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.