That's what the picture is. From under the petals of this gigantic purple bloom emerge the first bits of what will be afternoon snack in a few days from now.
They say a fun hello to welcome me each morning as I walk back and forth from the house to the gate on my mini fitness routine while at Hot Springs last November. I imagine their voices to be small and chirpy, (like Alvin and his friends, for those who would get the reference). They amuse me, even just being there. Because no where at home do I walk past a banana tree. And well, just look at them!
Beyond the novelty and cuteness, though, there is a picture of a deeper invitation. As if the slow spreading of the purple petals drawing me in is a picture of the sweet healing of this place.
I felt it first in 2008, my second only trip to Thailand, but the first time I actually stayed here. I was still reeling from one of my life's worst nightmares, just five months out, and still de-numbing from it. I had no sweet clue as to how much I would need the healing. Certainly didn't expect to receive it.
I was, after all, here to serve, right? I was here to represent the support and love Highview had so recently offered in this new-then adventure of partnering with Suradet and Yupa to raise up a gathered family. I was the bringer, the one with the goods, the one they needed.
Right?
At this point in telling our story I always must stop.
Father, thank You for Your forgiveness, mercy and grace that somehow saw through my arrogance and held it up for me to view, in all its ugliness. Jesus, thank You for offering Yourself freely on the cross to pay for my sin of superiority. Spirit, thank You for Your patient, intimate interactions with my soul as I continue to be shaped more and more into Your humility. Triune God, please don't stop this work in me.
There.
Healing.
If ever a spiritual gift was needed in ministry to children traumatized by poverty, it's the gift of hospitality. And both Suradet and Yupa have it in spades. And we feel it when we are here. We all do. The welcome of it, the comfort of it, the belonging of it.
The healing of it.
I once had a team member say that they felt more loved at Hot Springs than they did among their friends at home. That they 'belonged' here better. And without getting into a bigger analysis of it, I would say that in some ways, for different reasons, in a different home context, I knew what they meant.
Two takeaways.
One is that if you're serving kids who desperately need the love and security of home, healing hospitality is the way to go. It's what's needed first. More of a priority, even, than good education and expanded opportunities, which is still part of what we seek to provide, of course. So for our kids at New Family Foundation, that we know and experience this ourselves is a good reassurance. Yes.
And two. It makes me want to do this better myself. To be a place of healing hospitality, just in my personhood. Maybe that includes offering a meal or a cup of tea. Maybe it includes my physical space of home.
But more importantly, I want this to be just part of what people experience when they are in my presence. A sense of being welcomed into the space of presence. That they have my undivided attention. That they are heard and seen, understood and validated.
I can describe this so well because of the people who have done this so well for me. Suradet and Yupa. And others. And I am so grateful. I need them. Badly.
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| Phot cred: Dave Driver |
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