Though seemingly unrelated, these all come together in the end.

————————–

Our landlord furnished the house with a new mattress when we arrived. This was great, except for it being poor quality. Only six months in, we were waking up with springs jabbing into us. To save money, we purchased a mattress topper (rather than a new mattress); it’s just two or three inches of pure foam that lies on top of the mattress.

————————–

We purchased our bed frame over a year ago, and ordered it very tall. We don’t have any closets or storage of any kind in our house, so we raised mattress high enough to put our luggage, Christmas tree, sleeping bags, and much more underneath our bed frame.

This was a great idea, except our bed is quite monstrously off the ground. The top of our mattress hits me above the hip.

————————–

When we left the jungle a couple weeks ago, we left our backpacking bag with Yim, full of things we wouldn’t need in Bangkok and Chiang Mai. This was primarily “jungle clothes,” sleeping bags, and flashlights.

She returned this bag to us when she got back on Thursday night, about an hour before thirty Partners’ staff members from Chiang Mai & Mae Sot arrived to our house for dinner.

I promptly placed the bag on the far side of the bed and out of view of guests, planning to unload it later.

Two days later, the bag remained beside the bed, partially unpacked when we needed things, so simply now a bigger mess with an external metal frame poking you in unexpected places.

————————–

I got in a motorbike accident on Tuesday, leaving a patch on my left arm raw. It was reopened yesterday when I made the mistake of putting on a sweater, which adhered to my new scab. Stephen also accidentally hit it a few times, resulting in a few shrieks.

As we went to bed, he suggested he sleep on my right side, so that there is less of a chance of him hitting my left arm during the night.

————————–

It was here that I went to climb over the backpacking bag and jump onto the bed on Stephen’s side. What I didn’t realize is that the mattress topper was off-center, and what looked like mattress was really just a few inches of foam hanging over the edge. I started to slip off and expressed something of, “Whoa! I almost fell off the bed.”

I then climbed on at the end (to continue avoiding the bag mess) and laid down. As I asked Stephen what time he wanted to get up, I rolled over to reach the cell phone charger on the floor.

Unfortunately, the mattress topper was still off center. There was a good four inches of appeared mattress, with nothing to truly hold you. I proceeded to roll right off the bed, three feet down, injured arm and all, onto the external-framed-metal bag.

And then we laughed for a very long time!

God is good; just so good.

Last year, we spent Thanksgiving inside during a training. It was quite non-traditional, with rice rice, curried pumpkin, and frog. We didn’t see family–in true form or on Skype; I taught all day in a little hut in the middle of the jungle. But it was good; I remember being thankful for the experience.

When we returned, we did many of the usual Christmas activities around Mae Sot: visiting children’s homes that Partners supports and hosting Christmas parties. We brought crafts, games, presents, and the Christmas story.

One of these Christmas parties is to Mae La refugee camp, and a large group of staff tries to go from both our Mae Sot & Chiang Mai offices. I remember looking around and just being so delighted with the Christmas season. I loved the play the children put together, I remember reveling in the music, and somehow it just feeling so Christmas-y, even in the sun and heat and huts. I distinctly remember looking around the room last year and just thinking how grateful I was to be in Thailand for Christmas.

My parents came for Christmas, as well, and joined in on the Christmas parties and events. We had Christmas Day in Mae Sot, and then spent a few days in Chiang Mai before they flew out.

Fast forward to this year, when sometime mid-year we got the idea of visiting England over Christmas. It started because we had frequent flier miles that were expiring, and we thought we had enough to cover one-way for each of us. We started to look into it but learned from the travel agent that one-way would cost similar, or sometimes more, than a round-trip ticket. We considered not going; we considered just paying the round-trip for both of us. Did we have the money? Was it a wise way to spend? Is it just too extravagant to spend Christmas in England?

It felt like such a magical idea, perhaps it was too magical for us in our little Mae Sot lives.

But we still felt like we should pursue it. It felt like God was blessing it, and we decided to go ahead and write the travel agent about round-trip tickets.

Meanwhile, I suggested a cap for the tickets. What if they were under this price? Then it’d feel like such a miraculous deal…

It felt far fetched. I don’t know if it was or not, as I don’t watch tickets from Bangkok to London, but it felt like I was just being hopeful. Stephen assured me it was okay to spend more than that; we’d just see what the agent sent and pray about it.

The price he sent our way was 60 cents cheaper than my ticket price cap. Sixty cents.

My {cheap} heart {wished I set a lower cap, but also} reveled in these miraculous tickets!

For the two of us, both awful, over-analytical decision makers, we made what felt like a fast and impulsive decision. We felt like it was right, and we had 24 hours to decide. And we bought them.

Fast forward a few weeks or months–I’m not sure!–as we were making plans for our training in November. Stephen & I both thought we should spend Thanksgiving in Mae Sot, so we scheduled our travels to return a day or two before Thanksgiving.  We helped with the preparations and enjoyed a lovely Thanksgiving with some of our American friends here in Mae Sot. It was lovely, and full of all the traditional foods. We saw both of our families over Skype, and it was wonderful.

But honestly, as I sat among friends and enjoyed the Thanksgiving atmosphere, I was really thankful we were going to England. I told Stephen this later. I had been thankful from the beginning for the opportunity to go to England. But while we sat there, I felt like it was really a gift this Christmas, and I am more thankful for it.

Yesterday we went to Mae La for the annual Christmas party, and my response was the same. I loved the people around me, I enjoyed the skit, I loved seeing the kids open their presents with gleaming faces. It was a good day. It was Christmas-y. I was thankful. But I told Stephen yet again, this trip is a gift; more than I even thought before!

The year has been difficult for us. Have I said that before? Oh, yes, just a few times. No one will truly know all the intricacies of it–the pain coming from our time in America, from within our family, from work, from our community, and from within our marriage; the challenges and struggles and questions on every single side. We have tried to explain it to others here in Mae Sot, we’ve tried to talk to other expats, we’ve tried to share with family and friends, we’ve talked to a counselor; but in the end we know it’s just our road to walk.

Either way, we have commented, cried, and joked that God seems to think we can handle much more than we believe we can. As one more mess hits the fan or another painful event spins off us, we start asking questions. We start to argue that we’re not strong enough and this is too much; don’t you know where are limitations are? I don’t mean this in a dramatic way or even as a joke; I mean that I genuinely have feared that I might be just going crazy and crushing under the weight. Perhaps there was some confusion? I’m failing at handling it!

And yesterday, we sat at Mae La, and I was almost in tears with gratefulness, and maybe relief? I told Stephen that I am so thankful we are going to England. That’s just not even it; I can’t even express it. I just feel that it is a sweet gift from a Father that gives good gifts to His children. I didn’t know how sweet it was, I didn’t know how haywire this year was going to go, I thought I’d reached my end eighty times over.  I don’t know about the money or how to defend our decision; I just know that God is good. And this trip is a story of His goodness to us, whether it means that to you or not.

Stephen sweetly replied, “He knew. He knew that December 20th was our limit. We’ll make it to that.”

We’ve had some stomach problems this week in the community. I gave out little gingerbread cookies with icing on Sunday night, only to have two kids throwing them up. Another little girl came over with horrible cramps and pains, and there was the little boy that threw up all over the community space.

So when Meh Meh Toe came to me saying she had a stomachache, I wasn’t overly concerned. I told her to wait and we’d see. After a couple days of her telling me, I was more concerned. I also noticed that she was always grabbing her side; it wasn’t in the middle, where you get nauseous. It was on her upper side, where you’d get a running cramp.

And having had worms myself and taken the worm medicine (which gives similar pains as it kills the worms…), I started to get an inkling she might have worms. With oh-so-ladylike hand motions, I asked her if when she went to the bathroom she saw little worms in her poo.

She nodded an emphatic yes and pointed to her sister, “Che Na Na, same same!”

She then went on to use more oh-so-ladylike hand motions to inform me that sometimes Che Na Na throws up worms, too!

Oh, lovely. That is a significant worm infestation, and something Pepto-bismol wasn’t going to cure. Poor girls! No wonder their stomachs were hurting!

I came outside to say hi to the kiddos and found little Oo Wah Tah, an almost-two-year-old, with a little chick in her hands. She was gripping it as most two-year-olds would, and the chick looked a little uncomfortable. His feathers were ruffled and he looked like he was struggling to breathe.

I encouraged her to put the chick down; the other kids translated. She looked at me like I was crazy, why would she let this little treasure go? I urged her on, to put the little chick down to play and find his mom.

She considered my words and expression carefully.

And then she threw it.

She just chunked the little guy with full two-year-old force–at least three or four feet to the left and then off the porch, so at least three feet down. Let’s just the chick looked startled, more ruffled, and was now only using one little chicken leg.

I’m sure I gasped loudly, and then continued to gasp as other kids gathered around to “help” him–I was trying to tell them to just let him be to find his mother.

This is when Stephen said it’d probably be best if I just went inside. Poor little chick.

We had a difficult situation today.

I think the temptation with blogs–and Facebook, Instagram, or any social media–is to only be fake. We are only posting our best: the parts of the day we are choosing to share because they are beautiful, joyful, or exciting. We’re proud of them. The reality of tears, fights, questions, fears, and insecurities are rarely shown.

I want to attempt to show both the best of our lives here and the ugly realities. Don’t get me wrong, I will still edit what I write. I don’t want to be offensive or awkwardly honest; I don’t think every sorrow must to be shared. But I do think it is easy to romanticize a life overseas, a life in a foreign land with tropical weather and exotic foods, a life with beautiful little kids around us. The photos do tell the story: that is our life! We do have kids in our home and they are adorable. There are countless funny stories.

There is also vomit to clean up at the end of the day. There are times we are dealing with drunkenness, children being beaten, and sexual abuse. We don’t want to deny that those exist. They are reality.

Today’s reality involved stealing.

I told a couple of the girls they could come in to do puzzles, at which point I discovered two puzzles were missing and two pairs of flip flops that had been sent to us for the kids. Both had been on the shelves in the community space. I called a couple of the kids in and asked them about it, and a great discussion ensued as they argued over who was to blame. In the end, we learned that six of the girls had been involved. We later learned that one girl had instigated it and the others had been watching.

Everything was returned. But either way, it was discouraging.

It is so difficult to know how to handle such a situation: how do we punish–and communicate punishment–in a positive way? How do we communicate that this is unacceptable, but also extend grace? How do we show disapproval, but not show so much disapproval that a) they are scared or b) their parents are upset? For some of the kids, I know the choice of punishment at home is severe beatings. I’ve bandaged the wounds from such beatings, and we certainly didn’t want something like that coming from puzzles and flip flops.

There are so many cultural and family elements at play; there are boundaries to consider and setting precedents.

But God was good. He gives us grace in each and every circumstance; He gives us words and equips us every step of the way. It is really no less than a miracle that we are here, that our relationships with the community are good; that we have not been taken advantage of more significantly!

And then, at the end of the day, He brought redemption.

A group of the kids came over after visiting the Sunday night market down the street. They came with a Christmas package for us, and it was a beautiful little light-up Christmas tree they had purchased from the market! It flashes a variety of bright colors, and is a true market treasure, if you will.

Really, it was just so sweet.

I also had a conversation tonight with Mo Bya, one of our primary Karen-Burmese translators. His wife has been working outside of town and is now caring for her elderly mother, and he was telling me about his upcoming trip back to Burma to care for his own mom.  I asked if he’d ever be interested in moving back to Burma as things improved. He told me about the situation there, how there was very little work and it wouldn’t be good for his son; the healthcare was poor. He said there is work here in Mae Sot, and it is better because we are here to help. If someone is sick, we can help; if they have a need, we are there to help. This makes their lives here better.

I was so humbled to have his say this me–so boldly; so unashamed.

I told him that we try, but really don’t know what we are doing. And I told him thank you.

We talked about other things, including Aung Moo’s current conditions. It has been a community effort to care for him as he can’t see or walk. We talked about caring for each other.

We are really thankful the Lord gave us this little glimpse into the mind of the community. Mo Bya’s words were such an encouraging reminder that God has placed us here, that he is working here; that there is a purpose to all of the questions about stealing and abuse and addiction.

Sometimes just one day holds both really wonderful joys and really harsh realities.