The View from Here

The lush green of Hot Springs in October as seen from the porch of Suradet and Yupa's house.

Haven't been able to blog much these past few days.

It's not that I've been too busy, although I've been busy enough.  There's a steady rhythm for each day, book-ended by worship each morning and each evening, and punctuated with getting ready for school, daily chores, doing homework, going to market, and the incredible meals I'm served from Yupa's kitchen.  There are gaps, like right now, when nothing too much is going on, and I can stop and reflect, or prepare for tonight's devotional, or make notes in my book about things to bring next time, or observations about each child.  Or blog.

I've had the time.  But truth is there are some deeply profound reflections happening inside of me this trip.   God has been opening up my perspective on timings...proper timings....and I think I'm grabbing a sliver of what He's seen in bringing about throughout my lifetime, and how that has been essential for what He's wanted to do here, now.

I catch the edge of this perspective whenever Boy is translating conversations where Suradet, Yupa and myself are telling our stories.  When we begin to recount the ways in which we have seen God working in our lives, both through the brutal times and through the blessed times, and when we suddenly connect the dots when it comes to timelines and what was happening when; that's when it starts to sound more and more like some complex yet pure tapestry of lives intertwined in colours of grace and provision and triumph.

When did Suradet and Yupa first feel called to bring children into their home?  When did they start praying?  When did Highview first begin to hear God's whispering about Regions Beyond?  When was our first trip here and what was it for?  It's almost spooky how all those things line up.

More personally for me is this life long thing of first having an inclination toward SE Asia at the age of 11.  How it took 40 years to get here.  How that was exactly the time when Suradet (who weren't even born when I was 11), needed resources to provide for what God was calling them to do.

We are the sons of our fathers
We grow and we go
To the daughter of daughters
And it all goes to show
This is the union of children
That touches us all
God bless the children
For they bless us all
No one can say this is not the work
Of the one who looks over us all
And the love that is given
The love we all share
Is the greatest gift of all
Love asks for nothing
Expects no return
Love’s understanding
Can never be earned
Love comforts and guides us
Each step of the way
And brings us together
On this joyous day
- See more at: http://stevebell.com/kindness-album/greatest-gift/#sthash.yRdE07SG.dpuf

There's more.  It's been five years since we started this with them.  Those five years should have been the most ineffective five years of my personal life or ministry life, and for Highview.  Circumstances, without God, would have destroyed our ministry in Canada.  Instead, God birthed something so spectacular, so Isaiah 58ish, it could only have been possible because of Him.

Sometimes, during our conversations, as we come to the realizations together, we have to stop talking.  God is taking our breath away.  Tears of awe fill our throats.

And those deep things sit deeply within me.  Still figuring it out.  

Byron O’Donnell / Signpost Music
We are the sons of our fathers
We grow and we go
To the daughter of daughters
And it all goes to show
This is the union of children
That touches us all
God bless the children
For they bless us all
No one can say this is not the work
Of the one who looks over us all
And the love that is given
The love we all share
Is the greatest gift of all
Love asks for nothing
Expects no return
Love’s understanding
Can never be earned
Love comforts and guides us
Each step of the way
And brings us together
On this joyous day
- See more at: http://stevebell.com/kindness-album/greatest-gift/#sthash.UE50vCrM.dpuf

We are the sons of our fathers
We grow and we go
To the daughter of daughters
And it all goes to show
This is the union of children
That touches us all
God bless the children
For they bless us all
No one can say this is not the work
Of the one who looks over us all
And the love that is given
The love we all share
Is the greatest gift of all
Love asks for nothing
Expects no return
Love’s understanding
Can never be earned
Love comforts and guides us
Each step of the way
And brings us together
On this joyous day
- See more at: http://stevebell.com/kindness-album/greatest-gift/#sthash.yRdE07SG.dpuf

The Delight of an Ordinary Saturday

Lovely Wara, growing so fast.

Saturdays have a good feel to them, just generally speaking.  It's the weekend.  Mornings can be slower.  Change of pace and scenery for most.  Feels like a free day.  Same at Hot Springs.

We get up the same time, actually.  Morning and evening devotions are like the anchor points to the day, and it would be rare if they were lifted.  Sometimes the evening time is put aside in favour of an outing, but the mornings are pretty much a given.

But after worship?  Light chores, breakfast, and then gathering around the table where Ahjan Ruth is writing emails, just to see what else might happen.  And it does.  We played with the Ipad Anne gave me; Google Maps to be specific.  And we went from Thailand to Canada, hovered over my house for a bit and then 'drove' to the church.  That was really cool.  Kids were quite impressed. 

Then, some of the kids drew pictures for their Sponsors.  Then we watched 'home movies'.  I have clips from almost every trip, and just like every family, these kids love to laugh at themselves because of how young they looked 'way back then', and some of the silly things they did on camera.  Had to apologize to Somchai.  He was going nuts in a silly boy kind of way on tape back in 2008, and when he walked by all tall and teenaged now, and saw what we were doing he actually couldn't stay, he was so embarrassed.  (I do think we're okay....I apologized later and he gave me one of his incredible smiles and said, "Mai pben rai, kup.")

One of dozens of Yupa's amazing orchids.

Dressed up bunny for sale as a pet at the SanKampangan market.

It was lunch then, served by (big) Boy, Apple and Bao (in Suradet and Yupa's absence who were writing an exam for the leadership and administration course they are taking at university).  I took the advantage of lying down then.  Still don't think it's jet lag, more due to the humidity. 

Woke up with lots of time before supper to make sure I am ready to preach tomorrow morning, and have both tomorrow morning and evening's Psalm 91 portion for devotions ready.   Looked at email from Asia's Hope administrator Addison Smith which prompted a good conversation with Suradet about the 'extras' involved in caring for 23 children.  (Eg. How soon would you wear out a washing machine?) 

At one point in the day I noticed a small toad in the bathroom, and that didn't really bother me, except later he was gone and I'm not really sure where he went.  Still, ordinary for Hot Springs.

By 4:30 it was time to head out for supper and then Sampangken  market - a true Asian market experience where I am usually the only farang in sight.  And that was true tonight.

Early to bed, because tomorrow is Sunday, and a lot happens on Sunday.  Including morning worship which will be at 5:30 as usual (but not on the mountaintop because that's about the time it rains every day still).


I should add that in the midst of it all I am working on my Thai, trying to add to my vocabulary daily, and doing my best to string sentences together whenever possible.  Mostly I'm just pleased if anyone understands anything I say at all.  As of today I have begun to say grace only in Thai.  And even with (big) Boy present to interpret, and even though I   know I could use English and be understood, I'm doing the brain search and the pause and....trying. 


And there it was.  An ordinary Saturday with an extraordinary family.  Nothing spectacular...except it was.

I've mentioned before that I was only 11 when God first planted something in my heart for SE Asia.  These past few days here this time, He's seems to be unfolding a bit more about that to me.  Pondering that some.  Next blog I hope to explore that a little more.

For now, I am content to be heading to bed, getting ready for Sunday tomorrow.  I truly do love to spend the time with the dear people of Hot Springs Church who are so gracious as to treat me like an old friend, even when there's only about three things we can say to each other.

Blessings on this Saturday of yours....may it be extraordinarily ordinary for you.

Like I Never Left

The children stop to pray for the Sponsors who have sent their love in these packages.

Day two dawns all misty and cool.  The moon has a glimmering ring around it as we make our way to morning devotions in the dark.  By now the sun is warming the mountains who yield their cloudy cloak gradually into an end-of-rainy-season green-of-all-greens.   A huge snail slimes across the cement floor of the sheltered space outside Suradet and Yupa's house, where I am now parked for a bit.  Later we will head into Chiag Mai to do a currency exchange and have lunch.  Then I get to sit in on a parent-teacher meeting for Bao. 

I am feeling remarkably un-jet-lagged.  Slept beautifully all night last night.  Like, all night.  Appetite is normal for regular meal times.  And I'm loving the Thai food.  Feeling so good! 

There's always changes when I come.  Improvements to the property, rearrangements of who stays where or which out building is used for what.  This time there's a Korean couple staying in the guest house.  They are apparently here for a while, assigned from the Koren Methodist Church to do mission work in Thailand.  From what I can gather, they are working to establish a prayer ministry in Thailand, and Hot Springs, by virtue of the denominational affiliation and because, come on! - who wouldn't want to live here?, has become their home base.   I am, for the first time ever, staying with Suradet and Yupa in their space, eating at their table, sitting outside on their porch in the (relative) cool of a Friday morning.

And it's like I never left.  Little changes yes, but it still registers as remarkable that I can be this far away from home and feel so at home.  The chatter of little Thai voices.  All those crickets and frogs singing from the forest.  The tom kao (rice pudding) for breakfast.  Opening up new-but-becoming-less-so pathways in my brain to learn Thai.  The reliable rhythm of life here.  The slow and unassuming miracle of rescued lives transforming.

Last night after evening devotions, I had the enormous privilege of handing out the packages of love sent by the Sponsors at Highview.   Before that happened though, Suradet directed the children to put out their hands and pray prayers of blessing and love to each Sponsor.  They do it all at once.  All voices lifted in a cacophony of praise and gratitude for those who have made their rescue possible.  And it's wonderful.  And it reeks of God's compassion.

And in all of it, I am at home.  Driving in the driveway the first time, it feels like I'm coming home.

Can I say it too much?  Probably.  But the repeatable awe of it for me is that God would deem to grant me this great gift when I am so undeserving.  This much?  Really, God?  This is so much more than I would ever have dreamed up for, for myself. 

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."  Ephesians 3:20-21

Getting There

It takes a while to get to the other side of the world.  Even by now, when we've figured out the most direct route - Korean Air from Toronto to Seoul to Chiang Mai - it's still a 30 plus hour trip from door to door. 

I am now in Seoul on the three hour layover.  That's just the right length.  Time to freshen up a little after the longer 13 hour flight, grab a drink, walk around and stretch for a bit, and then find a spot at the gate to ponder how long it takes to get to the other side of the world.

It's definitely getting easier.  That first trip, oh dear I was a mess!  Had no idea how to stay comfortable in a cramped space with dry recycled air for 13 hours at a time.  How to pack my carry on for smooth security checks and easy access to what I'd need to occupy myself during the flight (not nearly as much as I thought, actually).  How to avoid the swollen legs (commonly referred to as cankles, as calves and ankles just sort of balloon into one another).  How to drink enough water the day before and all throughout the flight.   How to settle in and let the journey be a beauty unto itself. 

Left to my own devices, I'm actually NOT a traveler.  Funny, then, that this is my eighth time.  Strange that I know how to get there with relative ease and comfort, that I'm that experienced now.  Odd that this homebody can sometimes and often be found so far from home.  Crazy that I'm not only willing, but excited to do this alone.

It's love.  Or a calling.  Or maybe there's not really a difference between those two.  It's the sound of hope and joy manifest in the songs of no-longer-orphans, strong and sweet and loud and defiant against the poverty and despair that once threatened their future.  It's the magnetic draw of true heroism, demonstrated in the radical hospitality of two of the most selfless people on this wide, round planet, Suradet and Yupa. I count it as one of my life's true treasures that I have been allowed to know them, and be taught by them.

It's the awareness that, just like these children, you too have been embraced and loved into a new family, despite the baggage you might bring.  It's seeing God's grace-story enacted again, and realizing afresh that grace wins.  Grace always wins. 

And so I sit bleary and weary - neury mahk! - with strangers in a far away airport, waiting to get on to yet another airplane.  And right about now it's been 24 hours without sleep (unless you count the hour I was able to nap on that last flight).  But I don't care.  I really don't care.

Because soon enough I'll be with them.  And weird as it is, as far away and different and other-worldish as it is, it will feel like home.

There are four places in the world that my heart knows as home.
Wherever my husband Ken is.
With my Highview family.
The cottage.
Hot Springs.....my farthest away home.

"Ten thousand blessings for my heart to find."

Anything But A Whim

It's been there since I was eleven and it's never left me.  It's as much a part of me as any earliest childhood memory, any earliest sense of identity, any first sense of calling.  This deep that calls to deep is as much a part of me as is the colour of my skin.  This magnetic pull to Asia is hardly new.

It looks new.  In fact, before our first trip in 2008, I had never been anywhere that required a passport.  I hadn't experienced any culture but my own.  Never been really all that far away from home.  Hawaii doesn't count.  Wonderful place.  Totally western, really, and everywhere it's about the tourists, so.

I think in those in between years, between 11 and 51, my soul forgot about Asia.  Somehow we forgot all about that earliest of callings.  I got busy getting married and having children and watching God unfold a ministry life I honestly never really set out to do.  But there I was, minding my Father's business, more or less, and the unfolding kept unfolding itself all the way back to half way around the world. 

And now?

I think that if you lived in a house for your whole life, and suddenly one day discovered a door you'd never known was there before.  And if you were more curious than you were afraid, and you opened that door.  And if you stepped into a room completely different from the rest of the house, but full of colour and sound and smell and love and wonder.  Then it would probably be like what it's like for me to know and be known by my Thai family.

The ministry there, at Hot Springs, is one that welcomes orphaned children into lives of sustenance and hope and love.  And for some unexplainable reason, it seems I have been adopted too.   And God is unfolding something there for me.  And I have so much more to learn and receive.

So I'm going by myself this fall.  In about four weeks, actually.  From October 22 to November 3.  Just me.  I am so looking forward to going with the Team again next March and for all God would want to do through our ESL Day Camp and any other opportunities to love and serve not just our kids but the neighbourhood around them.  But this trip is just for me. 

I am grateful for how Highview gets it.  How they let me go sometimes by myself like this.  I hope it's because they receive the benefits of a pastor who, bit by bit, understands more of God's whole-earth heart, and brings back something more than she left with. 

Swimming Day - Mostly Pictures Because There's No Words to Describe It

Beeyung and Ruth Anne

It's become an annual thing.  A day trip to the pool near Tutu's house.  Truly, there are no words to describe how close to heaven all this feels.  The sheer joy of children playing in the water.  The deep refreshment of body, mind and soul.

Picture credits are due.  In fact all the pictures posted in all our blogs this year are the work of the one and only Dave Driver, who is such an asset to our Team in so many ways.

[Blogging editing note:  Downloading all these pictures, I found I was not terribly skilled in the arrangement part of the program.  Please forgive all the white spaces....unless you find white spaces artistic, in which case I meant every one of them :)]

Nut and Miki

Elaine and Apple

Thim, Saiy, Yupa

Eg - One of our new little guys

Somchai, Luke, Em

Beeyung - Definitely the ham of the family

Becky, our amazing translator, cooling off

Mee-oo and Sam

Beeyung - Like I said

Jonathan with Two

Linda with Da, one of our new little girls

Miki, always smiling

Sam with Eg, one of our new little guys

Rompo

Fruk

Bao with her Dad

Mee-oo

The girls enjoying the sunshine

Yay! We made it to the other end, having collected random, unsuspecting swimmers as we went.

The Gift of Gift

L to R - Me, Gift, Suradet, Becky

She's been coming for about three months now, hearing about Jesus from Suradet and the family of believers at Hot Springs Church. 

Then on Sunday, something just came together for her.  The message was about the benefits of serving a resurrected Jesus.  One of those benefits:  Salvation that is 'complete' (Hebrews 7:24-25).  Unlike so many belief systems, and perhaps particularly Buddhistm, those who follow Jesus know that His death AND resurrection mean that we now have the opportunity to receive a salvation that does not require our efforts to win the favour of a holy God.  No merit of our own to achieve. 

She wanted that. 

She didn't respond right away, not when Suradet gave the invitation.  She waited.  We'd all left the chapel and were over at the guest house just about to start our lunch when Suradet arrived with her and the friend that first brought her to church.

No need to wait.  Gift comes along for our swim to be baptized.

"She want to receive Jesus Christ," he explains, as he brings out a chair and asks her to sit down.  He hands it over to me. 

Becky is my translator.  I ask her a few brief questions, the first (that I can say without a translator) is what is your name? 

She replies, "Gift".

It's common for Thais to adopt an English word for their nickname.  There's been Milk, and Bee and Bell....like that.  Hers is "Gift".  How appropriate for what's about to happen.

I tell her she can pray her own words to ask for forgiveness and make Jesus the Lord of her life.  She hesitates.  I ask her if she has ever prayed to Jesus before and she says no.  So we help her, Becky, Suradet and I, one at a time translating the prayer that she repeats. 

Tong, another recent Hot Springer, and a new believer, is baptized too.

And when she's done, oh the smile.  The light in her face.  Those amazing dark eyes. The joy around that chair.  I tell her, "Gift, right now in heaven there's a party going on, just because you decided to follow Jesus."  I welcome her to the family.  Big hug.  Hugs all around.

No way!  What just happened?  This is such an unexpected Easter Gift. 

Jesus, Happy Easter, we say.  
We declare that You are beyond understanding in your Resurrected glory.  We are humbled to have been here to be Your spiritual midwives.  We party with You in heaven on this Far East Easter.

Easter Morning Relfections From Half Way Around the World

It's Easter morning here already, 12 hours before the day dawns back home.  Muggy.  Hot.  We had the fan running all night, glad for the cool against our skin.  A rooster crows.  Cicadas buzz.  Incense, as always, hangs in the air.  Doesn't feel like Spring in any way whatsoever. 



But it does feel like Easter.

Resurrection morning, in all its glory, dawns big and  bold and beautiful here under the leaves of the banana tree and in the sweet smiles of greeting as we climb the hill for morning worship.  Easter morning worship.  New life.  Big power.  All in the name of Jesus who didn't stay dead!!!

Pra Yesa song feun keun ma!  Christ is risen!
Pra Ong song feun keun jing jing!  He is risen indeed!

We say it.  We sing it.  Altogether here by the cross at the top of the hill.  And later, together with Hot Springs Church, beautiful believing brothers and sisters, who worship together a Risen Christ.  Makes no difference in what language the story is told.  Again and again we rejoice in wonder. 

Right now as I write, from here in the guest house, the sounds of the younger children 'practicing' their praise in the chapel is big and loud and excited.  Someone's banging the drums.  They have the mics on and are amplifying their joy.  They are laughing.  They are singing.  They are praising.

Easter Sunday morning.  Doesn't feel like Spring.  But sure does feel like Easter.

Why Are We Just Sitting Here?

I get the question all the time.  "Ruth Anne, why are we just sitting here?  (Or standing here?  Or waiting here?)"  I get the question all the time because that's what happens all the time.  It happened today.

We started out on an outing to a preservation area owned and operated by the King of Thailand.  Think of acres of jungle and woods and little lakes all dedicated to the development and study of plants and animals indigenous to Thailand.  Fascinating place.  Wild peacocks shouting overhead to draw attention to their astonishing beauty in flight.  Never seen that before.  And there's that bear-cat.  Not kidding.  Weird looking thing.  None of us have ever seen one before, like not even in pictures.  And this owl.  Crazy.

All of that went great.  No waiting.  No wondering.  It was on the way home that the plan began to unravel.  Or...was there really a plan in the first place?  We're never sure.  We're in two vehicles.  Suradet is leading and pulls over part way home.  Comes to the window and asks would we like to go to a village festival?

He asks me on behalf of the Team, the sweaty, unsuspecting members of which are spread out over two vehicles.  I can only even talk to two of them.  What to decide?  My policy is to say yes.  Yes, let's do it.  Let's get in as much as we can, experience all that's put before us.  It's only mid morning.  We're not tired yet.  It's not too hot yet.  So, yes.  Thank you.  We'd love to.

And off we drive to a small semi-rural community, tumble out of the trucks, and climb up a hill to what seems like it might be a market square.

There's a very loud traditional music group playing on a covered platform, telling stories in a Thai version of an opera.  There are tents set up for shade in front of the pavilion attached to the wat, where a monk, wrapped in orange, preaches a message into a microphone, competing with the music a few yards away, while villagers wander, gather and gab.  There are rich colours, baskets of fruit and flowers to earn good merit, children playing everywhere.

The adults are invited to sit in the shade.  Smiles all around.  Suradet introduces us to the leader of the village - the equivalent of the mayor.  Our kids, both Thai and farang, spill out over to the side, climb the stairs of the wat.  We're served water.  We wait.

"Ruth Anne.  Why are we just sitting here?"

Because...we are.  Because I'm not sure what's happening next and even if we asked Suradet he probably wouldn't know either.  Because this is an event oriented culture, not a time oriented culture, and that means there won't ever really be an official start time or end time.  What ever is happening just happens.  And everyone's okay with it.  Except maybe us.

Actually I'm good with it now.  Drove me nuts the first time I was here.  And to be honest it's more challenging to 'go with the flow' when you're responsible for a whole group of people with varying needs and varying degrees of tolerance for the ambiguous.  When I'm here by myself, it's moments like this that make the best memories, that push me further past my need to control, that force me into being fully present in this moment.  Right here.  Right now.

Why are we just waiting here?  Because something might happen.  Might not, but it might.  And we'd miss it if we insisted on moving on every time we didn't understand what was happening.

Like life, I think.  I think sometimes I've asked God the same question my Team asks me.  "God, why am I just waiting here?  Let's get on with whatever You're getting at here."

But God is an event oriented God not a time oriented God.  In fact, He exists outside of time.  And that means that sometimes there won't ever be an official start time or end time to certain lessons.  There are times when I need to make strong memories, and be pushed further past my need to control.  There are times when I need to be forced into being fully present with this person, in this situation, for this moment...with God.

That's why we're waiting.

This morning we were told first that we'd be having lunch there at the village, and then that non-plan got re-planned and we headed home after all....which is where we thought we were going when we left the bear-cat.

Father of time and space, thank you for the lessons we seem to need to go to the other side of the world in order to learn.





W

Mountain Village Visit

Sixteen people crammed into a truck, six in the cab and 10 in the back.

Hot day, winding road, ear-popping climb into the hills.
Loaded with sweets for the kids and some packets of colouring books, comics and colourful pamphlets speaking of the hope we have in Jesus.

On our way to Mai Tha.

This is a remote Karen village known to Suradet and Yupa.  They've visited there twice before, having been invited by a young woman who is a brand new Christian and the only one in her village.  Our mission today was to go and encourage her, as well as her husband, and to watch for an opportunity to gift new friends with the packets. 

I've been to a Lahu village before, twice, and marvelled at the spartan living conditions of these very rural, simple, gentle folk.  Same was true today, although there seemed to be more wood and bamboo structures here, more sturdy.  Lots of livestock.  First time I've ever seen a pig tied up in a front yard.  Even a little 'store', sort of. 

We were met with curious smiles, amused almost.  I learned later that while these people are not isolated and have certainly met Westerners before, we were the first to actually come and visit them where they live.  The children were shy, afraid almost, and hid in their houses peeking at us from the windows.  Even Yupa couldn't convince a few of them out for a sweet, and we had to give a handful to one braver, older girl, who ran back into the house loudly claiming them all for herself. 

It was a celebration day, the one year anniversary of their village.  A holiday, so everyone was at home, making preparations for the rituals that would protect their village for one more year from the evil spirits that mean them harm.  While Thailand is 95% Buddhist, it's not a pure Buddhism and carries with it a strong mixture of spiritism.  It's the stuff that makes them choose nicknames, and tie strings around their wrists, and change locations of village from time to time, all in an effort to fool the evil spirits into leaving them alone.  The drumming and smoking is part of it too, and we watched respectfully before being invited into the home of Suradet and Yupa's young friend.

Da - The only Christian in her village

Mats on the floor.  Eating off the floor.  Blood pudding (congealed pig's blood), rice, fried eggs, noodles and pork dumplings, very spicy sauce that was passed around from one bottle.  And some grape pop or Coke to wash it down.  And afterward we sang the chorus of 10,000 Reasons as a way to say thank you and bless their home.

Bless the Lord O my soul

O my soul

Worship His holy name

Sing like never before

O my soul

I'll worship His holy name

Which we did.  Right there.  

An elderly man's form of transportation

Watching the preparation of the drum

In the middle of a spirit-worshipped village, unharmed, boldly, blessing and being blessed.

Dave with the Village Leader Sombat

Handing out the packets

 It was hot.  We had to be careful where we stepped.  Bathrooms were very Thai (although very clean).  We stayed for about three hours and for about two of them we didn't know for sure what was happening next, or when the next thing might happen.  Watched the village people fix their ritual drum.  Met the leader of the village, who was quite happy to have us.  Even let Dave and George bang on the drum (a male only domain), which we did as a symbol of honour for the village leader. 

It's hard for us to get this, but the truth is that it increases Suradet and Yupa's status and credibility to show up with foreigner friends.  And while there was no opportunity for us to do any dramas or speaking or even sing a song other than our thank you song, our presence there helps to pave the way for Suradet to build relationships in the future.

So, an uncomfortable, long, fascinating, God-productive day.