The Little Beauties of the Bigger Thing

One of the last outings I went on during my January 2020 trip, was to the Chiang Mai Flower Festival.  A magnificent event showcasing the incredible talent and attention to detail of horticultural artisans skilled in traditional forms.

From the huge floats to the tiniest of details, the vibrancy of colour and the sheer number of blooms required is truly breathtaking.

Who does this?  Who pays such attention to each individual petal and blossom in the most basic configuration, all the while keeping the big picture in mind?  The time taken and the precision and the patience all speaks to both the extraordinary artistry AND the unhurried, meditative nature of the Thai culture.  

These memories (and photos) serve me well in these days of waiting. 

I wonder if the artists get eye strain, or neck strain, or lose sight of the final project while they are hunkering down into the miniscule work of it?  Probably.  Tedium will do that to you.  When something takes a long, long time, when you're in the middle of it, it feels like nothing's happening.

It's time to be thinking about booking my next flight.  At least I think it is.  Then a war breaks out and new risk factors have to be taken into consideration.  But at least my own stamina and well being is on the upswing, enough that I can once again imagine myself on the plane for that long.  But when, exactly?  I don't know.

 When I was at the Flower Festival I couldn't help notice the juxtaposition of the old city walls against the colour-splash of fresh flowers.  While the festival itself is only 45 years old, these bricks have overseen more than 700 years of life and living and festivals on the city streets.  That's old.  That's a long legacy.

I am so grateful for all that I keep learning from my Thai beloveds, from their culture, from their collective-psyche, from their love.  And it's all worth it, I know this.  Every teeny detail done in preparation for the big splash of things, it's all part of the longer story.

Right now in Thailand the Flower Festival is past.  Our children are finishing up another COVID- interrupted school year, and making plans to head up to the mountains to visit living family members.  One of our teenagers has graduated high school and is applying for university.  She wants to be a kindergarten teacher.  We are hoping to arrange much needed holidays (didn't happen last year) for Suradet andYupa.  It's getting hotter, especially by 3 or 4 in the afternoon.  And I wish I was there.

We have much to do together, even from this distance.

Rice and water and other bare necessities have experienced the inflated prices felt all around the world as we contend with the fallout from not just the pandemic, but now the war as well.  My main job right now, the teeny flowers for the bigger picture, is to send out appeals and discern best practices for closing the gap in our 2022 budget.  [As always, if you are not yet a supporter of New Family Foundation I am always happen to chat.  Contact me at rabreithaupt@hcckw.ca.]

And always....our hearts are overflowing with gratitude for all those who faithfully watch over us by their support.  And to God and His incredible care for our children as seen in the trouble He went to, to arrange for all of you to partner with us!

Blessings and joy and quiet peace to you all.

"Gola" Part 3 - Of Mothers and Fathers

"Gola" Part 3 - Of Mothers and Fathers 

This is the last of the three part re-post from my mountain village visit in the fall of 2015.

Some adventures are worth re-living.

Gola Part 2 - Being There

Gola Part 2 - Being There 

Six years ago I had the enormous privilege of spending three consecutive months in Thailand, shadowing Pastor Suradet as part of my MDiv requirements for a pastoral internship.

One of the most stretching parts of that time was a three day journey up into the mountains to visit Suradet's family in his home village.

In reflecting now on both the end run of my academics, AND on how much I'm aching to be in Thailand, memories of this particular trip seemed worth re-sharing.

It comes in three parts.  This is the second installment.  "Gola" Part 2 - Being There.  

Click on the link above.

"Gola" Part 1 - Getting There

"Gola" Part 1 

Six years ago I had the enormous privilege of spending three consecutive months in Thailand, shadowing Pastor Suradet as part of my MDiv requirements for a pastoral internship.

One of the most stretching parts of that time was a three day journey up into the mountains to visit Suradet's family in his home village.

In my reflections of late, both on nearing the end of my academics, AND on how much I'm missing being in Thailand right now, memories of this particular time, and this particular trip seemed worth re-sharing.

It comes in three parts.  Here's the first installment:  "Gola" Part 1 - Getting There.  

Click the link above.

 

Mountain Carols

 

It happened again on Sunday.  This time it was the second line of  the first verse of the traditional French Carol we know in English as "Angels We Have Heart On High" (1862, unknown composer).

"And the mountains in reply, echoing their joyous strain."

I have a different relationship with mountains, now that I've spent time in Thailand.  More respect.  More affection.  Like for folks who grow up by the sea, or on the prairies, or in any distinctive geological place, the terrain and ruggedness and unique and often misty beauty of the rising hilltops holds its own sense of wonder and security for me.  Even though I did not grow up there, my heart has found another home.

If you get the chance, like I have, to visit a mountain village, the vistas become fascinating, contrasted with the layers and shadows and depths of it all receding into the, unbelievable, far-as-the-eye-can-see distance.  

Closer to the city, if you stand in the middle of the property that houses our family at Hot Springs, you'll still see sheer hills all around.  We're nestled in.  Surrounded.

It's an image of the protection and presence of God the psalmist uses in Psalm 125:1.

"Those who trust in the LORD are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever.  As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people both now and forever more."

I needed that on Sunday.  Even more today.  Another COVID Christmas doesn't register well at all, and as I write, dire predictions are again the steady diet of our newscasts.  

The mountains, however, echo back joy at the angels' announcement.  Peace on earth!  Yes, this pandemic-ravaged earth!  Because this crazy, insidious disease is exactly why He had to come.  Because sickness and dying and death and fear and confusion and despair and separation and disorientation and everything dark had to be dealt with.  So He did.  In the most astonishing of ways.

He came.

The LORD of the mountains came.  And that's why they were singing with the angels, echoing that joy.

This is why we do what we do with our beautiful, precious mountain kids.  This is their home.  This is their hope.  I miss their voices singing, so much.  

Can almost hear them echoing with the angels and the mountains.  

Where You Stay, I'll Stay

 "Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been prevented by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia." (emphasis added)  Acts 16:6

I'll get back to this.

The little white salt shaker on my mantle is lonely for it's little red partner, the one that fits so well that, when you bring them together, they hug.  White for Canadian snow; red for Thai earth.  

I bought the first pair at a market in Chiang Mai, back in the day when language was still choppy and matters of the heart near impossible to articulate.  The idea was and is that the white one comes home with me and the red one stays with them.  And when we are together, they come together in this symbol of something just not being 'complete' when we're not.

We can speak each other's tongue easier now.  But this still says more than any words, Thai or English, could possibly describe.

It's already been almost two years since I was there.  And any thoughts of making the trip this January have been squashed by new news of even more deadly variants, and the absence of connecting flights between here and there until at least April 2022.

I'll be raw here and just say this hurts like hell.  And not to offend, but if hell represents everything that God isn't, that good isn't, that the way it should be isn't, then it's the right word.

It's an odd place to be when you're wired for 'go'.  To 'stay' instead - by what I truly believe is my best understanding of the wisdom and guidance of the Holy Spirit right now - is not sitting well.  To have the 'right thing' feel so 'wrong'...it has a degree of what I'm okay to call suffering.  

Surrender and surrender and palms turned upward to help my heart make it so.  As the song says, "Where You go, I'll go.  Where You stay, I'll stay." **

And this wonderful humility to realize that God is at work in all the weird and wild ways of it either way.  When I go, when I stay, He's just always 'there'.

Miki helps remind me.  She's one of our graduates who is now involved in an innovating, gentle and respectful mission in Bangkok where a church community has been intentionally built around a coffee shop

35 Church Home Cafe is worth a curious look.  I love this concept.  I love that she's serving like this.  I love that she's surrounded by such an intelligent, faith-oriented community.  Ironically, Miki had to 'go' all the way down to Bangkok, a move that took her away from much that is familiar in the north where, to be honest, a lot of Thais are flocking to, to be away from some of the unrest and unpleasantness in the south.  

Paul couldn't always go or be where he wanted to go or be either.  And not to make a lot of it, but it's of particular interest to me that at least on one occasion, it was to Asia that he was blocked from going.  He writes so much in his letters of the anguish of not being with people he loves.  

Yup, Paul, I get that now.

** I Will Follow by Chris Tomlin

"Everyone Okay!"

It's always a bit alarming when a message begins with the reassurance that no one got hurt.  But that's what I received just last evening in a video first then this series of pictures and video chats, showing the aftermath of a kitchen fire at Hot Springs.

I'll start there too.  This could have been much worse, and we are overwhelmed with gratitude that, in fact, that no one was harmed and there was comparatively minimal damage.

A very old oven caught fire, the first analysis being it was electrical in origin.  That would be dangerous enough without the fact that the kitchen also housed propane tanks used in the gas stove top appliance.  Pause for somber reflection here.  

There was no explosion.  

Yes, this could have been so much worse.

While it's obvious from the pictures that the fire was certainly underway, it was caught in time to be contained by Suradet and some of our older boys, using the fire extinguishers we have on hand for just such a circumstance.  Three large units were completely discharged to put out the blaze.

Anyone who has been to Hot Springs will recognize the kitchen.  We've had our meals prepared for us there, and I would be bold enough to say that the best and most authentic Thai food any of us has ever eaten has been prepared on these counters.  Some of us have learned a few Thai dishes, washed some dishes (when we could get away with it), sat on the floor and ate a snack from banana leaves, watched live crabs destined for tomorrow's meal run around on the counter, made a cup of tea, removed a six foot snake, or even chased a chicken around in that room.  So while we are glad it wasn't any worse, it's still hard to see the mess midst all the memories.

Our hearts are with Yupa this morning in particular.  Yupa's kitchen is her happy place.  Since she is still freshly grieving the loss of her father on September 1st of this year, this layered loss seems harder to bear somehow.

This comes as the children are in the middle of mid term exams, sitting for them at home under the supervision of a teacher from the school.  For all of them, especially for the older ones who were directly involved in fighting the fire, it will be hard to concentrate today.

A replacement oven will need to be purchased and the wiring inspected.  We will also be replacing the extinguishers immediately.  We will be looking at the insurance policy and considering a claim.  And of course, there's the clean up.  All of this will be extra work on top of the already "extra" load of online learning, and grief recovery happening for our beloveds there right now.

We ask for your prayers for recovery and stamina and perseverance.  For concentration on our studies.  For protection from any lingering trauma for children who have only just recently found a safe place within our family.

While COVID numbers are holding their own in Thailand right now, there was a recent positive case close by in their immediate village that has brought a new level of that concern to the forefront.  We are grateful that Pfizer vaccines are available to our children age 12 and up by virtue of being enrolled in a government school. And we have made arrangements for our adult staff to be vaccinated as well, their appointment being October 21st.  As a point of reference, the Pfizer vaccine costs approximately half a month's salary for adults, helping to explain the low vaccination rate in Thailand so far.

For those of you who support us financially, we cannot say thank you enough.  All your contributions, whether as a monthly Sponsor of one child, or a regular contributor to the general operating funds, are drastically easing the strains of all of this.  

The children are receiving vaccines, protecting themselves and their nation, because your sponsorship allows them to be in school.  Stop right here for a second and let our gratitude wash over you, please.

The fire extinguishers that prevented an explosion were purchased with your money.  Stop right here for a second and realize that you may very well have saved a life.  Please, absorb this.

You have a direct impact on what's happening half a world away, and it is making more of a difference that you can't possibly imagine.  Every day that's true.  It's just on days like today it's a bit more alarmingly obvious.

With gratitude I can't possibly articulate.

Ruth Anne