 

Tutu, her son David and his wife, and a friend from France, were our honoured guests who arrived around 4:30 p.m. and we enjoyed an early supper together.   We then moved over to the church for our time of thanks.

Songs and thank yous and presentations.

 

For my own tribute, I could not think of a better way to acknowledge this remarkable woman than by recounting something that happened the first time I came to Thailand.

I struggled a lot that first trip.   The heat, the jet lag, the lack of control over when things happened, the crazy way all I thought I was ‘bringing’ to these people ended up in a heap of debilitating culture shock and slippery ego.  The day we went up to Wang Pa Pao to set up a clinic for the villagers there, I was still licking my wounds from the fiasco that was our supposedly sensational children’s program that had bombed the night before. 

I wasn’t expecting to take blood pressures.  I was a pastor and a leader and a preacher, not a nurse.  I felt useless in my areas of competence already.  And now they wanted me to pretend to be a medic?  My comfort zone was way back there somewhere, and as simple as it sounds to me now, at that moment I felt pushed to my limits.

But after the first few attempts, and once I got the hang of what I was doing, the afternoon settled into a gentler rhythm of greeting each person with a wai and a smile, wrapping the cuff around a thin brown arm, writing down the numbers and sending each person to the next line for treatment.   My heart began to settle somewhat into the physicality of it all.  These beautiful strangers and I were, for a brief moment, connected by touch and proximity.  Their blood coursed past the stethoscope and their heartbeat  echoed in my ears.

But it was Tutu that truly anchored me that afternoon. 

At one point she came to just sit with me as I took the blood pressures.   Quietly, unassumingly, as is her entire life and demeanour.    And at one point she said to me simply, “Thank you for loving my people.”

Oh.  Yes.  That.

I cannot tell you how much I needed to be reminded in that moment that love was the most important thing.  That love does not need language.  Love does not need to know everything about culture.  Love does not need to have a fancy program that goes well.  It doesn’t even need to be particularly competent in the ways I like to be competent.  Love is just sitting quietly all afternoon with beautiful people and showing them that you care.

This I learned from Tutu that long and gentle afternoon.

We move into a new era now.  But we do not forget what we have learned from astonishing people along the way.  How grateful I am to have been taught by such a woman, from the depths of her spiritual wealth.

So many pictures and hugs later, our time together was over and Tutu and our guest left.  Because it was still so early, the children asked if please could we still have our normal time of worship together.  So that’s what we did.  And with the last 30 minutes of the day we celebrated again with an impromptu dance party. 

We kind of couldn’t help it.

It had been that kind of amazing day.   

Good Night Gorilla

Evening worship is done and I’m putting away the night’s lesson materials on Abraham, our first Bible Hero in a unit of nine.  I’m in my ‘office’ at Hot Springs, a desk-table arrangement in the corner of a room in one of the extra buildings here.   Simple, but cool, and a good place to organize all the lesson materials, craft supplies, sermon manuscripts, and, now, all the binders and documents for the New Family Foundation.

Praweet stands at the edge of the porch and calls my name.  That’s how you ‘knock’ around here.  The children do the same over at Suradet and Yupa’s house if they need a bandage or some toothpaste or more cleaner when it’s their time to do the bathrooms.   Praweet’s little gravelly voice, and that he’s approaching me like this, and that I know what he’s doing makes me pause for a small swell of happy.  These are the intangible moments that anchor me here; that say I belong.

He’s come by to see if I would listen to him read.  We started our Reading Record cards today, but he was away at a Saturday cricket match all day.  Not to be outdone by the girls who seem to him to have had a significant advantage, he’s asking if he could please choose four books – the daily limit.

I’ve mentioned this before, but having a good understanding of English is a significant advantage in Thailand.  It is taught as a core subject in the government run schools starting in grade three.  But mastering Thai itself is quite a challenge with its 44 consonants and 21 vowels, and plethora of permutations on pronunciation.   Most of our children are from the Karen tribe and Thai is already a second language.   As it should be everywhere, doing well in school is both highly regarded and individually nuanced.  I’ve been impressed by Suradet and Yupa’s commitment to helping each child find what they love and are good at, and providing whatever they can to help them excel.

Praweet excels at cricket, not reading, but he’s not dissuaded from participating due to a lack of skill.  I love that about him.  He’s the smallest by far, and small for his nine years, but spunky and expressive and most of the time cheerful to the point of mischief.  He wants to be able to choose one of the prizes that will be his prerogative once twenty four books have been read and all the squares on his Reading Record are filled in.  Four books per day. 

May, Any and Eak

He selects four of the simpler reads and we tuck into the wicker chair outside.  He’s the only one small enough to do this.  We read about farm animals, and little bug’s house.  We try to find the right snow man, and say goodnight to the gorilla in the zoo who somehow sneaks in with a mouse to join the zookeeper and his wife in their big comfy bed.   With that last book Good Night Gorilla by Peggy Rathmann,  I pause to show him my grandson Zachary’s quick message inside the front cover.  Written in his own hand, it says, “To my brothers and sisters at Hot Springs.  Love, Zach.”  Yes.  Another small swell of happy, and marvelling again at our connections.

When we’re done reading and Praweet has made certain I’ve filled in the squares properly, he says “Good night” in English, and heads over to the campfire.  Normally I would join him where the others are also lingering for a few minutes before bedtime.  But I’m more inclined to take my slightly spinny head to bed early instead.

It’s taking a little longer to feel physically all here this time. 

I blame the ice storm and all the delays and the crazy forty-five minute dash that replaced a reasonable three hour layover and the ridiculously long, hour and a half line up at Thai customs that made this one of the more difficult trips here, hands down.   My personal blog Bread and Honey (link) tells that story, so I’ll the leave the details there.  But, no, I’m not all turned around to Thai time, diet and climate quite yet.

I’ll get there.  Life here will make sure of it.  The easy rhythms of waking and worship, eating and resting, worship again, then ending the day around the campfire, provide the healing balance to whatever stresses my body still needs to shake off, and the work I’ve come here to do.  The work that, if I’m honest, isn’t really so much about all the lesson plans and sermons or even the meetings that are now required to ensure our Foundation is following every stipulation down to the finest details.  Yes, all of that is very important and does receive a good portion of my attention, both here and when I’m at home.

But what just happened here on the porch with Praweet....that’s really the most important work.  To be here and quietly available, partnering in what Suradet and Yupa have established in their own way with the gifting and ability God has given them.   To be here contributing to the children’s well being in whatever ways I can and am invited.   This is a deeply needed reminder to reorient me in the midst of a what has at times been a psychologically disruptive change of status.  But that’s another blog post I think.

So here comes Sunday and I didn’t sleep well at all last night.

Glad for the cooler, refreshing mornings.

Glad for the anticipation of worshiping together with my Thai beloveds.