a good day.

I’ve been running out of words recently. Even now, I’m not sure how to describe why I’ve been so out of words.

But yesterday–yesterday was a good day. And in so many more words than necessary, I’m going to attempt to capture the richness of it.

It was a Sunday. Stephen & I started the day out at the market, buying some special things for a family. It’s one our favorite families, really: a mom & dad, a girl of 11, a little boy of 7, and a new little son at 6 months.

We’ve known them since we moved here, when the little girl was six and the little boy was in her care, learning to walk. I can’t count the pictures we have with them or the stories: when we broke her finger, when we accidentally dumped oil on her head in the kitchen, the hours of Memory on the floor.

Gosh, I love those kids.

Recently, it’s been a rough season for the family. We hear rumors and stories, but ultimately, we know that they have moved into a rougher house: less of hut, if that’s a term? I also know the kids have been hungry, asking for food more than usual; following me into the kitchen. Out of the norm, we’ve been having snacks during Open House in an attempt to sneak them some additional food. Sometimes it’s worth feeding twenty so you can really feed two.

So, yesterday, we went out on a shopping trip for them. We bought them some new clothes–new pants to replace the young girl’s threadbare leggings; new t-shirts and shorts; warm jackets and hats for each family member. We bought two blankets for the cold nights, and a 40-kilo bag of rice.

We also managed to find some soccer jerseys in the market for $1 each, so we bought a huge bag for some Christmas presents.

We came back home to Skype my family in the States, where they’re all standing on the same ground this holiday season.

The kids from this family we outside just as we finished, so we told them we had some deliveries for their family. We explained that we worried about them being too cold in their new house, so “the Church” bought them some things. “The church?” the little boy asked. “Wow!”

So to many of you–thanks for being The Church. Wow!

We drove through newly-harvested rice paddies to deliver it all to their new place, tucked back in the field. We bounced over the bumps while they sat on the rice bag and giggled, resisting the urge to open their bags.

On our way back, we passed a little girl walking in the street by herself. She was three at best, and walking to…nowhere in particular. I jumped out of the car and asked where she was going. She said it was to her mom, so I grabbed her hand and started walking with her in the direction she pointed. By the time we got there, she realized she wasn’t sure where she was or where she was going. Where is your mom? Over there. Where is your dad? Over there. On his bicycle. My brother is at school. In the end, we were coming up with a plan as her dad bicycled back with her brother and a chicken. He scooped her up and took her home, not without some impressive skill of managing two children and a live chicken on a child-sized bicycle.

Oh, and a number of CDs on the wheels!

We then worked around the house a bit, visiting a pregnant women, chatting with San Aye about the new sewing project starting tomorrow, and delivering medicine to a boy who’d been in a motorcycle accident. We played with Zen Yaw: I played a fishing game we made up a few days ago and Stephen threw him in the air while he giggled with glee.

The church car came to pick up kids for Sunday school. Yaminoo came out in her newly purchased clothes, which fit her perfectly. One of the girls told her how pretty she looked as she climbed in the truck; her face glowed.

We managed to squeeze in thirteen kids from our community with thirteen other friends, twenty six of us in a pickup truck. Zen Yaw came along without his grandmother, which hasn’t happened since Musana, his primary caregiver left for Bangkok two months ago. He trusts us again, and that is more epic than I have words for.

In children’s church, we memorized a verse in Luke and sang a song about Christmas being all for Jesus. Zen Yaw fell asleep on me, and Stephen came to pick us all up–13 kids & two adults in our amazing new car.

Stephen & I went to swim laps in the freezing water, then put on our best Burmese clothes for church–I wore a red sarong and he wore our “church polo,” that is just more Burmese than I could ever describe to you.

We took seven teenagers with us to church, plus Zen Yaw, who wanted to come again. He came without his grandmother again, and she got a few more hours to rest from her exhausting life. He agreed not to cry, and did spectacularly. He munched on his chips, smiled when I sang Hallelujah in his ear, and loved getting cuddles for a couple hours from Stephen & I.  The kids sat beautifully in church, working together to find the passages in Matthew & Luke. Oh, and memorizing the maps in the back of the Bibles.

While we waited for dinner to be served, the kids climbed on the couch and giggled together. Three girls came over to get hugs; they are all so hungry for affection. They come right up, lift my arm on their shoulders, and give the tightest hugs you can imagine.

They all ate their weight in rice and pork and potatoes, including Zen Yaw. We chatted with the pastors and made a plan for them to help with our community Christmas in a couple weeks. We also made plans for a worship & prayer night that is apparently at our house this Thursday: but that’s another story for another day.

The kids piled back in the car and giggled all the way home. They roll the windows down and sing songs. We took them each to their homes, passing Yaminoo’s family on the way. We helped them all pile into the car with their rice bag full of fish and some other fragrant packages. We left the windows down as we drove back through the rice paddies to drop them all off at home, with the kids in all their new clothes.

And in so many words, it was a good day.