And after passing yet another mangy, sick, injured and diseased street dog, Stephen commented, “I think we should support the pound when we’re back in the US. I didn’t realize the good work they do.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJ4D9jzGPU0

Our afternoons rarely go as planned.

In an attempt to encourage cleanliness, we bought a new trash can for our yard this weekend. The children leave a mess regularly, and our occasional afternoon clean up couldn’t keep up.  And though there is a public trash can approximately three yards from our gate, we thought it was challenging to blame them if we didn’t provide a solution.

So we had a clean up party this afternoon. We brought the trash can out and planned to pick up trash, sweep the porch area, and head back inside. We had guests coming at seven, dinner to cook, snacks to prepare, and showers to be had.

But if nothing more, relationships without communication teach you a great deal of patience and flexibility.

And our half hour clean up turned into about three hours:

– We picked up trash, but also had to teach that the cards you still plan to use should not go into the trash can. The bag stays in the trash can. The trash goes in the bag, not under it. The lid is not a shield to be used in fighting matches. And yes, the motorbike is still off limits for touching.

– The pencil writings, crayon scribbles, and flower smears on our house are scrubbed off again. Well, all except one…

– Sweeping turned into breaking the broom and needing a new one, to be purchased at the store just down the way. Oh, but while Stephen is gone, Kelli is a perfect human jungle gym.

– As potted plants are moved for sweeping a ginormous ant nest is discovered just feet from our front door; something Kelli will not be able to sleep with. Ant chalk and ant spray are used in abundance, requiring the kids to be distracted on the the other side of the yard and encouraged to breathe the non-chemical air. Laughter ensues.

– Cilantro is planted for the third time, and is a community effort as usual–each child throws in a few seeds, many are on the floor.

– A visitor arrives to the neighborhood who knows English and Burmese, so Stephen is summoned for the conversation. We have a few moments to understand each other! We learn they’ve lost the key we gave them and feel terrible, but really appreciate us letting the kids play and allowing them to hide behind our house. We can communicate welcome and again reiterate the process of the garden: we work together, you can have the harvest! They are excited for the seeds we purchased this weekend, and a group is called over to help weed.

– A group comes over the to the yard and begins preparing the soil. The new trashcan becomes a bucket to transport weeds over the community; the weeds were laid down to help with the flooding and mud due to rainy season.  The process of weeding everything and carting weeds takes nearly two hours. And if I may say, the young girls were amazing!  There were a few twelve or thirteen year olds faithfully hoeing the weeds, and carting the bucket across the road loaded up on their shoulders.

– A little girl sneaks behind the back of the house to pee, somewhere in that little area where six people were hiding last week?! Hilarious.

And at the end of it all, we were so encouraged.  More and more of the community are speaking with us, or attempting to. We are beginning to work together and to learn from each other. I’m continually amazed at how few names we know and yet how much time we spend playing games with them, cleaning up their messes, talking about them, praying for how to love them well, and taking each opportunity as it comes.

And the encouragement is welcomed.

In an effort to pull ourselves together, we were cleaning out some things in our office today. The last team left behind many toys, games, and small gifts to donate, and they needed to be sorted through and divvied up. And amidst the pile, there was a baby doll with dark hair and dark eyes.

As I sorted the items with another staff member, we decided the doll should go to Sonya, our boss. Her daughter is just over two, and has just one doll that was purchased here locally–which, in truth, means it’s cheaply made and looks a little creepy. This new baby doll was so lovely, and we thought her daughter would love it and be truly thankful for it.

I put the doll in a plastic bag with a few other things and took it home in my bike basket, planning to deliver it at our bible study tonight. I didn’t think much of it as I pulled it out of the basket at home to bring it inside.

One of the little neighbor girls ran up to give me a hug, and peered toward the bag with interest. I wish I had captured the moment her eyes and brain connected the vague image of the baby doll through the plastic bag.

She gleamed.

Her shoulders lifted, her mouth dropped a little, and her eyes sparkled. She knew instantly what it was and how beautiful it was.

I felt so bad taking it inside, particularly as she stood at the door and watched where I set it down. She kept saying the same word in Burmese as she looked at it, as if it had captured her.

——–

I’ve seen one doll among the girls across the street, and I distinctly remember it. I ran into a little girl as I turned the corner while  walking back from the store. She instantly held up her doll and shoved it into my face with pride; and it scared me. Literally scared me.

It was a head–a doll head that lacked all of her hair, leaving little holes in systematic patterns. And the head had affectionately been placed on a stick that formed the body of the doll.

It instantly reminded me of Sid’s created toys in Toy Story.

——–

And so we began dreaming: what if we could have a community toy box, complete with dark-haired dolls, a few tough trucks, colorful balls and blocks? We’re still fleshing out the details, and honestly, praying.

This might be too honest–perhaps revealing how antisocial my core is; and how challenging it is for me to let anyone in or let myself out–but I think the neighbors across the street are my dearest friends here right now. Their smiles and hugs, the depth of their eyes, the lines on their hands: they are teaching me daily. The children are putting flesh on verses, theologies, theories, and ideologies that have been read, analyzed, memorized, and lectured, but remained distant; but now are running up to my bicycle and leaving snot marks and tanaka powder on my shirt.

Stephen has big dreams that he’s often recounting to me. A number of them revolve around a recording studio, and some day putting his college degree to positive use.  And the longer we’re here, the more those dreams capture the music of the oppressed and incorporate the lives of those around us.

His dreams are most often overwhelming to me. We’ve just arrived here, and it seems difficult to dream of another step ahead of us. I also get caught up in the practicalities of it all; that we don’t have $4000 to purchase the microphone you’d need, or even $300 for the “cheaper” one.

I’m learning, and really praying, for ways to be more of an encouragement to these dreams rather than simply a realist.

We all know that realism is really just pessimism with a better name anyway.

Here is the current glass that is just over the half mark: there is a company, Sweetwater, that sells music and recording gear. They have a monthly giveaway that Stephen keeps his eye on. September’s giveaway is a package of microphones worth $27,000–and he’s excited. He’s already registered–well, his dad has since you have to be stateside–and hoping. His mind is already turning with the possibilities this could hold.

So I’ve started praying he might win this, and I was wondering if you could, too.

And he would like to know if any of you would be willing to go register for the microphone package with a willingness to give it away 🙂

Here’s to dreaming big.

In an effort to not drown us all in sorrows, we’ll turn to When Parents Text–a pretty hilarious site of texts sent between kids and their parentals.

This made us laugh.

Happy World Peace Day!

Yes, that really is a day, and it’s now.

“When we truly discover love, capitalism will not be possible and Marxism will not be necessary.” -Will O’Brien

This quote always makes me think; and somehow fitting for achieving world peace.