On This Rock I Fret

Human relationships can be tricky things.

I'm involved in a lot of them. In fact, for the most part I regard my life to be rich in deep and lasting friendships, some of them life long. Family members, especially my husband, bring a stability and anchoring to my own identity and personhood. Others, like the delirous joy that exudes from my granddaughter, feel like outlandish gifts I most certainly don't deserve. I am more me because of the other.

I also feel a great delight in the connections I have with people from so many different areas and eras of my life that fall into various degrees of knowing. Their laughter, their opinions, their stories all make a contribution to my own. God brings so much to my life through the interface of other human souls with mine, and I am glad, grateful.

Still, at times, the relational territory gets weird. You want it, but it's not easy. It's sort of like getting out to the water on one of the rocky beaches up on the Bruce Peninsula. The vivid colours of sky and water, and the promise of an invigorating swim draw you out there, but each step is treacherous, requiring great concentration and agility. The rocks are different sizes, and some are well set, while others are totally loose, and they all look the same. You can't tell, sometimes, when you put your foot down, whether or not you'll be okay. The threat of a nasty tumble is in every step.

It's puzzling to me how quickly I can lose my nerve in these relationships. In spite of the fact that at other times, certainly in the past year, I have been able to square my shoulders and face dark and insidious enemies with a courage and ferocity beyond myself, the threat that comes to me in the form of a difficult relationship makes me want to forget about the swim and run back to the forest to hide. I can anticipate the fall, remembering the pain of past knee-smashing, elbow-crunching, face-disfiguring encounters with the rocks of violation and betrayal. My ankles are weak with the sense that I've been here before, and it's going to hurt.

What keeps me going? Certainly there would be some routes to the waters of friendship that should be avoided at all costs. When another human soul is so damaged that abuse and violence in any of their forms is the experienced expectation, it's not wise or loving to go there. And in some cases, I have chosen not to visit those beaches any more. Nothing good or godly can come of it.

But something about the way God keeps pursuing me informs me that rocky relationships should not be abandoned as a matter of course. I feel like running, but I don't. And I might get hurt, and I may do some hurting, as we both pick our way through. And if I get tired, like really, really tired, like I am now, I may need to sit out for a while and catch my breath before moving forward again. But if I love you, I'll keep going. And if I left my love for Jesus love you when I can't love you, I'll keep on going. If you start to pick up stones to throw at me, I'll leave the beach.

But as long as we can keep heading out to the water together, I won't give up on you.

At least, I don't want to.

An Open Letter to Two Remarkable Heroes

To my dear and honourable friends, Pastor Suradet and Yupa,

This day, for reasons not clear to me, has been particularly painful in the missing of you both. My thoughts have been of you, and of the children at Hot Springs. My heart is heavy with longing to be with you. I am homesick for Thailand.

Often I write about and express freely my affections for the children. They are without question 15 treasures, and I do miss them terribly on days like this, and most other days too, if I'm honest. I miss hearing their voices, having them come for a hug, being gifted with a beauteous smile. They have captured my imagination in ways that still surprise me. I am fiercely intent on their well being. I pray for them with intensity.

But today my thoughts are more with you. Today I am missing you, my friends.

It still astonishes me that I could feel so close to and hold in such high esteem people with whom I can barely communicate. Not with language at least. Your English is very good. Geng mahk. Much better than my feeble attempts to wrap my poor brain around Thai, as amusing as that challenge has been. But really, if we were both honest, we can hardly talk to each other.

Yet I love you so much. I feel so warm and welcome and respected in your presence. I am so eagerly embraced into your family, and into your hearts. Your lives inspire me and lift me and make me want to live better, and know you better, and ask if somehow I can be more and more part of who you are and what you do.

That's the thing. This deepening desire to be part of what God is so clearly doing through you. I am compelled by an interest and affection I don't understand. There is a chemistry happening, something I've only experienced once or twice before in my entire ministry and personal life. There's a pull, a fascination, something I can't shake, not that I want to, that makes my heart beat harder when I think about how God is letting me do this with you.

I speak in the personal, but I fully know that there's a whole beautiful church of people called Highview, especially the sponsors, that share in all of this. Hot Springs is hardly the pet project of one person. It can't be. It's certainly way bigger than me, and we need to pull on the resources of one another in order to make the difference we hope to make. In that, I have been overwhelmed with the generosity of our people to engage with the children. You are well loved by not just the sponsors, but by our people as a whole. Know that. Feel that. Receive that.

That's why, right now, as we consider the changes that are being presented to us, I am more and more convinced that God is about to show us something new. I am asking Him to give the ideas and compassion and the creativity to partner with you in the fullest sense of the word. To think this out and through and up and over and above all that you both require to raise your children and unleash them to their futures. We want to do this ministry with you.

You have done a remarkable thing. You've opened up your entire lives, turned them upside down, for the sake of bringing love and life to children who would otherwise have been helpless. You spread out the mats and put on the rice and opened your arms so that thirteen kids could sleep and eat and be loved. Selflessly, tirelessly.

I love watching you do it. It's so joyful. You are so delightful as you love them. Being with you and engaging with this sweet energy, pours light and strength into my soul. Moving easily through a regular day with you is like plugging into to something supercharged and gentle and white hot and pure. From morning devotions at 5 a.m. to evening devotions after supper and all the moments of life in between. The children. The mountains. The rain. The rice. The mangos. The singing....that sound of musical hope echoing in the upper assembly room, and out into the jungle air.

You are doing an amazing job. You are doing this so well. I am so inspired and challenged by who you are and what you do. What an unspeakable gift you have brought to these children.

To Bee and Bao, of course, the children born from your bodies. But also for Teh and Saiy and Entorn and Thim and Somchai and Bee and Miki and Sai and Boy and Bee-yung and Fruk and Nam and Nut, the children born from your obedient compassion Fifteen altogether.

Suradet, you told me, when we were there, that you have a dream to build a dorm that would house 30. Thirty children, you said. Dek dek sam-sip, I said. And you smiled that completely bilingual and winning smile of yours, and said, Yeeesss.

You have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know.

I want to learn from you, Suradet. I want to understand better from you Yupa. You have so much to teach me about love.

And love is the most important thing. In fact, the two you embody the words of Paul in Galatians 5:6.

"The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love."

You ARE those words Suradet.
You LIVE those words Yupa.
Far more than I.

And that is why you are my heroes. Remarkable heroes. Stunning.

So my prayer on this day of particularly missing you is this. That I may be granted the enormous honour of sharing in your ministry as much as I possibly am allowed. To the fullest extent that God sees fit. With whatever I can bring to this, I am asking, begging, to be granted the priviledge to share in this. Not in the doing of it, because you already do it so well. Just....Lord, please let me be as much a part of this as I can be.

And please, can it be that soon I will wake up and not be missing you....because I will be there with you for a little while again.

With deepest affection and immense respect,
Your humble friend,

Ruth Anne

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.