Sometimes I wish we had a video of our lives: a documentary available to capture the unique moments that fill each and every day; the hilarious situations and our faces not sure how to respond.

There are plenty of good reasons why this would be a bad idea as well, but this week, there were a number of wonderful events where our facial responses should have been captured.

If only.

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Somewhere around Tuesday, I woke up early to go to the market before work. The mornings are crowded at the market, particularly on week days: some pedestrians, carts, motorbikes, and bicycles all among the crates of fruits and vegetables covered by huge umbrellas. As I walked through the market, I had my purse across me from one shoulder to the other hip while my hands were full of bags of vegetables and beans. I was squeezing through the crowds to locate my next purchase, trying to avoid the motorbike on my left and cart of raw, bloody chicken on my right.

I erred too far toward the motorbike, and her hand brake managed to catch my purse strap as she went by. I suddenly felt myself being pulled backward, and let out a few ah-ah-ahs in concern. A middle-aged Burmese woman turned to me–slightly annoyed that I was slowing her down with my yelps–and then saw that I was attached to her and didn’t even have a hand to spare to loosen myself.

Her face broke into a huge smile and laugh. And she’ll probably recognize me every time we pass in town, telling of the white person she nearly drove off with.

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Our landlord visited this week as well. We see her every few months, but today she showed up with our electric bill. She had pulled it from our electric box just outside the gate, brought it in to us, and proceeded to tell us–for twenty minutes, in very broken English–how to pay our electric bill. Y’know, in case we hadn’t figured it out for the past twenty-five months of living here.

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Another evening while I was out playing football, Stephen had some visitors. Mo Bya brought by a Karen high school student who had just moved down the road. We learned later that he claimed to speak Burmese, Karen, and English, but they didn’t understand his Burmese or Karen, so they brought him to us to speak English.

According to Stephen, he knew basic greetings, and the conversation didn’t get very far. It was over half and hour of drawing pictures and communicating, well, relatively nothing–with a smile!

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And on Saturday, we kept the door closed through the morning in an attempt to catch up on things. As much as we love the kiddos that invade our lives, they are distracting! For all that needs to be done before we fly out this week, we took the morning to catch up.

Until I heard crying. There were kids playing on the porch, and one suddenly started to bawl. It sounded like an older child, which surprised me as it continued longer…I folded. I went to the door to check on them.

The crying stopped instantly, and five very clever little girls giggled in success.

They have learned who the weak one is, and where her weaknesses lie.

I came across this post today on Facebook: If only 7% of the 2 billion Christians each cared for one orphan, the orphan crisis would be ended.

I read this in my Environment, Development, & Sustainability book discussing global inequality: “In principle, incomes can be provided for these marginalized communities through the redistribution of the fruits of increased growth and productivity, but realpolitik stands in the way–the rich will not pay the taxes required to fund this redistribution, and they are increasingly able to avoid the taxes in a world of liberalized financial flows.”

I think its safe to say that those reading this blog are in the rich category, including myself.  This challenged me: how much do I think of short-term tax refunds as opposed to viewing my contribution as a part of redistribution?  I won’t argue that the government is redistributing well, nor will I argue that as the body of Christ we don’t have our own responsibilities to redistribution on behalf of the Church. But am I avoiding both? What excuses are we–collectively–making to avoid this redistribution? To avoid our role in the orphan crisis?

What role–collectively–can we play in the solutions?

The same book later questioned, “How might these issues be attended to and by whom? Is it just ‘them’ out there or is it also you/me/us? Or should we just resort to fatalism, nurturing a general sense of apathy and blame?”

Surely, if anyone, the church shouldn’t be a part of the apathy or the blame, but a part of the you/me/us that is participating and attending to the issues.

It is so easy to feel that something miniscule–my small taxes, my inconsequential donation, my life–won’t make a difference in the whole. But if so many of us–us, myself included–hadn’t been neglecting our small role, perhaps the whole problem wouldn’t be so big.

This quote of Vandana Shiva concluded the chapter, “The big transformations always seem to move in the direction of destruction. But if you look at the small actions, the hundreds of people saying ‘I will speak against human rights violations, I will be a part of the voice’…that’s where change is happening, and that change will continue to grow.”

We have also been listening to The Verses Project as of late, and this verse has been following me:

“We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves.
Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up.”
Romans 15:1-2, ESV

In what ways am I avoiding this obligation, and in what ways are we collectively avoiding such an obligation? In what ways are we seeking after our own pleasures, to the point that collectively we are even creating weaknesses in widening the gaps of inequality or taking advantage of the supply & demand cycles?

I’m very aware of the collective today, and the potential power of the Church choosing to be the you/me/us that participates and builds up and brings hope. And ultimately, the often untapped power of playing my role as an individual no matter what standard is set around me or how small the impact may seem.

I received a call this morning that went like this:

“Hello?”
“Hello. [mumbled Burmese for a few moments]”
“Hello? English?”
“[more mumbled Burmese]”
“Hello? This is Kelli?”
“OH! Kelli.”
Click.

The family at the hospital yesterday had a cell phone with them, so I gave them my number to reach me. It sort of worked yesterday, in the sense that I got a number of confusing calls, tried to use a translator, and ended up just going to the hospital to find out what was happening. It got me there for them to discharge, at least.

And today, I suppose they found a missed call from my number or something. Nothing like the realization of Oh! It’s you. Click.

What kind of a hospital doesn’t have soap in the bathroom?

Even if I assume the best–that maybe each department or office has it’s own sink with soap for cleansing before seeing patients–there are still more germs than I care to think of being spread through family members and visitors. I just can’t even fathom how many parents are re-infecting their children or infecting them with something else while they are at the hospital.

This is very bothersome to my Western wash-your-hands-with-soap-while-you-sing-Happy-Birthday brain. Oh, my.

We spent more time at the hospital this week. It doesn’t seem worth mentioning any more, as it’s quite commonplace. This family went with two patients: the father was diagnosed with gout in his foot, and the seventeen-month-old son had pneumonia and was admitted for two days. He was just discharged today and sent on his way.

This story is really only noted because I went to help them get home today and, of course, had another opportunity to learn the goodness of God.

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Most of what I read is about development: political development, economic development, social development. I read why aid is harmful from a secular analysis and biblical perspective.

In just two weeks I am speaking on charity and development, addressing how individuals can participate in development from where they are.

It is a lot of theories: well-researched; biblically sound; wisely phrased and beautifully presented. Some theories even include stories: stories of data and change, measurements of this and that.  Most are theories; very few tell the stories of people–with names and faces and families.

I read these theories most days; I attempt to write them into applicable tools and then I teach them.

And then I go home to something very different. I go home to faces, names, and families: the place where theories are confronted.

So many theories push development, sustainability; all the over-used buzz words that we know are good.

I won’t argue any differently: development is good; sustainability is good.

Theoretical approaches try to take the complicated histories, cultures, faults, dreams and complicated lives of people and communities and create a streamline solution.

And they come up with really good ones!

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Nearly every time we end up at the hospital, I realize that this isn’t a solution. Sure, we have helped one {child-adult-family}, but what about the next? We can’t afford for everyone to need treatment, in time or money. Where are the boundaries? What is our plan?

But as I think this each and every time, God meets me in a new way.

When we had our first neighbor admitted to the hospital, I was really fearful about the money. I know hospitals are much less money here, but still, can we afford healthcare for fifty people? Or even one, for nearly a week in the hospital including surgery?!

In the end, the man headed home just before we arrived to discharge him. He found his own way home and left the bill. For the time being, I was really thankful for how God provided. It wasn’t a sustainable solution–I couldn’t knowingly let them walk out on a bill repeatedly. But for this time, he had made the decision without us and we were left with no options to pay. God had provided, uniquely; and I felt he made clear that we were to trust him.

Another baby went to the hospital for an overnight and surgery on an abscess; this time I felt God clearly said to pay for it. I could tell you where I was standing and how clearly I felt that my responsibility was to pay the bill in full and trust. I did so. And we’re still paying rent and eating meals, so somehow it was provided for.

In January we had a little girl that was diagnosed with pneumonia and needed to be checked for tuberculosis. In this case, God had put this family on my heart the previous week. They have a rough family life–rough enough that the entire community knows of the drinking binges and shouting matches. The kids have been removed from the home a few times for their own safety in the midst of marital fights. As we listened to a fight and saw the children’s faces one night, I prayed for an opportunity to love on those kids. Within a week, the youngest was sick and the entire family stayed up at the hospital for five days. Each day we were given the opportunity to come with smiles, treats, and toys for them.

Yet again with a multiple-day stay in the ward, I was worried for the expenses. And this time a dear friend in town–familiar with the systems here–told us about the office for welfare assistance in the hospital. We can pay a certain reduced rate–we just send the family in with what they can afford. We are able to give it to them and send them off to defend themselves and speak on their own. It worked beautifully–it was more affordable for us and enabled them to stand on their own.

And then this trip: another baby admitted for pneumonia. This week I have actually not been so worried about the funding: God has continually provided. Instead, my reading was haunting me, making me fearful that we were enabling them and doing too much for them. And this time? The family called us this morning. They had discharged themselves and sorted out the medicine with the doctor. They had spoken to the welfare office on their own and paid the portion they could on the bill; they just asked if we could help with another small portion. They had their own transportation home and had sorted out everything; I simply helped with the final part of the bill and went back to work.

I know these are story after story; minute details that really aren’t so interesting. But as I drove back from the hospital today, each story went through my mind.

There was no system or cookie-cutter answer. We have never had the same situation happen twice. And with each and every situation that arrives on our porch–truly each and every one–I know at least one theory that disagrees with the approach we took. At times it would be much harder to find a theory that does agree with our decisions and actions.

But each and every time, God has confirmed in us that we did the right thing. I suppose the only theme is trust–that God had us, he was speaking, he was orchestrating the entire situation. And he has blessed us with the ability to walk away confidently, with no regrets or defenses.

We have been asked many questions about our community:
How much have we invested in them already? [We have no idea.]
If we pay for this medical need, how will we pay for the next? [We have no idea.]
Do we have a plan? [Not really. At times we have, but they’ve rarely gone accordingly.]
Is this sustainable? [Mostly no; if we’re measuring logically.]
If you weren’t here, what would they do? [I don’t know. Potentially figure it out themselves and making do on their own. Potentially more would be dying or sick, but that could be giving ourselves too much credit.]
Are you enabling them? [The short version? Maybe.]

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I don’t think theoretical analysis is wrong or negative; I don’t think we should be naive of them. I will continue to study and teach; holding onto the same ideals for development. And really, I will continue to think many theories are quite clever and introspective of society.

But I am molding in this: there is more power and validity in the Holy Spirit speaking in each moment than in any theory or plan created by man at any level of research. There is something really beautiful in each and every event requiring a new level of trust. There is something pure in each and every opportunity delivering a new taste of God’s goodness to me; and [I pray and hope and trust] that somehow each opportunity is exhibiting God’s goodness to others as well, perhaps teaching more than any theory-following ever could.

We set up a meeting with a local community organization for tomorrow. We were looking forward to an opportunity to make connections with some key leaders and glean wisdom from them.

Then I received this email:

“I’ll come to you at 9:00 am. We’ll start our program at 10:00 am to 12:00 noon.
You can choose any topic you like to share. But you have to know that your participants are seminary students came from different divisions around Myanmar.
After that let’s take a lunch together.”

Oh–we’re sharing? A program? Right–9:00am.
We’ll be ready 🙂