Newly arrived chickens might not last long. For more on this breaking news from Hot Springs check out Highview to Thailand.
Monday, September 28, 2015
Set Back in the Chicken House
Newly arrived chickens might not last long. For more on this breaking news from Hot Springs check out Highview to Thailand.
Friday, September 25, 2015
A Two-Things-Only Day....Wait, Make That One
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| My Beautiful Friend Yupa |
Monday, September 21, 2015
My Thai Guy
My Thai Guy! Only three days left until I have to send him home. What an exceptional, brilliant time for us, here together. Check out the link below for more.
Highview to Thailand.
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| L to R Bouy, Eg, Paw Ken, Cheunlung, May, Da |
Friday, September 18, 2015
"Mot Leuri"
Sometimes its as if being in Thailand is surreal and very real all at the same time.
In these first days of settling in, I am conscious of this both/and dynamic of mind a soul just by moving through the normal routines of life at Hot Springs. What has by now become so familiar to me, also catches me in little surges of 'oh yeah! any time I remember that a) I'm half way around the world and b) I'm here for three months.
Don't think that last part has sunk in yet. So far everything feels very much like a regular visit, excepting of course that Ken is here. Such a delightful, happy thing, that. Even more so because he's just being so present in every moment, engaging fully and letting this place fully engage him. And maybe because Ken is here, the reality of the duration of this time is being pushed back until when he leaves, or maybe until I'm past my normal three week stint. Don't know. It will be interesting to see. For now I'm just here at Hot Springs 'mot leuri' - completely.
Yesterday was a resting day. We certainly needed it after the trip, but also to adjust to the time difference and the weather. I'm surprised, actually, by how hot I feel, given we just ended summer in Ontario, and that last few weeks before we left were some of the hottest we'd had. Of course everyone knows it's 'not the heat, it's the humidity' and the humidity is certainly a factor. This is my first time experiencing the every-day-ness of rainy season. It's beautiful in its way. When I think of a rainy day at home, the colour that comes to mind is gray. But here, the colour factor is definitely green. Deep, deep green. And it's everywhere.
Tonight it rained so hard I had trouble making myself heard at evening devotions. Suradet was translating for me (which is does incredibly well with just a bit of advance conversation), and the two of us were practically hoarse afterwards, the rain was so loud coming down on the metal roof.
Even with that, I felt tonight was much better than last night when I tried valiantly, but with staggering incompetence, to teach a very brief lesson on love using the little Thai I know. Why is it that when I'm rehearsing this, it goes so much better in my imagination? Of course, I didn't have the white board available, which was a tool I had planned on using to bridge the gap between the lesson and my linguistic inadequacies. But still. After it was done, I was a little disappointed, bearing in mind that one of my learning objectives is to be able to preach in Thai before I leave. Oh my, do I have a LONG way to go! But this is only day two. I will rest myself in the process of learning and see what God might want to do with my meager offering.
Our newest little one is May, a girl who is six years old and practically a fairy in terms of size and sweetness. She's shy, but tonight was brave enough afterwards under the shelter, to ask if we could sing 'Stand on the Rock' a song I had sung with a few girls gathered before supper yesterday.
There's a chicken coop now, a large one housing about 20 birds. It's set back away from the rest of the buildings on the new property acquired through the help of the Korean Methodist Church. A new, lush garden is growing along the path as well. And a new pond to raise the fish. Right now there are no frogs (for soup) because, Yupa explains, it's too cold. Ken and I laugh out loud.
I am shamefully not taking pictures yet. Call it jet lag, but I'm just not thinking about it. I promise to do better soon. Tomorrow is Saturday and the children will be here. We have no plans to go out anywhere, so perhaps there will be more opportunity for hanging out and a few photos. The kids are quite occupied with the games, toys and other gifts they opened from Sponsors on Thursday night.
So, I'm settling in. Setting up my books and clothes and personal items to be here for a duration, and not just living out of a suitcase. And I guess it will sink in at one point. But for now....I'm just here. And Ken's here. And I am grateful for a few days of NOT packing OR unpacking, of NOT handing off responsibilities, or checking things off a list.
To be here 'mot leuri' is my intention, and my hope.
Fully present in each moment.
Watching for God to do His thing
in all the quiet, exuberant ways He does that.
In these first days of settling in, I am conscious of this both/and dynamic of mind a soul just by moving through the normal routines of life at Hot Springs. What has by now become so familiar to me, also catches me in little surges of 'oh yeah! any time I remember that a) I'm half way around the world and b) I'm here for three months.
Don't think that last part has sunk in yet. So far everything feels very much like a regular visit, excepting of course that Ken is here. Such a delightful, happy thing, that. Even more so because he's just being so present in every moment, engaging fully and letting this place fully engage him. And maybe because Ken is here, the reality of the duration of this time is being pushed back until when he leaves, or maybe until I'm past my normal three week stint. Don't know. It will be interesting to see. For now I'm just here at Hot Springs 'mot leuri' - completely.
Yesterday was a resting day. We certainly needed it after the trip, but also to adjust to the time difference and the weather. I'm surprised, actually, by how hot I feel, given we just ended summer in Ontario, and that last few weeks before we left were some of the hottest we'd had. Of course everyone knows it's 'not the heat, it's the humidity' and the humidity is certainly a factor. This is my first time experiencing the every-day-ness of rainy season. It's beautiful in its way. When I think of a rainy day at home, the colour that comes to mind is gray. But here, the colour factor is definitely green. Deep, deep green. And it's everywhere.
Tonight it rained so hard I had trouble making myself heard at evening devotions. Suradet was translating for me (which is does incredibly well with just a bit of advance conversation), and the two of us were practically hoarse afterwards, the rain was so loud coming down on the metal roof.
Even with that, I felt tonight was much better than last night when I tried valiantly, but with staggering incompetence, to teach a very brief lesson on love using the little Thai I know. Why is it that when I'm rehearsing this, it goes so much better in my imagination? Of course, I didn't have the white board available, which was a tool I had planned on using to bridge the gap between the lesson and my linguistic inadequacies. But still. After it was done, I was a little disappointed, bearing in mind that one of my learning objectives is to be able to preach in Thai before I leave. Oh my, do I have a LONG way to go! But this is only day two. I will rest myself in the process of learning and see what God might want to do with my meager offering.
Our newest little one is May, a girl who is six years old and practically a fairy in terms of size and sweetness. She's shy, but tonight was brave enough afterwards under the shelter, to ask if we could sing 'Stand on the Rock' a song I had sung with a few girls gathered before supper yesterday.
There's a chicken coop now, a large one housing about 20 birds. It's set back away from the rest of the buildings on the new property acquired through the help of the Korean Methodist Church. A new, lush garden is growing along the path as well. And a new pond to raise the fish. Right now there are no frogs (for soup) because, Yupa explains, it's too cold. Ken and I laugh out loud.
I am shamefully not taking pictures yet. Call it jet lag, but I'm just not thinking about it. I promise to do better soon. Tomorrow is Saturday and the children will be here. We have no plans to go out anywhere, so perhaps there will be more opportunity for hanging out and a few photos. The kids are quite occupied with the games, toys and other gifts they opened from Sponsors on Thursday night.
So, I'm settling in. Setting up my books and clothes and personal items to be here for a duration, and not just living out of a suitcase. And I guess it will sink in at one point. But for now....I'm just here. And Ken's here. And I am grateful for a few days of NOT packing OR unpacking, of NOT handing off responsibilities, or checking things off a list.
To be here 'mot leuri' is my intention, and my hope.
Fully present in each moment.
Watching for God to do His thing
in all the quiet, exuberant ways He does that.
Monday, September 14, 2015
Tomorrow
Calmer now than the past two hours or so of impossible-to-avoid last minute packing.
Releasing into the adventure whatever I have forgotten to do or pack.
Stepping outside for a furtive thank you to my patio 'garden' for such a great summer.
Opening myself mentally and spiritually to the 30 hours of travel ahead.
Reveling in the fact I don't have to say goodbye to Ken just yet.
Enjoying that sweet deal it is just to be in your own bed.
Laying my spirit down into the One who is Sovereign.
So here I go.
It begins tomorrow.
Or perhaps, in all the fragments of thinking required to get to this moment,
it's begun already.
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| Photo Credit: Dave Driver |
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