That First-Last Hot February

It's been a heat-seeking kind of day.

Winter is roaring outside and the cold is seeping in.  Frugality prompts the continuation of the furnace set-back long practiced when no one was in the house Tuesday to Friday,  The only-heat-the-room you're-in contingencies are struggling to keep up in wind chills of -21 C.  I can hear it, the wind.  And the sound makes me tuck into my fleece blanket more snugly, here now in front of the fire I've just lit in the family room.

January is howling into February.
And actually, I don't mind.
I'm just about to swing back over to Thai life.

I just checked.  In Chiang Mai the projected high for Tuesday, January 29 is 32 C.  That's without the humidex.  That means in just over a week I'll be making something like a 55 degree adjustment in temperature.  Yup.

Back to the heat of Thailand I go, there for the second time this winter.  This has been the shortest turn around ever.  Only two months in between.  Two exceptionally full, strategically important, and robustly challenging months for me personally, and in the story of this like-family partnership that Highview stepped into with Hot Springs eleven years ago. 

February is significant.

It was a hot February when we first ventured out to see what God was doing in Southeast Asia.  It was a hot February when we first met two remarkable people who were risking their own well-being and livelihood in order to feed and clothe and love desperate children.  It was a hot February when God gripped my heart, and the hearts of others who went, and the hearts of those who even just heard about it after we got back.   And we signed up and signed on.  That was when we all - Suradet and Yupa, all the children, and every Sponsor, every person who's support this - stepped into something that none of us could have imagined would turn out this way.

And here we are, so many trips later.  And I'm pretty sure that this will be my first trip there in February since that first-last one.

I'm smiling at myself right now.

Strewn in systematic chaos across the pool table downstairs are supplies for twenty seven Bible lessons, random ESL materials, twenty five surprise Valentine's creations for Sponsors, beads and books and badges, random Canadian trinkets from the Dollar Store, printouts for four sermons, and various and sundry bring-next-time items from my list made in November.  The planning is intense, because now I have at least some idea of what I'm supposed to do when I get there.

Back then, that first time?  Not so much.

And what's sobering me right now, as I remember not just the first trip, but many, many trips in those first early years, is how very patient and respectful they all have been with me as I have stumbled my way into having any meaningful contribution at all.   The mistakes I've made!  The grace I've been offered!  So many good and wretched lessons in humility.

The reason for such a quick turn around this time, is to be there when New Family Foundation takes on the responsibility of the children officially.    More strategically important and robustly challenging meetings are in the works for sure.  And there are moments to mark, people to thank, and some brave servants of God to encourage and cheer.  And of course, there's the children.

I seek the heat today, but soon I will be in heat-avoidance mode.  I'll be glad of the AC in my room and ice cold bottles of water and the fan that I can set up if I want to sit outside.  I'll be careful not to catch a cold in the bone chilling 19 C temperatures that can happen overnight.  And the only howling I'll hear is the pack of wild dogs that run through the neighbourhood when everyone else is in bed.

February will howl into March.
I will swing back again into Canadian life.
Two book-end Februarys in between.

-----

Some dates fyi:

Sunday, February 3 - Speaking at Highview Community Church for the first of the "Go and See" series.
Wednesday, February 6 - On my way.  Flight leaves 11:40 a.m.
Sunday, February 10 - Haiti Team Report at Highview, second of the "Go and See" series.

Wednesday, March 6 - Arrive home at 9:15 a.m.

Stay tuned for more stories and adventures from Thailand.

Scorpion on the Threshold

It's the first night of our visit last November.

I've just settled Evangeline into her guest house next door, making sure that, as a first time visitor, for her first ever night in Thailand, she has everything she needs.   Now I'm back in my own room trying to think.

It's always a tricky bit of time, this arrival-and-straight-to-bed-thing.  It's approximately 30 hours door to door; 30 hours since we left our own beds; 30 hours since we had a place to stretch right out and lay down.  Jet lag is definitely in play and for us it's really only lunch time.  But the fatigue and general sense of disorientation makes it hard to unpack the barest of things we'll need for the morning, before collapsing into a desperately needed sleep.

Maybe that's why I don't see it on my way out to put something in the garbage can on the porch.

With bare feet - of course, it's Thailand - I open my door to the warm night outside to get rid of the plastic wrap around the toilet paper.  I do have a garbage indoors, but it's small and I'd rather not fill it up with this one thing.

Only on the way back do I see a mostly-legs, small-plum-sized spider poised smack in the middle of the threshold I had just crossed.  In bare feet.  At least I think it's a spider.  And I think it's alive.  Not really sure because it's not moving, and it's a little dark in the doorway.  Never mind.  It's big enough that I'd rather be certain of its demise before I climb into bed.

No one else is around.  Suradet and Yupa have gone back to Hot Springs.  And I'm certainly not calling them back to squish a spider, even the size that it is.  I do not see any tell-tale bright colours to warn me that it's particularly poisonous.  So I take my flip flop and smack it dead.

It takes two smacks.

And then.

It's not squished down as a spider.  In its eviscerated state, it's all spread out and elongated and not a spider at all.

It's a scorpion.

I've seen four scorpions, total, in all my visits to Thailand.  One in the shower just as I was finishing.  One running out from between my feet as I sat on the bench under the dining shelter.  One very large and very dead, being devoured by about 7 million fire ants.  And this one.

So, yeah.  There are scorpions here.  Not an every day occurrence, but still.  And this one.  This one I should have stepped on.  In my bare feet.

The reason I thought it was a spider was because it was actually curled up over itself in striking pose.  Clearly I had come close.  Did I mention I was in bare feet?

A deep breath-sigh escapes from me involuntarily.  I pause for some somber reflection.  And then a thank You.  Again, thank You.

I mention to God that this was a rather disconcerting thing to happen on the very first night, flick away the remains of my close encounter using my flip flop, roll up a towel under the door, and go to bed.

There's a song we sing at Highview by the Robbie Seay Band.  It's titled "Rise" and it's a call to give ourselves away for love.  The song itself is full of contrasts, starting with an invitation to just be in the moment, be still, be here, be now.  But it builds to this reckless declaration that takes the worshiper to a defiant statement of truth for anyone who dares to give themselves away like this.

"We're not safe!  We're not safe!  But we will rise!"

Before the scorpion on my threshold, almost a year before, for some insane reason, I chose Perpetua as the subject of a research assignment in my History of Christianity course.  It was insane because Perpetua was a martyr, a nursing mother who chose to be gored and torn to pieces by a mad bull rather than disown her Jesus.

Researching martyrs is a grim business.  When I was finished the assignment I knew I was done with the subject for some time.  Let's talk about the something happier pa-lease!  But I also took away a new respect for the fact that those who first called themselves Christians did so in the face of certain persecution, the likes of which make a scorpion encounter just an interesting story.

Even so, we all face the dangers, those determined enough to follow wherever God would lead us.  Whether to a far away place with dangerous vermin, or into virus-infected epidemic zones, or the classroom of  a violence-prone school, or a group therapy gathering of sexual offenders, or the bedside of a dying friend, or behind the pulpit of a trusting congregation, or into the lives of teenagers with chaotic homes, or alongside the darkness of depression, or around the table of hostile family, or within the circle of warriors brave enough to pray against the enemy.

We subject our bare feet and bare hearts to no end of harm.

We do.  Or else we just stay home.

We're not safe.  Safety is an illusion.  That is, if we're willing to rise and give ourselves away in any capacity whatsoever.

I head back to the scarce-but-still-there scorpions on February 6th.  But I also head back to 26 incredible children and their heroic parents and caregivers, to rise with them and give and receive the love that makes it all make sense.

Of course I'll be careful.  I'll make sure all my vaccinations are up to date, take my Dukoral, travel with my ID and wallet close to my body.  When I get there I will wear copious amounts of insect repellent, put on my seat belt, only drink bottled water, keep my eyes out for the vermin, and listen to the cautions of Yupa when she tells me the coffee is dangerous (that's another, lighter-side story though).

But climbing into bed that night that the scorpion was on my threshold, I knew again without question, safe or not, this is what God has called me to do for this time of my life.

I don't think that I'm particularly brave.  I just know there's no other place I'd rather be than where God has compelled me to go.

The Holy Handing Off

Even when I am old and gray,

do not forsake me, my God,

till I declare your power to the next generation,

your mighty acts to all who are to come.

Psalm 71:18

The deliberate making of memories is one of a grandparent's most pressing responsibilities.
It's important to understand this, or the sleepovers won't make sense.

We are deep into Christmas week at Gramma's where our normal routine of a once-a-month sleepover is in 'enhanced mode' due to:

• the school holiday, 
• it being Christmas, 
• everyone's already sugared up, 
• and this is a (reverb on) DOUBLE SLEEP-OVER!!!

The house is a happy mess of Lego and couch forts and various and other sundry modifications to help turn our space into Terabithia or Narnia or any other mythical universe worthy of the Ninja dragon-trainers that now inhabit this realm.  The readily-available healthy snack tray is topped up several times throughout the day.  The popcorn and ice cream and the slightly-above-parental-tolerance amounts of chocolate are doled out at appropriate times.  Like when watching the movie, or we've just finished lunch, or when Gramma just randomly calls out "Who wants some sugar?"

And contrary to that last confession bold statement, and to popular accusation belief, making memories with grandchildren is not just about being all spoiling and permissive and sugary.  (They actually do hear 'no' from me often enough, just ask them.)

Instead, for me, deliberate memory making is really about leaving a spiritual heritage.

To be clear, there is a high respect in play for the fact that the two families that have birthed these incredible human beings do not share exactly the same faith platform as each other.  This works for me because it is a pretty basic teaching of Christianity that God gives us choice.  So choices are respected.  Nothing is assumed or forced or judged.  And in this context, I do see the leaving of a spiritual legacy as one of the most important things I'm supposed to be doing with my life right now.  For my grandchildren especially.


Earlier in this month two of the dragon trainers participated in a piece of the Christian tradition by reading Scriptures in church, and lighting a candle of Advent.  This made my heart sing.  In the course of a casual, spontaneous conversation with another one, there was evidence of a strong tendency to critical thinking about how the world works, and a leaning toward compassion when faced with the opportunity.  This too made me revel in a moment of deep joy.



If there are deliberate memories to be made, let them be wrought from these important places.

Pause here to spin the globe.

The deliberate making of memories is one of a grandparent's most pressing responsibilities.
It's important to understand this, or the times in Thailand won't make sense.

It remains one of the biggest surprises of my life that I would be so thoroughly adopted into a family of such regal bearing as is Hot Springs.

Deep into the four-week visit last November, which, come to think of it is a (reverb on) 30 TIMES SLEEPOVER, I am offered the rich gift of being loved-on as if I was Gramma -- but have been instructed and reminded to drop the 'as if'.   So, the Gramma thing, the memory-making, leagacy-leaving thing is in play here too.

The deliberate making of memories to leave a spiritual heritage.  Yes.  That's one of the most important things I'm supposed to be doing with my life right now.  For these grandchildren as well.

So I teach when I'm there.  English yes, but also life lessons from the Christian Bible, every evening.  We learn songs with big dance-like actions that including bouncing and the waving of arms.  We bring home baby bumble bees and go on lion hunts.  We play games that reinforce an English concept or illustrate a spiritual understanding.  We recite the alphabet and months of the year and days of the week and Bible verses to encourage and inspire.

And when necessary, because these kids are human and learning and sometimes make bad choices, I participate in a corrective conversation.

But more of it is in just the being-with.  The spontaneous selfies around the fire before bedtime, the finding of a bandage for a scrape, the reading of a book, the telling of a funny story, the saying of "I love you" liberally.  It's being there to live through the messes together, the frustrations of how business is carried out on a day to day basis, the heartbreak of a place where children's rights are virtually non-existent, the despair of poverty, and the bringing of hope through the good news that Jesus offers.

There's respect here, too, for very different ways of thinking, of living, or understanding how the world works.  So much for me to learn, always.

And that's the point.


This holy handing off is a delicate marvelous thing.

Because.

There's a catch.

See actually, if I'm presumptuous enough to assume I have anything of a spiritual nature to leave to these children on both sides of the planet, it means, by default, I must be diligent about my spirit.  It requires as a necessity that I take the time to reflect inward and work on the matters of my own spiritual formation, else what can I possibly leave behind but various degrees of mess?

Because of big changes, I would have to admit that it's been a messy year inside my soul.  Perhaps that's why I'm thinking about all of this right now, in the middle of the double sleepover.  These are the last few days of a year that has provided no end of opportunities to work on patience and putting aside of self and letting go of treasured things and wrestling my ego to the ground again.  It's been grueling work and it seems like it's going to continue as something of a theme song into the new year as well.  I'm so not done this "pressing responsibility".  Not as happy a mess as the house is right now.  But equally part of the deliberate making of memories, the holy handing off of leaving a legacy.

David's prayer so long ago seems written from a grandparent's heart somehow. 

Stay close, Lord, and keep doing your work in me.  

Don't give up on me, 

until I can pass something on to the extraordinary children 

You've so lavished on my life.  

Let me be a way of seeing You at work.  

Your mighty acts.  

Your slow and quiet transformation of this still unfinished work.

Let me leave this legacy,

one inward surrender at a time.

So they can know what a good and patient and gentle God You are.

What I Simply Want For Christmas

Godliness with contentment is great gain.  

For we brought nothing into the world, 

and we can take nothing out of it.  

But if we have food and clothing we will 

be content with that.

1 Timothy 6:6-9

I won't presume to speak for all Boomers on this, but there does seem to be a dominating question for folks of my generation.

"How did we get so much stuff?"

It's in the closets and in the attics and in the basement.  Some of us even have storage units to put the stuff that won't fit in our houses.  Most of us have stuff left over from emptying our parents' houses which, come to think of it, were full of stuff.

This past year, Ken and I were tasked with emptying out the apartment of a family member who had passed away.  And in the midst of our grief and reminiscing as we packed it all up, we were also overwhelmed with the sheer bulk of it.   So! Much! Stuff!  Also, we are in process of reclaiming some family property with older buildings that are, yes. Full. Of. Stuff!

Where did it all come from?

My frequent and now longer times in Thailand only emphasize this for me. 

Here, so much stuff. 
There, not so much.

Our kids at Hot Springs are abundantly cared for, without question.  But it has very little to do with stuff.  Each child has one half of a small wardrobe to claim.  And that's all the room they need because, really, that's all the stuff they have.

And while I doubt I'll ever get my stuff down to half a wardrobe's worth, I am taking some specific steps to clear away my stuff. 

[Not books.  Books are another matter altogether, but we won't talk about that here.]

For one, especially around this time of year, I'm trying to think differently about gifting.  Particularly in how I respond when I'm asked for Christmas gift ideas for myself.

Because right now, all I want for Christmas is to send some students to university.

I'd love to see Intorn finish his degree in geological engineering (mining).  I'd love to see Miki graduate as one of only seven women in her demanding engineering program.  I'd love to help Nuch finish her degree in teaching and for Fruk to continue in his music program.  And to send Wara to Bible school next year when she finishes high school, because she wants to be a pastor.  And I want to make sure every child at Hot Springs who wants to purse education past high school has that opportunity.

This breaks the cycle of poverty.
This makes all the difference in the world.

These faces inspire me to simplify; to live into the truth of it.

Nuch

Miki

Wara

Intorn

Fruk

Aren't they amazing?  Every one of them has a story that has taken them from desperate situations into the hope of a future that is strong and brave.  Every one of them has gifts to offer to the world, and hearts full of anticipation for what they can accomplish for Jesus and for their country. 

So, all I want for Christmas is to see all of it happen for them.

And I welcome fellow simplifiers along on this journey.

Little ways - I have calendars and pashminas and other sundry items from Thailand to sell for the Hot Springs Students' Fund. 

Big ways - The total amount we need each year to pay for tuition and housing and food for all our students is $10,000.00.  That's not each, but all of them together.   A sizeable enough number, but pittance compared to what it costs to put our own university students through school.

It's not too late to simplify your Christmas with me.  Inquiries for donations to count toward 2018 income tax receipts can go to rabreithaupt@hcckw.ca.

I guess what I'm trying to do right now is invest in things my children won't have to clear out of my house one day.  Instead there will be other children, born not of my own body but from my heart, who are going to work and raising families in simpler, contentment-filled houses of shalom.

Business as Usually Unusual

 It's Wednesday.

I am sitting in a government waiting room - again - and I'm not feeling that great.

Not sure exactly why, since I've had a very good morning of concentration on sermons and a research paper that's part of my current school work.  Jet lag is mostly done, and up to this point I've not had any of the mild to moderate health issues that can sometimes plague us farangs when we visit. 

But here, after lunch, it is hot.  And it was a late night yesterday taking Evangeline to the airport.  And I did eat that third piece of pizza yesterday, subjecting my system to more wheat that I normally ingest.  So maybe the combination of it all is making me feel just a bit "off".  Or maybe it's because this is the - I've lost count - time we've had to wait in a government office in the past five days or so, and the runaround is wearing on me.

The good news around this waiting is that I can now announce that the New Family Foundation has come to be.  After a nine month application process, on Monday, November 12, 2018 Pastors Suradet and Yupa's vision to expand their ministry has been birthed.  Up to this point we have cared for our children in cooperation with and under the umbrella organization of Asia's Hope, for which we have been so very grateful.  Getting to know Tutu and other Asia's Hope personnel has been a delight, and incredibly helpful in learning about ministering to orphan and at risk children here in Thailand. 

But for some time now, Suradet and Yupa have believed God was asking them to step out and broaden the scope of their ministry to include not only the care of the children, but the raising up of evangelistic teams to go back into the mountains and surrounding villages to bring the Jesus' story to those who barely know His name. 

This has been entirely their own initiative.  

My role, my understanding has been, and is increasingly being understood as being, that of encourager, cheerleader, supporter....but not leader.  And I hold them up as owning this outright.  Somehow, I just get to be along for the ride.

Which is why I'm in the waiting room - again. 

Doing business in Thailand is tedious business, I am learning.  I mentioned the nine month wait already.  But then two Mondays ago, we got the news that the application had been approved and that all we had to do was go to the district office and sign the papers.  Which we did the very next day, only - no papers.  Come back tomorrow.  Which we did, only - we were told it would take an hour to work through the last bits of things (not sure what really).  So we did.  We waited the hour, when everything in me, that still-jet-lagged afternoon, just wanted to have a nap.  And at the end of the hour we were told to come back tomorrow.   Which we did.  And then, we had the papers, just - 200 more baht please.  Really?  O-kaaaay. 

But happy dancing all the way to the car, and much excitement at evening worship that night.

Now on to the next step:  getting the charitable tax number.  Which brings me to waiting in the office and not feeling so good.  This would be only the first of two times in this particular office, but I don't know that now.  I, for some reason, think this time things will be straightforward.

That's because we haven't been to the bank yet. 

Because after we do finally get the charitable tax number, we will now need to open a bank account.  And on Sunday afternoon right after lunch we will creep through gridlock traffic in Chiang Mai where our first attempt will be thwarted by a power outage at the mall.  Not sure why there's no power, and we won't find out.  And the weird thing is that the mall will not be closed.  People will still be milling around even with darkened hallways and coffee shops that can't serve us frappes because - duh - no electricity.  Same with the bank.  Not that the bank serves frappes, but just that we can't do business with the power out. 

Disappointment. 
We thought today would be the day.
 Sad face. 
Then - Hey wait a minute.  Let's try another branch.

So we will creep through more gridlock traffic to another mall - we're looking to open this account at a main office of one particular bank that has been recommended to us - and this mall, yay!, has electricity.  So we will find the bank and then we will wait a bit more until our number is called.  And after that it will take 30 minutes for the bank manager to go through the paper work and tell us something needs to be changed back at the district office before they can move ahead.  Just a slight change in wording is all that's needed.  Sorry, you won't be able to open an account with us today.  Change the papers and come back another day.

Disappointment. 
Because all this requires the signatures of three people, the third party being Yupa's brother, Pi Jen, who has taken time away from work and driven creeped an hour into Chiang Mai to do this with us!
To coin a well-used Thai phrase, "Oy!"

At least the coffee shop in this mall will be able to serve us frappes.  And perhaps the caffeine is what will give us the oomph to make one more attempt.  We get back in the car and creep back to the original mall - which now does have electricity (insert shrug here),  and then we wait in this different branch of the same bank, so that we can be told that we can't open the account until we have an official foundation stamp.  But not to worry, you can get one of those in a shop downstairs.  But by the way, by the time they make it for you our branch will be closed so, you'll have to come back tomorrow anyways.

Aaaaaand we will go order the stamp, aaaaaand then eat supper while we wait, because by now, yes, it actually is supper time.  At least this will be Jen's first time eating at KFC and I will get a picture to mark the occasion, even though he won't like his chicken burger very much.  And at least after this particular long and tedious and unfruitful day, I will still be feeling pretty okay, all things considered.

It strikes me, even before all the bank nonsense, while I'm waiting now in the charitable tax number office not feeling so good,  that this is such a colossal waste of time!  (Perhaps not unlike how you're feeling now, having read through all this tedium and still not knowing if we got the bank account opened.)   I have a fair bit of school work to do while I'm here, and I'm not getting any of it done just sitting here waiting, scoping out where the bathroom is, just in case. 

The inefficiency of it, yes!  I think that's what making me feel off.  No control.  At everyone else's whim and mercy.  Parties not communicating with one another.  Offices not opening on time.  There's no common pause day so businesses and even government branches might be closed on any given day in a totally inconsistent, and rather inconsiderate manner, I might add.  This is my best farang voice of indignation speaking.

"Jai yen, yen," Ahajah Ruth.   They will say this frequently throughout the afternoon.  It means, 'settle down', or also could be translated, 'take a chill pill".  Clearly, my frustration is showing, even though I'm trying to smile my way through. 

But later, in the second bank wait, I will reconsider. 

This waste of time is quite fruitful, actually.  (Yes, you did hear this Type A, efficiency-addicted, first- born female say that.)  Because how else, but by going along for this tedious ride, can I know it from the inside?  As we move forward into a future of even deeper partnership, how else can I understand what happens in any given business transaction? 

Business as usually unusual.

This is what I’m here for. 

And ironically, this is exactly what my studies are about right now, and the topic of the paper I’m not writing as I sit here, waiting.  Learning together, being together in the midst of real Thai life in real Thai time, which is oh so different from what it's like back home.  This is one of my main points as to "reciprocal learning strategies".  Just "being with" is so important.

So, sitting here, not feeling good, not writing my paper or getting at anything else "productive", is actually exactly what I’m here to do.

Funny how that works out when I let it.

A Few Photos For now

 I find myself somewhat distracted this afternoon.

The day started well, and I was able to hunker down into some good work, preparing for this Sunday's sermon (a surprise to be asked, but fun), next Sunday's sermon (taught in Thai so lots of prayers please), some of the school work I am doing in conjunction with this particular visit, and getting everything ready for tonight's Bible and ESL lesson.

When the afternoon came and I wasn't feeling the need for a nap, I still didn't have too much of a brain left for a full out blog post.

So...I offer some random pictures as a way of a more visual report.

 Here's Olion, one of the dogs at Hot Springs.  

Fun fact: the black patch on his head isn't natural.  

It's hair colouring, just to make the kids laugh.

We sent Evangeline home on Tuesday night with the usual tears.  

Everyone loved how well she embraced our Thai family, and misses her very much. 

  A few shots of our trip to  Doi Suthep last week.  

Suradet looking pensively over Chiang Mai, 

the city he is so passionate to hear the good news of Jesus.

And something very old at a Buddhist monestary in a garden preserve 

in the middle of the city.  My first time there.  

 Some vibrant colours in the flowers as well.

 

 Yupa leading prayer time on Sunday.  

Sunrise, just because I can't help myself.

And maybe my favourite picture of the trip so far 

(not including Evangeline's professional shots).

Our kids eating breakfast under the dining table at sunrise.

And to be perfectly honest, the distraction is largely because my mind is quite occupied with two extremely challenging circumstances at home.  A friend at Highview is on her last leg of a very difficult journey home.  I wish I could be with her.  And our grandson Jayden has had quite the ordeal, hospitalized for the past six days due to breathing difficulties.  He's on the mend, but...I wish I could be there too.  So I'm feeling this reality of two worlds pretty intensely right now.

It's part of the territory, I know.  But I'm sorting it through, leaving it with a God who knows all things and orchestrates His perfect plans.  Letting this press me deeper into intimate trust.

Perspectives from Week One

 

One of the best things about inviting new friends to come visit Hot Springs is how I get to see everything again from a brand new set of lenses.  This is particularly true when the new friend is a graduate of film making at WLU and is taking in her experiences, at least in part, through the eye of her art form.

With Evangeline's permission, I offer these 'sample shots' as a framework for describing our first days here.  (All photo credits: Evangeline Wilton)

Home at Hot Springs

With apologies to those that have reminded me of the dismal weather many are enduring in southwestern Ontario right now, I have to say, this November in northern Thailand has been amazing.  The cool night gives way to warmer days with little to no humidity to speak of.  We pretty much stayed at Hot Springs for the first four days, allowing our bodies the time to adjust, which I have to say is so much easier without the heat.  This means we were able to enjoy the relative quiet of the countryside, and the simple beauty of the mountains that surround us here.

This is not to say that there weren't a fair share of little adventures.  Like when Suradet showed us a hole in the ground at least 15 cm in diameter and said that it was the entrance to a spider's home. Or like how I now know how to kill a scorpion myself.  Or the discovery of rather large snails.  Or the mysterious disappearance of one of Evangeline's sandals after worship one morning.  Apparently the dogs think farang shoes are more interesting.

Evangeline is proving to be a quick study in the language, picking up new words and phrases every day, and taking the initiative to use what she's learning in conversation.  This, plus the daily reading of the English books we brought with us, has given way to her being very easily embraced into the family.  I personally am enjoying the deeper conversations that happen over meal times as Thai culture, philosophies of ministries, and our own spirituals journeys provide us with lots to process as we get to know one another better.

Sunday Morning

My heart is so full.  I am with a sweet and simple and exuberant community of faith who want nothing else but to be together and lift their faces toward the God who redeems them from hopelessness.  My feeble attempt to speak anything at all into these precious folks with lives more complex than I can ever imagine, is followed by another powerful time of prayer and Communion.  I am humbled to be included.  How is it that I get to be here, doing this intimate thing we do together as the Church?  How amazing it will always be to me that somehow God saw fit to give me such sweet, spiritually intimacy with people half a world away.  These are the questions that keep me breathless, keep me grounded.



Thai Style Planning

By Monday we feel ready to head out for an outing to the Umbrella Factory and surrounding shops.   But two of the kids are running a fever and won't be going to school.  Nothing serious, but enough to keep us home again for the day.  At least that's what we think.  Being more used to 'going with the flow' by now, I open my computer to go with plan B and work on the sermon I will be preaching in Thai at the end of the month (a long and somewhat tedious process of writing given the translation necessary).

Literally two paragraphs and 10 minutes later, Suradet arrives to suggest that we could take a quick visit to Hot Springs Park.  So plan B gives way to plan C - girl's morning out.  This ends up including treating the female staff (and ourselves) to Thai massage, lunch, and the purchase of a traditional Thai skirt and top for Evangeline.  With a call home to find out that the kids are doing fine and won't be needing to see a doctor today after all, we do a 'quick' side trip to a seamstress in Yupa's home village of Ongkan to finish off the skirt with proper seams and a belt.  She is teased that there will be an extra charge because she is so beautiful.  This tall and lovely mysterious creature from a land far away.

We stop to watch Yupa's Mom fold banana leaves around portions of fermented herbs to sell at her noodle hut later.  Then there's a stop at the 7/11 at the end of the road to reactivate my Thai phone, and buy iced coffee for the Dads who have stayed home with the sick children.  By now all this 'not having an outing today' had taken us to 3:00 p.m. 





Time enough to prepare for evening worship Bible and ESL before supper.


And that was the day.  The day of not going anywhere and not really getting much 'done' either.  And it so feels like I'm in Thailand.

Tuesday we actually do visit the Umbrella Factory and I wonder again at the slow skills of carving wood and making the paper and stringing the umbrellas and painting the beauty onto them.  This visit I notice something I hadn't before, that Princess Diana had visited here in 1988.  There are pictures and a 7 meter umbrella made for the occasion.  The picture shows her standing in the exact spot I am now.  And it seems a small world and an enormous world all at the same time.

On a matter of functional business, part of being a children's home in Thailand, we were to stop in for a quick signing of some needed papers at the district government offices, a leftover errand from the day before when we were told to come back today.  Today we are told to wait for an hour.  After an hour we are told to come back on Thursday.  And now we are back home and it is again 3:00 p.m.

And so it goes.

English and Being Strong and Too Many Ka-nomes 

With all that can't be planned in these first few days, I am even more grateful for the preparation I've been doing, and the help of Ann and Derek at Highview over the past several months, in order to move us now through a three unit study called "Strong, Smart and Savoury", a series of lessons aimed at helping us live more Biblically.  This of course includes our ESL segment every night, focusing right now on a vocabulary list of 100 words, getting the gist of English verb tenses (something the Thai language does not have), and pressing into phonics with the help of the English books we have brought.  "Fox on a box" and "Shark in the park" provide ample examples and samples.

At the 7/11 I also purchased some little cake like treats - 'ka-nome' - to use in our lesson on contentment.  It's surprising how happy we might be to be given one, until the person next to us is given ten.  In the end they are all shared evenly, and a smiley face sticker is added to the zippered pouch holding all our little lesson tokens to remind us how be be strong for God.

So, this is what takes us through all the hours and minutes.  Just being here doing it, living it, knowing it, feeling it.  And then, spent, laying down a the end of the day, sleeping well in the cool of the overnight, refreshed in the morning to being again with sleepy, gentle singing.

There are more plans.  But, we'll wait and see.  A lot of that going on right now.