The House Collective

this world, our neighborhood.

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A poem in Felicity by Mary Oliver, titled “A Voice From I Don’t Know Where.”

It seems you love this world very much.
“Yes,” I said. “This beautiful world.”

And you don’t mind the mind, that keeps you
busy all the time with it’s dark and bright wonderings?
“No, I am quite used to it. Busy, busy,
all the time.”

And you don’t mind living with those questions,
I mean the hard ones, that no one can answer?
“Actually, they’re the most interesting.”

And you have a person in your life whose hand
you like to hold?
“Yes, I do.”

It must surely, then, be very happy down there
in your heart.
“Yes,” I said. “It is.”

all in a friday.

by Filed Under: house calls, housewares, kelli, photos 2 Comments

We had an epic Flour & Flowers day on Friday. So epic, in fact, I was up before 5am, and met the ladies at 5:30am to begin. And because it was such a full week of orders, I helped them pretty consistently through the day to help with details and be an extra set of hands.

Our two ovens were on constantly from 6am to 4pm.
We used about 30 kilograms of flour.
We made 35 loaves of bread.
Nyein Nyein rolled out 170 tortillas, because that’s her specialty.
We made 30 pans of cinnamon rolls.
We delivered to 33 customers around town.

Nyein Nyein & Pyint Pyu Hey had to finish baking while Pyo Pyo and I showered and headed off to make deliveries. We came back to pick up the rest mid-way through. For Pyo Pyo and I, we finished deliveries and finances about 6:45pm.

It was such long day, but also so very good. They were optimistic about the sales, and they made quite a bit of extra money to reward them for their early morning and late day. They also put a large portion into their savings account for the end of the year, which is exciting! To be able to reward them both the day of and in the future seems like a win!

We also had good conversations and laughter. There are great things about having a tiny little kitchen filled with four people (five during The Breakfast Club hours!) to run into each other and step over each other and laugh together.

There were so many good things about the day.

__________________

At one point the conversation turned to our husbands. They commented that Stephen & I don’t fight; ironically, we had just had quite the argument the previous morning, during The Breakfast Club, which I was sure at least some of them had heard or been aware of. But the conversation, loosely translated, when like this:

You and Stephen never fight. 
We do fight sometimes.
But we don’t hear it. When my husband and I fight everyone can hear it and everyone knows!
Well, we fight, but you might not hear it. And Stephen doesn’t hit me.
Because in America men don’t hit their wives, right?
Well, in America, men can be arrested for hitting their wives. But also, Christians mostly don’t hit their wives, because of what the Bible says. Stephen doesn’t hit me because he loves God and doesn’t think that is okay.
Yeah, Stephen doesn’t like it when men hit women. He really doesn’t like that. And he loves you. You love each other. 
Yes, and because he loves me. We do love each other. And yes, Stephen doesn’t like men hitting their wives or other women.
He always comes out and stops them! So I’m not worried when you are here. I can come here or Stephen will come stop my husband.
Do your husbands hit you?
– One time. He hit me one time. Our son didn’t like it and said, ‘Don’t do that! Don’t hurt mommy! She doesn’t like it!’
– Sometimes. Have you ever seen the marks on me? It hasn’t happened for a long time. The worst time was when you were in America. I had marks all over me; my face, my arms, my legs. He was really mad and hit me a lot. Until his brother came to pull him off me and told him to stop. But everyone heard and saw it.
You weren’t here so I didn’t know what to do. But I don’t worry if you are here, I know Stephen will come! My husband is so much bigger than me, there isn’t anything I can do. But Stephen will come. 
Was he drunk when he hit you?
Yeah. He drank to much and came home; I hadn’t finished the rice yet and he was really angry. My daughter was so scared and kept shouting, “Daddy, don’t do that! Mommy is hurt! Daddy, DON’T!” But it hasn’t happened for a long time now.

I was processing all this, and that was obvious. I love these women, and their kids, and their husbands. And honestly, in this context, they are pretty healthy families, all things considered. My mind was swimming: the father of that little girl? They actually have a really sweet, beautiful relationship. The brother that pulled the husband off? He’s a Reinforcer. He’s in high school.
It’s true, Stephen will come if he can.
It’s true, he doesn’t like men hitting women; husbands hitting their wives. And in his words, “If that’s what they remember me by–the crazy American who didn’t like men hitting their wives–I’m okay with that!”

The ladies were watching me, and asked, It makes you sad, doesn’t it?

Yeah, it makes me really sad.

Sometimes there is so much we want to change in this neighborhood. I want them to have more education and more opportunities: to learn English and to learn how to use computers; to learn guitar and Thai and literacy. I want them to have a job where they manage the books and count the money; where they learn more reading and writing Burmese and doing math; where they learn to manage their time and do their best: so we sell bread and flowers every week to do that. We make jewelry and sew bags.

I want the kids to love books and play safely. I want the kids to go to school, not to work or be sent off to who-knows-where. I want them to learn to save money. I want them to eat healthy and have enough to eat. I want them to go to the doctor and receive treatment. I want their babies to be born with paperwork. I want them to have access to safe, clean water. I want them to have a safe place to ask for help when it floods or they lose their jobs or someone gets really sick.

I want them to see their value. I want them to have confidence. I want them to know how much God loves them–so much that he sent this young married couple halfway around the world, to this seemingly random street, to fall in love with this neighborhood. To struggle miserably at language, but keep on trying. To struggle miserably with learning to love here, but to keep on trying. I want them to see that God really, really loves them, and he can show them mansions of his goodness that I haven’t figured out yet, but I believe is there. And I believe it’s good.

But yes, I also want them to learn that husbands hitting their wives isn’t a normal, and that its okay to expect something else. I want them to see how to stick up for each other. I want them feel loved when someone else does stick up for them.

There are so many things we want to change; and it feels overwhelming.

But I have committed: “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.”

And somewhere, in that sad conversation, there was an echo of rejoicing.

__________________

It was just hours before this conversation became more real. We were about to leave for dinner, but instead, the evening found us outside standing next to these same ladies, while we all tried to determine if another woman in the community was safe. It was a fight; a loud argument. But it has turned violent before, so we waited; prayerfully and carefully trying to determine when it’s preventing violence and when it’s prying.

Stephen went over to ask if everything was alright, and the mother said she was okay.

As we waited not too far away, her little boy came over within ten minutes, “My mom said to come call you now. She said to go call Stephen.”

So Stephen went to get the mother; and I went inside with the little boy. He had tears in his eyes as I sat to talk with him.

He and Stephen played MarioKart and Donkey Kong; and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles–which took so long to understand: The men, different colors, with the knives, cutting down…grass? What? Oh, turtles? No, frogs? With knives? What?” 

I sat with the mother while she cried and calmed down. She told me she didn’t want her baby–the one arriving in just a month or two; and didn’t know how to take care of her kids. Would we take them?

Oh, the painful irony, folks: of being in a slower adoption process than we hoped, while being offered children–A little boy you already love and know! Newborn babies about to arrive across your street!–and know they are paperless; knowing the line between trafficking and adoption is so grey here; knowing that she needs to be equipped to care for her kids, not have them taken away. So we talked about this little baby that she would soon love so much. That she would look into his eyes and love him. How her son needs his mother and they love each other so much. They can stick together. He’s going to be such a great young man someday…

We talked about options, too: how we can help, how we can get outside help. How this isn’t the end of the story.

But as the story continues, it is not lost on me, as Stephen played video games with a little boy over a bowl of Mama noodles in front of the prayer painted on our wall:

May God bless us with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that we may live from deep within our hearts.

May God bless us with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of God’s creations
So that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless us with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,
So that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless us with just enough foolishness
To believe that we can make a difference in the world,
So that we can do what others claim cannot be done:
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and all our neighbors who are poor.

__________________

I have been thinking more recently that this blog is on it’s way out; because who would want to read this? I’m sure there are rules out there about how many words I’m supposed to write; and this has to be way over that!  It’s quite sad, and I know it. You might even think I need to pursue more counseling (than I already am!).

Can I just tell you: there are so many good things in our lives. I love how many jobs are created in our home; that women able to work safely and be paid fairly with their kids nearby. I love that they are given opportunities for more education in a variety of ways. I love that the youth have a safe place to be and learn. I love that the kids know we won’t hit them. I love that the parents know Stephen doesn’t hit me. I love that the littles come calling for Auntie Kelli and Uncle Stephen; and they’ll always find a hug, a smile, and safety. I love that we are in the neighborhood and culture; but also bringing in a new perspective. I love that we have so much to learn and so much to teach. I love that the kids teach pretend school on our porch; I love that they no longer dig through our trash. I love hearing English songs sung on our porch, whether the words are right or not. I love seeing the kids bring books to Thida to be read to. I love that the kids know to say thank you at our house, while the parents are amazed. I love that I can see kids on their way to school in the morning, put bandages on their cuts, and send them out the door after a steaming bowl of rice, vegetables, and meat.

I cannot believe what God has allowed to happen here. I cannot believe that he has been so gracious to us; for something so much bigger than a couple that didn’t know what they were getting into.

But while the goodness continues, every single day, I feel like I must also write about the sadness, because it’s true. It’s real, around the world, including this seemingly random street; and yours, too. It’s in your country of residence just as much as mine.

I recently read in Jim Wallis’ America’s Original Sin book, “Are we hiding behind untruths that help make us feel more comfortable, or are we willing to seek the truth, even if that is uncomfortable? [John 8:32] is telling us that only by seeking the truth are we made free, and that hanging on to untruths can keep us captive to comfortable illusions.”

All the conversations yesterday, the fighting: it made me uncomfortable. Honestly, even the 5am wake up and endless baking made me fairly uncomfortable! But I also encountered truth. And for this little neighborhood, the truth is that God both hurts for them and loves them more than we ever will. And that this is precisely why we’re here: to let the truth set us all free.

almost christmas.

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On discussing when Chocolate Mint ice cream will be back in town, Stephen noted, “Well, it’s almost Christmas, anyway.”
“Yeah. Almost.”

….

“Wait. No, it’s not. It’s July. We’re the furthest from Christmas we could possibly be.”

What day is it again? We’re just over here enjoying the chill of rainy season and pretending it’s almost Christmas. 🌧💦🎄

a long time coming.

by Filed Under: kelli, onehouse, photos, stephen 2 Comments

Sometimes dreams take a long time in coming.

Years ago Stephen wanted to work toward unifying the multilingual Church that surrounds us. There are so many different languages and backgrounds, but he wanted to have worship songs available in different languages in a way that it would be easy for everyone to sing together in the language of their choice. Ultimately, he hopes to have resources like this available to churches around this region, including recordings in difficult languages, translated chord charts, and more.

To start, it was a worship night, that has taken on different looks in different seasons of our life and of the Mae Sot community.

This month, Stephen worked really hard to gather together young leaders from the Karen, Burmese, and Thai community around us. They worked together to gather what songs are already translated and have the information available. They practiced to sing together, with different verses being led in different languages.

We also partnered with multiple para-church organizations in town to have a big enough space in the rain and to have a full band.  It was a group effort to say the least, and that made it more amazing to see it happen last night.

Fifty or sixty people came, from different countries, backgrounds, statuses and ages. We all sang together in four languages.

It was beyond beautiful, and a really lovely step into this dream.

The Reinforcers were both scheduled to run sound, but only one was able to come due to a family situation. Because of the system Stephen chose for them, The Reinforcers are able to run it all from an iPad, which allowed him to sit in the audience with friends and sing along while he ran sound for the whole event. And while I don’t really know how to describe it to you–because you have to know him, to know his story, to know how much we pray for him and love him–but to see him using a new skill confidently among his peers, while singing along in Burmese and English; to see him really enjoying himself at a “church event”–it was a great opportunity. Sometimes church here can be very structured, for lack of a better word, and we want so badly to show this community how loving Jesus can be fun and natural and a part of your life; not just a boring sermon on Sunday.

We also had three teenage girls from the community join, able to sing alongside Christians from their school and in their own language, right alongside us.

It was a culmination of a lot of good things, and we are just celebrating that we got to be a part of it!

something new.

by Filed Under: kelli, photos, schoolhouse 1 Comment

We started something new. Again!

It’s practically a disease, but with great results 😃

While we have loads of toys and games, there is a point where the kids get uninterested in trains and CandyLand. And when these kids get into teenage years, that’s really when we most want to be there for them. We want to provide them with one-on-one attention and opportunities to talk to us. We also want to give them skills, a chance to be set apart. It’s hard to instill the idea of dreaming, of opportunities, in migrant students, but we want to try.

Toward the end of last year, Stephen had an idea of how we could continue to reach this group of teenagers and youth in the community.

It also provided a way to use his gifts aptly: he loves technology and enjoys learning with it. So, we applied for a grant with Kingdom Mission Fund and we were granted it earlier this year! Per anything with just the two of us, it takes time for us to get things going. We’re generally operating a bit over our heads, if we haven’t mentioned that yet. But, it’s officially up and running!

Four days a week after school, while our house is also open for play, we have two iPads available to the older kids. We’ve chosen a select group we know well and want to further invest in. They have an hour per week that the iPads are reserved to them, for them to learn different skills through apps and lessons with Stephen and I.

We gave them options of what to learn: English, coding, math, guitar, cajon, and art. They almost all chose guitar initially. Some have since changed their minds, but we do have six students studying guitar for an hour per week. We also have three learning English, one on coding, and another on art.

We have set it up to be self-guided but with help and assistance from us. I help more with English and art; Stephen helps more with guitar and coding. They are also given the freedom to “study” their class for 40 minutes, and take the last 20 to play educational games or puzzles. This week I taught Mwei Mwei how to play solitaire, and she loved it. And honestly, it teaches some great deduction and problem-solving skills that aren’t utilized in schools here. We played together, and I had the most fun I’ve ever had playing Solitaire!

The oldest three kids are actually given two hours per week. Mwei Mwei is learning both guitar and math; one of The Reinforcers does English one day per week and guitar the following. The other Reinforcer is really loving coding, and he does that twice per week.

The two new iPads focused on the youth has opened up our older iPad for a younger group. We were also given an older iMac that Stephen has set up with some basic games and activities. All of them have different schedules to give different age groups opportunities to learn technology, strategy, creativity, and more. It’s been really fun to see the kids learning new skills and exploring new worlds their community hasn’t previously had access to.

We’ve been introducing the idea of a schedule: they are each given a time on the iPads each week, and it’s their responsibility to show up to attend. We were laughing at the irony of the first few weeks, as we’d be encouraging people inside to sit in front of a screen. We’d be puling them out of groups and pushing them into work by themselves.

One of our goals is that this creates an individual activity for them to work toward and succeed at. We don’t want friends helping or taking over; we want them to get an individualized, focused opportunity to both teach themselves and get one-on-one help from us.

It means that we are constantly saying, “This is a one-person activity.” Or, “Stop playing outside and come work on the iPad!”

The difference is striking between their lives here and so many kids’ lives in the States.  They spend so many hours outside; they are constantly walking to school, to the showers, to do laundry, to the shop. Everything is communal, so that they are always with people and in groups. There are often three or four people crowded around the computer to play Minecraft together. Even our retro video games: there are usually 8-10 kids taking turns playing Mario Kart, standing up, jumping around. As the two folks working extremely hard to get them fed every morning, I just want to tell them, Sit down! Let those calories stay with you! I want to give them a ride everywhere and get them seated playing a game; I want them to experience doing something on their own successfully.

It’s meant that this is fairly counter-cultural, but I think a good balance. Couldn’t we all use learning from our differences?

Overall, we’re so excited for the opportunities this has opened up and how smoothly we’ve been able to provide this for the community teenagers. We’re also going to do a test run of some English learning with two adult mothers next week.

We want to send out a special thanks to Kingdom Mission Fund, who makes projects like this possible! So many ideas just take a spark to make them happen, and we’re excited to be able to partner so that this could spark!

not to be neglected.

by Filed Under: kelli, photos, playhouse, schoolhouse 2 Comments

There has been good, too; I don’t want to neglect that.

One of our lost girls is back from Burma. Most of the family is together, living back in Mae Sot. She’s boarding at our pastor’s house and attending school. We get to see her on Sundays, and that is a joy.

We saw one of Thida’s daughters off to study in Burma for a year. We sent her off with photos and all the love & encouragement we could muster. We love her to bits.

Sometimes we come home to things like this, to both horrify and humor us.

I started a toddler class with Mwei Mwei on Thursday mornings. The kids call it “school” and often come with little backpacks that are empty.

I teach them English for thirty minutes or so, and then Mwei Mwei teaches them some Burmese. We sing songs while Stephen plays the guitar. It has brought me so much laughter over the past few weeks, and I love it.

We started a new after school program for the older kids–the full story which requires another post–but it’s going really well. The kids are loving it, and it’s manageable for us, so we’re thankful.

This team found a basketball game on the computer they love (and they are learning about angles while they play!) He vocally cheers for himself when he makes a shot. 😍

We’re still celebrating birthdays, and that’s fun.

We took one of our sweet friends out to snacks and ice cream with a small group of her friends, and it really was a beautiful afternoon smack in the midst of some of the messes mentioned above. We laughed and loved it.

And we put birthday candles into chicken nuggets. 🤷🏼‍♀️

On the way, the birthday girl was laughing at Stephen & I, saying, “Kelli always says, ‘Uhhmm-hmm, uhhmm-hmm.’ Stephen always says, ‘Yep! Yep! Yep!'” Oh, they know us so well.

Sometimes, we make cakes and attempt to decorate them with jelly filling for little at-home parties. And we laugh and love those, too.

We have this little fellow who likes to be drawn on and a babysitter that enjoys it even more.

We have this little girl, who came to the door last week to tell us she was going to get a snack with her mom. To this I asked, “And when you mom gives you your snack, what are you going to tell her?”
“Thank you.”
Her mom, in awe, “Who taught you that?!”
“Auntie Kelli.”
I mean, could I be more proud?! (Admittedly, we’ve become quite well-known for the fact we counter-culturally require thank yous and hand washing to the extreme.)

We still have Thida and her whole family. And that is such a gift.

And we’re making it together. We’re still discovering new places in Mae Sot, one of which serves up delicious soft serve (or soft sever..). They let us bring in our own little parties as you saw above, and one of the staff also works at the hotel where we swim often. So now she sees us all the time for either ice cream or a swim! At least we’re attempting to balance it out 😊

Stephen is gearing up for the OneHouse worship night this come week, and he’s managed to work with local students and worship leaders to have songs available in English, Thai, Burmese, and Karen; with a variety of musicians. It is not a small feat, but it’s really beautiful how God is pulling it together.

That could be said of a lot of things in our lives. Many little things, but no small feats. Many hard things, but many beautiful things.
None to be neglected.

semi-sensible.

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Some seasons I just seem to run out of words. And then I attempt to purge them out in a semi-sensible way. {See below.}

After my sisters’ visit, we sort of hit a whirlwind. We got new visas and work permits under high-stress circumstances. I had dengue fever.

This was followed by a domestic dispute incidence in our community that was quite scary, quite messy, and honestly, is still on replay in my head. And then school started in the community, surrounded by a series of dramas, trying to help families who couldn’t afford fees and creating job opportunities and small loan opportunities. One of the job opportunities we provided created all sorts of community drama, requiring us to address that with other community members working in our house, conversations about loving each other and how we are equals. (Oh, and do that in your second language. It makes me tired reliving it.)

School fees also required us to address manipulation and blatant lying with one family; turning into them claiming a “spirit” was involved and blindness. The church was involved, and it was close to home, and it involved kids; and it was just really, really messy. (Oh, and do that in your second language, too. Go ahead imagine all of this in elementary-level language capacity.)

Meanwhile, the government decided to turn off the water supply to the city, and we received about 500 liters in 12 days. That’s difficult to feed 50 kids on every morning; or to make and deliver bread around town weekly. That’s also difficult to mop the floor after the chaos of sewing projects, jewelry projects, bread baking, and breakfast serving; and kids running in and out. It is also difficult to do laundry; so that showering and dressing became quite the challenge. We finally found the bottom of our laundry basket (and the floor around it!) after nearly a month. 

This past weekend found me at the hospital for two very long days with our friend who had an emergency C-section before her husband returned from the US, and their baby was admitted the the NICU under scary circumstance. They were just transferred to another hospital for specialized care, and it just all been…heavy.

I’m still working through it all, while it just keeps coming.

A friend asked me this weekend how I was feeling and if I was getting back to normal, and I actually responded, “Was I sick?” He meant dengue, which feels like ages ago. We have been handed so many crises since then.

__________

Since the domestic dispute a few weeks ago, I’ve struggled to move past it. I’ve replayed bits of it in my mind, over and over.

It’s probably the most scared I’ve been, mostly for Stephen. There is something I can’t quite reconcile between the fear, and the natural inclination to avoid that fear ever again; and the assurance that it was and is still the right thing to do. Those aren’t always exclusive.

I’m told this is normal; that its part of traumatic events. That’s what I’ve been taught by books and theories and counselors.

But it’s not true here, really. The mother; the sister; the little boy.  The ones who came to our house bloody. They moved on. The next day they waved to us, they showed up for work, they headed off to school. It was like nothing had happened; like they hadn’t spent the night in our house. Like we hadn’t sat for a few hours together on the floor, all of us wet and muddy, waiting to see how it would play out, trying to find the words, trying to distract the kids.

While we sat on the floor together, I felt our camaraderie. We’d feared the same fears; we’d sought safety together. We’d communicated amidst the stress.

The next day, as I carried the weight of the previous evening with me, they didn’t.

I dialogued with a friend about this; how my education, my culture, my experiences, my privilege–it allows for struggle and traumatic recovery and time. We give ourselves breaks and self-care.

Meanwhile so many of my neighbors don’t have this privilege. They have to eat and survive another day; and perhaps this trauma is experienced so regularly. Perhaps you don’t have the privilege to give it time or struggle or care.

But then perhaps that isn’t a privilege, either.  Suddenly my “privilege” of education and mental health feels like a stumbling block that has me stuck on a replay from last month, while life carries on for those around me.

Sometimes I wish I could carry on more easily. Or carry more, easily.

__________

We don’t know how long we’ll be here living this life on this street. There are about a million factors at play, not the least of which are the adoption process we started in a developing country, the visas and paperwork that permit us to stay, and sheer capacity.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the choices ahead.  Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the choices that got me here.

What if this has been too hard (and ruined me)? What if it becomes too hard (and ruins me)? And how do I not know which side of that I am currently sitting on? And why am I so concerned with my ruin?

Sometimes I am overwhelmed how much their choices affect my trajectory. While living as we do in this community, they determine so much of this. What if they don’t choose Christ|savings|education|fill-in-the-blank-with-anything-I-value-enough-to-choose? Is it worth it?

What if the loss we experience is greater than the benefit we leave behind? Is it worth it?

What if I am ruined? Is it worth it?

Who makes that call?

__________

I chatted with another friend about the questions we as a Church are often asking each other. “Are you ____?”

Are you practicing self-care? Are you being selfish?
Are you being safe? Are you taking risks?
Are you setting boundaries? Are you too comfortable?
Are you following your heart|desires|calling? Are you following wisdom of counselors?

From our perspective here: Are you making this sustainable?
Are you making friends with locals? Are you making friends with expatriates?
Are you in community? Are you taking time to yourself?
Are you taking risks? Are you taking breaks?
Are you [insert whatever particular theory is deemed “right” by the speaker]?

We tend to ask questions that we are asking ourselves or avoiding ourselves; we ask according to what we value. I personally think that all these questions could be right for one person and wrong for the next. Honestly, I hate the questions. I hate the questions I can’t answer that I’m not sure are even questions I should be asking.

I hate that we only ask the questions we want to ask to prove our point or to justify our action.

Do we simply need to ask, Are you being obedient? 

Perhaps sometimes that looks like all of the above, depending on who you are and where you are and what you’re doing and who God wants you to be.

Perhaps sometimes that involves the natural inclination to fear and the assurance that you should take the risk all over again.

Perhaps sometimes that involves unequal loss and benefit.

Perhaps sometimes that involves unknowns and more questions than we have answers for.

the lost girls.

by Filed Under: kelli 2 Comments

Some days I am sure this is all worth it. I am confident that we are supposed to be here; that God is for us; that good is coming. I wonder how I get to live here and do this and live my best life.

This is not one of those days. Or months.

——————

When we moved into our neighborhood over seven years ago, there was a host of little girls between the ages of five and eight. {We currently have a host of little boys at this age. Isn’t it funny how that comes in waves?}

That group of little girls is now between thirteen and sixteen, because time does that. It flies. And the little girls grow into little ladies. And even if they aren’t officially yours, if you spend enough time with them, if you stay up late enough times with them, if you cry enough tears for them; they start to feel like they are a little bit yours. You are wearing them just a little bit on your sleeve.

Spoiler alert: This doesn’t end well. I’ve lost them, as you might have guessed from the title. These little girls spent all their time on our floor and in our arms and in our kitchen–one by one, it feels like we’ve lost them.

Neh Wey was the first to go. Over three years ago now, and she still comes across our minds and our prayers.

And then Musana. I remember the night like it was yesterday, but it’s now been almost two years. She told us at Playhouse that she’d be going to Bangkok the next morning. We had plans for a friend’s birthday that evening, and I promised we’d come by the next morning to say goodbye. I didn’t really believe it would happen, as we’d be told so many times before; but we went around 6am the next day. She’d already left.

There are a million things sad things about this story: how she was pulled away from some family, placed back into others. She can’t go to school where she is now; there aren’t any kids around her. And as of last month, she started working as a nanny for a little boy that lives next to her, while the mother works full time.

There are also a million miracles about this story: we’ve found her in Bangkok–more times that I could count, because she kept moving! We get to visit her and bring her gifts and love on her family. We send her messages back and forth over Facebook.

The ups and downs keep coming; and sometimes I can’t wrap my head around how good it is that we are able to keep up with her and yet how heavy her stories are for me to hold.

They They left next. She’s still in the neighborhood, but she’s now a nanny for a little toddler down the block. She’s done with school at 14; she no longer lives at the home she’s always known, with her grandparents and cousins. The cousins are adjusting. And just like that at 14, she’s working. Just like Musana; not unlike Mwei Mwei.

Sandar Soe joined her within a few months. They nanny for families next door to each other.

Yaminoo left for the summer, and now we’ve learned she’s not coming back. Her challenging childhood became challenging teenage years. Her mom isn’t stable; we don’t know how her dad is anymore.

Honest? I don’t see a happy ending for her. I can’t write one with the pieces I can see. We’re praying, we’re waiting.

I look back on her baptism a year ago, and I’m reminded that we serve a God who is able. He can write a happy ending of any pieces set before him.

But he’s the same God that has just carried us through our third American Mother’s Day in this adoption process. (It’s significant that it’s the American Mother’s Day, because you have to re-live it all again in June for American Father’s Day, then August for Thai Mother’s Day; and then December for Thai Father’s Day.)

So being able isn’t the whole story. Sometimes I still don’t understand.

Then there is Yedi, who has watched all of her friends go off to work and is the only 14-year-old girl still in school that I know of. There is Yin Myo Thoo, who holds us at a distance. And I keep reaching, because I don’t want to lose her.

And Ei Full Tone and Bit Mu and Nyedi Ton Shwe. All looking for work; all vulnerable.

There is Mwei Mwei, who we helped get out of Bangkok and into a safe job in our home. And while I love her and I see the hope in her story, sometimes I’m not even sure why He whispered to us about her. Sometimes I’m not even sure what to do next.

These girls; it feels like I’ve lost them all. It feels like I’ve failed them; like I couldn’t really change their trajectory or their story. We didn’t.

A friend told me this week, But a boulder in a river still changes it. 

So we’re still hoping.

sister, sister: part three.

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Now’s the time to throw in all the cliches: All good things must come to an end; celebrate that it happened, not that its over. Whatever. We were kind of bummed to head out of Mae Sot for our last few days in Bangkok.

Turns out we all look the same both frowning and smiling.

But we look better when we smile.

We did a bicycle tour that turned out to be pretty amazing!

We love Grasshopper Adventures, and our guide was amazing. We did a tour of the Green Lung of Bangkok–an island that is essentially a park or protected land. It was beautiful and swampy and jungly. Parts were nice sidewalks and roads, others were thin 1.5.-meter paths with drop-offs on both sides; a bit more precarious, but a fun adventure! And we only had one bike wreck and saw one snake, so…

We also visited our favorite Bangkok eateries and parks, and just enjoyed our last few days together.

And since it’s never enough adventure for us, we went out with a bang. We used Grab to get a taxi to the airport, which drove us for about 30 minutes before running out of gas on the side of a huge highway (five or six lanes of traffic going with us), just two kilometers from the airport! The driver stopped in the fast lane and put on a dramatic show about how he was so shocked and so disappointed; but our real question was simply, What exactly is your plan? He said he had no friends to call and didn’t know what to do. We could see we were further from fuel than the airport. We were also close enough to the airport that every taxi passing us would have passengers already. And since he seemed content to hit the steering wheel, we got out. We grabbed our stuff and took off walking down the side of the highway.

The real kicker is that he wanted us to pay, which we refused to do since he failed to get us to our location and put us at a much greater risk walking along a highway. He then got aggressive and we had to go quicker with all the bags in tow, and it was scary. Ultimately it resulted in us arriving sweaty to the airport, thankfully with enough time to spare; and a few more weeks of Grab contacting us for payment and us having to report him.

It’s never dull for us, so I guess it was a good picture of life here.

This was our re-enactment of our responses, because what can you do but laugh? (And capture the memory, so you can laugh about it all over again later.)

But really, so thankful. Beyond thankful!

sister, sister: part two.

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After a few lovely days at the beach, we headed off to Mae Sot! This required a few domestic flights, which are just not the most amazing experiences.

After we landed safely to The Sot, we considered it a success!

In addition to lots of fun activities with the neighbor kids, they also got to visit the market with Thida, watch Thida amaze us all with Breakfast Club; see the teenage teachers pull off the Summer Program, and see Flour & Flowers work some bread, tortilla, and cinnamon roll magic. They got to meet the ladies who sew at our house and see Sojourn Studios first hand!

And then we did some things to see the best of Mae Sot! We took a Burmese cooking class at a local restaurant.

We visited waterfalls…

…and climbed them!

And visited the coffee shop photo opps that now abound in Mae Sot.

A cake at the coffee shop!

We got pretty good at taking our selfies wherever we went.

One day, we went out to a Bible school we’ve recently been partnering with. They have a screen printing business and have been printing on canvas bags we are beginning to sell with Housewares. My sister, Jenn, designed us a few stellar designs, and we all made some t-shirts and bags and just had fun learning about the screen printing process and getting to participate in it!