It didn’t start hilariously, but since I know the poor little guy is okay, we’re going to share the laughter.

We were in the studio when Mong Ey came right up to the window screaming. A little boy that we took to the clinic last week was in his house and screaming uncontrollably. He had a sore leg last week, but now his chest was hurting and he was struggling to breathe. The room was completely in panic–there were about fifteen people in the little hut. His aunt was holding him as he screamed, with tears running down her cheek. His uncle was behind her, his grandmother sitting there; a few neighbor ladies and men. His sister and cousin looked on in confusion; Mong Ey looked stressed as we shouted and attempted to communicate over the chaos.

It was pretty clear we needed to go to the hospital, because I knew nothing of what to do.  Stephen went off for the car and we were on our way quickly. Amidst the darkness, rain, and continued screaming, quite a few people climbed into the car. We just were trying to get there, afraid he’d stop breathing.

We unloaded him onto to a stretcher in the emergency area; his uncle went back with him while a few of us went to the check-in area to fill out forms.  It was here I learned who his father was. He came with Mong Ey & I to fill out the information, but we were having trouble communicating. He kept telling me he was his father and that he was thankful. Over and over and over again.

We went back to sit down, and it was here that we noticed what a crew we were. We were just now sorting out who was who. We had his father with us, who was fairly drunk. I figured this out when he shoved his head into the square-foot check-in window alongside mine, where I could smell the alcohol and sense his lack of awareness.  In an attempt to mask the odor, someone ran across the street to get him some gum, but it wasn’t really helping. He was wearing a mis-buttoned button up, a longyi, and no shoes. He sat very close to us and kept calling me “Shelly.”

We had this conversation about eighteen times as we shook hands:
“Shelly, Stephen. I father. Shelly, Stephen. Thank you. Thank you.”

We also had a grandmother with us, an aunt, an uncle, and a translator. When the uncle came out, I saw that he had on an Aung San & Aung San Suu Kyi shirt, a longyi, and no shoes. He could not look more Burmese. The aunt was wearing a plastic bag on her head, a common practice in the rain, but mostly among Burmese. Basically, we just didn’t look like a completely legal group.

They received a phone call from another aunt at home, quite panicked. Her screaming on the phone could be heard at least ten feet away, if not much further.

Meanwhile, our translator was quite nervous. She hates the hospital and is always afraid of being arrested; I think she really only came because she knew the father was quite drunk. At one point when a traffic cop blew his whistle to help someone park, she latched on to my arm and desperately dug her nails into me.

At the end of the day, the boy had his leg wrapped, and he’ll be going back tomorrow to get a harder cast. Within a coupe of hours we headed home with pain medicine and Stephen & I laughing at the escapade.

 

It was a long weekend. And it was too short.

We worked so hard to get there: so hopeful at the respite those two days might bring.

Unfortunately, it brought more than we anticipated.

The government has had our water turned off for over a week now, and our reserves were all running dry.  I had piles and piles of laundry and dishes stacked everywhere inviting bugs to invade. We started showering up at our office where the reserve tank is huge. Unfortunately, other people had similar ideas, and the office ran out of water on Friday afternoon. Our ability to even flush the toilet was gone sometime Friday as well, and we decided we’d try our well.

Thankfully, we did put a pump into the well a few months back so that the neighbors would have water for the garden. This allowed us to fill up our tank and resume showers, laundry, and using the restroom.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the cleanest water around. You could see through it–most of the time, at least–but it was a distinct brownish-yellow color and smelled less than fresh. Let’s just say you couldn’t actually tell if you flushed the toilet or not.

Either way, when you need water, you need water. We just added a bit of bleach and made do.

At this point, our water pump was still raised and not working properly, and our air conditioner was disconnected and thus not working. And then on Saturday, our electricity started acting up. Not all of it, but one particular circuit that included lights in the bathroom, kitchen, living room, community space, and outside; plus three random outlets.  The breaker flipped while I was in the shower Saturday afternoon. I finished showering in the dark, flipped the breaker, and we figured it was just a fluke, right?

Not so much. It flipped again an hour or so later, and another after that. The next morning, it was flipped again. And on Sunday, it continued to flip off with anything running–one light, one fan, one internet modem. So we unplugged everything and turned it all off. And it flipped again, this time with sparks and smoke.

And now we’ve just left it off. After so many sparks above your head and smoke in your house, lights become less important. We have lights in two rooms and a few outlets working.

Meanwhile, the landlord calls some men to come fix the air conditioner, and they arrive on Sunday morning. They take it all apart and go to clean it. They try the lights, we have to explain they don’t work. They look at the brown water and make a face: why isn’t it clean? We explain we don’t have government water and have been using the well. They go to the well and make a face: why does it smell?

I wanted to scream. Yes, we know the water is brown. We know the water smells. We know the electricity doesn’t work. And while I’m sure this is difficult for you to do your work, it is also difficult to live in, wash your clothes in, and shower in. We get it.

Also during this time, our landlord was stopping in and out of our house in a towel. Though we aren’t quite sure why, it appeared that she heard them say we have water and wanted to come shower, but then saw how brown the water was and changed her mind.

And still meanwhile, we learned that the landlord has moved into the home just next door. They can’t seem to rent it, so she is filling it. She spent most of the weekend frustrated with our neighbors. She is upset about the garden for some reason, and came chopping down leaves and plants; she was upset about the noise the kids were making, the way they shut the door, the way the door sounded from her house, the places they sat.

I don’t know how quite to describe it, other than to say that seeing the relationships play out has been very difficult. It is very hard to try to make friendships when there are four languages at play, two of which have very distinct “levels” in their language. It is difficult to create friendships that aren’t lording when that is the nature and attitude of the surroundings.

So, we our home is less home-like than it has been in the past. Our favorite things, the community being in our home and making us laugh and being a part of our lives, is not being so warmly received and putting us in very odd American-Thai-Burmese situations.

And it’s Monday again.

Stephen was going to take me home on the motorbike and come back to the office.

It was pouring rain outside, so I asked,
“Do you think it will stop soon? I hate for you to get soaking wet taking me home.”

“Well, it’s been raining for about four months, so it should stop any month now.
We can wait if you’d like. I’ve got all my gear just in case.”

Glad he can keep me laughing amidst the drowning.

I’m attempting to get an update out, but I can’t come up with a title. I’m just spent.

First, we’ll start with the news of the floods, which are mostly good. The flood waters have continued to go down.

When we arrived yesterday, the road was still flooded, but our driveway was just left muddy.  The neighbors still had a foot or two of water around their homes, but that was below their floors. Most people were back in their homes and just waiting for the water to keep going down. They didn’t seem to worried–they said they didn’t need blankets or a place to stay or anything. We did give out some rice to try to help, and we stockpiled a little in our home just in case.

They are still at risk of flooding, but the water has so far continued to go down to large, deep puddles.

The community did lift our motorbike onto our porch, where it stayed mostly dry. They lifted our air con onto a chair to keep it from being flooded, and built a stool to lift our water pump onto. This was so sweet, and very helpful in many ways. However, the air con might have been disconnected and might need some repair work. Likewise, moving the water pump required additional piping.  They used some sort of glue to put the longer piping in, but now our water is coming out very aerated and smelling of strong, strong paint fumes, presumably from the glue. It’s a little unnerving. Also in this process, about half a tank of water was lost.  Usually we get more water from the government every night, and this would be no problem; but when there is flooding, they tend to run low on water and turn it off for days or even a week or two at a time. So now, we are quite limited on water, and what we do have seems very chemical-filled.

Oh, and the neighbors brought over three little puppies to stay dry on our porch, which has resulted in twelve street dogs living on our porch, smelling of wet flood water and fighting about the puppies every hour or so. Hmm.

So where are we?

In many ways, we’re fine. We’re safe. We’re prepared to help the neighbors in any way we can when needs arise.

In many other ways, we are spent. While Chiang Mai was a good time, it revealed more than it solved. While we are thankful the floods have not continued, there are still more challenges ahead as we sort out water problems, pray for water from the government, and clean up messes.

Really, can I ask that you just keep praying? Perhaps not for the flood now as much as just for us. We still need it.

We are still in Chiang Mai, with plans to go back Tuesday on the bus.

It has been raining and raining and raining in Mae Sot. The entire downtown area is flooded, and we learned on Sunday afternoon that the local government in Mae Sot would be releasing the dam on Sunday evening.

This happens most years, and it did last year–when our neighborhood flooded and our neighbors came into our home. The dam isn’t strong enough to hold the amount of rainwater, so they begin to release the water.  Water rises all over Mae Sot, and our neighborhood is not one of the high points.

We’re not sure what to do. We’re not there.

Are there ways for us to get back sooner? Are there ways that would help?

We have no idea.

We are praying. We are trying to trust God’s sovereignty: He knew we’d be here, He knew this week wouldn’t go quite as we had planned. He knew that we’d be tired and unsure. He knew this would cause more questions to pile on our other questions.

Please pray with us. 

First, and most urgently, please pray for our neighbors. Pray for physical safety of the little kids, pray for the safety of their few possessions. Pray for warmth. Pray for their homes to stand.

Pray for miracles: that the waters wouldn’t rise, but go down, no matter what water is released from the dam.

And pray for us. We need wisdom, grace, and direction. We need some joys and surprises and blessings.

Please, please pray with us.

Farther along we’ll know all about it
Farther along we’ll understand why
Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine
We’ll understand this, all by and by 

Tempted and tried, I wondered why
The good man died, the bad man thrives
And Jesus cries because he loves ’em both
We’re all castaways in need of ropes
Hangin’ on by the last threads of our hope
In a house of mirrors full of smoke
Confusing illusions I’ve seen

Where did I go wrong, I sang along
To every chorus of the song
That the devil wrote like a piper at the gates
Leading mice and men down to their fates
But some will courageously escape
The seductive voice with a heart of faith
While walkin’ that line back home

So much more to life than we’ve been told
It’s full of beauty that will unfold
And shine like you struck gold my wayward son
That deadweight burden weighs a ton
Go down to the river and let it run
And wash away all the things you’ve done
Forgiveness alright

Farther along we’ll know all about it 
Farther along we’ll understand why 
Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine 
We’ll understand this, all by and by  

Still I get hard pressed on every side
Between the rock and a compromise
Like the truth and pack of lies fightin’ for my soul
And I’ve got no place left go
Cause I got changed by what I’ve been shown
More glory than the world has known
Keeps me ramblin’ on

Skipping like a calf loosed from its stall
I’m free to love once and for all
And even when I fall I’ll get back up
For the joy that overflows my cup
Heaven filled me with more than enough
Broke down my levees and my bluffs
Let the flood wash me

And one day when the sky rolls back on us
Some rejoice and the others fuss
Cause every knee must bow and tongue confess
That the Son of God is forever blessed
His is the Kingdom, we’re the guests
So put your voice up to the test
Sing Lord, come soon

Farther along we’ll know all about it 
Farther along we’ll understand why 
Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine 
We’ll understand this, all by and by 

Farther Along by Josh Garrels

This song has been on repeat: in the car, in the office, around the house. You should probably click on this link and listen to it.

Right now, I am writing this from Chiang Mai. I am dreaming of days farther along, when we will know all about this time that has passed us and understand why we are here. I’m trying to sort out the rocks and compromises that surround us; sorting out the changes and probably rambling on. I’m trying to cheer up and find the sunshine while singing, Lord, come soon.

We came to Chaing Mai last Friday, with a schedule to meet with a counselor all of this week. In an effort to respect all people involved, I can’t explain the whole heap of why we were pursuing counseling. In simplest form, I suppose it was three pronged: the challenges we have faced in our work and organization, the challenges we faced reconnecting with our families on furlough, and the strain these have put on our marriage and selves.

I was quite open about going to counseling. It didn’t seem something to shout from the rooftops, but it also didn’t seem anything to hide. When people asked why we were going to Chiang Mai, we told them.

That said, I can no longer count the number of people who have said that it “takes courage” or that it is “brave” to seek help. Still many more who have said that they used to think only really messed up people went to counseling, but now know it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

I’m wondering if I should have been more embarrassed or less vocal from the beginning, because obviously people feel the need to reassure us it was a good decision.

I was pretty confident it was a good decision. I was the one living the life that made it seem obvious.

Either way, we arrived last Friday.

I will note here that God is good and He provided. Most of my concern for going to get counseling was financial: Chiang Mai is a much more expensive city than Mae Sot in many ways. Simply eating and living here is more costly, but adding in hotel costs, public transit or a rental motorbike, transportation to get here, and the expense of counseling wasn’t going to make it cheap.

That said, the Lord provided in really wonderful ways. By the time we were packing last week, we had two houses offered to us and two vehicles we could borrow. Our organization let us know they would pay for the counseling. And even in taking the bus to save money, the bus ride was splendid–we both arrived in one piece and not feeling queasy.

Splendid might be a strong word, but it went well.

We had our first session scheduled for Tuesday morning, but learned on Monday that our counselor’s father had passed away in the States, requiring a trip home and leaving us without a counselor.

I know we have no control over deaths and such; I know the counselor had no control over the situation. However, having reached the point where I am saying I need counseling, I am willing to take a six hour bus ride to get there, and I am spending money I don’t have to be here: it felt like a hit to the stomach.

You just don’t take away a person’s last ditch effort.

Or they did, and we moved on because we had few options. So we met with a husband & wife on Tuesday, and then a different counselor on Wednesday & Thursday.

We have taken this week to pray and to seek out fresh eyes to see our lives: our work, each other, our families, our neighbors. We are taking time to pray for big things. What is working per se, and what is just not?

I won’t say any of it was ideal: we didn’t have a moment of realization that changed our lives. But really, why do we hope for ideal? God is still good, and God is still speaking.  And we are still afloat.

And farther along, we’ll understand this, and so much more.  It will no longer be a reflection, it will no longer be in part: we will know fully. We will be fully known.

Farther along.

I made Mong Ey mad this week.

On Monday I came home from to find Yuh Meh Oo sitting outside our house, when she should have still been at school. Her eye was red and puffy, shockingly similar to mine just a few days before. This infection spreads easily, it seems.

I went to the pharmacy to pick her up the drops I had been prescribed and returned to give them to her mom. I needed Mong Ey to translate for me, since she needed to understand how often to put the drops in and how contagious it was.

Mong Ey & Yuh Meh Oo’s mom had had a fight the day before. I knew about it from my house, because our lives are pretty close to theirs. I heard the screaming, we saw the swinging fists; we understood very little.

In my opinion, whatever the argument was about didn’t seem a reason not to give the little girl the medicine she needed. So I decided ignorance was bliss and went on as though an argument I didn’t understand was no argument.

Mong Ey did consent to translating, but she kept her scowl prominent throughout. There was no mistaking her frustration.

Last night, I was cutting Stephen’s hair and he was trimming mine. This is quite a mess here, partially because our bathroom is wet and small and kind of gross, but the easiest place to clean. It’s also quite a mess because I have no idea what I’m doing, and neither does he. We had wet hair, chunks of hair all over us, and we were focused.

That’s when the yelling started from the front door. They yelled our names, banged on the door. I shouted back that it would be just a minute, but apparently that went unheard.  The yelling and pounding continued.

This wasn’t helping our stress. After a few minutes I dripped through the living room in my sarong with hair all over me.

There was probably no mistaking my frustration. And it’s very difficult to think in another language when you are frustrated.

It turns out a woman I helped a few days ago was back for some more medicine. It wasn’t urgent, but they thought I was cooking and couldn’t hear them. I helped them with the medicine and we sorted things out. My own frustration wasn’t a good reason not to give this woman the medicine she needed.

And I think it all evened out. We both pushed each other to frustration, but for the sake of helping someone out. And in some ways, it feels like a more true friendship, as if we love each other enough to be frustrated and still push each other to do what is right.