The House Collective

freedom & fullness.

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Admittedly understated, Stephen is pretty great.

He loves well: me, his family and friends, our neighbors, and the people of Burma on the whole. He has a variety of skills and an even larger variety of random knowledge at his disposal; and even more, he works to use them to love better.

And that’s why I love his work, why I’m posting this video for you to see, and why I brag on him now. He simply wants to capture the people of Burma–their smiles, their stories, their past & future–and the Kingdom coming among them.

made with love.

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This Christmas, Partners’ has a variety of Christmas presents that are made with love and can be purchased for the children of Burma.
You can watch Stephen’s second video to learn more about these gifts, or click here to see the first video.

discretionary funds.

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I often wonder what life would be like if we lived in the middle of nowhere. The past three weeks have very eye-opening; however, I know I will never fully understand their lives.

I have been spending lots of time with one of the assistant teachers. He oversees the electrical things at the school: the generator, the wireless router, the printer, and a number of batteries.  He makes sure everything is charged and the students have access to internet and electricity for a few hours each day.  He also teaches Karen, but he isn’t right now as Kelli is teaching all day.

Today I learned that one of the teachers at this school gets paid $100 for nine months of work teaching and living at this boarding school.

I was overwhelmed at the difference of income.

For this teacher work isn’t a 9 to 5 ordeal, but it is a life. He wakes up at 5:30am to start work and finishes at 11pm. He wasn’t able to go to a wedding this past weekend because it interfered with his weekend responsibilities!

His sustenance is taken care of. His basic needs are met: food, shelter, water & social interaction. But what about the everything else?

The conversation continued, and I learned that he spent the first 30% ($30) on clothes. And I don’t intend to be rude, but I want to point out that I have only seen three sets of clothes. His most worn shirt has a huge hole in the right armpit.

The first day he asked me if I could find him an ESV Bible in Thailand. I said I could mail him one. Kelli’s parents are on their way to visit, and we emailed them to bring one. I told him about the Bible coming, and he got really excited. He said he has found the ESV to be the closest to the Karen translation, so he can understand it more. I was surprised by his determination to read his Bible and practice his fourth language. I was then in awe as he offered to give me another 30% of his annual income to pay for the Bible! He offered $30, which is honestly not a lot when it comes to buying a Bible. Sometimes I am shocked at the prices of Bibles: leather-bound, cross-reference, study notes; some are very expensive. I am even more shocked when it you put it in terms of of his income. I assured him we would send it to him as a gift.

I was thinking he might want to spend some more on clothes, since these are wearing out. He said his family lives far away–two weeks of travel–and he is going to visit over the school break, so he needs to save the money.

I am still amazed at how much of his annual income he was willing to give up to buy a Bible.

Earlier this week I listened to a podcast by Louis Giglio about leveraging your money for the Kingdom. As I think about it, I wish I could spend my money like this individual. I wish I had a mindset of what is really important – the most important book written on the most important subject – and be willing to spend whatever it takes to get my hands on one.

cheese.

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Cheese is a precious commodity around here.

Since we arrived, there have been two shops that sell cheese.

The first brings down cheese from Chiang Mai, and I was optimistic. However, upon tasting them, they are very similar in consistency to rubber. And, the three types–parmesan, smoked cheddar, and French–taste the same and are the same texture. I’m not a cheese or food connoisseur, but I do know that parmesan should not taste like cheddar, nor should it be flexible. Really, cheddar shouldn’t be all that flexible.

The other place is Tescos, which has offered three varieties that aren’t processed. All three are cheddar that are, again, shockingly similar in taste, although it is a good taste in this scenario. They are also imported from New Zealand and shockingly high in price. Our Tescos is also one of the smelliest places in the world–even worse than the rest of Mae Sot and Thailand–and I work very hard to visit there as little as possible. The smell has pushed me to buy my milk locally, so we only need to visit Tescos for cheese and yogurt, which thankfully last a relatively long time.

Anyway, we still couldn’t really afford, or I suppose justify, to eat a whole lot of it. But it was a fun treat to have for Western meals.

Until Tescos stopped selling it. Oh, they still sell the processed stuff in abundance, but they bailed on the actual cheese. I told myself it was just temporary while we used the rest of our stockpile in the fridge. And then we bought a block of the processed kind, which I just couldn’t bear.

And then, a glorious little shop in town found it’s niche market. They cater to the white folks, shipping things in from Bangkok and beyond, in bulk.

And so we now have cheese available, in bulk.

img_4461Yes, that is five pounds of cheese now filling our small fridge and freezer! But Stephen is thrilled. And it tastes real–even better than the New Zealand imports, because this is straight from the US of A!

It’s the simple things.

Papa Doc.

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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.

wedding.jpg

sad day.

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It’s probably not really that sad for you.

I wrote a few months ago asking everyone to enter into a sweepstakes to win a very large and expensive microphone collection in hopes of starting a recording studio in Thailand. However, as the title implies, we didn’t win.

Thanks to everyone who entered the sweepstakes, got Sweetwater magazines, and even got phone calls. I do hope you’re not bothered by them forever.

And I also hope to still start a recording studio some day.

stats.

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So our fancy blog provides us with a daily statistic of how many visitors we have to our blog. We check it, and basically watch it stay right around 50. It rarely dips below 20, and rarely rises above 80.  We’ve had maybe two “big days” over 100.

Until today.

Today, we apparently had 241 visitors to our humble little blog. 241!

Stats

Stephen’s convinced its a glitch.

I’m just curious: who are you?  And why today?

so…waiting?

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First off I want to thank everyone that went to Sweetwater’s website to apply for the giveaway, helping me work towards my big dreams.

So…it’s 6 October, and Sweetwater drew for their giveaway on or after 1 October. That’s a frustrating way to word it.

Just curious if anyone out there has received some good news from Sweetwater? I have been checking this website and looking for a name I recognize, but they still haven’t even posted the winner from August yet.

I guess we’ll keep waiting, and hopefully soon someone will comment with great news!