“Terrified and full of joy.
I live there.
It is possible to be afraid of what obedience might bring next
and be full of thanks and trust anyway.”

As said by Katie Davis, someone I don’t know; I simply saw this posted on facebook somewhere months ago, and liked it enough to put it aside in my quotes page.

Yes, I have a quotes page; six pages, actually.

There have been so many things to swallow in the past few days, weeks, months. But this states it well: living terrified of what our lives might look like if we continue forward; terrified of what our lives might look like if we turn back; and still rejoicing in the small joys of the day at hand.

And today, I just want to take pleasure in the small things; a moment for thankfulness.

It deserves to be said that Stephen is knit, with ease, into all of the joys to be noted below. I wouldn’t have lasted long in Mae Sot without him, and he’s kept me afloat more days than one. His patience is unending, as far as I can see. We have loved working together, and really, doing most everything together. We rarely spend more than a few hours apart, and we’re surviving–even flourishing. And I couldn’t be more thankful.

And then you weave him into these things, and it’s a glorious thing.

First: swimming in the sun. I put this one first only because I just spent my Sunday morning there. We have a membership to a local hotel to use their gym and pool. Though titled a resort, the hotel on the whole leaves a little bit to be desired. It is known to have bed bugs and was mistakenly painted white, which only emphasizes the abundance of mold growing on the side. The gym, too, is significantly occupied by broken equipment. I believe there is one weight machine that works, two working treadmills, and some free weights that smell strongly of of rusty metal.

But the pool–the pool is likely the only thing resort-like in the whole place. It’s huge, with bright blue water that sparkles in the sun. It’s surrounded by palm trees and actually looks a little like a brochure. We go about four or five times a week to swim laps after work, and it’s wonderful. Swimming in the rain after its dark is really beautiful.

And even better? Swimming in the sunshine! In a place where the heat never seems to end, it is really wonderful to be in the sun and have a cold pool nearby. I went this morning, and it was so lovely. I could feel the sun as I swam up and down the pool; I can see the tops of palm trees when I pop my head out for more air; and I can see the ripples in the water reflecting the sun at the bottom of the pool. It’s gorgeous.

And it’s become an escape that I am so thankful for. At the end of the day, at the end of the week, its like an hour-long vacation.

Second: the market. I love the markets here. It’s another highlight of the week to bicycle downtown to the Burmese market to buy an abundance of fresh vegetables for just dollars.  It brings together three loves–health, cheapness, and Burma.

Third, and hand in hand with the market: cooking. I have really grown to love cooking. I’m not much of recipe follower, so cooking has become my creative outlet; a game, if you will.  It’s a challenge to discover how many natural products I can squeeze into a loaf of bread; or how many vegetables I can chop up and throw into a soup. How will these spices combine? It’s wonderful. It’s a release. And it creates: I produce something useful, and we consume it. I’m thankful to be in a place where I am challenged to start with a cupboard of flours, sugars, and spices; nearly devoid of all canned goods. And though somedays it can be quite frustrating to have zero “quick lunch” options, I love it at my core.

Fourth: cycling. Stephen and I have always loved riding bikes, and it was a good portion of our friendship during our freshman year of college. You might say we never would have gotten together if it weren’t for the long bicycle rides amidst the other twelve hours a day we spent together. 🙂 It continued to be a big part of our dating relationship, so much so that both of us had bicycle racks that often carted our bikes back and forth between Tennessee and Arkansas, just for a ride together while we were in the same state for about 42 hours. And it continued to be a big part of marriage when Stephen bought me a tandem for a wedding present!

And now, we’re loving it again. We are thankful to live in a small little town like Mae Sot, where bicycles are actually welcomed on the road. They are the only transportation available for nearly half the city. We have begun biking to work in the mornings, to Karen lessons in the afternoon, off to the gym, and then back home in the evenings. I love the exercise; I love having the time to smile at passersby; and I love the friendliness of it–economically, environmentally, physically. It seems genius to me, particularly since I’ll probably arrive to work sweaty no matter what form of transportation we choose.

And then we’ve been taking these long bike rides outside of the city and exploring the little fringes of Mae Sot. The roads get worse, the cars are fewer, and it’s perfect. And our bicycles fit us well: Stephen’s has a big frame and is built well. He can shift the gears; he can pedal for a while and then coast. Lucy, on the other hand, she’s a little shaky. Lacking gears, you simply keep pedaling, and sometimes just pedal harder. She takes those hills and bumps in stride, just bobbling and clanging about. And her basket is always ready if I find a nice vegetables stand to stop at.

Another benefit of the bicycles? I can go somewhere by myself! Still not confident on the motorbike, and haven’t driven outside of the safest, quietest neighborhood in town where I practice. But I can take a simple bicycle, right? I’m still not extremely coordinated, particularly amidst the traffic, but I can at least make it to a few markets and the swimming pool. In fact, on the way today, I got a shout out from a fellow biker, spoken with his lovely accent: “Hello, white friend! How are you?”

And last, but not least: the kids. I can’t describe to you the wonderful place these neighbor kids are finding in my heart. They have become the highlight of so many days. I am loving their hugs, their dirty feet, the simple ways we can communicate; the countless ways they take us by surprise.  Today they poured water on our tiled front porch and turned it into the world’s most deadly slip and slide. It’s about seven feet long, backed up to a wall, with two steps down to concrete at the other end. We had children, in their underclothes, dancing and sliding all over; off the steps and onto the concrete, laughing their heads off.  Each moment with them is a surprise, and I’m learning to embrace the moments as they come. If I can just sit a few minutes with them each evening, or when we stop back by the house before running an errand, they love it. We grab that one little moment to a hold a little guy, learn one more name, or let them sit on my bike while I push them down the road. They’ve become my biggest fans when I start out a run or come back; they’ll run the last stretch of road with me, with huge, contagious smiles on their faces.

They’ve become really inspirational; for why we’re here, but also the simplicity of living life with those around us. The simplicity of our lives becoming the gospel of Christ. This kids challenge me in ways I could never expect–challenging the cultural normals I grew up with that may not be as a “obviously right” as I might have once thought; challenging me with their celebration of a small toy, or even trash; challenging me with their lack of shame.

“The future, good or ill, was not forgotten,
but ceased to have power over the present.
Health and hope grew strong in them,
and they were content with each day as it came,
taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.”

–from Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Somedays

everyone feels

so

far

away.

This evening, we were out with the neighborhood kids playing in the street. One little boy, a favorite of ours, was playing with us. He’s famous for a few things: running up to give you a hug the instant you step out the door; leaving his shoes in the yard, where his sister comes after them within a few hours or days; and rushing to “help” us unlock the door and push the screen door open for us.

This evening he was climbing all over Stephen, but got down for a break to walk into the middle of street, and pee right onto the concrete, amidst a crowd of the neighborhood kids and adults.

No one said a thing of correction, until another little guy about two went up to stick his hand out into the urine stream. A few sharp words followed from the mother, to which the little two year old toddled over to Stephen, and promptly wiped his now wet hands on Stephen’s shorts.

And the facial responses were pretty priceless.

Sometimes I begin these posts not sure if it will all come together, and this is one of those. And really, even if I consider it all coming together, there is a small chance that others be of the same opinion.

So you’ve been warned.

I’ve been processing through a verse from Philippians for some time now.  In the first chapter, at the beginning of verse twenty-seven, Paul writes,

It’s been a challenging road. I suppose we knew that was coming in moving to a new country, right? True; but recent events have proven more than we anticipated.

There have been plenty of challenges in simply being here, adjusting to a new organization, and adjusting to dealing with a variety of cultures (Thai, Karen, Burmese, South African, Swiss, Kiwis, Aussies, British, and even Americans simply from other areas!); and perhaps most challenging of all has been the process of learning to love and learn from our closest neighbors. This has been heaped with challenges and changes in our own families around the world–babies born and growing fast, families moving, and sickness developing. And amidst these two worlds a great chasm has created itself in our lives, full of deep, theological questions that are demanding quite simple answers.

And laced within these taunting circumstances are my own worries, fears, and prayers. I tend toward people-pleasing anyway, unfortunately, and I’m often willing to take extreme measures to keep someone happy with me. This has been magnified in this new life between two worlds, and in this chasm. With family and friends, I want so badly to hold onto these relationships by keeping them happy with me.  Within Partners, new bosses, and new co-workers, I want them so badly to see us as part of the team, as friends, and as contributing members. Or even within Mae Sot, I want so badly to establish relationships with the small percentage I can actually communicate with.

Wrap all this up in the example of Christmas. We’ve decided to go home, and that was no easy task. The simple decision became an additional weight on us for some time.

There were quite a few family events pulling us toward time with them, and turning this Christmas into an ideal window of time for us to be there. But at the same time, we want to be wise about cultural transitions and our investment here. Will it actually make it harder to return if we go  back too early?  But if we follow too closely to established schedules and patterns of adjustment, we can begin to ignore the circumstances and opportunities God creates for us. But if we envision us here long term, what if we don’t truly invest ourselves? Christmas is an important time for Partners, our offices, and our children’s homes. How do we fully engage here?

The money to go to America is so great; how do we take that into consideration and not spend lightly? How do we spend that kind of money on tickets, when that same amount could purchase years of food for our friends? And yet, how do we maintain the idea that we can go back, that it is all within reach?

And then comes the people-pleasing: what will they all think?  Will everyone think we are pansies? Will our supporters think we are taking their generous donations too lightly, or will Partners think we are irresponsible?  Will our boss think we are just too weak to stay or that we’re not all-in?  Will people think we simply did what we wanted?  How do we show them our prayer and consideration of these things?

Now take that decision, stretched out over nearly three months, and apply it to all circumstances upon us.

This is the over-analytical life I’m living. Perhaps I’m creating the chasm myself.

In Philippians, Paul is speaking to the church as a whole, that we are all called to live in a manner worthy of the gospel. And I think this is encouraging for me as a part of the body of Christ as well as individually.

As an individual, this verse reminds me that at worlds end, I’m accountable to One. And this helps me to breathe in some ways, but also to stand firm in what I believe the gospel of Christ is to me right now. If that is what I seek to honor, it takes priority over pleasing those around me.

But also as the body of Christ, we are all headed toward the same goal. And though we are all fighting our own battles and may see things differently in this stage, we can extend grace knowing that we share the same goal.

I’m learning more about grace. I am seeing the grace I need on a daily basis, and thus wishing to extend more to others. They are all aching and learning and questioning just as I am. And just as a gracious response or encouraging smile might help me swallow the day, perhaps the same is true for them.

As more and more questions arise, and as it seems, as we receive more sorrowful news, or face criticism from one person or another; I have found a great deal of comfort in this one verse. It has lifted more burdens than I could expect.

I’d like to welcome you into our Karen lesson today.

We learned this:

To the best of my translation abilities, this means “He is fat [in a good way].”

And this:

Which, again to the best of my translation abilities, means “He is fat [in a bad way].”

———-

While sitting around the office table today, some of our friends were discussing some of our neighbors that they knew. The conversation went like this, through a variety of translations:

“Wait, who do you know?”
“They live behind you.”
“Oh, the ones who do dishes all the time! They’re kitchen is by ours. She does dishes all day.”
“Yes, yes. That one. She is very fat.”
“Wait, what? What did she say?”
“She say she is fat. Have many dishes to do because eat a lot.”

(I’m leaning toward “fat in a bad way” on this one.)

And after passing yet another mangy, sick, injured and diseased street dog, Stephen commented, “I think we should support the pound when we’re back in the US. I didn’t realize the good work they do.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJ4D9jzGPU0

 

Our afternoons rarely go as planned.

In an attempt to encourage cleanliness, we bought a new trash can for our yard this weekend. The children leave a mess regularly, and our occasional afternoon clean up couldn’t keep up.  And though there is a public trash can approximately three yards from our gate, we thought it was challenging to blame them if we didn’t provide a solution.

So we had a clean up party this afternoon. We brought the trash can out and planned to pick up trash, sweep the porch area, and head back inside. We had guests coming at seven, dinner to cook, snacks to prepare, and showers to be had.

But if nothing more, relationships without communication teach you a great deal of patience and flexibility.

And our half hour clean up turned into about three hours:

– We picked up trash, but also had to teach that the cards you still plan to use should not go into the trash can. The bag stays in the trash can. The trash goes in the bag, not under it. The lid is not a shield to be used in fighting matches. And yes, the motorbike is still off limits for touching.

– The pencil writings, crayon scribbles, and flower smears on our house are scrubbed off again. Well, all except one…

– Sweeping turned into breaking the broom and needing a new one, to be purchased at the store just down the way. Oh, but while Stephen is gone, Kelli is a perfect human jungle gym.

– As potted plants are moved for sweeping a ginormous ant nest is discovered just feet from our front door; something Kelli will not be able to sleep with. Ant chalk and ant spray are used in abundance, requiring the kids to be distracted on the the other side of the yard and encouraged to breathe the non-chemical air. Laughter ensues.

– Cilantro is planted for the third time, and is a community effort as usual–each child throws in a few seeds, many are on the floor.

– A visitor arrives to the neighborhood who knows English and Burmese, so Stephen is summoned for the conversation. We have a few moments to understand each other! We learn they’ve lost the key we gave them and feel terrible, but really appreciate us letting the kids play and allowing them to hide behind our house. We can communicate welcome and again reiterate the process of the garden: we work together, you can have the harvest! They are excited for the seeds we purchased this weekend, and a group is called over to help weed.

– A group comes over the to the yard and begins preparing the soil. The new trashcan becomes a bucket to transport weeds over the community; the weeds were laid down to help with the flooding and mud due to rainy season.  The process of weeding everything and carting weeds takes nearly two hours. And if I may say, the young girls were amazing!  There were a few twelve or thirteen year olds faithfully hoeing the weeds, and carting the bucket across the road loaded up on their shoulders.

– A little girl sneaks behind the back of the house to pee, somewhere in that little area where six people were hiding last week?! Hilarious.

And at the end of it all, we were so encouraged.  More and more of the community are speaking with us, or attempting to. We are beginning to work together and to learn from each other. I’m continually amazed at how few names we know and yet how much time we spend playing games with them, cleaning up their messes, talking about them, praying for how to love them well, and taking each opportunity as it comes.

And the encouragement is welcomed.

In an effort to pull ourselves together, we were cleaning out some things in our office today. The last team left behind many toys, games, and small gifts to donate, and they needed to be sorted through and divvied up. And amidst the pile, there was a baby doll with dark hair and dark eyes.

As I sorted the items with another staff member, we decided the doll should go to Sonya, our boss. Her daughter is just over two, and has just one doll that was purchased here locally–which, in truth, means it’s cheaply made and looks a little creepy. This new baby doll was so lovely, and we thought her daughter would love it and be truly thankful for it.

I put the doll in a plastic bag with a few other things and took it home in my bike basket, planning to deliver it at our bible study tonight. I didn’t think much of it as I pulled it out of the basket at home to bring it inside.

One of the little neighbor girls ran up to give me a hug, and peered toward the bag with interest. I wish I had captured the moment her eyes and brain connected the vague image of the baby doll through the plastic bag.

She gleamed.

Her shoulders lifted, her mouth dropped a little, and her eyes sparkled. She knew instantly what it was and how beautiful it was.

I felt so bad taking it inside, particularly as she stood at the door and watched where I set it down. She kept saying the same word in Burmese as she looked at it, as if it had captured her.

——–

I’ve seen one doll among the girls across the street, and I distinctly remember it. I ran into a little girl as I turned the corner while  walking back from the store. She instantly held up her doll and shoved it into my face with pride; and it scared me. Literally scared me.

It was a head–a doll head that lacked all of her hair, leaving little holes in systematic patterns. And the head had affectionately been placed on a stick that formed the body of the doll.

It instantly reminded me of Sid’s created toys in Toy Story.

——–

And so we began dreaming: what if we could have a community toy box, complete with dark-haired dolls, a few tough trucks, colorful balls and blocks? We’re still fleshing out the details, and honestly, praying.

This might be too honest–perhaps revealing how antisocial my core is; and how challenging it is for me to let anyone in or let myself out–but I think the neighbors across the street are my dearest friends here right now. Their smiles and hugs, the depth of their eyes, the lines on their hands: they are teaching me daily. The children are putting flesh on verses, theologies, theories, and ideologies that have been read, analyzed, memorized, and lectured, but remained distant; but now are running up to my bicycle and leaving snot marks and tanaka powder on my shirt.