We found him on our floor this morning. Cute.
numbers.
Our last week looked something like this: Stephen and I, one Karen translator, one Thai driver, and a team of nineteen.
Yes, nineteen. That’s nine over Partners’ typical cap of ten, with fourteen of these nineteen being under twenty.
We drove about seven hours south of Mae Sot, to a small village called Klaw Taw, and spent five days with the local children. Half of the team worked at the local village school with Stephen & the Thai driver, while the other half bumped over some rough roads for an hour each day to visit the nearby refugee camp.
It was a long week.
There were some highs:
We were in the middle of nowhere with a significant number of Karen around us, one of our favorite adventures.
We enjoyed some cool nights and delicious food cooked over fires.
Stephen took some amazing photos of the local kids while practicing his photography skills on a new camera. Here are my two favorites:
I practiced my Karen, and even got a few things across! I’m learning more and more, and most importantly–I’m getting braver.
One of the little Karen girls gave me a shoulder massage, which was a highlight for many reasons, one being her adorableness.
And we attended a Karen wedding, which I always love.
There were some lows:
There were so many of us, and, oh my, did we stick out. And, oh my, was it hard to keep everyone sorted.
I had to drive to the camp every day, and driving is one of my least favorite things. Add that to the pothole-filled roads with Westerners who are used to smooth roads, and it’s not so fun. The “roads” in the camp are just pathways that have been smoothed over, still with rocks, crevices, and creeks everywhere. There are people surrounding you, chickens running around, children who aren’t used to vehicles and trying to touch them as they go by. It’s terrifying, and barely wide enough for one truck. At one point we met upon a huge truck there to deliver rations. I ended up reversing the entirety of the aforementioned narrow path, with an Englishman using phrases like “Anti-clockwise! Anti-clockwise!”, taking me a moment to translate; another Englishman spinning his fingers in my rearview mirror, again a little hard to follow amidst the choas. And lastly, a Karen man shouting in my window another phrase I was trying to translate.
Oh my.
Both of us felt a little sick toward the end of the week, and I took a real dive on Sunday when we returned. Sunday and Monday were spent sleeping for me, and I’ve just now had my first real meal since being sick! Stephen did four loads of laundry, swept, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, and ran to get groceries while I slept the days away.
And now?
We’re back. Hopefully getting into the swing of…something. We’re attempting to tackle things this week and taking a few can’t-wait-until-they-get-here days off next week.
Papa Doc.
I remember when I was a kid, about 6, and I went to get the mail at my grandparents’ house. The envelope was addressed to “William F. Puryear.” I went inside and asked, who is William F. Puryear? I remember everyone laughing, because at age 6 I didn’t know my grandfather’s name. I had never heard his full name. Everyone I knew called him “Doc,” except family–we called him “Papa Doc.”
I have heard the story many times before, and even still I get the details confused as to how the name “Doc” came to be, because Papa Doc wasn’t a doctor. However, the story of how is not important to me as that of who he is.
Some of you know exactly why I am writing this blog right now. I normally don’t write blogs; Kelli is a lot more gifted in that area. But, for those of you who don’t know why I am writing, it is because I am almost 10,000 miles away, mourning the loss my Papa Doc. Right now in Dumas, Arkansas, Papa Doc’s funeral is taking place, and this is the hardest moment to be in Thailand, yet.
I haven’t been to many funerals in my life, which is a blessing. I have been to some when I was younger and had difficulties understanding all the emotions that come with losing someone you love. I still don’t understand. I have been to some funerals that were in support of others and their loss; I have been to funerals for babies and funerals of tragic loss. Funerals are always hard, but the joy amidst the loss of a full life are the stories. Papa Doc lived to be 83, and I can truly say he “lived.” I am sure there have been many stories over the last few days, and even stories being said right now; that is where it has been hard to not be around family as we celebrate Papa Doc’s life. So bear with me as I tell a few of my stories of Papa Doc. Most don’t have many details–which I find, sadly, is how most of my memories are–mixed with my lack of writing skill…but it is needed.
I remember wood working. Papa Doc loved to work with wood, and when I was younger that is what we did together: we made things. I still use the tie rack that we made; it is hanging up in my room in Sherwood. We made a few bird houses, candle holders, a jewelry box for my mom, cd racks for me; and I even got to help Papa Doc with some of his greatest creations–the church replicas he made for my mom and many others. But it was never about what we made; it was about the time together. I remember how we wore surgical masks to keep us from breathing in saw dust. I remember Papa Doc teaching me how to measure, use a straight edge, and logically think things through. I remember I was in-charge of the on/off switch on the table saw. It was for safety that I just moved the switch, but I didn’t care because I was spending time with Papa Doc, and I loved that no matter what we did.
Food was always a big part of part of Papa Doc’s life. I know food is a part of everyone’s life, but with Papa Doc it was different–he appreciated food. And Papa Doc taught me how to appreciate food, from the well stocked candy drawer to driving an hour and a half to a dirty little restaurant with a small, delicious menu. Papa Doc taught me how to like steak. I remember it was at the Colonial Steak House in Pine Bluff. It was just Papa Doc, Sherry & me. He taught me about the tenderloin and the sirloin, and how it worked well that Sherry and he liked different parts so they could share. He taught me about “au jus,” and we had some ordered to our table. I also remember trying crab legs for the first time; same restaurant, different time. We had Papa Doc’s birthday party there, where he proceeded to tell us he was retiring for real this time, which he had said many times before and still didn’t stop working. The food was always great, but it was so much more than food; it was time together and Papa Doc investing in me.
One of the specific memories I have with Papa Doc, I was really young and under 100 pounds. My mom’s side of the family all went white water rafting. I remember my weight because I had to be over 100 pounds to be able to go, and I was fortunately under that minimum. It was fortunate, though, because I got to spend that day with Papa Doc. I remember feeling left out and mad that I could not go with the family, but then Papa Doc took me out for the day. I felt like I got to do something special and everyone else got left out. I remember we went to one of those tourist traps where you buy a bag of dirt and you sift for gold or precious stones in it. He let me fall for the trap and probably paid a lot for those bags of dirt to sift through, but I loved it. We found some stones and a big chunk of fools gold, and I got to spend the day with Papa Doc because I was, fortunately, under weight.
There are so many memories and stories: fishing in a stocked lake, then scaling hundreds of fish when we return home. Going on trip to Gatlinburg and riding with just him in the old Blazer. Going to the club in Dumas, or the grocery store where he had a tab. Drinking Papa Doc cokes on the front porch at Hemlock Inn. Eating at that great Chinese restaurant in Levy, or going up to his office in Dumas to see where he worked. When he came to my wedding in Sherwood. Christmases in Dumas, vacations to Gatlinburg, and meeting in Pine Bluff or at Terrace on the Green.
Every time he introduced me to someone new, I was his “favorite grandson”–and his only grandson–but still I loved to hear it.
The memory that left the most impact on me wasn’t too long ago. It was my mom, Sherry, Papa Doc & I who went for lunch at a local fish fry restaurant in Dumas. I remember very clearly Papa Doc looking at me, saying that I was going to do great things. I had just started college, and I could see Papa Doc, someone I loved and respected so much, breathing purpose into me. I left that lunch believing that and feeling like Papa Doc believed in me.
The hard part about being in Thailand during this time of losing Papa Doc is that it is his example–how he raised my mom, that then trickled down into how my parents raised me–why I am in Thailand, trying to help others. Papa Doc’s example of living his life set an example for me to live my life. Papa Doc always supported me–both times I went to Swaziland, the first 3 month trip to Thailand, and now as we live here. We came to Thailand with his blessing.
Papa Doc was always helping people, and set a great example for me to live my life to fullest, to be like Christ, and to enjoy every minute. Papa Doc always quoted Mark Twain’s do-right rule, “Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” He lived his life following the this rule.
I thank the Lord I knew Papa Doc and got to see his example of living life, even as I sit here in Thailand in tears missing him.
remember that?
Remember that trip to America? It was pretty wonderful.
Here a just a few snapshots to capture the joy.
Miss them more than I even thought.
Remember this post? I got to see her!
I got to run a 5k with my favorite running partner!
Our biggest fans
Reunited soul mates.
five | six | seven.
Christmas party five: Mae Ra Moe refugee camp on Tuesday;
Christmas party six: Mae La Oon refugee camp on Wednesday;
and Christmas party seven: Mae Ka Ta orphanage on Thursday.
Photos won’t be able to capture the three days of off-road driving required to get to each place, but we’ll attempt to at least capture the fun festivities.
four.
Our fourth Christmas festivity: the neighborhood Christmas party.
It was chaotic, to say the least.
Remember the small group that sent us a whole load of presents? It started there. This past week we sorted through all of them, divided them into age groups, and wrapped them up into about sixty gifts.
After quite a bit of thought, we decided we didn’t want to always be the ones to be giving things to the neighbor children. We thought we might take this opportunity to bless the parents instead. We invited all of the parents into our home and had about twenty-five show up. There was just one father in the bunch, a couple grandmothers, many mothers, and one older sister.
And so we started. Our co-worker, Yim, was so very kind and agreed to help us translate on a Saturday night, in the midst of absolute chaos. We started with introducing ourselves, telling them that we were Christians and why we celebrated Christmas. We explained the Jesus was gift to us, so we gave gifts to others. We gave them the presents and encouraged them to give them to their children whenever they wanted. We also had the story of both Christmas & Easter written out in Burmese for them to take home.
It seems so calm, doesn’t it? It wasn’t. There was so much chatter, some Karen and some Burmese, trying to determine how old everyone’s children were and if they were boys or girls, while Stephen and I were getting a little worried about having enough.
How many children do you have? I’m sorry, did you say six?
In the end, it worked out pretty much amazingly. Not smoothly, but amazingly.
We had a few families come up afterward and tried to deliver as many as we could. We certainly covered the many children that regularly deposit themselves on our porch to play.
And the kids loved them, which always makes the insanity worth it.
The night didn’t end there. Tonight was a lunar eclipse, so everyone very shortly began watching the moon. The kids were making some interesting motions, something of pointing to the moon and then making a blowing-up motion. Stephen grabbed a piece of paper and drew a photo explaining a lunar eclipse (something I personally appreciated). The kids then took the pen and drew a person playing the drums.
What?
Stephen went in to get his djembe, in an attempt to sort out what they meant. Little did we know that this would start an entire event that drew out parents, children, and neighbors. The djembe and it’s musicians moved into the street, and we were joined by some other creative instrumentals.
And then we banged on things for at least half an hour while we watched the moon.
Wow.
We played some more and sang the local Christmas favorite–Merry Christmas to the tune of Happy Birthday.
And then we laughed even more.
three.
Third Christmas party: Mae La refugee camp.
It was pretty similar to the last party Partners hosted, with the notable difference of more staff being there. We had Partners staff from Chiang Mai come down and most of the Mae Sot staff come together to have a dinner the night before and go together to Mae La.
There was a lot of singing. This group sang “Silver Bells” with a really beautiful Asian accent. I also enjoyed “Give thanks with a grateful heart…”, which just really makes you think when its coming from a group of orphaned children living in a refugee camp.
Partners proudly presented the nativity story as a bilingual skit. Stephen & I landed the roles of Joseph & Mary, complete with a plastic baby to be born out the side of my tunic.
Small world moment of the day? When I traveled to Thailand in 2006, a small group of us went into Mae La one day–the one day that changed nearly every day following it–and visited one of Partners dorms. Kris Allen, who went on to win American Idol Season 8, was a member of my team and left his guitar with the kids. It is still one of the hostels Partners supports, and we had the Christmas party there; we found that they’re still using the guitar and singing loudly!
mentionables.
A few mentionables:
We make a rushed trek up to Chiang Mai, spent three hours in the armpit of Thailand called immigration, and got our visas sorted out! We now have permission to leave the country legally and return again.
————
Stephen picked up one of our little neighbor girls this week and was holding her on the porch. She looked in our door and saw the Christmas tree, and shouted, “Mehry Chreetmah!” Surprised at her knowing the English words and traditions, he smiled and said, “Yeah! Merry Christmas!”
She then shook her head no and corrected him dramatically, “Mehry Chreet-mah.”
He nodded, “Yeah, merry Christmas.”
She shook her head no and repeated it again. Stephen tried it her way, “Mehry Chreetmah?”
She flashed a huge smile and nodded triumphantly. I guess we’re celebrating “Mehry Chreemah” around here.
————
Our boss and her husband delivered a Christmas present to us today! They bought us a slow cooker, which will be a huge blessing. The stove can heat up the whole house while I boil black beans or chickpeas for a few hours, and it will also be nice to start something before I go and come back to dinner ready!
Either way, the box had us laughing.
Is their best marketing campaign that you can now buy questionable meat and then, after hours of slow cooking, make it chewable?
two.
Second Christmas festivity of the year: ours!
We set up our Christmas tree, complete with Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers in the background, Western food for dinner, and fresh cookies!
It’s a little small, but it was just $3 on the classifieds!
I made gingerbread cookies! I had to find a recipe that used corn syrup instead of molasses, and then I had to make the corn syrup and chop up fresh ginger since we didn’t have the powder. They turned out wonderfully; we’d like to make more to decorate when we’re back in the States.
Merry Christmas!
one.
First Christmas party of the year: Noh Poe refugee camp.
We were in the mountains about five hours outside of Mae Sot, and it was cold! Very, very cold, particularly for a bamboo hut and bucket bathing.
{Partners staff}
{singing carols}
{wise words from the leader}
{the kids acted out the Christmas story, and it was hilarious: here are the shepherds and sheep, or kids in blankets behind the chairs}
{Herod’s guard, threatening the wise men with a badminton racquet}
{the wise men’s offerings: a coconut, Christmas tinsel, and a pen}
{a few hours of games, crafts, and general merriment}
{what says Christmas better than a game of tug-of-war?}
{each student receives a gift; this year each student received a bag, hand sewn by a church in the US, and a new pencil case stocked with pencils, erasers, and a sharpener}
{gifts for the caregivers: a jacket that says “Partners Children’s Projects” on the back with a bible verse}
{a very wise, crazy leader with some joyful students on Christmas day}
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