on the house – Page 6

captured.

December 1, 2016 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: housewares, kelli, on the house, stephen 2 Comments

It is really difficult to capture what we do and why we live here. Sometimes I’m not sure I know the answers to those questions, which just complicates putting them into words for others, or perhaps into words in other languages.

Recently, following a heartbreaking domestic abuse situation, one of our close friends was left with a swollen face, a newborn baby girl, and without a front tooth. She was discouraged for so many reasons, not withstanding the affair that led to this; that her husband refused to hold her new baby girl, he was refusing to feed her and the two kids, and she was feeling like she couldn’t get a job without a tooth and being illiterate.

So we have visited her and sat with her often over the past few weeks, attempting to both mourn with her and ensure her physical needs were met by sneaking her money for food.

Somewhere along the way, Stephen and I started talking about getting her tooth replaced: what the expenses would be, as well as the aftermath–how many people would know how much we spent on it? How it would affect community hierarchies and friendships? When do we say yes and when do we say no?

In the end, we decided to say yes to this one. It required two trips to a dentist that lived out in the middle of nowhere but did speak Burmese. It required me to be the dental assistant for the first trip, a three-hour visit of grinding down teeth that wasn’t my favorite. It felt a little outside of the norm for us–not an obvious need, but a felt need all the same.

As we left the second visit, she seemed unsure. It looked far better than I could have ever imagined, but even as I gushed over how beautiful she looked, she seemed skeptical.

I started to wonder if it was worth it–the money, the time, the effects in the community; even the discomfort of having water (and who knows what else) sprayed all over me from the dentist’s chair!

But the next day, I saw her standing outside in the road–she was holding her baby, dressed in all yellow. She looked gorgeous, laughing with her friends and chatting. When I approached, she smiled broader than I have seen since…well, since her world fell apart. She was the San Aye I remember–so confident and friendly.

Her two friends were complimenting how beautiful she looked, and I have heard that many times this week. Not one person has asked us how much it cost or why we helped her. She has been around nearly every day–outside and chatting with friends, where I’ve previously only found her at home, hiding inside.

I really couldn’t be happier. I’m not sure we could have spent that money better. I feel like she got a glimpse of love–that she is seen and known and loved, even when it feels like everything is falling apart. Someone is putting the pieces back together.

We’ve told her that our church and friends from church give us the money to do things like this. When she tells me she is ashamed for us to help because its so expensive, I tell her not to be ashamed to us–it’s a gift from my friends! It’s a gift from the church!

It’s because Jesus sees you and loves you.

I asked her later if Stephen could take a photo of her so we could show the “friends who bought her tooth” how beautiful she looked. That’s mostly all of you, collectively, making our lives here possible, the purchase of this tooth possible, and even her food over these challenging weeks.

And at this photo, I think it’s captured. In some ways it is just some money for rice and a new tooth. But in other ways, this is so much of what we hope for–everything that her smile says.

We also caught a photo at the end of our sewing training, just a week later. She is the one with the biggest smile! There is so much for her to be proud of.

finding her.

November 8, 2016 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: kelli, on the house, photos, playhouse Leave a Comment

A few weeks ago I wrote about sweet Musana moving away to Bangkok unexpectedly. Since we had our anniversary trip to Bangkok already scheduled, we started thinking about the idea of finding her.

We’ve tried this before with another young girl in the community, and it didn’t work. Because of this, I tried very hard to hold it at arms length–leaving a day for it in our schedule, thinking of gifts to bring her, hoping to see her; but allowing for a day spent going nowhere, making sure the gifts could go to others, and know that it might be a disappointing day. And also knowing that even if we found her, it might be hard–for her, for us.

But we knew we had to try.

We have a phone for her and chat with her sometimes, so we called before we left and had our friend Nu translate for us. We learned they lived outside of Bangkok, either in Ratchaburi or Lopburi, which in Burmese sound the same and are three hours in opposite directions outside of Bangkok. We knew a few key words, but we were unsure where to go first and how best to get there.

Once in Bangkok, I went to the front desk at our hotel and asked for help. I explained that we were looking for our Burmese friend, who lived in one of these two places. The women said she’d be happy to help–she was from one of those areas and her boyfriend was from the other, so she knew them well. I called Musana and asked in Burmese if her mom could speak to the front desk and explain in Thai where they live and how to get there. The sweet lady talked a few minutes and then spent over an hour with me, mapping it out and explaining each step. She wrote out the directions in English and Thai, and was such a huge help.

We left the hotel at 7am. We grabbed some gifts at a Tesco down the street, and then got on the elevated train at 7:35am.

7:35am – 8:30am on elevated train
8:30am – taxi to bus terminal
9:00am – 10:15am in van to a nearby province
10:15am – walked to a nearby pharmacy, because I had yet another eye infection; had lunch, since we weren’t sure what was coming
11:30am – motorcycle taxi to another bus terminal

*Here we were told the next bus leaves at 12:45pm, which seems a long time to wait for what we have ahead of us (getting there and getting back!). We ask if there are other options and they say no, so we sit down and pull out our books. In less than five minutes, they come over, rushing us onto the bus–Come on! Going!–and we get on without paying, and we’ve left within a few minutes. Not sure if they told us wrong, or if they changed the bus schedule for us?!

We arrive into the town at 12:45pm, and bus drops us off at the hospital, where we are supposed to meet Musana’s mom. Instead of meeting us, she gives instructions to a motorcycle taxi driver, who refuses to let us take two taxis, putting all three of us on the same little motorbike. We looked absolutely ridiculous.

He drives us down the road a bit and into a nearby community–a wealthy community. There are nice new Mercedes and huge new houses; we’re not sure where we’re headed. We turn around the corner and see them waiting–Musana and her mom; and Musana starts jumping up and down.

So much fun.

It worked! And I’m not sure any of us could believe it. We were hours from anything any of us know, in a little shanty town community in the middle of this newly constructed neighborhood, and here was Musana with her mom, step-dad, and step-sister.

I’m confident her mom was very confused as to why two white adults spent five hours finding her daughter, and why we brought coloring books and puzzles with us. But we chatted about the neighborhood and what they did for a living; how long we had lived in Mae Sot and how everyone was doing. Musana told her mom I was 28 and I’d be having a baby by the time I was 30; she hadn’t forgotten yet!

We made a puzzle doll house together, and played the rock game that Musana loves.

I’m not sure I can explain how good it was and how much of a gift it was to all of us. We had such fun seeing her and laughing with her; seeing her smile. It was so good to see her in what is really a more stable situation, with some meat on her bones and a fridge full of fruits & veggies (and a fridge itself!).

We also loved just letting her know we loved her enough to find her; that she isn’t forgotten or lost. That she can call and we can visit; and that it’s all going to be okay. We showed her pictures of her cousin and family in Mae Sot, and then took pictures of her back to Mae Sot, which the whole community loved.

The past few weeks have been hard. There is so much instability anyway, and when things shift like this, you can see everyone questioning it. We see her cousin, who won’t let his grandmother out of sight, but then panics when we are. We see him cry when we say we are going to Bangkok, which to him is just a black hole that eats people he loves.

We see the other kids wonder if she’ll be coming back, or who will be leaving next, or even if they’ll have to leave what they know. We see the parents and grandparents wonder when their worlds will shift and if they can do anything about it.

And then we got to let everyone see that it’s okay. While Musana is somewhere else, she can still call and we can visit. She is still okay and with family.

Sometimes I am amazed how much of our life is long, extensive, weird efforts to say: You are seen. You are valuable. To us, yes, but ultimately to Christ. So many miracles had to have happened for us to get to Musana, and yet they did. They all fell into place, because He wanted all of us to know that she is seen & valuable. He hasn’t forgotten any of us in this blender of brokenness.

Thankfully, the ride home was shorter. The first time, we were basically sent to the state capital and then on to the town, which was considerably out of the way. On the way back we went directly from the town she lives in to Bangkok, which made it a little over two hours, and hopefully much more possible again!

So, $33.47 in gifts and $27.18 on five forms of transport and one long day in “Bangkok”–priceless hours with a friend.

darkness.

October 25, 2016 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: house calls, kelli, on the house 4 Comments

It’s been so dark lately.

I keep hoping it will subside, that the light will break through. That would be a better place to write from. But then more darkness comes.

I can’t really capture it all, the ins and outs of different fronts, different battles, different darknesses.

There was another stabbing in our community. This was both our fourth & fifth stab victim. They went to the hospital by a hired cart, so we actually have only been helping transport family to and from the hospital and now in re-bandaging wounds daily.

Have you ever seen a stab wound? They are traumatizing. Even when I heard about it that afternoon, I could see all the others so clearly in my mind, all over again.

This time a number of the kids saw it, as it was around 3pm. One of the kids said she cried when she saw it. Is that okay? she asked.

Sometime on Tuesday I began to ask myself, Where do we live? Really, WHERE DO WE LIVE? How did I get here?

First you’re playing football in the street. You feel sorry for the poor children that surround you. You are trying to learn language and make a difference in their futures. You are hopeful.

And then you are sitting next to your nurse friend, who is helping you bandage these wounds. I hear myself tell her, I usually do it this way, as I wrap up the gauze I’m holding, it worked well with the other stabbings, so that the bandages didn’t stick. Is this okay to do? And she tells you, I don’t know. You know more about stabbings than I do.

And while you’re changing this bandage, you are sitting next to a three year old, a two year old, and a six-month-old, who have now all seen their uncle and their dad’s stab wounds. And they just lost their 11-year-old caregiver and friend last week when she moved to Bangkok. And they start to cry when you leave and tell them bye; and you’re trying to convince them it’s okay, you’ll be back. I know; she didn’t come back, but I will. It’s going to be okay.

But you’re kind of wondering if it is.

Is it going to be okay for this three-year-old that has reverted back even further in development since he lost his primary caregiver? What is he going to grow up to be? How do we prevent him from becoming a victim, too, or a knife-wielding attacker, for that matter?

Is it going to be okay for the abuse victim I went to see this week? I learned her husband isn’t talking to her; he won’t hold the baby because it isn’t the gender he wanted; and he’s not giving her enough food. She’s hungry. Now we’re sneaking money to her so she can buy her own food; we’re trying to create a job for her. I tell her to come tell us if she needs anything, if he tries to hurt her; it’s going to be okay. But I find myself wondering if it will be.

Or the eight people that came to tell us this week that they don’t have work. Is it going to be okay for them?

Or us–is it going to be okay for us?

The days when you aren’t sure how you got here, or when stab wounds became normal. The days when your dearest friends are desperate for food. The days when your dearest friends take advantage of you. The days when the nightmares come back and you think that what you’ve seen may haunt you forever. The days when you see the weight in your own eyes staring back in the mirror.

Is it going to be okay for us?

I keep reading these encouraging verses–about God’s goodness, about his burden that is light, his yoke that is easy; about him answering prayers and giving good gifts. Perhaps if I meditate on them again, perhaps I will see something differently. Perhaps it just won’t hurt this badly. Perhaps the light will break through.

birthday cakes.

August 23, 2016 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: kelli, on the house, photos Leave a Comment

So it’s been re-discovered that I can make cakes.

I’ve found an easy recipe—the “Great Depression cake” or “dump cake” or whatever not-so-great-term you want to use—basically, it’s ridiculously cheap to make, so that I can make one or two for about $1. I’m still sorting out the icing and trying to find dairy items on sale, but either way, it’s a pretty reasonable task. And a small investment is worth putting some weight onto these kids and celebrating their lives.

We’ve decided that we’ll make them all as a gift to the family at least for this first while—A year? A few months? Certain families? We’re playing it by ear until it gets out of hand!

It does mean that I’m now making two to three cakes a week and we’re attending a number of birthday parties. At least they’re adorable.

A few notes on birthday parties: they often involve us sitting at the honored spot. They also generally include excessively loud Burmese music on blown speakers. Cake is a very shared commodity—sometimes it is plated and given to a pair or a group to share.

We attended this party last year, when there weren’t enough spoons to go around; so we snuck some in our pocket and added them to a collection on the table.

At this party, the birthday girl was the only one with a plate and spoon. She would put a large piece on the plate and give a bite to each guest one at a time—starting with us, then to her parents, then to all the children and adults…then one bite to herself. Then we started all over the cycle again. By the third bite that came to me—and thus the spoon being reused some forty times, many to children I had give medicine to this week for fevers, coughs, and stomachaches—I said I was full. Between shared spoons and multiple parties, I’ll admit I’m a bit tired of cheap cake!

This family particularly liked the feeding-each-other model, and I turned around twice to literally have a cookie or bite of something shoved in my mouth|nose|cheek.

Birthday parties involve so many people in one {tiny} house. Everyone gathered, singing for someone, sharing food {& spoons}, and laughing. When we’re often dealing with fighting and injuries and sickness and hunger, it’s fun to see mouths full of sugar and faces full of smiles. It’s recently become a highlight of the community living!

you may say that i’m a dreamer, but i never take the jump.

May 18, 2016 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: kelli, on the house 1 Comment

We met with our friends this weekend to help come up with a plan for their homelessness.

They came to our house, and we told them we had some ideas. We wanted to help, and we just had ideas for them to choose & determine if they were actually helpful.

For Option A, we had a friend and organization with a farm about a kilometer from our house. There was a house on it that needed some repairs, or it could be land to build. Either way, they could live there free of charge if they would serve as security for the farm over nights and weekends. It didn’t have electricity and water was scarce; but it was a good price, good land, they could move their pigs. It also had the potential to become a farming job in the future.

They were interested in the land, as he is a farmer at heart, and we went to look at it. They loved the house and are the type to see the potential rather than the failures. However, it’s not on the safest road and they had some concerns for their girls going to school. There was also a reservoir next to the house, which alothough picturesque, was a danger to their two youngest–a four-year-old son and one-year-old granddaughter. They decided this wasn’t a good option for them.

For Option B, there was a concrete house near us for about $100 per month. It’s two stories and large enough for their large family, but a little expensive. If they felt it was a better option for them, we had ideas for them to earn more money. We had a couple “business” ideas up our sleeve.

So we talked about some options. And I’ll just jump ahead here and say this: we’re {officially planning on} opening up a small community center in our house, and they are going to help manage it being open a few days a week.

It seems rushed, and in some ways it is! Stephen and I are reworking our schedules and determining how to rework our house to make this possible. Doing all this in a few weeks wasn’t in our plan, and that’s a bit overwhelming.

However, this fits us. We tend to dream and discuss options endlessly; we think of these great ideas and talk abut someday starting them. We think through the ins and outs and repercussions. We tweak and edit. But in a current state of keeping our heads above water, we never feel ready to take the jump. Instead, it usually is something like this: a friend is in need, and thankfully we had some tricks up our sleeves.

But it isn’t really us having any tricks at all.

We’ve been talking about a community center in our house for over a year now. Then about a month ago some friends donated three computers to us to use in the community. It started us talking: how do we make these available for learning games, English practice, and Burmese? For years we’ve wanted to provide a sewing machine for moms to make simple repairs to their children’s clothing. We’ve wanted to have an open space to play the Burmese news or show a local sports game. Could all these go hand in hand?

We started talking more often about it all: how we’d set boundaries for our own personal space; layout plans and hours and rules. We talked about who would be a good manager: who we trust enough and respects us, yet is old enough to be respected by the community hierarchy. We’ve asked if we are ready and how to start slow.We prefer to do everything slow.

You might say that we’re ambitious dreamers that just need that final push to jump.

Thida was one of the women who would be great at this role, but she had tea shop business of her own that put her out of the running. But with their forced move, it seemed a good way for her to make some extra money and pull her back near our community.

So we’re planning on opening a community center of sorts soon. We have a manager! We have a God that started orchestrating this months ago and knew we needed time to dream. We have a God that also knew we needed that final push! We have some amazing friends donating to our community fund and making things like this possible.

And really, here’s the best part of the story. We needed a little time to, y’know, to make a community center; they were sleeping under the stars now; and rain is coming soon {or we are certainly praying for that}–there was a crunch. So we gave them one month of rent to help make ends meet and get into a shelter before the rain comes. We told them it was from our church. We asked them not to tell, as we can’t give to everyone, but our church gives us money to help when there are needs.

She replied with this: God blesses. God gives. This is significant for two reasons: she is not a Christian, and yet she is giving God credit for this gift. Further, in Burmese, she used the term for God that literally means the God above all gods. It’s used at church and by Christians, but not always popular to Buddhists, as its claiming the Christian God is higher.

So that’s pretty amazing. Yes, God blesses! God gives! And sometimes, he pushes us to jump into the dreams he’s put before us.

it’s still cold.

February 9, 2016 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: kelli, on the house Leave a Comment

It’s still cold here. This is the longest cold season we’ve had since we moved. It’s been chilly since before Christmas and still went down below 50 degrees Fahrenheit last night.

This morning I went to the clinic wearing two layers on the bottom & three layers on top. My hair was up so I could avoid an icy shower, and I was enjoying the car’s greenhouse effect, making it the only warm-able place.

Where am I?!

We gave out coffee and Ovaltine this morning while the community warmed up by the fire. I was making some tea for myself and just thought we might as well share, since we can! As I went in and out of the house heating up water and such, I would return to three-year-old Zen Yaw wearing my shoes. I teased him the first few times for taking my shoes. Then I wondered if his shoe-less, sock-less feet might just be really cold, and maybe he just wanted to be off of the tile & concrete.

“Do you want my shoes, buddy?”
“Yes. Want.”

So off he went in shoes a few sizes too large, and then promptly spilled his hot sticky Ovaltine all over them a few minutes later!

sight for aung moe.

February 9, 2016 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: house calls, house church, kelli, on the house, photos, stephen Leave a Comment

This will require some back story for those who might not know Aung Moe.

Three years ago, Aung Moe was brought to our house unconscious, and we rushed him to the hospital. He was diagnosed with meningeal encephalitis, and the doctors were pretty certain he was going to die. They asked us to choose how he would have liked to be cremated.

We requested that we wait until he actually died. And then we called a pastor friend of ours, who came and prayed for him in the midst of all of his friends.

And Aung Moe got better! It was quite the recovery, both miraculous and difficult. We eventually picked him up from the hospital still unable to walk and unable to see, and with a bill we certainly didn’t have the ability to pay. The hospital was actually grateful to have him out of their responsibility since he required so much care, and accepted less than 5% of the bill.

We got him back to his house, where he lived alone. His friends helped him with basic tasks and we provided food and things that he needed. He was able to walk again and could care for himself more and more, and now we only buy his food and basic needs week to week. A friend still makes his meals for him and many different people in the community look after him.

We are constantly trying to find new ways to try to help him–we’ve just recently ordered him a crank radio so he can listen through the day; we try to anticipate his needs of clothing or blankets for changing weather. He has gotten braver to ask for specific things, and it all gets easier as we learn more and more Burmese.

He has been diagnosed with cortical blindness. His eyes are functioning normally, but aren’t properly connecting to his brain. This can heal over time, but usually does within the first few months to a year, which we have long past. In recent visits to the eye doctor, they have told us he’s done healing and this is as good as it will get.

However, it continues to improve. Even in the last six months, he has begun to be able to see long distances, but still is unable to see nearer to him. Recently, we started encouraging the kids to pray for Aung Moe and they have really begun to be excited about it. Someone mentions him every week when ask for prayer requests, and we are all praying for his sight to return, particularly his near-sight, so that he might be able to work again some day.

This has been surprisingly complicated. I find myself hesitant to “get the kids hopes up”–a fancy way to say I’m skeptical and struggling to believe. I want them so badly to see Jesus–to see that He loves them and sees them, this little community right here on Samaksuppakan Road.

More and more in our time here, I struggle to believe his goodness. There are so many things we have prayed for that he has chosen not to fulfill. Or perhaps he is another way we can’t see–but again, this is fancy way to say it doesn’t look like it.

I struggle to understand that just because he CAN heal Aung Moe, that he might choose not to.

And it’s true, he might choose not to.

But I think we’re still called to pray, and even to pray for big things. Perhaps we’ll be the little widow in Luke 18, and our Good King will give justice speedily.

So while we pray together here, we wanted to ask you to join us. Please pray for Aung Moe’s sight, and even for work for him. We have it posted on our wall, and maybe you’d post it on yours? Print this picture of him or write his name somewhere, and pray with us.

When the Son of Man comes, may he find faith on earth! (Luke 18:8)

only two people.

January 19, 2016 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: kelli, on the house Leave a Comment

I read a book last week about a Vietnamese refugee who came over in the 1970s. It was a great story and one I oddly connected with–partially in our work with refugees stateside & partially in our own life straddling Asian and American culture.

One passage in particular stuck out to me, and it has haunted me this week. I can’t find it again, but only recall him discussing poverty and remembering being grateful for a small meal as he sat next to children who didn’t have lunches to eat.

Something about it made me wonder if all the kids in our neighborhood have lunch at school each day. Do they have breakfast?

In short: are they sitting outside my door and playing in my home hungry?

I remember one morning as the kids gathered at “the bus stop”–our porch–I watched one of the little girls open her lunch pail. There were two little layers in the container, each with rice and one sausage; which would serve as lunch for her and her brother.

That is a small lunch, yes.

But it bothered me more to watch her tear each sausage in two so they could eat part of it now, at eight in the morning. They each had a few bites of rice, and then she packed it all back up to take with her.

I asked her if that was for lunch or for breakfast? Was she hungry? She said it was fine; it was for lunch. I couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed that I had perhaps “caught” her eating lunch early? Or perhaps it really was nothing? I couldn’t really tell.

I haven’t seen it much since; they mostly bring their lunch pails and set them on the porch until the school car comes and everything is gathered in a flurry.

But when I read this in that book, it worried me.

You see, sometimes living in poverty becomes, well, a part of our every day. I see what the kids eat for dinner, since again, they often eat it on our porch. I see the insides of their homes and I see the tears in their clothes.

I might make little mends to their clothes or offer them snacks and food here and there; we might help a family with food or support a neighbors local business to help their families out. But poverty becomes a part of our every day.

Yes, everyone is poor. Yes, the meals are unbalanced and minimal. Yes, the homes are small. Yes, the clothes are worn through. Yes, the littles kids are crying and want to be held.

Yes, this is life. So we learn the names and love the families. And it becomes, in many ways, normal.

I am ashamed to admit that in many ways it becomes acceptable.

But what if they are hungry? I tell myself they will tell me; I tell myself they know we’ll give them something as we have every time before.

And yet, I find myself dreaming of a breakfast plan: how could we serve breakfast every morning before school and work? How could we find something small to send them on their way with protein and vitamins? How do we give these children a chance? How can fit that into our lives that are already so far over capacity?

But what about capacity and boundaries; what about sustainability? These are big words we use in our education and our studies, but how do they rival words like hunger? Or starvation? What do these words mean when we lift our eyes from a book and rest them on a face with a future?

We are only two people. We are just two people with hearts broken, asking God to show us how to love well.

countdown to christmas: tuesday.

December 27, 2015 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: housewares, kelli, on the house, photos Leave a Comment

Now we really had to buckle down to getting presents sorted.

Unfortunately, there was a little three-hour detour to the clinic for a dog bite to the head of a five-year-old.

Our Flour & Flower deliveries usually happen on Friday, so for Christmas week we moved them up a day. And for a Christmas special, we offered the secret Spurlock roll for sale. I thought I could make them the night before, as needed, and they could help me shape & bake them the following day. It would be a fun expansion of something I’d be baking anyway, and allow Pyo Pyo & Nyein Nyein to make some extra money!This left me kneading a huge ball of dough that evening.It also exploded in our fridge and in Laura & Kelvin’s fridge!

We finished buying gifts and started wrapping about 6pm. I starting falling asleep over presents at 1:30am, just finishing all the gifts for the kids.

countdown to christmas: monday.

December 27, 2015 by Stephen & Kelli Spurlock Filed Under: kelli, on the house, photos Leave a Comment

By Monday, we really needed to get started on buying and packaging gifts for the community! With a list of seventy families, plus over 130 personal gifts, we had a lot ahead of us.

We made it to three or four stores and managed to knock out about $700 worth of purchases by 6pm.

And the evening: the evening held great things! For Stephen’s anniversary gift this year, I gave him all six of the Star Wars series, with the promise of watching them together. We have been squeezing them in for dates nights around the trip to America and all the festivities. Monday we went to see Episode 7!

This included one of Stephen’s Christmas gifts—an R2-D2 ornament. Which, at the time, I apologized that it might be cheesy or silly. Instead, he loved it way more than I imagined and nearly every guy that has come into our home since then has seen it on the tree and commented about how great it is.

It was such a fun night out in the middle of everything and Episode 7 was pretty epic, if I may say so myself.