Games and Grace and Space for Me

Bang

It's a wild and laughing game best played with a whole whack of people in a large space, and it's called "Octopus!"  I'm pretty sure it was Erin Wildsmith (Highview's Associate Pastor) that introduced it to Hot Springs first, and it has become a hands-down favourite.  It's the first thing Mee-oo will ask me that first night we are here.

The object of the game is to be the last one standing, not caught by either the Octopus or the seaweed, earning you the right to become the next Octopus.  There is crazy running from one end of the room to the other, until, if you are tagged, you are now part of the seaweed that must attempt to tag other runners.

The kids love it.  It's especially endearing in that they pronounce it "OctoPOOOT!"  And in fact, everyone, even the English speakers, call it that now. 

We are playing it on Friday night after evening worship when I find quite suddenly that I am yet again the learner in this remarkable place of love and life.   Because something unusually normal happens that catches my heart.

May

May is one of the smallest, youngest girls.  For this she lacks nothing in oomph and enthusiasm for the game.  But her small size has left her 'stranded' on the far wall.  The Octopoot, in this case Any, is zig zagging threateningly in front of her.  It looks like May's destiny to become seaweed is certain.

But then, without any prompting whatsoever, about five of the slightly older boys come running from their already safe place to distract the Octopoot and rescue their little sister.  It's a group effort, each one taunting Any to come run after him instead.  And it works.  Any pursues Bang, a bigger faster runner, and May is given an open space of grace through which she can escape.  She boots it across the floor and is safe for another turn.  Bang and the other boys also return to safety.  The strategy was a success.

I am moved with affection as I watch this.  I've seen this kind of thing here before often, and it sort of stands out, I'm afraid.  It's not a common a thing for children, or even adults, to behave this way in our Western 'every soul for themselves', independent way of being.  Yes, children at home, and the rest of us, can be kind, for sure.  But that this so easily comes to mind for these 'older brothers' is what I find so lovely.

And this seems to me a way of being I desperately need myself.   May is me, caught against bigger things than I can handle.  Without the initiative of older, bigger, stronger family (not necessarily blood, as is also true at Hot Springs), I would be certain of entanglements and set backs, and perhaps....and this sobers me....perhaps even being disqualified from the game altogether.  I need help to make it, to open the space of grace so I can run free and wild to the other side with a chance to face the challenges again. 

I am quiet as we head back to our rooms this night.  There is such humbling here.  I am always more the receiver than ever I am the giver here. 

What could I have ever possibly done to deserve this constant fount of love and life and learning? 

Oh yeah.  Nothing.  Grace makes this space too. 

Another Thing I Take For Granted

Early in our marriage, Ken and I bought the plots that would receive our remains once we were finished with them.  It was a practical move, fairly easily paid off, and something that we both have been glad is taken care of with such little fuss.  Just "one little thing less" to worry about when the day comes that would be made more difficult by such details.  Just one little thing, like where to be buried when we die.  

Haven't given it much thought really, until now.

The tragic loss of Suradet and Yupa's son Bee last September has opened my eyes to yet another level of harshness that is living and dying in a country far less resourced than my own.  This basic need of a place to lay loved ones to rest isn't so basic or even expected here.  Due largely to the vast majority of those who choose cremation in a Buddhist country, burial plots are hard to come by and extremely expensive.  The few cemeteries available for Christians who desire to to be buried are crowded, awkward and barely available to folks without their own or donated funds.  No one who attends Hot Springs Church could afford such a thing.

 Bee is laid to rest in a space about 10 minutes from Hot Springs that is rustic in all the ways this country can be.  Everything is quickly overgrown in a tropical climate, and the cemetery itself does not resemble anything I've seen at home.  It was a mad scramble and a step of faith to acquire Bee's space, not knowing for sure if the donations from those who attended the visitation and funeral, and those of us who love them from half a world away, would be enough.  And it was only one of many expenses putting pressure on already anguished souls.

Suradet and Yupa are servants to the core of their beings.  One thing they realized from their own wretched experience is that that those they love and lead in their church do not have access to the same connections or resources that they do.  As pastors, they wanted to turn their own grief into something redemptive.  And out of that came the idea that Hot Springs Church should purchase land to become their own cemetery.

A secure box was made and put at the back of the church.  This would receive donations over time, coming from the church members themselves.  I have noted before, when explaining this to Highview, that not once did Suradet and Yupa ask or expect that any significant portion of this project would come from us.  It truly was something they wanted to provide for one another from their own resources.

That was ten months ago.

With an influx of population coming from the south to the north over the past five years or so (for reasons both political and economic), land in this area has increased in price quite drastically.  That is why a suitable property about 10 minutes from the church was far out of reach when they inquired last month.  However, after the first conversation, the owner of the land reconsidered his price given the purpose, and out of his own desire to be generous for a good cause, he came back with a counter offer of half the original amount.  What was 3 million baht was now 1 million, 500 thousand! [NOTE:  3 million baht = $113,000.00 CAD, 1.5 million baht = $57,000.00]

A group of us went out to view the property.  Honestly, it was lovely.  Easy access.  Much clearer and open and beautiful than the one other cemetery I have visited here.  The sun was happy there.  There were trees.   Suradet tells me he would move Bee here if they can buy the land.  I like that thought.  I like the idea of Bee being here instead of there, at least the thought of having this place to come to instead.

With excitement, it was decided to go back to Hot Springs and open the box to see how much had been collected thus far.  We did this in the same group so that the counting could be verified.

First problem was the key.  It had been so long since the box was locked, no one could remember exactly where it was.  Suradet tried a few random keys with no success.  Then he broke out the tool box.  One particular screwdriver did the trick, and the lid was pulled off and the contents spilled out onto the tiles of the porch where we were.  It was not an impressive pile to be honest.  However, who knew what was in those envelopes?  We began with a fair degree of optimism.  The 1000 baht bills brought little noises of hope.  But most were basically pocket change notes of 20 and 50 and 100 baht.  We set to work.

However, the final count proved rather demoralizing.  A grand total of 16,000 baht had been collected.  Over ten months.  Not even a spit enough for a down payment. [NOTE:  16,000 baht = $600.00 CAD]

Everyone was quiet for a moment.   My own disappointment was huge.  I wondered if they were thinking the same thing I was.  If this was the result of 10 months of collection, and land prices were only increasing, and this particular offer had been an amazing, and maybe one time deal, was the vision for a cemetery of their own even remotely realistic?

Suradet broke the silence.  "Prajao roo took yung", he stated simply but with absolute confidence.  God knows everything.  From what I could tell no further discussion ensued.  No re-evaluating of the process or the project.  I'm not even sure if the box will be there again on Sunday and if they simply will wait it out, trusting God to provide.  But I bet that's just what they'll do.  Because I've seen them do it over and again, just like this.

In fact that's our story.  Ten years ago it was exactly the same thing.  Suradet and Yupa took in 11 at risk children not knowing how they would feed or clothe them.  But they prayed.  And they fasted.  And half way around the world God was preparing a small but mighty community of faith to come be their partners in this bold and gentle redemptive work.  They didn't know us then.  We didn't even know each other existed.  But God did.  Because God knows everything.  Yes.  He does.

I struggle with the implications of my writing this here.  Yes, I would gladly accept any amount that would bring these beautiful people closer to the sad and delicate purpose this project represents.  That common dignity.  That 'little one thing less' I haven't ever worried about myself.

But my intentions are less pragmatic today, I think.  Instead, I just find myself wanting to feel it with them.  Understand this more deeply in my psyche first before trying to fix anything.   If there's anything to fix anyways.

The "Just Being Here" Thing

Just now I have returned from the meeting room where I have mapped out tonight's half English and half Bible lesson on the white board and set up for my props.  Earlier today I rehearsed with Bell (my interpreter) for tomorrow's sermon.  Both Andrea and Esther have something in mind for what they've been asked to do in the service.  Later tonight, after worship time and the ESL and Bible lessons, I will have a short meeting with Ahjahn Suradet and Yupa about Team Trip finances since today we were able to go exchange our money.

These are just snips of the things we 'do' when we're here, to serve and encourage and support both the children and their parents, as well at Hot Springs Church, through practical tasks and hands on ministry.

But really, that's not so much what it's about.  Actually, maybe it's not at all what it's about.

This wallops me on the way back from the chicken house.

It's Saturday so there is a special kind of happy hanging in the misty air.  I wonder if this isn't light rain at all, but joy shimmering down on us, because the whole place is lush and green with it.  We are walking the sloppy path alongside the newly planted rice crop, being weeded by the older girls under Dtu's knowledgeable guidance.  This is muddy work,  a fact which seems to increase the amusement of the workers who show us their red-brown hands and clumped up shoes as evidence of the fun they are having.

Suradet walks in front of me, and I am at first struck by the beauty of the mountains being cloaked with clouds in front of him.  When I leave Thailand, I always miss the mountains.  And this particular morning these deep white clouds against the dark green backdrop just seem severely and suddenly  magnificent and worthy of my full attention. 

But it's Suradet that captures the moment.  And he's just walking.  And singing.  And it's been longer than I care to count, with more sadness between that I care to think about, since I've heard this.  And the simplicity and depth of that particular joy on this particular day in this particular moment focuses like a lovely laser.  A breath-catcher, it is.  Being here, in this, like this.

Later in the car on the way to exchange our money, Suradet will break a spell of driving silence just to say, "Ahjahn Ruth, thank you so much for coming.  For everyone at Highview."  And then a pause.  "For loving me, like you were my mother."  Perhaps he's having just a moment of being here too.  This just.  Being.  Here.                                                       
                                                       

 

Likely I will always get asked the question about spending the money on the plane tickets.  Wouldn't it be so much better, they say, if we just sent that same amount to the cause?  I get the question.  I really do, but my answer is this.  No.  It wouldn't.  It wouldn't at all.  And I dare you to come and find out why.

Fully present in the moment, just being here, like this.
This is today's wonder.

Wordless Explanations

Hot Springs, here we come.  Let me try to explain.

Tomorrow morning these two strong and honest women will be my traveling companions.  We are off once again to a destination half way around the world to visit 25 treasures and their remarkable parents in a place so many of us at Highview have come to regard as a second family, a second home.  There's something deeply good afoot for this particular trip, at least that's been my 'hunch' since last January when, sitting at Suradet and Yupa's table, I first wrote the email inviting them to come back with me in July.

Both Andrea and Esther have been to Thailand before, Andrea with YWAM during her DTS in South East Asia, and Esther to Hot Springs for two visits already.  Both these women are exemplary students working on degrees in nursing and music, respectively.  And they are both faithful leaders in our Children's Ministry.  Their faith is solid and demonstrable, and they are keen to be learning more about who they are in the big picture of God's kingdom come.  So you can already guess with me that this will be a trip with lots of soul-ish work AND tons of adventurous fun.  Honestly, how is it I get to do this?

Of course personally there is the anticipation of again simply being with this unique and astonishing family that has so captured my heart.  I miss them every single day.  Six months is too long.  But on Thursday, if all goes according to the good-things-afoot-Planner, I won't have to ache for them for 21 whole days. 

Again I ask, how is it I get to do this?

In all my life, there have been these rare points of connection when everything else seems to be distilled and attached and explained by one single fact, one focused reality, one redeeming moment in the story.  Thailand, for me, is one of those points.  Not Thailand necessarily, but those kids, and Suradet and Yupa, all of whom have become family in a way family not often manifests itself.  These courageous, kind, generous, genuine, gutsy people, and the way they've allowed me to know and be known among them make everything else that hasn't gone right in my life up to this point, be alright after all.  Or not matter so much.  Or be transformed into the beautiful transitional thing it was to get me to here.  And if that doesn't make much sense it's because the more I try to explain what's happened, the more wordless it becomes. 

Oh my.  I will be a wreck at the airport.

It is our hope to tell our stories as we go along. 
Send the pictures. 
Share the adventure. 
So stay tuned. 

This should be good.

This Is Where I Am

Where the rock is the resonate constant

And the sky’s hue is unfathomable blue

To remind me how much bigger than me my life is.

Where turtles tutor in the benefits of basking,

And beavers do what they do best

Because, of course, it’s what they were made for.

Where waters heal with stillness

And shores restore

And silence becomes the sound of a soul consoled.

Here I breathe

And seethe with solace

Fasting and lasting for a long time alone

Except for You

My Rock, My Resonate Constant

Unfathomable in every possible measure

To remind me how much bigger than me my life is

You tutor in the benefits of basking

And that it’s okay to be me and love what I do

Because, yes, it’s what You made me to do.

Beside the waters with You I heal

Restored and more

Consoled in soul again by the food of silence

And the joy of weedy-wading, critter-collecting, wild-hood reclaiming wonders

And the in-spite-of-me mutual positive regard of their parents

And the long love of a very good man.

Here I breathe

And receive Your solace

Feasting and rising again to love and maybe even lead

Your people, Our people -

That wasabi community of faith who owns my heart -

Once again.

One more time.

In this between with You

Is where I am