Suspension

Monday.

That means only two more full days before we return to Canada. That means packing, wrapping up our Bible lessons, making sure we've assessed our English learning, cleaning out the supplies bins, collecting everything the children have made for their Sponsors, preparing the Christmas package that will be opened later, and saying the appropriate goodbyes.

I'm not really fond of this space. I very much want to be fully present here in these last moments. And yet there's lots to pull my attention towards the travel, and whatever plans I can put down in pencil for the first few days back. So back and forth I go, my brain, my heart.

This year it's even worse. Ken and I are still in the midst of our housing transition. We've been welcomed into our son's home (on the same property) and been given ample space. I am so very grateful for all the ways David is stepping up and being amazing and supportive and wonderful. AND. We are still not done this transitional living thing we're doing. And it only adds to that sense of being stretch between things.

Like a bridge. And in these moments that's what I feel the Spirit is reminding me of. Bridges are suspended. And they take you places. From here to there.

So I sit for a moment in this suspended space.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Taking the next steps over the gap.

Trusting.

Morning Moments

I'm finding it busy enough this visit. Not unusually so particularly, but still, to keep things moving with our English learning and evening lessons, it's easy to default to task. Easy to miss the moments happening beyond the guest house.

Like morning chores. If you can call it that. The beauty of the sunrise and the singing of the voices make it seem more like gentle fun than grudging task. Even with this all happening before breakfast (which is the smartest time to do it in a tropical climate by the way), there's laughter and song and being very happy to pose for a picture.

I'm glad I walked down today.

From home today I received some initial pictures of the factory-build component of our new home. Very encouraging! And it feels like a grace upon grace to have that happening without me while I'm here, all concentrated on the happy tasks and morning moments, and all the moments I'm given in this place.

Saturday Morning Family Outing for the Win

 

Jonah

My Mom had a saying, often uttered with a frustrated sigh.
"Can't win for losin'."

I get it. Often as not it can feel that way, I suppose. Maybe especially when there are big events that feel like big losses. Or multiple little thwartings that all add up.

But not today.
Not today.

Today we went swimming. A small and ginormous 'bai teo' where we all pile in the back of the truck and head out five minutes down the road to where a shallow pool provides fathoms of play.

Lukmee

Jonah gives the victory sign as he springs up from the water.
"I did it!" Funny how, every where you go, kids keep saying, "Watch this!" as if your eyes aren't glued on them the entire time.
Funny how, everywhere you go, no one says no to ice cream.

And this is deeply good and lovely to watch for any child's play. But these children?
These children....I know their stories.
They shouldn't be all frolicking and carefree on a Saturday morning.

And it makes it all the more of a win somehow.

We bought 29 ice creams.
Twenty children, 9 adults.
I told the booth attendant,
Rao mee kropkua yai!
(We have a big family.)
Yai, yai!, (big, big) she agreed, wide eyed.

Can't lose for winning, Mom.
Not when the wins are like this.

Together-Spunk

 

Not so much me at this age. Maybe that's why I love it so much when our girls demonstrate a sweet but edgy confidence. It can mean a world of difference in how one navigates the world.

And the world needs wise navigation. It did then. It does now. Life can be so tricky sometimes, so to learn early that you were created for a purpose, that you have a light inside of you that only you can shine, that there is darkness to vanquish, and you've been given everything you need to make a difference, makes all the difference.

But only if you're not trying to do any of that on your own.  I’m so not into that.  It’s not how it works.  Some lone-wolf idea, some distortion of individuation that requires an unrealistic and unhealthy independence. 

We need each other, Lukmee and I.  We both need this family, and the bigger Family we to whom we both belong.  We need our Father infusing us with spunk.  All of it.  Everything that makes us uniquely part of the whole big story of God.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine!

Mai Bpen Rai, Ka

There's a space here this morning for my soul to rest, 

even as restless events unfold half a planet away.

Mai bpen rai, ka.  Never mind.  It's all good.

Goodness in the midst of the not good.

  

Little Da gives the signal that it's all okay.

If you knew her story it would break your heart.  

Life has been so not okay. 

And yet here she is,

a box of Smarties in her other hand.

That's why, 

when I captured this sweet gesture from this sweet child,

I believed I was being reminded.   

The sun rises and there is still good work to do.

Let us not be distracted.

Or afraid.

God has not given us a spirit of fear;

but of power,

and of love,

and of a sound mind.

2 Timothy 1:7

 

Then Sings My Settled Soul

 

As we've moved into the first full week of our stay here, I am noticing something lovely, but recently elusive happening for me. A settled soul.

In the weeks leading up to getting on the plane, I've struggled to maintain focus and concentration. So many lists in so many different orbits of my life, personal, family, ministry. We've been un-nested now since July 18. Not really, because the cottage was and is a true place of home for me. But the temporary nature of our city dwelling, and the transient nature of where we've laid our heads over the past few months, have taken their toll. So much of the time there's this feeling of being pulled in the proverbial thousand directions.

But yesterday I noticed it. A settled mind and spirit. One focus, one heart, one beauty, right here, right now.

Physically as well. In a rather unusual way, I have slept beautifully, right though the night, every night we've been here so far. The summer's surgery recovery is a dim and distant memory now, especially compared to what I was still dealing with when I was here last.

I mention all this mostly and simply so I can mark it, and be fully grateful as I am fully present in this space. Fully present in the midst of children's voices raised in praise in the early sleepy moments of dawn. Fully present in the sunrise that follows, and in the sound of crickets and wild birds and geckos, all of which have become such familiar songs to my being. Fully present in the presence of community, slow and gentle, loving and being loved, knowing and being known.

Prajao ying yai.
How great Thou art.

To anyone needing some settling right now, I wish I could e-transfer some of this home to you. Maybe I can. We'll call it prayer.

And Then A Peacock (or Three)

One happy component of every single trip is the thing that's never happened before.  At least, most of the time it's a happy thing.  It was yesterday.

We're still in our first three days of adjustment, getting turned around on sleep and appetite and general sense of what day it is.  Saturday was remarkably productive, all that being said.  We were able to spend time with the kids beading and painting.  And in a very casual way, playing 'games' with English letters, Cheryl was able to do an assessment on almost all the children.  Very helpful as we head into Monday's first reading time.

While all that is going on, I look up from the dining area towards the guest house.  There are three large peacocks casually strolling across the property, up the hill, and checking out the porch of Suradet and Yupa's house.  Maybe they smelled our lunch being prepared.

No one was particularly phased.  Even the dogs didn't respond much more than to lift a head and make sure the birds were familiar, which apparently they were.  I pointed it out to Suradet who just laughed and said, "Ahjahn Ruth...we have everything!"

Yes, but this was my first visit from peacocks, I'll just say.  

It was a happy little new thing to add to the happy little things we were already doing with the kids.

I am writing from that relaxed not-preaching space between 5:30 morning worship followed by breakfast at 7:00, follow by worship that begins some time around 10 a.m.  Actually none of the times above are in any way precise.  That's just the way we roll.  

This morning, after breakfast, we were given the task of preparing for Communion, and what an honour it was.  And what an honour it will be to receive Communion together with our brothers and sisters here.

Settling in to our first days very well.

More on Sunday's service will most likely follow :).

Blessings all....