When You Have to Move But You Don't Really Want To

 

Morning breaks or sun is setting, either way the sky over Hot Springs covers a place of healing and peace.  We are out a little ways from the big city, down a road that has built up over the years, but would still be considered "out of the way."

A long driveway sets us back from the road.  Behind all the buildings is a steep hill covered in trees.  A decent path off to the right of the kitchen takes us past a well cultivated garden to the goat pen beyond.

We're talking about 10 acres of space for kids to run and learn and live and love.

This is the property on Hot Springs Korean Methodist Church is situated, and where Pastors Suradet and Yupa have, for the past 15 years, welcomed at risk and orphaned children into a now rather larger, and always loving family.  They were at-risk themselves as children.  When they realized what God had given them in the property assigned to their new church plant, opening their arms to the children just seemed like the right thing to do.

Fast forward to today and...we're moving.

Why would we ever want to leave this place?  

We don't.  

But we have to.

Here's why.

With the onset of military rule in 2014 new requirements for children’s welfare came into play.  Rightfully so.  Previously the loose and unregulated 'understandings' around the care of at-risk and orphan children left room for far too much that would not actually be in the best interests these small vulnerable human beings.  So it was due time to tighten up the requirements.  Among these requirements was that of having children’s homes established on ‘deeded property’.  

The property on which Hot Springs currently sits is ‘crown land’, and while it is legal to build a variety of structures on it, for example a church, it is not deeded, and therefore does not fall under compliance.  

Also, there's the fact that the Hot Springs property is owned not by Pastors Suradet and Yupa or even their local church, but by the Korean Methodist Church of Thailand, as I've already said.  

It is therefore necessary that we strive to relocate the children as soon as we can.  We do have a buffer.  Since we are in active process of becoming compliant, and also because we have a legally registered office address on deeded property, the children’s home we currently have is in no immediate danger of being shut down.  Plus the entire country, like the entire world, has had so many things put on 'pause' that it is not seen as a delay when not much has been done during the years of COVID.

But at any given time we could be served notice.  So we're moving.

That's why the development of our new property is so important.  And that's why, during this current visit to Canada, we wanted to let Suradet and Yupa speak for themselves about it all.

Saturday, October 14, 2023

7:00 to 8:30

Music, Mini-Market and Dessert

295 Highview Drive KIT ON N2N 2K7

We would love to have you join us for a mini concert upstairs, a mini market downstairs, and an opportunity to partner with us in these excited next steps for New Family Foundation.

“The mission of New Family Foundation is to provide a loving home for at-risk and orphaned children in in Northern Thailand to help them achieve their best potential in education, vocation and service to society.”

The Long Green Snake of Deliberate Knowing

A cobra is about as knowing as they come.

The one in question shows up one afternoon about mid way through my three month stay that fall of 2015.  I've only done it once, stay three months like that.  It was a special investment that not only helped  with the completion of two credits towards my academic goals, but also offered a richness of incarnational knowing beyond any expectation. And that's what this whole thing is all about.

Except, I really could have done without the snake.

That first time we see it, it skulks its way behind the dining shelter's half wall at the back near the kitchen, surprising Pi Dao (our cook and nanny at the time) who is minding her own business chopping vegetables for supper.  I am a little bit removed, up under the porch by Suradet and Yupa's house, working on a school report.  It's quiet just before, all the children at school, sunny and hot, even in the shade, with a fan taking care of that.  We're out in the country a little bit, and the space and pace of a Thai afternoon is quite agreeable.  Peaceful.  Restorative.

Pi Dao's terrified screams changes everything in an instant.  I stand up, alarmed not just by my understanding of what she's screaming  - "Ngu!  Ngu!"  Snake! Snake! - but by the sheer terror in her voice.   I am told very firmly to keep my distance, which I am more than happy to do.

Thai's don't like snakes, not at all.  Since most of them are poisonous, and well, they're just creepy (sorry to all you reptile lovers out there), it doesn't even take a big one to get a reaction.  But Pi Dao's terror and urgency gives me a hint that this one is probably a respectable size.

There is more screaming, and long sticks are brought out, and there's some fishing around in a nearby bush.  But the thing gets away from us.  I ask how big was it?  Where we might stretch out our arms, Thais indicate by holding their hands in a circle to demonstrate circumference.  About as wide in the middle as a good sized-orange.  O-kay. 

So now I have a riddle.  What's worse that sighting a cobra on your property?
Losing sight of the cobra on your property.

He lurks around like that, unseen, for two weeks.

I had never thought of what it means to snake-proof a room before, but Suradet reminds the children of all their snake safety that night at evening worship.  All the screens are checked over.  Towels are wrapped up and put at the bottom of the doors.  Everyone is extra cautious for days.  I find myself giving a wider birth to the bushes than I had before.

And then, to be honest, I forgot about it.  I was sure it must have gone on its slithery way by now, back up the steep hill and into the jungley forest.  But again in the afternoon about two weeks later, everyone quietly doing their own thing, soaking in the gentleness of the place, and quite without any invitation or notice, he shows up under the cabinet.

More screaming this time, louder and angrier.  There is now a fierceness in both Yupa and Pi Dao that rivals any she-warrior image one might conjure.  This snake has had it's last day threatening our kids!  I am up with my camera now, quite happy again to keep my distance, but close enough to watch.  Yupa has it pinned against the wall with a long piece of wood, about half way down its length, leaving a vicious top half spitting and hissing and striking.  Pi Dao has another long pole and is taking aim at the gyrating monster's flailing head.  I hear the 'deng, deng, deng' of her attempts against the cement, and then, finally the fatal blow.  Spontaneous cheering!  Danger is done.  The creature is dead.

I am unsure of this, however, as I approach.  The long thin green body still writhes in slow motion, even though I can see the skull is crushed.  Pi Dao smiles at my apprehension, takes her pole one last time and strikes the head again.  There.  See?  Dead.

I take pictures.  When the kids come home they all have a look.  A neighbour drops by later and asks if we're going to eat it, and is offered to take it home himself for supper.

Yes, a cobra is about as knowing as you can get.

My husband Ken asks me why I tell these stories.  "You want people to come, don't you?" he asks.

But that's the thing.  We don't know anything if we don't live it real time with them.  We can't begin to pretend to come alongside in any kind of honest way, any kind of authentic partnership if we have no idea about the cobras.  Until we've felt the fear ourselves, or the heat, or the long discomfort of waiting six hours to see a doctor for less than a minute, or the agony of losing a son because road safety and policies are just that lax.  Unless we know this by living it with them, incarnationally, we don't know anything.

 Not everyone will stay three months.  Likely I won't be able to do that again even in the new reality that will be my more-Thai-connected life very soon.  Three months is a longer time.  Not nearly as long as the years some actual missionaries have invested, for sure. But for most of us, it's more likely to be three weeks.  I'm hoping for two six week stints in a year.  We'll see.

My point is, we need to be there.  Yup, it's expensive.  And yes, there are some risks involved, cobras being only one variety.  But it's real.

And if you can, please come.  We would be so happy, Suradet, Yupa, the kids and I, to have you visit us.  I can't promise any cobras.  But I will predict that it will change you in ways you couldn't imagine....mostly because you just showed up in person.  Which makes all the difference in the world.

To find out about the next two trips being planned contact me at rabreithaupt@hcckw,ca