“Let us not become weary in doing good.
For at the proper time we will reap a harvest,
if we do not give up.”
Galatians 6:9
Rice.
I was
embarrassed to realize a few years back, that if you had asked me to describe a
rice plant I would have been at a loss.
Wheat, corn, common garden vegetables, melons
and berries….I knew where all these came from.
But rice?
I actually had no idea.
Not now.
In glorious green, the rice stocks blanket the flat
paddies, their heavy heads bowing low under the intensity of the sun.
There’s something beautiful and orderly in the
square-upon-bermed-square that checker the flat fields, with the wild, random
mountains keeping watch all around.
I’ve seen the harvesting too.
Strong backs bent to the task under pointed
straw hats, that same intense sun, relentless and penetrating and hot, bearing
down without mercy!
I drive by in the
comfort of an air conditioned car and know without hesitation, I wouldn’t last
ten minutes.
Doing this by manual labour is still the most
common way rice is gathered.
Tradition,
the mush of the wet earth that rice requires, and the lack of access to more
modern machinery all play a factor.
The
bottom line is that the majority of all the rice that comes to our tables is
the result of some brutal work.
Some things are like that.
A
lot of things are like that.
Hot, long, hard, brutal work.
Raising a family, building a ‘real’ home, staying true to
the vision for the future when the work is long and slow and often at the cost
of personal comfort.
Yes, it’s like that
too.
Especially the staying true to the vision for the future
part.
The part where we need to build,
specifically.
To recap just a little.
Our kids need to move.
The rooms and property where we are now has been ‘retrofitted’ to house
them, back when all this began and the need was desperate and the basic space available.
Suradet and Yupa opened up their home – a new
church plant with a brand new two-story building – to eleven children who were
either orphaned or otherwise at-risk due to the penetrating poverty that is prevalent
throughout the tribal villages all across Southeast Asia.
In those beginning days, two rooms with dirt
floors and cement walls were equipped with thin vinyl flooring and fold-up
mats.
Each child’s possessions were kept
in a plastic shopping bag on top of their beds.
A few things hung on bamboo poles in the corner of the room.
And all of this was an upgrade from where
they had come.
Over the years the generous sponsorship of so many, most,
but not all, folks at Highview, has provided for bunk beds and mattresses,
wardrobes and safer modes of transportation, plus of course the daily provision
of nutritious meals, the chance to go to school, and the gift of being raised
in a loving, faith-filled family.
As far as the accommodations go, a newer
kitchen recently replaced the earthquake heaved dining shelter, at the expense
of the church, and will be useful to the church once we’ve moved.
But the sleeping and bathroom areas are not
up to regulations.
We are glad for the regulations.
The 2014 military take over in Thailand
brought a next level of accountability to children’s welfare and
education.
Children’s Homes such as ours
are now required to be on registered, deeded property.
The church property is not.
Nor do we have the required infirmary or even
square meter per child capacity.
Because
the children were established here before the new rules were put into place,
there is an understanding of a grace period.
But the threat remains that, under the current situation, we could be
audited and, if found wanting, shut down.
That’s why we’ve put a plan into place.
It involves family property owned by Yupa’s parents that
has been set aside for our use.
With
consideration for the property’s worth, and to be fair to other family members
who hold a share, a moderate buy out fee, plus four initial projects will get
this underway.
And it’s time.
But.
It’s taken
time.
Sometimes there have been huge set
backs.
Sometimes there have been long
stretches of months that turn into years before we see any progress at all.
Watching Suradet and Yupa lead this process has been a
study in the biblical patience of trust.
From the first initial conversations with Suradet eight years ago now,
where he is tenatively risking to share his heart for a bigger vision, throught
the stumbling together over the language thing and the culture thing and the
getting to know each other’s ministry values and heart thing, to the
organizational politics that were in place at the time.
All of that.
And his amazing, gentle patience with me while I gradually figured it
out.
All the way through to their
decision to form a foundation of their own, and our heart as a supporting chuch
to go there with them.
And then praying,
and praying and praying for the land deed, a process that should have taken six
months that lasted four years, with hopes raised and dashed on the civic
politics front more times now that I can remember.
Until just last month, when the whole Team was still
there, and Suradet and Yupa came back from a meeting with the village leader,
bearing the document in hand!
What?
Yes!!! Now we can build!
We can move forward!
New energy.
New
momentum.
Dreaming good dreams again.
But.
It’s taken
time.
I watch them persist in life and ministry with a gentle,
gritty tenacity I hope to emulate in my own life.
They live a Galatians 6:9 life; not
complacent, doing their homework, seeking out creative solutions, but waiting
with confidence until God makes it clear.
If we do not give up.
I’m home less than 48 hours as I write this.
I miss rice (something I once thought I’d
never say, but that’s another story).
And I’m ever so grateful for and inspired by the
harvesters
who don’t give up.
