“And Gideon came to the Jordan and crossed over,
he and the 300 men who were with him,
exhausted yet pursuing.”

Judges 8:4, ESV

I bought a new pair of jeans while we were in the States, and I officially think I might like them too much.

My first hint was that for two weeks straight I wore them four of five days to work. It doesn’t help that every time I wear them someone says it looks like I’ve lost weight.

…Take into consideration that the Karen comment on weight most every time they see you. I just prefer to be told I’m getting skinnier rather than fatter; particularly if the comment will be made either way.

But when do you like a pair of jeans too much?

Twice now, we have been riding the motorbike when Stephen will swerve to avoid a dog or someone will jump out in front of us–not uncommon, mind you–and my first thought will be something along the lines of: “Oh, please don’t wreck: I don’t want a hole in these jeans!”

Maybe I need to sort some priorities.

We were choosing a movie to watch on Saturday night and had narrowed it down to two: The Firm & Pelican Brief. (I guess we were in a ’93 rut?)

Stephen: “Well, he commits adultery in this one, and that really bothers you in movies. But her boyfriend dies in this one, so you’ll either be sitting there thinking, ‘What if Stephen commits adultery?’ or ‘What if Stephen dies?'”

Wow. He knows me too well. I totally do that.

I haven’t written much since we’ve been back in Mae Sot.

And to be honest, I’m not sure if its because there are too many thoughts in my head, or too few.

In many ways its the same: the same effort to take time for the kiddos across the street, that at times make me want to say “buh bye” in a syrupy sweet voice and shut my door; the same effort to embrace the opportunities we have living here–shopping at markets, communicating without words, and celebrating simplicity–while aching for a few complications of the West; the same effort to live life while poverty watches you to evaluate every step you take.

So perhaps there are equally as many thoughts, but few fresh ones.

I can say this: I still love Mae Sot, and I do love our lives here. I do still sense the lack of community–or perhaps the shift, which leaves a hole in the articulated, voiced community I’m familiar with. I do still see things changing constantly, and hope keeping everyone alive. And I still love the gorgeous hugs from beautiful little girls with newly shaved heads.

I didn’t know our office had powdered creamer.

I went to make coffee yesterday and discovered powdered creamer on the counter. And when I was a kid, it was one of our jobs to add creamer to dad’s coffee, and then we could take a bite of the powdered creamer out of the little brown glass jar.

One bite.

Mom preferred it to be half a spoonful, but I always pushed it to be full.

And yesterday, I added one small spoonful to my coffee. And then I took a bite before I stirred the coffee.

Loved it.

Probably horrible for you, not natural at all; and really, in my head I know it’s probably disgusting.

But I loved it. And I had another bite in the afternoon and another one this morning.

“I like your face. You remember I say before?”

Yes, I do remember her saying this before.  I thought it was an odd compliment then, too.

“An answer was coming,
along with an adventure.
I just needed to be patient, trusting,
and watchful as it unfolded…”

–from Shake, Shake the Mango Tree by Mallory McCormick

…Remember this post?

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/35314237 w=400&h=227]

Well, this time I was making hummus. And it was two girls that asked for something to eat. The same things ran through my head: the politics, the mouse asking for milk, and the verse.

And I still just couldn’t turn away.

I had half of a pita left over from dinner the night before, so I broke it in two, gave it to them, and turned back to my cooking.

But if you give a mouse a cookie, he not only asks for a glass of milk, but tells all of his friends where he got it.

But I only had that one piece of bread. So I began handing out pieces of candy.

And the whole neighborhood showed up. Kids I hadn’t even seen before, suddenly here at my back door. And Stephen laughing at me from the kitchen table.

It’s amazing how candy can draw kids from great distances. The idea of not taking candy from strangers? A foreign concept here.

One little girl about six was even striking up deals: if she showed the kids where to find candy, she could take a cut. They get the two pieces from me, and she takes one as they turn away.

Get candy, get candy, get candy.

It’s not always hot here. And you don’t have to sweat every day.

And though we are sorry we lied and hate to be wrong, we are loving it!

We’ve officially found our favorite time of year. We don’t have to turn on the air, and we don’t have to have fans blowing in every direction. Instead we wear sweaters from about 5pm to 10am. We cozy up under blankets at night. I wear long sleeves on my runs in the morning. We rush into the office for warm coffee in the morning after a very cold motorbike ride. It warms up during the day, so weekend afternoons can still involve swimming.

It’s beautiful.

The only downside? Our water heater for the shower can only heat up a certain amount: if you start with warm water, it can make it hot. But if you start with cold, as we are on these beautiful mornings, it can’t even get it to lukewarm.

And thus, we could see our breath in the bathroom today. I guess that just made me more excited to get into my sweater!

 

One of the many blessings of visiting America was having a chance to purchase clothes that fit. We came back with one large suitcase full of clothing, all in our size, ready for us to sweat in every day of the next year or two.

In light of these purchases, we thought we would purge our closets of the clothes we no longer need in an effort to keep things simple. We each chose a small pile of things and put them into a garbage bag. We then took them outside and placed them beside the trash can nearest to our neighbors’ yard, where we usually set items that are clearly of value to them.

One woman watched Stephen set it down and quickly went over to grab it. We watched from the window as she walked toward her house.

She opened the bag while she walked, and we heard a loud gasp. She then began to run into her house, with quite a few women following, and they each came out a few minutes later with a few treasures.