I’m not sure I can put this week into words.

We knew it was going to be a bit crazy: we were coming back from the village with four days to conquer the world. There was a house to be cleaned, Christmas cards to be sent, photos to be posted, reports to be written, videos to be finished, and meetings to be had.

They have almost all been done; some Christmas cards will make the trip to Chiang Mai in hopes of being completed and magically shipped around the world before Christmas.

However, in addition to these planned tasks, we had these surprises in our four-days-of-chaos:

A new water pump. Our landlord installed a poor quality pump when we moved in, and for the past year Stephen has been making minor repairs to the pump each month. It was pretty sporadic and made some horrible sounds, but worked. But those days are gone, and we returned to have no running water. This is quite unfortunate when you have two backpacks full of dirty clothes and were really looking forward to a shower before you go to work; oh, and it’s 5am and you just arrived in on a nine hour bus ride. Anyway, it was sorted. We have a nice new pump that makes normal sounds and provides excellent and appreciated water pressure.

A flat tire and a popped tire in the same morning. After arriving at 5am, we slept for two hours and got up to shower and head to work. We walked outside to find the back tire on our motorbike flat. I slowly rode the motorbike to a nearby shop to have them fill it up. At this point, it’s quite hot and we’re already late. I go back to the house, we both get on the motorbike and head to work again. Within a block, the tire pops; it was simply worn. I then slowly ride the motorbike back to the same shop, while Stephen walks there, and ask the kind old man to replace it. We sat in the sun for about 45 minutes, now thoroughly hot and really needing another shower. And then we went to work anyway.

A broken lock and bolt cutters. Each night we chain our motorbike to a post of our house and lock it. On Thursday, we went to unlock the padlock, only to have the key break off inside the lock, all while our motorbike is still chained. After calling to find out where we find bolt cutters, Stephen rode his bike to the office to borrow a motorbike and get out to a friend’s house to borrow the bolt cutters. Again, we arrived at work quite late and significantly hotter than we intended.

There were some fun activities, too. On Thursday night I attempted a small Thanksgiving meal since we were out of town for the holiday. We picked up a rotisserie chicken in town, and I made fresh bread, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, and spice cake. Unfortunately, the green bean casserole and mashed potatoes left quite a bit to be desired; perhaps more sleep is required for sufficient cooking skills?

We then pulled out all the Christmas decorations and set up our tree  and nativities. For the kids I made a door decoration, though it is nothing you will find on Pinterest anytime soon. I simply tied twelve bells to a string and hung it from the door knob, knowing that they’d love the ringing bells. After just one day all the bells are clumped around the bottom, and I already had to get on to a couple kids for attempting to steal them; but they are rarely silent.

For the kids, it is all the will power within them to stay outside and look at the tree. Everyone is just bursting at the door and loving the twinkle lights. And heck, so am I!

As we were finishing our decorating on Thursday night, we heard our gate open about 10:30pm. A woman had gone into labor, and we soon found ourselves at the hospital. It was fun to have the car full of excitement and anticipation this time, and we were thankful to be able to drop them off.  We laughed on the way home, as it seemed a fitting end to our welcoming of Christmas–for unto a child is born!

We finished up our course on Thursday. To help the students consolidate what we had discussed and to help me evaluate what everyone had learned, I had two assignments for them.

The first was a four-page review of the class material. Since it was all in English, I assigned them each a partner and gave them about five hours over two days. They could use their books and notes; I simply wanted to see if they could get to the information and apply it.

The second assignment was an individual paper. First I had each student give me a list of five to ten goals they had in life or things they intended to do. I then told them to write a three-page paper (on local notebooks: small pages) that told a story of their lives and showed how these choices and plans connected to this class. I wanted to see how they could use their life goals and life decisions to help their communities develop. Since English is such a challenge for them and I have already forced them into so much listening and reading, I said they could choose their language for writing.

It seemed like such a good idea.

However, I didn’t think it through to completion. On Wednesday I found myself staring at twenty-nine three page papers in Karen. I could read it slowly, but would need some assistance with the comprehension. Yim can translate beautifully, but she is just now learning to read & write Karen. She went to Thai school and uses that or English for writing.
Thus, we have spent the past three days with three of us gathered around the table. A teacher or student reads the papers aloud, Yim translates to me, and I take notes and comments. It felt a little like a game of telephone.

The results have been interesting as well.

Three students intend to purchase airplanes; one bought a rocket and visited the moon. Two went to the sea with their girlfriends. Another two opened a computer shop and copied CDs to sell for income; something that was already suggested in a previous class where I explained the illegality of it.

Another student wrote that they didn’t listen at the beginning of the course because she was tired. Later, she realized that the teacher was tired, too, as she was. But these were important things for her to learn, and now her heart was very sad because she cannot go back in time; now she has learned to always learn when she has the opportunity.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to this one: kind of insult that she didn’t listen and apparently I looked tired? I guess she did learn something, although not what I taught?!

That said, overall the papers were quite good. Many understood the goal and wrote clear descriptions of how they could help their communities develop, even while having a family or career.

One student wrote about how she could improve literacy in her community; another made plans to start a library. One wrote about his children, and he wants to provide them opportunities to play with toys and not simply dirt.

So after three days of listening to Karen & English versions; the course is completed. The students did well and will hopefully apply the practical knowledge of the course to their families, communities, careers, and even their trips to the moon.

On Tuesday night, I was sitting in a little hut, trying to help a student write a story of her life and goals. We were sitting cross-legged and bent over a little makeshift table with two candles lit, struggling between her English and my Karen.

We had worked for over an hour when Yim, our faithful translator showed up. I was pretty thankful, because we were hitting a wall. And I didn’t even know what time it was–just sometime past nine when the generator, and thus electricity, is shut off.

We sat and talked for awhile, when there was a growl.

Yim’s eyes widened and she looked toward the small window cut-out. “What was that?”

“That would be my stomach,” I told her. “I’m just hungry.”

Her eyes got wider in surprise. And I just laughed. I don’t think the Karen have any idea how little rice I can fit into my stomach in one sitting. And if we eat at 4:30pm, I’m pretty hungry by the time I go to sleep at ten!

In the evenings, the students have class after their prayer & Bible reading. I feel bad teaching from nine to twelve in the morning, one to three in the afternoon, and six to nine at night. It just seems like a little too much time of me talking to students in their third language while they probe multiple dictionaries.

It is quite a sight, really, as each student has their curriculum, notebook, and a few dictionaries sprawled out in front of them.

For the evening activity one night, I created a village-version of Scattergories. I gave them five categories: an animal, a fruit or vegetable, a country name, a toy, and a famous person. The categories didn’t change, but each group of three or four students drew a letter for each round, and they had to come up with answers according to the letter they drew. I intentionally chose the “easier” letters in my drawing basket–S, L, N, etc. and avoided Z, J, and K.

It was still hilarious, especially when I offered candy to the winning team and they were suddenly yelping with motivation.

I had two favorite answers. First, under toy for the letter “R”, I read “rat doll.”  The gesture-filled conversation went like this:

“Rat doll? I don’t know this, but okay. What is a rat doll?”
“You know, rat?” with indications of a creature scurrying across the ground.
“Yes, I know rat. Do you…” with motions of picking up the rat and petting it.
“No!” Now, there are resounding gestures of a hand winding up a rat, which then scurried away.
“Oh!  You mean a wind-up mouse!”

Later, I read “tobacco” under fruit or vegetable. I laughed, as this was a loose definition of vegetable.  The student seemed a little offended and replied, “Yes, teacher, Karen eat tobacco.”

I replied, “Yes, I know they do. So do Americans. It’s still not a vegetable!”

I also had a mirage of questions: how to spell Leonardo from Titanic; how to spell Caesar & Pharaoh, from the students obviously faithfully reading their Bibles!  I was asked to spell “gee-raif–ee” a few times before I determined they were asking about giraffe.

We started with movie night on Friday.

I’ll just say that it was depressing. They chose a documentary on Burma that brought many to tears and put some awful pictures to many of the things we have been discussing in class. In some ways it was redeemed with a short discussion at the end vocalizing hope for the future and praying for change.

But it was still depressing.

Saturday began much better. I was hanging out my laundry at 7am when I heard a twangy, country version of Achy Breaky Heart blaring from a blown cell phone speaker. You just have to smile at that!

We also went for a hike most of the morning. We were after a little shop in a nearby village, hoping to buy some treats for the students. It is supposedly a 20 minute hike for them; it took us all forty minutes or so to get there.

But it was an absolutely gorgeous hike, through rivers and under thick jungle trees and vines. Then up over mountains overlooking beautiful valleys. There are more varieties of trees here than I even have vocabulary for. It’s stunning.

And we found some treasures at the end, including a sweet Karen woman excited to see foreigners and share orange soda.

On the way back, my foot slipped at one point. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but I caught myself and just noticed my toe hurt a bit. I didn’t think much of it, but in the end it would define more of my weekend than expected.

I tried to clean my toe up when I showered, but it hurt more than I thought it would. I gave up, thinking I’d get to it later, and went to teach for a few hours in the afternoon to review with the students. We had another movie night, this time watching Beauty & the Beast with snacks. This was a huge hit, until one hour in, when the movie froze and refused to deliver an ending.

Very sad.

That night, I tried to clean out my toe again with no luck. It was strangely sore.

I went to bed, only to wake up about an hour later with my toe throbbing. I was up most of the night, unable to sleep. And when I did, I woke up with dreams that someone was attacking my toe.

In the morning, it was obviously infected: bright red, throbbing, and oozing.

I mentioned this to Yim at breakfast and asked her if the “nurse”–one of the students who took a short medical training on midwifery–could look at it. The student said it needed to be cleaned out and disinfected, which they promptly did in the kitchen after breakfast. I sent Stephen back to our room to prevent him passing out, and I was soon sitting on a table with my foot on the bench.

To be fair, the student did a great job. She was very sanitary and careful, cleaning out the dirt deep under my nail and disinfecting the cut. But it hurt much more than I anticipated.

About half way in, I was afraid my breakfast was coming back up. Yim was sitting near me, and I calmly told her I didn’t feel so good. She assured me I was fine, just to look away.

I told her two more times before I decided to push her out of the way and stand up to leave. The kitchen didn’t seem a good place to vomit. She walked outside with me and we stood in the dirt. Within a few minutes I wasn’t sure if I was more likely to vomit or fall asleep.

And then I passed out.

She called for help to get me sitting down; one of the students ran to Stephen to tell him that I was dizzy and he should come. He arrived to see me laying down on a table, pouring sweat, and very, very white.

They finished my toe, cutting away a chunk of nail and bandaging it up.

And then I slept for most of Sunday, waking up only to go to church and meals. As the nurse came to clean it again tonight–necessary after I walked to church through a few streams and thick mud–more students gathered around. I think they were just hoping to there for the show this time.

Nothing like celebrating the weekend with two bummer movies and a crazy white person passed out on the kitchen table!

While we have been in this village, I have been emailing back and forth with a friend of mine. I will gladly call her a friend, but she began as the world’s greatest boss, when I worked with The Spero Project.

She & her husband are simply incredible. It was such a privilege to work alongside them and learn from them. It’s a privilege to see them raise their child, a five-year-old who knows some Burmese and a significant amount of Arabic that he has learned from spending most of his days in the refugee community of Oklahoma City.

I had written her an email of some of my thoughts while we are here, namely Stephen & I’s discussions of why we are in Mae Sot, and further what possesses us to be in the middle of nowhere, uncomfortable for a month. When you’re in the middle of it, you definitely start to question if it’s worth it and what train of thought got you here.

I suppose my greatest question is this: if Kingdom work is Kingdom work, why do we stay here? Stephen had some wonderful opportunities with his coworkers at Apple, we could have wonderful opportunities working in refugee communities in the States, and really, all of us have wonderful opportunities every where we are and in everything we do.

So why not go back to a soft bed and four seasons in the year? Why not live where our families, and my sweet newborn niece, are?

Our only conclusion was that we feel called here.

I suppose you could see that as a very strong rationale. Honestly, sometimes it feels a little weak against the pull of familiarity.

To all my thoughts and wonderings, she replied with very encouraging, wise words, I thought.

“My natural response is to remind you how influential you are in the developing Karen State.  And set up some scenario–‘just imagine what’s going to happen when someone in your class is equipped and brings freedom for a whole group of people.’  But if I’ve learned anything since you’ve been gone it’s that those are well-meaning but blatantly wrong statements.  That may or may not happen.  It may be that you see far more ‘result’ than you could ever have dreamed.  But that’s not up to you or to us.  And you can’t judge if it’s right to stay or go based on that.  And I can’t hold your encouragement and support hostage to whether there’s a ‘return on investment.’”

It makes me think of Ray Boltz’ song, “Thank you, for giving to the Lord. I am a life that was changed…”  This was a favorite when I was a kid.

He sings of a small gift of money he had given to a missionary that saved a man; the Sunday school class he taught to eight-year-olds changed a child’s life. He says, “Each life somehow touched by your generosity…They were unnoticed on the earth; In heaven now proclaimed.”

This is true, that we don’t see the whole the picture, and our small gifts can make big differences for humanity. But I think there is the other side, the not-as-singable truth, that there may not be such results. And that we are still called to obedience for the sake of obedience, rather than for the sake of influence or outcomes.

As 1 Samuel 15:22 declares, “Has the Lord as great a delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams.”

And I appreciate that my friend’s wise words confirmed her encouragement and support of Stephen & I being here out of obedience, even if nothing is changed. If no life is touched, or if there is no “return on the investment.”

Stephen reminded me this morning that it was Thanksgiving. I think he only remembered because of the reminder he put on our calendar and saw when he opened the computer!

To be honest, I’m not sure how to celebrate here. I feel like Thanksgiving is full with delicious food, watching television or movies (parades!), and family. Lots of family. And in my family, there are usually games somewhere in the middle of that.

None of those things are here: we will have food, yes, and they always give us their best. And it will be delicious in its own way, but not of the usual turkey, bread, potatoes, and pumpkin sort of delicious.

We won’t have a television to watch, and movie night isn’t until tomorrow. Card games are culturally disrespectful.

And as wonderful as these students are, and as much as I have grown to love Yim, my sweet coworker here with us–they are not family.

I suppose we can share things we are thankful for this evening. I’m sure the list will include the warm, sweet cup of hot chocolate this afternoon after teaching; the beautiful mountains around us covered in more variations of plants than I could begin to name; our warm clothes drying in the sun for a cool night tonight.

And the surprise French fries that Yim made us for dinner! Perhaps not a typical Thanksgiving meal, but typical Western food at least.

A different list of thankfulness, but thankful all the same!