A Breathless Marking

It shouldn't be but it is
Both sides of it
The ugly of vile
And the astonishing beauty of grace

Both have been my companion this year
Both should not be
But are

And all I can know is what it means to be forgiven
And seek to forgive
And what it means to be loved anyways
And to love anyways

And to stand undone by the strength of it
And weep in the sorrow and joy of it
And find no rest and rest also
In the Best of it

And be in this moment of marking
Breathless with anguish and wonder

RAB09

Trading My Sorrows

Because of the combination of early morning and late evening meetings all in one day, I arrived home today to be greeted by a granddaughter who hadn't seen me since Monday.

The exuberance of her wild and kissy hello was not lost on me. To have that much energy come from a little one who not that long ago lay listless in a hospital bed was beyond the expectations of the groaning-prayers offered in the anguished hours of early mornings in March. To have that much shiny joy concentrated in one small, now healthy body, giglging and squealing and bouncing with unrestrainted delight, is nothing short of a good and perfect gift from the Father of Lights.

Later, as I was combing her wet hair after her bath, she asked permission to jump on the bed. I asked her not too, because I was sure that if she did while we were combing her hair, it would hurt her. She paused for a moment, and then began to move her legs and hips in a subdued, swaying and totally uncoordinated kind of way and asked, "Would this hurt?" I said I didn't think so.

And there we were, combing her hair while she did her silly hair-combing pseudo-dance of joy.

And, Father of Lights, I just wanted to say thank you.

Earthfest 2009 Loves K-W

Just a very quick post this morning before I head off to be with and worship with the amazing collection of people called Highview.

First, to explain. Love K-W is a month long community outreach initiative involving approximately 20 churches in the twin cities. From May 1 to 31, churches have banded together to reach out into their communities, focusing on underserviced groups and individuals, to show the love of Jesus in tangible, meaningful ways.

This weekend it was our honour to "Love K-W" by connecting again with our friends and neighbours at Waldau Woods. Earthfest 2009 was so much fun!

YOU GUYS ROCK! There was face painting and popcorn and crafts and climbing in the bouncy castle and cleaning up the play areas and sweeping the roadways and turning over flower beds and hot dogs and cake! The very best of it is how three different groups really came through to make the day a success.

Thanks and kudos to Kitchener Housing for all your cooperation and help and for providing the BBQ at the end of the day! Good on you, residents of Waldau Woods who signed on to help out and help build into the community spirit.

And thanks to every Highviewer who came out to be "hands and feet" in so many different ways. Renee Peers, our Student Ministries Director, plus all the students and volunteers, deserve special thanks for the planning and preparation of the festival portion.

Glen Good, along with his lovely wife Anne, also deserve special recognition for heading up the clean up portion, and putting so much of their own elbow grease into the weekend.

Personally, I can't think of any way I'd rather have spent this weekend than with all of you, down at Waldau Woods, building on friendships we have already, meeting new friends, and just simply bringing what we have for God to use however He sees fit.

DON'T FORGET LOVE K-W's CELEBRATION EVENT
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Waterloo Pentecostal Assembly
7:30 p.m.
Admisssion: Item for the Food Bank

A Respectful Temptation

It starts with the wai, and the titles, and the being given first preference for almost anything.

That’s why they are a little shocked, perhaps amused that I am in the back of the truck. Hot sun, hot wind, hot little bodies pressed close for the ride. The deep green of the jungle and the deep red of the earth and the deep blue of the sky and the relentless beauty of childish Asian faces all press vividly into the moment.

I am vivid too, here in the back of the truck. My eyes linger vividly on the children, one at a time…..Fruk right here in front of me, Saiy to the right, Miki to the left, the rest of them, all of them, every amazing one of them, collected along the sides and in the middle. They are preoccupied with the ride themselves, so I indulge myself with just looking at them while they don’t notice. It fills me in ways that make me breathe in short little breaths, holding them in, as if to hold in the moment.

Like the promise of a cool shower at the end of a brutal midday hike, the anticipation of vivid moments like this kept me going all winter. Through the months of expected cold and unmitigated, unexpected events of stress that dominated the stretch between this and my last visit, I have so wanted to come back to these children. Ached for it, really, the impossible distance at times wrenching deep tears from my longings.

I do believe it’s the children themselves that provoke my desire. But careful introspection requires consideration of the shadow side of all of this. There may well be other motivations, and because I long to keep this Asian love affair as pure as humanly possible, for oh so many reasons, some pondering of the possibilities seems prudent.

Perhaps it’s escape. Yes, I’ll consider that. Being half way around the world from the relentless cycle of events that has hammered my life particularly stridently in the past 12 months, does afford permission to be doing something else than solving all those problems all the time.

Perhaps it’s the simplicity. These people don’t have much, and so life is clearer some how. Being the guest, I do no cooking or laundry or other chores, and even if I did, it would be so novel and different that no tedium could possibly be squeezed out of it.

But perhaps what tempts me most, if I were to be brutally honest, which I am finding more and more necessity for in my older years, is what is built into Thailand itself.

Here I am respected. I am a guest midst a people acculturated to serve, where I am the benefactor of people who need the resources I can allocate. Here, apparently, I am esteemed as Ajahn Rut and treated with deference, with respect.

Here me just being, not doing, is enough, more than enough, to be treated with respect.

Instead of always coming up short, running out, disappointing and never satisfying, like I do at home most of the time, here I am over and above, more than usual.

The contrast to my image of myself at home is startling. At home I am constantly being measured against how much I can do. At home I live in a secular culture, and even a church culture, where being pastor doesn’t really have a whole lot of clout. At home we’ve dropped the titles. We don’t wai to one another as a symbol of humility and respect. And at home I am still trying to recover significant status and credibility lost by events way out of my control but which landed me smack in the middle of something truly ugly that can’t help but tarnish my image.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself. These are my realities and within them, at home, I enjoy so many beautiful blessings and joys. Life, for the most part, is easier than it is in Thailand, and there are many benefits from living in a culture less hierarchical than Thai culture, especially as a woman. So, cognitively, I understand.

But I think, if I’m honest, I could get used to this being so “special”. Yes. It would be nice. It might be just lovely to be the first served at the table all the time (even when we went to a restaurant, how did the server know?), to have any request be immediately tended to, to say something just once and be listened to. To have letters addressed to me as "Dearest and esteemed Pastor Ruth."

The other day, here at home, I had a truly upsetting encounter with someone who is angry that Ken and I are helping our daughter through her nightmare. There was too much anger to completely be able to decipher exactly what the issues are, but, given our situation and the social implications, it doesn’t completely surprise me. Still, this was someone with whom I had previously enjoyed an easy, casual friendship; someone who had asked me in the past to engage with them in important life moments as a pastor; someone I thought might be able to respect my choices.

There was no respect in our encounter. I was clearly despised. And in sorting that out this week, I realized a fleeting thought – I wish I were back in Thailand.

But then almost as quickly another thought came. “If it was all about you, then yes. Wishing for Thailand would make sense. However, instead….why don’t you bring that piece of Thailand home?”

So I probably won’t wai you, or duck to keep my head lower than yours. But hopefully, as I keep sorting this out, I will offer my respect more easily.

The cross cultural learnings of my connection with Thailand continue to be a source of intrigue and amazement to me. I have so much more to understand. So much more God can do with my soul because of this.

Psalm 37:4

We're home now.

The long, long journey back is done and I am back with my family, having already had a wonderful coffee with a close friend already this afternoon.

While the unpacking, both literally and emotionally, will take some time, I thought I'd include a moment from last week when were were just starting our time at Hot Springs.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

In and amongst the excitement and rice it’s been lingering. This trip, there’s been a feeling, a sensing, a prevailing thought, flitting around on the outskirts of my awareness, not registering completely until I identified it yesterday during a ride.

I think we were on our way to Doi Saket. The streets were familiar, the strangeness recognizable in that strange new way of normal this third time here. And I was feeling particularly happy. Happy to be on my way to see the Doi Saket kids again. Happy to be here driving on the left side of the road. Happy to have George and Starr with me. Happy to be with Tutu, talking and sharing our hearts together as if we have been friends for a long, long time.

And then, there it was. This lingering, flitting feeling that was…….guilt. Yes! I’m feeling thoroughly undeserving, completely indulgent and wholly unworthy to be here.

Third time in fourteen months! When George did the math at supper the night before, I almost sucked air. Wow! That means in the same amount of time that I’ve been to the cottage once, I’ve been to Thailand three times. Hard to believe. And rather indulgent, I’m thinking. It costs a pretty penny to get here for one thing. And others have made sacrifices to help me with those funds. It’s a sacrifice for others too, those who pick up the slack at the church and at home.

And here I am, with a heart full of joy, riding in a truck on my way to hug and be hugged and to help give our Werthers to orphans in Thailand. How selfish is that?

This “guilty” lingered for a bit, on through until yesterday, our second day at Hot Springs. It didn’t dominate, by any means. The children, kissing them, hugging them, looking into those deep, deep brown eyes and receiving wide and shy smiles all at once…..the children themselves are enough happiness to block out guilty for most of the time. But it was there.

I don’t deserve this. I really don’t. The way I behaved and the arrogance and hissy fits of the first trip….oh my goodness, I most certainly didn’t deserve to come back at all after that. Then there was last October, and the healing beauty of the simplicity of loving and being loved in a little place nestled into the foothills of the Himalayas.

I don’t deserve the love of these children, unassuming, unconditional, affectionate with reckless abandon. They give all of themselves and capture a piece of my heart.

And I certainly don’t deserve to have done all of this and experienced all of this and received all of this all in the scope of 14 months. I do not. I do not.

But in the middle of a game of “wild monkeys”, around the cement table …..with Sai snuggling her little self right into the nooks and crannies of me, part of the game, but also stroking my arm and grabbing my hand and looking up at me for approval, frequently and with intensity…..

And with Miki, whom for whatever reason has found her way especially into my affections, on the other side, showing leadership and making me proud of how she’s working the table to make sure things are fair and everyone gets a turn…and how she keeps catching that I’m staring at her, and when she does breaks into this fantastic smile that just about undoes me….

And with Fruk across from me, grabbing for the wild card with tiny hands trying hard to play hard and fast, even though he’s one of the younger ones, the cuteness factor through the roof, just because he’s at the table…..

And the palm trees and orchids and other tropical plants I now recognize by sight even if not by name, and the hot, hot sun kept at bay by the corrugated roof under which we are gathered, and the chickens running free and the dogs laying quiet…

And the whole big thing that is the excruciating honour of just being allowed here, knowing how my heart felt crushed inside my chest when I had to leave last time, and how long I’ve deeply, deeply desired, longed to be here in a moment just like this…… I heard Him say it.

“I am giving you the desires of your heart, Ruth Anne. Don’t feel guilty. Just enjoy.”

Psalm 37:4 “Delight yourself in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”

I’d grown up learning that verse, but I never understood it. Now I think I do. It’s not, like I was taught it wasn’t, a way to trick God into giving Him what you want. Doing all the right things and then, well look, it was in the contract, so give me my fancy car or the right husband or whatever it was that your heart desires. It’s not even a rip off, like I felt it was when I was a child. That whole…if you delight in God, then your heart will desire Him and you’ll get what your heart desires in the end….some Matrix like quantum loop of psycho-religious logic.

Except, maybe it is a little.

Because when we started this whole Regions Beyond thing, it wasn’t really anything to do with some wild and sexy thing I had dreamed up for the church. In fact, to me, in some ways, I feared we would be going backwards into some stuffy missions program. However….God was certainly up to something in the hearts of our people for places like Haiti….and Asia, as it turned out….so we went at it full force. I led us into this with everything I have and everything I’ve been given as a servant of the kingdom. I gave God my best in this, as best I could. I delighted in who God made me to be in order to bring about the kinds of changes that would direct us to a small place just north of Chiang Mai, and the 15 children waiting there for us to be the answer to their prayers….and for them to be God’s provision of my own desire.

It’s hard to explain really. Hard to remember what happened first. Except for God, who is timeless, I guess He already knew. He knew I would fall in love, so He directed me to serve Him where my desires could be, would be met.

And here and now, in this moment of time while I’m here, yet again, much to my astonished heart, here again, He does it. He grants me what I’ve been longing for, painfully, hugely.

I’m here.

And Miki is smiling at me.

And my heart is full, undeservedly. The lavish gift of a God who does not count against me the sins of my folly, but instead, orchestrates all of this in such a way that His plans and purposes for 15 despairing kids can be fulfilled….

And the desires of my heart can be given.

Mai Pen Rai

Such a gentle culture, this.

It's almost as if the easy, flowing rolling of the foothills rolls right on down into each Thai soul, green and rich and giving way to whatever swaying the breeze might bring to the day.

It's not a laziness. Even though the heat makes me lazy, these people are certainly industrious enough. Always doing something, perhaps not with the same intensity as Western workaholics, but certainly productive, and efficient to supply for their needs. It's not a fatalism either, at least not for the believing friends we've made here. It's much more about grace and forgiveness and letting small things be small things. In a way, this gentle forgiveness is reflected in a common response phrase - "Mai pen rai" - "Never mind."

It's said in response to "Thank you". We'd say, "your welcome", they say "never mind", and it means "don't sweat it", "that's okay", "no problem" - mai pen rai.

Yupa said it to me when, through Debbie as my interpreter (last October) I expressed a concern that while I was there on my own, with no interpreter, if things got quiet, not to think I was unhappy or upset. That I was okay with the predictable silences that were sure to be part of the language limitations. And Yupa smiled her wide gentle smile and said, "Mai pen rai."

The girls said it to me, just a few days ago, after bringing it to my attention that I had left a fan running in our room. This is obviously not a good thing, probably very much against the "house rules", and they wanted me to know. But almost immediately, even before I could offer my apology, they told me, "Mai pen rai."

Suradat offered this phrase over and over, as we struggled to understand each other. Most often we would achieve the intended communication in one way or another. But sometimes the conversation would end with both of us shrugging our shoulders and smiling a "we're trying but it's not happening kind of smile". And he would say, "Mai pen rai." Or if I couldn't eat something or bumped into someone, or did anything that was not exactly Thai-polite, there was so much grace for me, and for the whole team this time around, the assumption being that we would not purposely offend. There was so much "Mai pen rai" available, and it eased the space between us.

And I think I'm so aware of this because of how much everything can matter to me in such a un-mai pen rai kind of way back home.

I get cut off on the express way and I'm not thinking, "mai pen rai". Someone stands me up for a lunch date, and I'm not thinking, "mai pen rai". Unreturned e-mails, an undone assignment from one of my team members, a forgotten favour left undone sending me out to to the store on an errand I thought I had delegated. Under my breath I am growling, but I'm not growling grace.

Take "mai pen rai" to the next level and it gets even harder. The offer of a gracious response to life's more damaging offenses, the woundings, the neglects, the betrayals. Do I have a spirit of "mai pen rai" then?

I know this is tricky because the journey through such complicated relational territory certainly requires that healthy boundaries be put into place. There is no place in grace for abuse, and no sense that God is in favour of participating in relational patterns that perpetually violate.

Still, it seems to me that the giant cosmic bottom line of it all is that we come to God loaded with desperate debt and no hope of ever buying our way out. We, each one of us, are broken and have offended God by our human proclivity to turn our backs on His offer of unconditional love and chase after other things. We break our our own codes of morality. We lie, we steal, we cheat. We say spiteful, hurtful things. Sometimes we stoop to the lowest of the low and commit unspeakable acts of emotional, psychological and even physical violence.

And in our tragic state, we stumble our way toward God, knowing what we deserve, expecting the worst. And because He sees us through the cross, He says, "Never mind." "Mai pen rai". It's taken care of already, by the sacrifice of My Son and the pervasive Spirit of unthinkable grace that is lovely, and flowing down out of the foothills of heaven onto every soul willing to give way and give over and give in to it.

Tomorrow I will leave this culture of gentle grace and dive headlong into my real life of missed appointments and dreadful crimes. There will continue to be opportunity after opportunity to extend big and little "mai pen rai's" to those in my life. And, I hope, because I need it so, experiences of "mai pen rai" being extended to me.

To ease the space between me and those I love and live with.

To give back out what's been given to me.
Over and abundantly
Like the rains on the mountains
Like the love of orphans
Like the gentle grace of a lovely people
Who are teaching me so much.

Simple Rest

I'm back in Chiang Mai! The 10 day stay at Hot Springs is done and George, Starr and I are gathering ourselves emotionally and physically for the long trip home. Meanwhile, there seems so much to get caught up on. I think I'll invent something called "Retro-Blogging" :).

In that spirit, and in no particular order, here are some of my rambling reflections over the past few days.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

I realized sometime yesterday, I think, that I was waking up feeling well rested.

It’s not like I’ve been sleeping perfectly. The hard mattress on ceramic tile floor combined with the random rooster in residence at Hot Springs, plus the intense humidity of the end of rainy season in northern Thailand can give enough cause for a few moments of wakefulness throughout the night.

Still, I lay for a moment in those first wakeful thoughts and think about getting up. I think about putting on some clothes, making sure I have my Thai-English dictionary and my Bible and my glasses, and heading down the red-muddy hill with Starr and George for morning devotions. I think, without any alarm or stress, about what I might try to say to 15 used to be orphans if Suradet ends the worship time by looking up at me, smiling and asking if I’d like to teach the lesson. I do not worry about what I will eat or drink, or what I will put on, because here in this slice of life, my breakfast of rice (and my lunch and supper for that matter) will be provided by humble, generous-with-little hands. And I’m just wearing the coolest, loosest, most comfortable clothes I’ve brought (all I have to do is find the baby power for strategic shaking).

Throughout the day I will wait and see what happens and do it when it does. If it gets too hot I’ll have another shower (who’s counting anyways) and lay down for half an hour, which will be easy to do because not only do I know by now the words I need to say that in Thai, but when I say that in Thai, I am immediately obeyed – an eerie feeling when it first happens, but I find it frighteningly easy to get used to.

There will be “conversations” with Yupa and Suradet, each side of the language equation equipped with dictionaries and phrase books and a blank piece of paper and a pen, ready to wait for each other and stumble through together to reach the best possible understanding. These will, remarkably enough, be enriching and deep and binding, in a strange “how can I feel I know you this well when we can barely speak to each other?” kind of way. We will teach each other new vocabulary, and tell our stories, and express our admiration for each other in the ministries God has called us to, deepen our understandings and respect. We will even begin to share our humour with one another, a new feature of this trip as each of us edges closer to knowing more about the cultural framework of the other.

After breakfast, or after lunch, which ever seems good at the time, we will play chess or string beads or play Dutch Blitz or paint pictures, or any other of the various activities we have brought with us. Confession: These activities actually serve two purposes. One, of course, they are for the children’s pleasure, and a little bit of ESL. It has been wonderful to see them bring out the games that I brought with me last October, and actually we haven’t noticed any other “new” games or activities in the mix that they bring to the table. But the other reason, the other purpose for the activities….It gives you a chance to just be close, and to interact, and to see into their lives and eyes just a little bit, without having to know the language. This morning it was stringing beads. There was a quiet breeze, and gentle humming, and concentrated quiet murmurings around the table as we all worked together to make our beautiful pieces.

A sudden and violent thunderstorm might blow across the mountain. If it does, we’ll gathering everything up real quick, stack the blue plastic chairs, and head for cover. It will shake, rattle and roll around the mountain, rain coming across sideways, kids squealing in delight for each crack and bang. And then, when the storm is spent, the clouds will just as suddenly part and a freshness will blow around….for about half an hour, until the humidity starts to build again.

George might show the boys, and some of the interested girls, how to make strong knots in a rope. He’ll take them to the back of the carport, near to where the new tadpoles are housed (destined for a future as frog soup), and show them how to use their new found roping skills to drag a large log from point at to point B.

Starr might break out the nail polish and give mini manicures, each girl choosing their colour and giggling at the oddity of having one of the esteemed farang sponsors wash their hands and tend to their needs this way. They will call her Miss Dao (the Thai word for “star”) and marvel at her white skin and curly hair, which they love. Bee might walk by and give her a little poke to make her jump, and that will make them both laugh.

And I will take out my computer to write down a few words about how restful it all is, and quietly, gently I will be encircled by used to be orphans watching me, and telling me how fast I type. They will secretly be hoping that I will close this page and open the videos from my last trip here, but that’s not the plan for this moment.

This moment I am resting.

I know that when I get home there will be a new household, a new family to adjust to. I know there will be a strategic plan to unfold and bring to the people to cast the vision for a strong future. I know there will be left over business to care for, some of it unpleasant, but most of it, most of all of it, what I love to do with all my heart. Who I am and what I do when I’m NOT in Thailand is a full and abundant life for me. I am grateful from the deepest places of me for it, and for the privilege of being allowed to serve, and the honour to who I get to serve with.

But this last little while…..

In the car at home, I’ve been listening to a song by Steve Bell. It’s a blessing.

May the Lord bless and keep you.
May His face shine upon you.
May His graciousness be like an endless stream.
May the Lord show His favour
To your house and you neighbour
Til the last remaining strains of striving cease.
May He grant you peace.

In my heart there’s a sadness building up.
Every turn adds to the cup.
As the losses match the measure of my gains.
And in the shadow of this curse,
Where the best implies the worst
If you’re like me you need to hear somebody say.

May the Lord bless and keep you.
May His face shine upon you.
May His graciousness be like an endless stream.
May the Lord show His favour
To your house and you neighbour
Til the last remaining strains of striving cease.
May He grant you peace.

I don’t know why, but this song started running through my mind as we were headed back from a 2 k walk with the kids this morning. Just a short jaunt, George and I and about 7 of our new best friends, in the cooler part of the morning.

I got to the part about the “best implies the worst” and it struck me. This best, these kids, coming to live here, the hospitality on steroids of Yupa and Suradet to bring these discarded treasures under their roof. The best – this supernaturally motivated love – implying the worst – that someone, somewhere didn’t want them.

It screams over and over in my brain. I am offended in the worst way. I am angered, I am horrified. And I remember the first night here, that first night not so long ago really, when we were first introduced to the mystery that is Hot Springs. And on that night, how I heard it as clearly as ever I hear these things. “These are My kids. Do something.”

So here I am, walking and playing and stringing beads and waking up to morning devotions……. and resting. I am resting here in this place. I am resting in the loveliness of the hearts here. I am resting in the open hearted welcome of my presence here. I am resting in the simplicity of just being where God has asked me to be. And I am rested.

And I don’t get it. I don’t know why God would bring me all the way here just to lay me down and pour into me. But He has. Like last time. I am poured into.

By the touching of tactile Sai who like to stroke my arm when we’re sitting side by side. By the painfully stunning smile of Miki whom I’ve missed so much! By Thim’s sweet aspirations to be a teacher and Teh’s hope to be a missionary. By Bao being three. By Entorn having come out of his sullen disposition and become a very agreeable young man. By Saiy having settled down and showing a truly beautiful kind side. By the saying of grace by the children, one at a time each meal. By the sunrise coming over the mountains as little Asian voices lift high and strong to praise the God who created it. By the bouncing joy in Suradet as he leads his congregation in enormous worship.

Poured into, filled up, refreshed. Rested.

Undeserved.

Here I am again.

And it strikes me, on this Mother's Day way on the other side of the world, how grateful I am to my family, for letting me come and be here this day. It is a good gift.

Brokering the Sweetness

We've brought Werthers with us.

I confess that in my own weakness for sweets, anything butterscotchy is right up there, and therefore Werthers would not surprisingly be something easily thought of to bring to treat orphans. I had purchased a large bag, thinking it would be something to take to Doi Saket.

For the sake of those not knowing, Doi Saket is a small community, sort of like a suburb of Chiang Mai. Asia's Hope's first orphan home in the area is located there, a larger home with approximately 100 children and the feel of summer camp on steriods. Within the past 18 months, in a surge of growth, made possible by the addition of three more sponsoring churches, Doi Saket 2 and Doi Saket 3, along with Hot Springs (Highview's partnership), have been added. That means about 50 to 60 more orphans have been gathered under the shelter of the amazing people who bring the love of Jesus to desperate children.

In these two days of recovery and adjustment here in Chiang Mai, before we even get to Hot Springs and the 15 kids we're actually here to see, and can't wait to see, we have had the chance to drop in at Doi Saket.

We brought the Werthers.

It's a wonderfully "regular" thing for the kids at Doi Saket 1. Farang visitors have been bringing gifts and treats here for some time now, and while any child there would never be rude or pushy, there is still an aura of delighted expectancy whenever Tutu or any other Asia's Hope personnel shows up with someone new.

Our time there was wonderful for me, and seemed happy for George and Starr as well. We stepped out of the car and were greeted by an immediate dozen of hugs. Some faces I recognized and even could call by name. Birdie was there and we said a happy hello and I showed her the beaded bracelet I was wearing, the one she made for me on my first trip to Asia.

I gave Starr the bag of candy and she immediately had just that extra edge of connectiveness with the kids. I loved watching them approach her, wai, receive the candy with joy, and then run off to go tell 99 of their best friends. One by one, Starr dispensed a tiny, wrapped package of afternoon sweetness to children who certainly don't get it every day.


It was at Doi Saket 3, however, that the candy became something more.


These are Asia's Hope's newest kids here in Thailand. Two to three months ago, these children were in desperate situations, without enough food, no one to provide care, or at least with adults so desperate themselves that adequate care of their children was an impossible dream. And they look it. Some are fairly rough around the edges still, with rashes and markings showing evidence of disease and lack of basic needs.

When Starr began handing out the Werthers here, it almost seemed as if some of the kids had never seen candy before. They struggled to get the wrapping off. They looked at it and held it in their hands for a second. One little guy popped his candy in his mouth, his face becoming wide with happy surprise. He spit it back into his hand to look at this wonderful little piece of heaven, and then popped it right back in his mouth, half squealing, half giggling with wonder.

Over a Werthers.

It seems to me, in a very simple way, that's why we're here. To show to the ones who have nothing the wonders of a God who longs to give them all the wonder heaven has to offer. A God Who by virtue of laying Himself down to be hammered to a cross, has indeed already given them everything He's got. A God who is so incensed by poverty and oppression, He repeatedly and with great clarity and intensity, compells those who call Him Father to broker for Him the sweetness of heaven.

It was the same screaming whisper I heard 18 months ago on my first trip out to Hot Springs. The fierce tenderness of a God, who brought me half way around the world to see first hand what was breaking His heart here. That first night at Hot Springs, meeting our kids, I heard God say, as clearly as I ever hear these things, "These are My kids. Do something."

So yesterday, in the happy excitement of one small package of butterscotchy sweetness, there it was again. That sense of being here for way bigger reasons than I could possibly understand, humbled and profoundly grateful that we get to broker the sweetness of God's pounding love for His kids.