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A few more doctor appointments, many hours of waiting, a few jumbled conversations, a few translated conversations, and a biopsy later, we know more.

First, I know that God is good and he ordained that entire day at the hospital. We now also know Woung Shin quite well after spending many more days at the hospital with him.

At the first visit, Woung Shin’s right eye was protruding from his face a good amount–almost like a golfball–and he was in a lot of pain. We learned that he has two brain tumors, one behind his nose and one behind his eye. They initially thought it was just one, so they did a biopsy through his nose. They learned that this tumor is benign and really isn’t causing him too many problems. Through a CAT scan,though, they learned he has another small tumor behind his eye, which has caused his eye to protrude and has caused pain. They don’t know at this point if it is benign or not, but they have recommended he get an MRI to know more and potentially pursue surgery.

But it’s more complicated than even that. While Woung Shin is lucky enough to have a valid ID here in Mae Sot, he cannot leave this province, and there are no MRIs available in our province. Also, while this card provides all his medical care for a $1-per-visit fee, that is only applicable in this province, as well.

So instead of $1 for an MRI, it will be more like $350.  And he can’t legally get there, and will likely be stopped at each of the ten or so checkpoints along the way.

We have been trying to determine what to do and considering options. He could potentially get a travel pass from the local Burmese clinic, but they wouldn’t cover his MRI or surgery if it was needed. He could travel to Yangon legally, but do they have the right equipment? How much would it cost there? Do Stephen and I try to help? To travel with him is too high of a risk, but could we contribute to the cost of the MRI? But that doesn’t include surgery, so if they deem that necessary–where do the costs end?

How do value each human life while recognizing your own limitations? How do you wisely spend each dollar without devaluing the life behind the dollar?

There are a lot of difficult questions running around our heads while we want to respect his wishes, determine what he wants, and consider the risks for his family even–the possibilities for him to keep working, the possibilities for the tumors to grow, the possibilities that it is cancerous?

We have been praying, and otherwise just unsure about what God was doing and what our role should be in the entire situation.

Last night, we sat down to talk with him about the options. First, we saw that his eye is doing significantly better; his eye lids are just slightly swollen, but he can now open his eye and see clearly.  He has no pain, which feels like a miracle in and of itself. He is hopeful that it is getting better. He’s quite nervous about surgery and not so interested, because he fears something could go wrong and he might not be able to provide for his family.

There are a couple options for why its getting better. It could have been a misdiagnosis, and perhaps he just had an infection. They gave him antibiotics after the biopsy, so there is a chance this helped to treat the infection. We told him this is a possibility.

We also took the chance to tell him that we were so sad to hear the diagnosis, and we have been praying every day for him. We told him we hope God will answer these prayers!

We also told him we will help their family to make ends meet. He has been nervous to go to doctor appointments and consultations because he means he can’t work those days. We have told him we’ll continue to go with him to appointments and we’ll help provide food for the family on those days.

And so we’re waiting.

We have more appointments this coming week to learn more–what the chances are of growth, what the chances are of surgery, why the swelling might have gone down and the pain reduced.

Really, I tell you all of this for one reason: Will you pray with us for Woung Shin?

This feels like such an incredible opportunity for God to work and heal this man. We are praying for miracles, but we want to include you in that, too. Please pray for him to see the power of the Lord in some way, whether it is through healing, God providing a way for treatment, or anything else! Just pray for God to use this sad situation for His glory.

I don’t ever want to forget the miracles we have seen here. I remember when Aung Moo was in the hospital, and the doctors were convinced he would die. They wanted to know how we wanted him cremated, and we refused to make a decision until it was final. Instead, a friend and pastor came to pray with us and the entire community, and Aung Moo was healed. Now a year later, he is walking, seeing, and talking. This is a miracle and a picture of the truth that God is working here.

Just last week, we saw a breech baby flip on its own, yet another answer to prayer.

Our God is a God of miracles, and He is working here. We really believe he has allowed us to plant seeds and water seeds, and he is making them grow! Please, please pray with us–for this, and so many other seeds, to grow. 

I remember one particular day–maybe six or eight months after we arrived in Mae Sot–very clearly.

We were just getting to know the neighbors and would just interact with them on occasion through the week.  Mo Bya knew Karen, which we were studying, and was one of the first adults we had come to know. He came to talk to us.

I have no idea what he talked to us about, but I remember he was covered in paint. His feet and clothes and shoes and hair were covered–he had paint all over him. He looked like a migrant worker.

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We see migrant workers all over town, as they are nearly half the population of Mae Sot. We know their usual jobs and their usual lifestyle. We know they ride bicycles or get rides on trucks. We see them on every road and every shop and every construction site. We know the statistics, the dangers, the tragedies. We know the crimes that are committed by them and to them. We know the horror stories and risks and corrupt practices.

That is just life here and a part of what we do.

Until that day, when Mo Bya was no longer just my neighbor–he was a migrant worker, too.

It struck me so oddly because I knew he was a migrant worker. But there was something different about seeing him there, looking more like a migrant worker than my friend.

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The same thing happened a few weeks ago.  I took two girls about fifteen years old to a craft party that some friends were having.  They both love crafts and have the best English in the community, so it seemed like a great opportunity.

Looking back now, I’m not sure either of us were ready for our worlds to collide in that way, but it was such fun all the same.

We were driving to my friend’s house in Mae Sot Villa, the primary “neighborhood” in Mae Sot–it’s a gated and guarded community with mostly foreigners, wealthier Thais, and Chinese businessmen. As we drove in, the girls were chattering about the different houses–not about what they looked like or how big they were, but about who worked there. They pointed out where one of their mothers worked, another where a friend worked, another where a different mother in the community worked, another where one of the girls herself–a 15-year-old–worked on Saturday and Sunday when she wasn’t at school.

For me, this is where many of my friends live. This is where I go to home church and where I deliver flowers and where I have lunch with friends and where I go to parties like this little craft party.

Parties that they are responsible for cleaning up for.

This isn’t bad: I love my friends and home church and lunch dates and parties. I know why they have chosen this neighborhood: for safety, for their kids to ride their bicycles. I know why they have chosen to have house help: they are doing amazing ministry and loving their families well.

Again, I know that most of the expat community has house help. I know that many of my neighbors work as house help. But in that moment, I was on both sides. I understood both parties; both parties were a part of me. And at the very same moment, I wasn’t a part of either.

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This past Wednesday I had a car of three girls headed off to the doctor, and we were just driving through town. This time, it was just a wave. It was a man from the community headed home from work, sitting on the roof of a semi truck, where migrant workers often sit.

They often call out something in English: Hello! Where are you going? What is your name? Merry Christmas!–whatever English phrase they can think of in the moment. But this time, he waved. The same way you’d wave to a friend as you drove through town, because really that’s all we were–just two friends passing each other in town.

But again, he looked more like a migrant worker than my friend. All the statistics and stories come rushing through my mind, but with the face of my friend.

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I was singing O Holy Night this week as we took a drive through the rice fields. These were my favorite lines.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear’d and the soul felt its worth
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

Truly He taught us to love one another
His law is love and His gospel is peace
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease

I was struck by the sin & error that pines around us, that our world is built upon. I was struck by the chains of hierarchy and development and inequality. The chains of wealth and poverty.

The power of Christ: a thrill of hope, a soul knowing it’s worth, a law of love and a story of peace, a slave as a brother.

I can’t wait for Christmas.
I can’t wait for eternity.
I can’t wait for all oppression to cease!

I knew there would be more of these. The sheer notion of visiting a tea shop each week with friends across cultures is bound to bring up some interesting stories.

This week, we found ourselves at the tea shop with four ladies. One of their names is Nyein Nyein, which sounds a whole lot like one of the Burmese words for “small,” and she happens to be quite small, so we asked if there was a correlation.

This led to a long discussion of the difference between her name and the word for small, and somewhere in the middle it was explained to us that her name means “fire dead.”

Obviously this required more explanation.

With many attempts, a Burmese dictionary on our iPhone, and writing on a the back of a tiny 7/11 receipt, we learned that her name means “extinguish.”

Really, it just felt like every thing we learned brought more questions. Why was she named extinguish? Is this a compliment or an insult (i.e. You are an extinguisher or You will be extinguished)?  We were able to learn that she was a very quiet baby. So maybe they felt she had already been extinguished? Not sure.

Again, this begged more questions. What did everyone else’s names mean?

Chit Ne Oo was with us, and her name means Love Snow Oo. Really, “Chit” is love, “Ne” is snow, and she said she isn’t sure what “Oo” means!  So we asked if they had seen snow, and as much as we could gather, the answer is negative. It was a name given in hope!

The others with us were Pyo Pyo, which is a nickname for baby, but her full name means “fat baby,” because, well, she was a fat baby.

We also learned Jean Wei means Silver Shock, as in an electric shock. This is more fitting than I could ever describe, and Stephen and I have affectionately donned this nickname for her.

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We never really know what we will discuss at the tea shop each week. Sometimes we learn that we are mispronouncing names, or we learn who is related to who. We talk about their home town in Burma, since many of them came from the same place. We’ve talked about how long they have been in Mae Sot and if they might go back to Burma someday.

One day, we talked about marriage. We told them we had been married for five years, but had no children, and then had each woman with us say how long they had been married and how many children they have (though it seems like we would know how many kids they have, we often discover they have more in Burma staying with a relative or serving as a monk). Oddly enough, each of them said they had only been married 1 year, but some had one or two kids; one woman had four!

We then realized we had a miscommunication, and perhaps they thought we were asking how many times they had been married. We tried to clear up that Stephen and I have been married five years but only one time…but you never really know what you can clear up or communicate. They may think we’ve been married five times before 30, and since we set the standard for what they know about the West, that kind of reflects badly on all of you, too! 🙂

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After we go to the tea shop for breakfast, we get some things in the market. One person is designated money to buy food for Aung Moo, who is still gaining back his sight from meningoencephalitis. For some of the people with us, the market is a normal stop that they have at least made before. For a few, though, these are some of the first times they are leaving our neighborhood. Many of the women and children haven’t been further than a kilometer or so from our house, so the market is kind of overwhelming. Particularly on Sunday morning, it’s bustling.

At the beginning, they were worried about us–they would try to grab our arms to protect us from motorbikes, bicycles, and cars. What we all quickly learned is that Stephen & I go to the market far more often than they do, and really, we have to watch out for them–it’s very easy to lose people in the traffic and chaos, particularly those that are horrible at crossing the street.

At one street, all of us ran across at a break in traffic, except for one girl who was looking around and didn’t see us go. A huge truck passed just after us, and she couldn’t see any of us for a split second–long enough for sheer panic to cross her face. Stephen was shouting and waving his arms across the street, trying to catch her attention before she started to cry!

Now, when we cross the major streets, they all grab our arms and we pull them across. Never thought I’d be the expert at that. And to be honest, I think the others in the market think it’s odd, too; as if we’re not drawing enough stares already 🙂

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While we mostly purchase just vegetables in the market–only meat for certain dishes and very, very early in the morning–the neighbors buy meat most weeks. Sometimes it’s fish paste, or just whole fish; beef, or chicken; or parts of all of these things. Either way, it’s not my favorite part for a lot of reasons. Mostly the neighbors don’t mind picking some meat up, throwing a few around on the table, and then picking the one they want. The shop owner shoves it in a bag with their bare (most likely unwashed) hands, and then throws the bag on top of the other raw meat on the table. The neighbors just pick up the bag and go on their way; they don’t seem bothered by the meat juice on their bag, hands, and…well, everything, now.

Side note: Stephen & I have learned to stand back as far as you can during this process, without getting into traffic. All the throwing of meat throws blood, scales, guts, and whatnot all over you. Just stand back.

Well, we thought they didn’t mind all the juices, and to be honest, I think most of them don’t.

Chit Ne Oo has been coming with us recently, though, and she is by far the cleanest person in our neighborhood. She’s so clean that we noticed years ago–she wears perfectly cleaned clothes and rarely looks disheveled. She washes her hands constantly and often asks to use our sink to wash her hands again. A few weeks ago at the market, she accidentally touched a chicken that one of the other ladies had bought, and she was panicked. She held out her hand in front of her as we walked through the market and had disgust written across her face.

I pulled out my Bath & Body Works hand sanitizer (thanks, Mom!) and offered her a bit & explained how to use it. She loved it! She was enthralled with the smell and held it to her nose the rest of the trip! (Apparently she thinks the market stinks, too.)

So now, we all utilize our scented hand sanitizer in abundance. She loves it, and really, I’m pretty thrilled about it too!

In our home church this past Sunday, our friend Matt shared about thankfulness–for obvious reasons. I remember one part in particular as he shared about our lives being miracles and the miracle of new breath each morning.

While I do consider a new day a miracle, it started me thinking about just how much our lives are miracles. It seems so tangible to me this week.

When we chose our house, we didn’t have a particular reason. We had a feeling in our Spirit that we went with, and this house is a miracle. Our house and our neighborhood have shaped our lives since we arrived, and now entirely shape our work and ministry and friendships.

We have had people supporting us month after month for four years, providing for our rent and our lights and our bread; our water and our car and our date nights. This is a miracle: there are so many people involved and so many steps in the process and somehow we receive a check each month that is the collective gift of a small army.

After being in Thailand for four years, we have had no more than small motorbike accidents that only involve us. This is an absolute miracle. Just this week a young girl on a bicycle cut me off on the motorbike, shooting directly across in front of me as I came at her going 45 kmh. Knowing where she was and where I was, I have absolutely no idea how she got across without a collision, and miracles like this happen all the time.

We have been so healthy here. We have neither had dengue or malaria; we have had no surgeries or major health concerns. My broken finger was minuscule, and Stephen’s machete-and-thumb accident healed back incredibly–and he actually has the tip of his thumb, which I really didn’t think was going to return! We have really been so healthy and protected from so many ailments.

We haven’t been robbed or threatened, despite living in a seedier part of a border town. Instead, we are friends with our neighbors and are privileged to know and trust them, and often have their protection.

Even today, we just drove five hours of curvy, mountainous “Death Highway” for a friends wedding. We arrived safely around every corner, we avoided every large truck crossing the non-existent middle line, and we didn’t careen off the side of the very high cliffs we drove along. Instead, our car broke down once we arrived at our destination. And we are here with a genius of a friend willing to help us. Again.

We are enjoying friendships and relationships in our community over cultural barriers and age barriers and economic barriers and language barriers. This is a miracle.

We are seeing miracles even in the lives of people: fathers that drink less and are engaged with their children; a man blind from meningoencephalitis seeing again; a woman’s breech baby turning on its own!

He is a God of miracles, and we are witnessing them: in this place, this year, this week, and even today!

“Your ways, God, are holy.
What God is as great as our God?
You are the God who performs miracles;
you display your power among the peoples.”
Psalm 77:13-14

I’m in the midst of writing a post on miracles and thankfulness for the things God is up to here, but this is just in, and its too big to wait for a whole post to finish!

We have three neighbor-women bursting in their ninth month of pregnancy right now. Last week we learned at a regular check-up that one of them is breech. After talking with a number of local nurses and doctors, we learned this:

She was 37 weeks, measuring about 35. There was minimal fluid, so it was unlikely the baby would be turned.
It wasn’t recommended that she deliver at the local Burmese clinic.
The best option would be the Thai public hospital, but this would cost around 10,000 baht ($300) for a natural delivery or 20,000-25,000 baht ($600-$750) for a C-section.
There is a Burmese clinic about thirty minutes away that is more specialized in pregnancies with complications. They would deliver for free, but require us to get her out to them for a few checkups before and the delivery.

The Burmese clinic further away seemed like the best option, particularly so the family didn’t feel worried about the hospital expenses. However, we learned yesterday that it would be best to get her to the clinic as soon as possible and try to move the baby, as this can usually be down between weeks 34 and 37. While I was home making 400 desserts for a wedding on Saturday (another story for another day) a friend graciously took the mother out to the clinic today (on Thanksgiving!) to attempt to get the process started.

And here’s the miracle: the baby flipped on her own!

We have been praying for this baby and this mother for quite some time–she lost her last baby after delivery and she has been quite nervous through this pregnancy–and this is just such a beautiful answer to prayer! This is such an incredible miracle and allows the baby to safely be delivered here in Mae Sot at the Burmese clinic!

God is good. It has been a really sad couple weeks in our community, and we have been grieving for a couple different families. And yet, as God takes away, He gives good gifts. So as we consider these upcoming births, the upcoming celebration of Christ’s birth; as we mourn and as we celebrate His miracles, this verse just sings to me:

“And he said,
‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
and naked shall I return.
The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away;
blessed be the name of the Lord.'”
Job 1:21