The House Collective

the collective christmas 2018: three.

by Filed Under: house church, kelli, on the house, photos 2 Comments

After our Christmas meal on Friday, we spent all day Saturday helping to make OneHouse Live :: Christmas Carols happen that evening. I didn’t snap any photos, but it was beautiful. Stephen did an incredible job and had a number of carols, all in a collection of local languages. He had singers for English, Burmese, Karen, & Thai; and it was lovely to hear as we gathered around candles. Some of our community teenagers came to join, Pyint Soe ran sound as Stephen led, and it was just beautiful. 

Sunday welcomed in our church Christmas: hundreds of people, five loads of people from our community. Music and dancing, the Gospel, a meal, and a raffle! It’s an event, to say the least. 

A few favorite moments: Stephen being a proud community dad, going to the front to take photos of the kids’ dancing. And the kids seeing him, beaming with pride, and missing a few steps.

One of the sweetest husbands in our community came along and was sitting just in front of his wife and I. I love that she kept having him lean forward so she could straighten his shirt. The woman next to him, who we didn’t know, had a hard time with the raffle. Perhaps she didn’t quite get it; perhaps she couldn’t read her numbers? I’m not sure. Either way, every time a number was called, she’d lean over and ask him if that was hers. He’d politely say no, repeat her number to her, and smile. Every time. This is through hundreds of plastic bins, fans, blankets, a rice cooker, bicycles: so many raffle numbers. So many times. He kept smiling, friendly as ever, and I was shaking with laughter behind them. 

Some of our neighbors won in the raffle. And Stephen won a fan! 

In the midst of all these Christmas activities, we spend our days at the market, secretly trying to buy hundreds of gifts. We sneak them into the house and fill our side with piles of gifts and wrapping paper. 


This year was the best yet for gifts, too. It gets easier the more we know the kids; and the more we accept the discrepancies. We are getting better at abandoning fairness for friendship—who we know best and where the deepest relationships are, we get them better gifts that suit them. We do know them and know what they’d like; that’s a part of friendship! For those we might know by name or perhaps from a medical emergency, we find a more generic gift. Sometimes unfairness is hard to embrace, but it makes the gift giving much more fun.

For those families we know really need more, we give more. We use Christmas to provide extra to the families that are struggling the most, giving them new toothbrushes, toothpaste and soap, warm and new clothes for the constantly growing kids; and making sure the parents, too, have enough to wear.

This year, we did blankets for all the families. Previously we’ve given toiletries: toothbrushes, toothpaste, laundry detergent, soap. But in many ways our community has stabilized. We still included these things for some of the families we know really need them, but every family received a blanket.  

Some families received just a blanket. The families we know well–a little over a hundred–each received a bag of gifts with their blanket. Inside was a gift or collection of gifts for each individual.

There were many highlights this year. First, we didn’t “forget” anyone (people we don’t really know, but they “know” us) or have kids (again, from a few streets over; they’ve heard of us) come to the door begging for gifts. That’s a big, big win.

And then there were just perfect little moments. When we gave San Aye her family’s blanket, she smiled broadly and said she’d told Mway Mway that’s what she hoped for this year because she really needed one. 

When we went out to a group of families that live in the field behind our house, the kids came running out to the car. Really, they just know our car (it’s pretty loud, and they can see it coming on the road) and always come running to say hi. But when they saw the presents: the biggest smiles. And Lin Tet Oo came in for a big hug.  

In one house, they said thank you for the gifts, and we started walking away. Just around the house we heard paper rip open and a four-year-old girl squeal, “A new shirt! A new SHIRT! It’s beautiful!” 

At Thida’s house, the boys were comparing their shooter marbles and talking about how they’d play together. Kyaw Gee immediately got started on his off-brand Lego set, and Yedi gushed over her “Y” necklace—a friendship set with her best friend, Yaminoo, having the same one.

It’s uncommon to open gifts in front of people, so the older girls took their gifts with a thank you, and then slowly, subtly make their way into the house while the younger kids open their gifts at the outside sitting area.  But then adorably, just a few minutes later, the older girls come running out smiling, holding up their treasures with huge smiles and thank yous!  It was really fun to see them love them and feel like we really did a good job finding things they’ll love. 

It should be noted that with all the late night wrapping, early morning wrapping, and lots of coffee in between—plus my giddy joy at their liking all the gifts!—I nearly fell off the bridge returning from Thida’s house! It was really close—scarily close—and would have left me with a number of broken bones on Christmas Eve. So we’ll just note that as the Christmas miracle 2018!

Really, this Christmas felt pretty miraculous. It went so smoothly, and had very few lows. It can be hard to host an epic Christmas, in a poorer community, with friends and acquaintances alike.  It can be a lot for us and wear us out. But per the season, God was really gracious to us. He’s been gracious, despite some really challenging things lofted our way. We’re thankful for the miracles he’s sent our way, too.

the collective christmas 2018: one.

by Filed Under: house church, kelli, on the house, photos, playhouse, schoolhouse Leave a Comment

It was our best Christmas yet, in so many ways.  

Do I say that every year? I hope so. Mostly, I think we’re just learning more and more each year; learning what to expect, learning Burmese culture, learning our best friends, learning ourselves. 

I’ll start with my favorite photo this year: just a day after we returned. I was meeting with Thida to create our Christmas plan–we certainly needed her help! And the kids wandered in to find our Christmas tree, which we’d just set up the night before. As the best tree on the block, and it draws quite a lot of awe!

We started the festivities with a movie night. On Sunday night–just a couple days after getting back into town!–we pulled out the projector, opened up some cookie tins, and blared Home Alone in our yard. We didn’t have a Burmese translation or subtitles, so we’d just shout a translation over the parts that seemed confusing. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Either way, slap-stick humor is funny in all languages.

It was the best kickoff we could have imagined! Hearing the adults and kids alike laughing their hearts out was amazing. 

My two favorite moments: About twenty seconds in, as the thief is in the house entryway, pretending to be a police officer, Thida says to those around her, “I don’t think he’s a real cop! I think he’s faking!”
Yeah, you’re going to get this just fine. ☺️

Then, Kevin uses the trick repeatedly of playing the movie in the background to scare off people at the door, “I’ll give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, yella, no-good keister off my property before I pump your guts full of lead…Keep the change ya filthy animal!” Same trick; repeatedly, folks. And they all laughed their heads off every. single. time. I loved it. 

We even had guests join us in the street. Look closely and you’ll see a grown man sitting in a stroller he pulled up as a chair. We know how to throw a party!

On Tuesday we had storytime after school. Thida read the Christmas story from the Jesus Storybook Bible, and we crafted our own nativities.

It was chaotic and lovely! The kids left with nativities and fruit.

There are reasons we don’t use glue often, though. There was also a nativity glued to our motorbike seat, and a few on our inside walls. Glue stick works better than you’d think. 🤦🏼‍♀️

The next day we sang a few carols in Burmese and played games, including a disaster of Bingo. That was the low point and I might be permanently finished with the game…but “pass the present” and a few other simple games were a big hit! Either way, beyond the singing, it was far too chaotic for photos. We all survived!

And then we were off to the market to kick off our Collective Christmas Meal!

bits of the chaos.

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International Women’s Day happened–about a month ago now!–and we participated in a local event. The Reinforcers ran sound for a local band, and Flour & Flowers donated & served cinnamon rolls to the audience. Mwei Mwei also came along to practice her newly acquired photography skills.

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I’ve been {attempting} teaching Sunday school at our Burmese church once per month. It’s been a challenge, to say the least. First, attempting to teach Bible (most often presented in very high level language) in Burmese is no small feat, and I’m just not there yet. Second, the kids tend to know they can walk on me. Our neighbor kids are slightly better, but most of the other kids at church know I only understand some of what goes on!

I’m learning.

First, I’ve learned to bribe: they are each promised a small prize at the end if they are good. If they cause problems, it gets taken away. This worked wonders, and was well-worth handing out snacks and toothbrushes.

Second, I’ve simplified. Perhaps communicating how the prodigal son returning to the Lord is a parallel to us returning to our Heavenly Father was a bit ambitious. This past time I set my goal at one verse. I chose Psalm 119:105. We practiced it in English, we memorized it in Burmese; we discussed what it generally meant. We learned a song for it in English.

Then, we each got a pair of $1 flip-flops, which we decorated with the verse and it’s meaning with Sharpies.

And last, I taped paper to the floor to make a human-sized CandyLand game. Each square was either a color, ABC, ကခဂ, or 🎵. They drew and went to the square, where they either had to say the color, the verse in English, the verse in Burmese, or sing the song.

They left with a much simpler understanding, but I also felt like I could successfully communicate it all! I felt like they learned more overall, kept their attention, and for a group of lower-income kids, they went home with new shoes, snacks & toothbrushes.

We also were able to finally get in touch with a couple in Burma who recently translated the Children’s Storybook Bible into colloquial Burmese!

This is an incredible resource, and I’m so excited to use it, both for our summer program & for Sunday school. It should be easy to understand for even lower-education levels, and I’m just beyond excited.

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High school for the migrant schools goes up to Grade 10, at which point the students take their final matriculations. This is a weeklong exam–one subject per day, including English, Burmese, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and Math–that is similar to an ACT or SAT for us. It’s incredibly difficult, and how they score not only determines their acceptance to college, but also decides your major for you.

No pressure or anything.

For the past six months, most of the students have lived in a dorm at the school, where they attend regular classes during the day and return to eat, then study together until midnight. They also study in the morning before school from 6am to 8am, on Saturday morning and on Sunday evening–with a 24 hour break on the weekend to visit their families. Every day for six months.

Our sweet little sister, Pwei Pwei, has been living at the dorm for these past six months, and we’ve only seen her occasionally. We’ve gone to visit, we delivered her Christmas present…but we’ve missed her! The day she came back from her exam she fell asleep on our floor, surrounded by fifty screaming, playing kids.

She’s now one of our teachers for the Summer Program, and we’re so glad we get to see her everyday!

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Thida and I were on our weekly market & Makro trips. I was looking for ant poison because, well, I live here. She asked if I knew anything that could work for rats, as they had some at their house and she just didn’t know what to do about it. I helped her pick out some glue traps and explained how to use them.

As we unloaded things from the car, her son saw the picture of the rat on the front of the package and asked what they were. I explained they were to kill rats; and he said, “Oh! We need these!” He was relieved to know his mom had bought them.

Just two days later, she told me they worked great and she was so pleased.

“Oh, have you caught some already?” I asked.
“Yes! Ten!”

😳😱

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We came home last Wednesday to the two ladies sewing in the Housewares room, per usual; and then four kids asleep on our community floor.

I have no idea.

In general, I have a hard time understanding the fleece blankets when it’s April, and ’roundabout 100 degrees.

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With our new duplex-style living (with one house ours and one house for the community) we have a new front yard area that is kid-free. We have recently put in a little grill, an outdoor table, and a lovely hammock!

But this “kid-free zone” has a gate that a few tiny little kiddos can squeeze right under.

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I received this Facebook message from one of our community friends.

I have no idea. But, unfortunately, I’m fairly certain that’s a Bitmoji of me.

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Easter weekend arrived! We had a OneHouse for Good Friday, and it was absolutely beautiful. I love hearing worship in multiple languages, and Stephen is doing a great job of bringing people together.


 I had my first attempt at hot cross buns, too!

And at church on Easter Sunday, they had a basket of hard-boiled eggs up front! We were a bit excited, in hopes of an egg hunt for the kids. Instead, we were all handed a hard-boiled egg on our way out.

Almost as quintessential.

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Otherwise, we often have kids around us. And more often then not, they are smiling or making us smile.

So, #winning.

all in a week.

by Filed Under: house calls, house church, housewares, kelli, onehouse, photos, playhouse, stephen 1 Comment

Whoa, what a week.

We took this crew to church on Sunday, including the marijuana hat. And snail hat was left behind.

The left hat caused me to write down this note to myself (hat@church), which I later came back to wondering why I was reminding myself to hate church. 😂

Sunday ended in a large community fight, involving a beer bottle being thrown at one woman’s head and a sword being drawn. We went to the hospital for emergencies twice on Monday night, and the teenage girl who came with us to help was locked out of her hut, because I mistakenly said I’d bring her back in the morning for school when I tried to assure her dad she wouldn’t stay at the hospital but be able to go to school in the morning. She ended up watching some Avengers with us over popcorn and sleeping at our house.

Stephen is teaching The Reinforcers to type in Burmese, and they are working on typing up all our songs for church so they can run them on the projector in coming months. I’m super impressed with all of them, but particularly the husband who can teach them how to type their language and provide them with so many new opportunities.

Wednesday we did a special Valentine’s Flour & Flowers delivery!

And had a flat tire.

And made little gifties for the kids: red off-brand Pocky sticks and pink strawberry yogurt drink. (Do you guys even have on-brand Pocky sticks?) I know you’re jealous.

This was confiscated from an eight-year-old, six-year-old and three-year-old playing with it at our house.

Girls are becoming teenagers and spent their week whispering about boys and things behind curtains. It’s adorable.

Stephen sent this to our little friend in Bangkok, who writes us on Facebook all day every day, and we mostly send photos, emojis, and stickers back and forth. My husband is awesome.

This girl can multiply! After bribes and weeks of practice, she’s got it, and I’m beyond proud. We’re moving on to division!

Stephen made a trip to the border to pick up our Burmese teacher’s wife returning from Burma. And he took this great picture with a great friend.

We did our Friday laundry load of towels and rugs, which is my favorite load of the week. I love what it represents: the feet wiped on the rug on the way in, the bread loaves baked, the breakfasts served, the hands washed before playing computer. It represents a full, active community space that requires so many towels.

We got matching button-up shirts for The Reinforcers that will soon be logo-ed, and we made badges with their names. They’re official! We announced it to the Mae Sot community last week.

And they had two gigs this Saturday! They started at 7am, doing an amazing job at a celebration for a local non-profit. There were over 800 migrant students present at the local university stadium. In the evening they ran sound for a worship night for another local ministry.

Somewhere in there we also had two significant meetings this week, working on two new and very promising connections for the two ladies sewing in our home! We’ll share more info soon, but for now, we are so thankful to see prayers answered and God providing work for them.

We also applied for and received a visa for Burma, and we leave tomorrow afternoon with one of the bread ladies and her little family.

We’re never bored, friends. We are never bored. 😊

treasures.

by Filed Under: house calls, house church, housewares, kelli, on the house, onehouse, photos, playhouse 1 Comment

2 Corinthians 4:7-10

But we have this treasure in jars of clay
to show that the surpassing power belongs to God
and not to us.
We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed;
perplexed, but not driven despair;
persecuted, but not forsaken;
struck down, but not destroyed;
always carrying in the body the death of Jesus,
so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.

As I read this verse yesterday, I immediately thought of the treasure all around me: our community.

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Flour & Flowers is a treasure. I never thought we’d make it this far, and we’re over three years in. Somehow we’re weekly providing salaries to four families by driving around town with a car load of flower bouquets and bread. Those relationships, the miracle of it making profit and creating a savings plan–these are treasures.

And it rests in jars of clay. It rests on a foreigner market that flows in and out. We are losing and gaining customers nearly every month. It rests on a small store in the market that may or may not have the exact ingredients we need; or might have a different size pan this month, or perhaps a new type of flour. It rests on changing weather and a kitchen that is practically outside in that weather, so that some weeks the bread rises like a charm and other weeks we’re re-doing batches into the afternoon. It rests on second language learning that sometimes leaves us going in circles. It rests on women who haven’t completed high school, and sometimes keeping count of how many tortillas they’ve rolled or writing down the time the bread started rising is a challenge. (Just this week, the paper where they are to write the rising start time said “40 minutes,” and I had to ask, “But what hour?” It took us awhile to sort that.) It rests on changing government and laws; it rests on families dealing with the challenges of poverty.

We’re three years into me wondering if we could possibly keep this up every week. So that every week, when we finish and the books balance and salaries are handed out, I know that God made it happen again.

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The Breakfast Club just keeps growing. More kids, more days, more meals.

Every evening I wonder if it’s too much for Thida to be making breakfast for fifty every morning at 6. Every morning she awes me with her grace–her uncanny ability to predict portions, her kindness to the kids, her ability to check in on so many while serving so many others. Her checklists of each kid, while also reminding me of who needs to go to the clinic and who needs medicine.

And she reminds me if I forgot to give money for Aung Moe, the blind man in our community, eat, she reminds me, which has happened more often than it hasn’t…🤦🏼‍♀️

Because while Breakfast Club is amazing–a treasure, for sure–it rests in jars of clay. It rests on funding from around the world, on records that need to be kept up, on early, tired mornings.  It rests on a sacrificed kitchen.  It rests on Thida, whom I love and thank God for regularly, and who is herself a reminder of God’s surpassing power.

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The kids still come to play in the afternoon. (And they still ask every morning if we’re playing at 4 o’clock.)

It’s a treasure to see them pile in the door for Storytime; to see them clap and dance to If You’re Happy & You Know It. It’s a treasure to hear them sing Praise Ye The Lord outside our door on Saturday. It’s a treasure to see them learn to say thank you. It’s a treasure to see them master Minecraft and the alphabet. It’s a treasure to see them beat me at Mario Kart. It’s a treasure to see them win at Memory with pride and confidence. It’s a treasure to watch this girl come in every day to grab a pillow and a blanket and curl up on the floor.

But it’s one big jar of clay. It rests on me not losing my temper when one child throws a toy at another child. It rests on my explaining in broken Burmese why we don’t bite each other. It rests on getting that crayon off the wall. It rests on cleaning up water off the floor and having specific towels for cleaning up after un-diapered kids.

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Many of our most treasured moments of the past 7+ years have come in medical & trauma needs: women going into labor and babies seizing; women running from their machete-clad husbands; bloody wounds and broken fingers; stitches and daily bandage changes. In these moments, there are treasured conversations, treasured assurances, prayers and miracles.

But it all rests in jars of clay. I hate stitches, and they make me horribly queasy. I hate blood. I hate changing wounds. I hate hospitals. I am one big mess of clay when it comes to all of these, and yet–it’s a reminder.

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Light of Love Church is a treasure in our lives. This week I got to watch these two teenagers–off to the left in yellow & red–sing and worship together, while Stephen played guitar with the band, and two teenage boys ran sound by themselves.

And it sits in a jar of clay as we attempt to get everyone there before ten (and often “tiptoe in the back” with fifteen kids). I am a jar of clay when another kid gets shoved out of the back of the car on his birthday and eats concrete.

As I sing the Burmese lyrics and we pray together as a congregation, I’m often feeling the treasure. When we’re halfway through the sermon and I’m struggling to make the words into anything…pulling out every little word I understand: I aware of my clay, breaking.

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Our newest treasure is The Reinforcers. As we are struggling to finalize a logo and create some promotional materials for around town, they had three gigs over the past two weekends. It’s working and the guys are doing amazing.

But it is in jars of clay, too.

We received incredible gifts that made it possible to purchase the speakers–but not without usually Thailand-level difficulties of three hours on Bangkok public transit to sign a credit card slip, or picking up the delivery in multiple trips to town because the Mae Sot branch office offers “no service.”

We haven’t gotten the correct modem in the mail yet, so we’re currently using an old one we had. It works sometimes, but two times gave us a scare that it wasn’t going to. But when it worked in two last-minute miracles? A treasure.

Stephen had to bike home with one of them at 11pm on Friday, after a day that started at 6am, because the kid is still only 15. His mom waiting for him at the door with a huge smile of gratitude: a treasure.

We don’t know how it will all unfold; how popular it will be; how it will balance with the boys’ school and exam schedules. But we know it’s a treasure to get the time with them, to see it working. And we know that every little unknown will point us to it all resting on the surpassing power of God.

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This little community holds so many treasures for us. And we can’t control or handle or manage one of them.

We are afflicted, perplexed, persecuted, struck down. {Read: This isn’t easy. Some days I’m done. Some days I want to “go home,” wherever that is.}

But we are not crushed. We are not in despair, we are not forsaken, we are not destroyed.

Instead, we are reminded every day of clay that we are. We are reminded every day that the treasures only happen by the surpassing power of God.

steps, rooms, & mansions.

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As our pastor, Ah Tee, shared the gospel story in our community for Christmas, we watched most of our neighbors stand at the invitation he gave. I’m still processing it weeks later. So many thoughts ran through my head, some I am proud of and others I am not:

Hope, at the fact that this is what we pray and wait for. This is what we live our lives for. This is why we serve every meal and wipe up every drop of blood. Am I finally watching something grow? Am I watching this be worth it?
Skepticism, at the science experiment they’d just seen, and at the peer pressure. At the cultural pressure I could feel around me. My own fear of invitations and conversions, at giving people tents when there are mansions to be had.
Questions, at what that means for tomorrow? Does anything truly change?

And perhaps all of that repeated over and over, compiling on itself to overwhelming amounts.

Then a small phrase came into my mind, from the liturgy we’ve borrowed from Innerchange and been using for our Thursday Celebrations (apparently repeating something every week does help it come forward at just the right time!):

I will listen for the echo of rejoicing in heaven
when those I minister among step into the light
or even take a small step forward,
and will remind myself that persistent celebration rolls back the power of the enemy.

I think more and more, I am less concerned with a moment of conversion.

{This probably isn’t what you want to hear from someone living overseas in a community, funded by the church, to share the gospel, but…}

It seems that it just gets blurry.  If I look at the sheep and goats, I know that some of us will be surprised. I was raised to be confident in my salvation, but Scripture tells me even some of us who are confident will be surprised. If I know I am looking at the reflection, but one day will see fully–perhaps the moment is less significant than I once thought. I think of Galatians, and how much Paul shuns what we have added to the gospel–have we added conversion? Have we made a process into a prayer? Could one’s prayer be another’s process?

Perhaps it is less about a conversion moment, and more about all the steps forward, as we all step toward the light.

And then, when I look around at my neighbors, with either eternity before their eyes, excited about the miraculous science experiment, or the hope that their wrongs might be erased, really–whatever piece of Jesus they see in that moment–it is a step toward Him. It is a step toward truth.

And as I pray for my neighbors, that they might take a small step forward; I actually pray that for myself. That this year, this week, this moment–that I would take one more step forward. One more step toward Jesus, toward truth, toward the Shepherd, toward eternity.

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A few years ago I wrote about tents and mansions, and I found it coming back to the surface this holiday season. In the Book of Common Prayer, referenced in my Advent readings, this line stuck with me:

…Jesus Christ, at His coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for Himself…

That when Jesus comes, he finds us not satisfied with tents, but finds mansions. Mansions that my neighbors are still building and exploring; and mansions that we, too, are constantly discovering. May our steps toward Christ and toward eternity never end or never be quenched–but we continue to take steps toward the light and find new, grander parts to our mansions.

And then in Joy to the World, I found this same theme: May every heart prepare Him room. Theirs, mine, yours. May we all make more room for Jesus.

I always sang this previously, thinking of the hearts that don’t yet know him, that we’d all at some point in our lives make room for Him. But what if each year, each day, each moment–we are making more room? What if there was always more room to be made?

So that its not a moment–we haven’t achieved conversion, or arrived at our faith, or simply covered ourselves with a tent. We are persistently rolling back the power of the enemy, creating more room for Christ, more space in our mansion, more steps toward the light.

I like that none of us has arrived then, or sorted it. It isn’t Stephen and I sharing our faith with our neighbors. Instead, it is Stephen & I taking steps toward the light along with our neighbors. It is Stephen finding a new room to his mansion, alongside me, alongside Yaminoo, alongside Thida. It is each of us making a little more room for Christ, this holiday season, this year, and this week over a bowl of rice.

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I don’t know, friends. I don’t write because I know. I write because I’m taking steps toward the light, hopefully right alongside some of my dearest neighbors.

the collective christmas: 24 & 25 december.

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Christmas Eve was church day for us!

We started a little earlier than usual since Stephen and The Reinforcers had to return all the sound equipment from OneHouse to our church. They started around 7am–which is important when you realized when they all went home that evening!

We had our usual rounds to church at 9 and 9:30, and church from 10-12, followed by lunch.

Then Stephen headed off with The Reinforcers to set up the sound system again at the other church location. They worked all afternoon getting everything ready, and then Stephen & I carted the community out to church–four car loads full!

The church did an amazing event, which again, we loved just being a part of and not hosting. We were able to sit with friends, singing, listening, laughing, and celebrating.  And hoping our numbers were called for the raffle prizes 😊

I should have more photos of the some forty friends who joined us for another Christmas party, but…🤷‍♀️ Exhaustion was setting in.

We then took everyone home around 10pm, and Stephen helped the guy finish up taking down equipment and getting it back to the church. They ended up getting home around 11pm, after a very long day. We still stayed up a bit to read by the Christmas tree and exchange a few Christmas Eve presents over homemade eggnog. There is always time to fit in traditions!

On Christmas Day we attempted a quiet morning at the house–as much as our house is ever quiet, and as much as we always have people needing medicine or water!–and then headed to the Fetters for another Christmas Day with our pseudo family!

I felt especially thankful for them this year, and the role they play in making this town home. They were also a calmer ending to the Christmas holidays 😊

the collective christmas: 23 december.

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Saturday was already a full day with OneHouse Carols that evening, so we woke up early (a theme for this holiday season; and our lives?) and headed back out to finish Christmas gifts.

Thankfully we were able to find everyone and had lots of fun. This was probably our most specialized year, and a bit less equal.  We really tried to find gifts that fit each person, and a little bit of how well we knew them. It made it so much more fun to purchase, pack, and deliver!

The rest of Saturday was full getting ready for OneHouse that evening. Stephen helped The Reinforcers get the equipment all set up, while I sorted a meal for the band, cookies for the community & visitors, candles all around the house, and last minute gift shopping.

Oh, and I ran to the store and lost the card for my motorbike, so I spent an hour sitting at the security desk to get my motorbike back 🙄

But OneHouse was so lovely and completely worth it. Stephen had half the songs available in both Karen & Burmese, and after a number of issues finding a Burmese singer, our friend NuNu stepped in on Saturday and sang in Burmese!

It was really beautiful. The candles, of course; the Christmas carols. But also the sound of voices singing together. I was surrounded by kids from our neighborhood, as well as mothers, singing together in Burmese. Our church family surrounded us, too, with kid’s voices and British accents; young old. It was really amazing to see everyone singing together, collectively trying to prevent a fire.

One of my favorite moments this Christmas.

Every year a new song resonates with me. (And I write about it apparently! 2012, 2104) This year, as I sat surrounded by some of my neighbors, we sang Go Tell It On The Mountain.

This might be one of my least favorite Christmas songs, partially because it always seems to be sung with a twang. It gives me visions of people on horses and Santa hats; it just doesn’t fit Christmas for me. But, alas, we sang:

Go tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere
Go tell it on the mountain
That Jesus Christ is born

This is what we had gotten up early every day this week for, and gone to bed late for. This is what we wrapped hundreds of gifts for. This is what we cooked hundreds of meals for. This is what we serve breakfast for every day before school. This is what we bake bread for and deliver flowers for and sew things for. This is what we run sound for and go to church for and study language for. This is what we live in this hot little town for, a million miles away from our families that are cozied up by a fire together. This is what we have hard conversations for and wrestle with our faith for.

This is what just keep trying for.

In that moment, surrounded by women from our community that I love as sisters now, holding a little girl asleep in my arms that I love exponentially, watching my husband do his life so well–it felt worth it in that moment. Like we were doing what we were supposed to do this holiday season: we went, and we told it a million times over bowls of fish soup and story times and Christmas bingo. And ultimately, over mountains chaos, we shouted it.

It doesn’t always feel worth it. But in that moment, it did. And that made it one of my favorite days over this holiday season.

After worshiping together and watching our candles burn to nothing, we shared a collection of cookies our friends had brought with them. Kid were stuffing their hands full and coming back for more, and it was adorable. Everything is adorable by candlelight. (And maybe when they aren’t your kids with the sugar high?)

the collective christmas: 21 december.

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Thida returned before six on Thursday to make breakfast for 50 kids, followed quickly by finishing up mohinga for 400. Did I mention she’s the best?

The bread ladies all came at 9am to make pumpkin bread as a special treat for our Flour & Flowers customers.

From the beginning I’ll say this was the BEST Christmas meal we’ve had yet. We are learning, and have learned this: Delegate. Let somebody else do it better!

So Thursday afternoon found us taking a nap.

By the afternoon, all the food was put into bags and ready to be served. We had some extra time to play games with the kids–repeats of the previous night (below, “Toss the Jingle Bell into the Jar”) and a few made-up-on-the-spot balloon games & races. Did I mention these kids are so easily impressed?  We also did another practice of the kid’s songs, just in time for our church to arrive at 5:30pm.

First: singing the first verse of Joy to the World in both Burmese & English; then Hark The Herald Angels Sing in Burmese. This was followed by a dance a couple of the girls have learned at church.

Ah Tee then shared the story of Christmas and the gospel, and did a great little science experiment. We’ve now seen it three times this Christmas, and it’s still impressive! He has a bucket of clean water labeled “person” or “human.”  He has lots of little bottles–I believe of iodine?–that are labeled with different sins. He talks about the time they were hungry, and stole something to eat; the time they slept with a prostitute; etc. Each time, he adds more iodine as the water gets darker.

He then adds a cross, which has a little notch in the bottom, and he has stuck a tablet of some sort. (My science friends tell me it’s starch?) As he stirs the water with the cross, the water clears and returns to the clean water.  He continues to share about what happens when we sin after Christ–he adds more iodine, and then stirs again until it’s clear–we are purified again and again.

He finished with an invitation for those who want to know Christ, and he got an incredible response, which I wrote more on here. Ultimately, the church did an amazing job! We are so thankful they came to help, allowing us to share the Christmas story in a more relevant and cultural way without translation, and by helping us serve food–our first year without a stampede! Really, no fighting, which is a huge accomplishment.

I’m telling you: delegate. Let somebody else do it better!