Goodbyes

If you haven't already, make sure you read part one so you'll understand the context of this story.

"She's what?"

"You mean like leaving, leaving?"

Supper was nearly finished as I sat with Nina (a co-volunteer and my unofficial mentor while she and her family are volunteering at KGS), talking and eating up the last bit of food from our plates. Eating had been paused when she mentioned that the project manager told her Kanom would be leaving KGS...tonight.

Things always move so fast! Most likely it feels that way because of the language barrier so unlike at home, where I catch wind of everything happening to everyone one, I only learn of things as it happens. Saturday morning, or sometimes even right after church, I'll learn that everyone is going to a hot springs all afternoon or I'll learn the day before that I'm expected to lead out in a Christmas program. You learn to be flexible in all things and prepared for just about anything because...well usually anything can happen!

Nothing can prepare you, or your heart, though for the news that one of your girls is leaving. Not just for a holiday or weekend, but for good. There may be 28 of them and although I have to admit, like most honest teacher, I may have some favorites, they're all my girls. My girls for a full 8 months and my girls I hope even after I leave. But the 27 who became 28 back in November now returns to be just 27.

The next 30 minutes were a blur: girls bringing down Kanoms clothing and school supplies, family members meeting with the staff, girls awkwardly saying goodbye as they too seemed taken off guard.

The reasons for her leaving were simple yet complex. She was tired of the early morning, chores, and still struggling a bit to fit in. To Nina and me, she seemed happy as she began to find her place here at KGS but like the past times she ran away, the life of freedom she was used to was what she thought she wanted. The problem is once she leaves KGS, the complications begins. She may end up staying at home...but when she lived there before she was malnourished and susceptible to neglect. If she ends up at another shelter, she'll most likely be taken to a city three hours from her current home. It didn't make sense to me then and still doesn't to this day.

I'll never forget that last hug, one of hundreds that she'd give me nearly every day. I handed her a picture book, containing her favorite and only bible story she ever really knew, and she reached out her arms for a hug. As I held her, I fought back tears (a battle I lost pretty quickly). "I love you", I told her, in English and Thai and she nodded that she understood. I started to pull back, but her tiny arms kept holding me. We stood there for a few seconds more; me holding this little child who hadn't felt a mother's hugs since she died years before.

And then...she vanished, taken back to her former life of uncertainties. The time of her being my little girl ended just as abruptly as she had become "mine". Even as I write, emotions come fast and if this were a page of paper it would be wet with my tears. My influence in her life was ended. 

I can't help but ask those questions that hold more unknowns than certainties: did her time at KGS do anything positive for her? Did I teach her anything worth remembering? Will any of my Thai/English words I spoke to her be remembered? And finally, what was the purpose of all of this?

I know these questions will come back to my mind as I say goodbye to all of my precious girls in less than two months. Although the easy thing to say is "of course you made a difference" the truth is I don't know. The reality is that 8 months vs a lifetime of being told that you must behave well to be truly loved may not technically make a lot of difference.

Call me crazy, but I think there's a reason God doesn't show us in the moment the impact of our lives. If we could see the exact positive change our lives make, how might we begin to be selective of what we do with our lives. Career and life choices might be changed because suddenly following our callings would be about the numbers. What would bring the best change? No, what would bring the biggest impact?

Instead, God has done something pretty amazing: He asks us to trust Him with not just our success but also the knowledge of that success. He asks us to give Him the worry and doubt and believe in His own hidden system of fulfillment, set at a value we don't even understand.

It's as if Jesus is whispering with every unknown: Trust me, my daughter. I know you don't understand and want to know, but these are secrets you wouldn't know how to handle. I'll give you enough knowledge to keep you going, but not enough to find yourself trusting in your own ability to change lives. Be diligent in everything, not just the things you think are bringing about change. Give "your people" to me, and I'll work out all the changing between just me and them your own ability to change lives. Be diligent in everything, not just the things you think are bringing about change. Give "your people" to me, and I'll work out all the changing between just the two of us.

Names

Three months into my time here in Thailand and there's one word I hate more than any other...Farang.

Farangs are the Thai word for Guavas but it's also the term Thai's use to describe anyone of western decent. Rarely is the word used in a positive way. Instead, the word is used with either a neutral or negative connotation. It's a constant reminder that you're not Thai and everyone knows it. It's a way to refer to you without using an actual name.

I must give the Thai people a little bit of slack. There are certain tourists that deserve the name entirely! There are the completely clueless 20-30 some year old who completely disregard Thailand's view of modesty and know nothing, and care nothing, about the country they've decided to visit. Then there are those tourists I detest even more: the business man who clearly is just here for the cheap women he is able to find every night. 

Whenever I meet someone for the first time, that word will come up. Usually it's not used to your face, but used as the person you're speaking with turns to their companions to then talk about you while you're still standing right beside them. Your name is lost and all you seem to be is "farang". It'd be one thing if I fell into one of those categories mentioned above, but I do all I can to be sure I don't. I eat rice every meal and use Thai words for everything I know. I can cook Thai food and follow the schedule given to me, even when everything is last minute and it usually feels like I'm just being pulled from one place to the next.

It shouldn't be a surprise given that Southeastern Asia is known for being exclusive when it comes to race and nationality. It's not unusual to hear of other Asian countries being made fun of because of accent or even looks. Yes, Thailand has a different view of political correctness! Despite the very real negative or neutral feelings about other countries, feelings have a deep root at home as well. Even here in Thailand, my girls will be asked if they're fully Thai (meaning they have their citizenship and are not from one of the many hill tribes where home births and local traditions kept them from being registered at birth.) They constantly worry about not having white enough skin or wide enough eyes because of the Asian beauty standards adopted from Korea. Everyone seems to be trying to fit into a mold and yet the mold seems ready only to accept a certain type of person.

Today, as a local visitor kept calling me that five letter word, I began to think about how much I hate it. How much I wish could change to fit in but knowing that no matter what I do, people like that would never consider me anything but simply not one of "them". Every time she would laugh at how I did things differently (such as helping the girls clean up from a project instead of standing around as is more the custom of adults here in Thailand when children are able to work), the word would come out and her head would shake as if to say, "Stupid girl. So strange and different." About that time was when my thoughts turned away from myself and to someone else who knows what it's like to be misunderstood.

Blasphemer...Liar...a Demon...

Only a few of the names Jesus was called when He came down to earth. Although not believed, here He was, from a whole different world/universe and so completely misunderstood. Illegitimate: He must have been called whenever his lineage was brought up or the story of His mysterious birth mentioned. Cruel: when people just held onto the words of rebuke He gave to the Pharisees instead of noting the tears in His eyes. Sinful: when women of ill reputation or men of shifty characters came around to follow Him. Through it all, the people who called Him these names had no idea His mission was not of Himself or how much the courts of heaven must have yearned for Him to forsake it all and just come home. Yet it was those people Jesus was here for...and it certainly is for us that He came. Nearly everyone didn't understand...so many still don't understand...and yet a small few did realize who He was: the "sinners" who experienced the life changing power of Jesus, the Centurions who found Him to be greater than their own strength, the Samaritans that found acceptance at last in the faith they still clung on to, and the thieves who found in Him their last hope.  

Staying here in Thailand has been a back and forth decision. So many times I've been on the fence about coming home. Each time, however, the thought of my girls kept me here. Months ago I wondered if they would ever understand the sacrifice I've given to be here or how much my own heart longs to just go home. For a while, I thought it would be a secret I kept with me even after I left. But just as there was a few who understood a part of why Jesus was here, so there are girls here who have caught a glimpse. "You must really love us", one of the oldest girls told me after not being able to understand why I was still here in what she felt was a less than optimal situation. 

When was the last time you stopped and told Jesus that very thing? Have you considered when singing Christmas carols or celebrating Easter just how foreign this world was to Jesus? The more I find myself wanting to walk in the footprints of Jesus, the more I realize how brave He was; how strong, compassionate and completely out-of-this-world selfless. You see I have my own names for Him, names I know He loves to hear from any of His children:

• My Comforter-even when we're all alone.

• My Forgiver-not matter the wrongs committed against Him.

• My Creator-from the largest galaxy to recreation of our hearts.

• My Beloved-like a faithful Husband to His wife.

• My Savior-for every moment of every day.

Who is Jesus to you? What names are your favorite to call Him by?

Taste and See

One of the first words that would come out of people's mouths when I told them I was headed to Thailand was "the food!" Several friends even asked if that's why I'd chosen to go to my location. At Southern, Thai food is THE food. Everyone has their opinion of which Thai restaurant is the best and which dish tastes the best. Since I love to cook, especially with friends, going to Thailand has meant that cooking in the kitchen with the girls and learning how to make curry, noodles, and fried bananas.

When I first arrived in Thailand, all the food was different, and for the most part, oh so yummy! Besides everything having lots of chili in them, nothing was crazy different from things I had tried before. I especially loved any of the noodle dishes I ate at the market or the girls taught me to cook.

Cooking with the girls is always special because that's one way even those who speak very little English can connect with me. They teach me all the Thai words for fruits and vegetables and I teach them the same in English. We talk about the food being sour or sweet as we make it and laugh together even when we can't figure out what everyone is trying to communicate. Whenever I'm sick with a cold (as I'm currently am), I count down the days until I'm all better so I can get back to the kitchen and cook with them again.

For four months straight, Thai food was all I had besides two trips to the pizza restaurant and making spaghetti with the girls once. Rice for breakfast. Rice for lunch. And of course, rice for supper! The truth is, it really wasn't that bad. Yeah, sometimes when I would head to breakfast my appetite would drop when I only saw a plate of fried mushrooms (my least favorite dish), but thinking about how packed they are with protein, I ate it without complaint.

Then December came...Flying in on an airplane, my family came and whisked me off to Vietnam, Cambodia, and the south of Thailand. Each day we had new food, sometimes with European flavors and other times with unique Asian flavors. I'd look on my phone to find the best vegetarian restaurants around and then off our family would go to find where it was located. Every meal was something I looked forward to every day and it reminded me of all that can be done with the imagination when cooking is involved.

After two glorious weeks, back I went to KGS and back to the normal fare. As I sat down for the first meal back and brought the spoon up to my mouth, the tastes that I had enjoyed before now tasted bland. What had once been fine and even yummy now felt so flat. My taste buds had been reminded of the millions of flavor that can dance and twirl in my mouth. Herbs now filled more than three containers in my mind: garlic, salt and onion. There's such a big world out there...but instead it's Thai food with the same flavor every...single...day...

Even though I've been back for several week, the food still hasn't gotten back to what I remembered before I left. No matter what, I still find myself craving Western food and South American food at nearly every meal. I've gotten back to enjoying the meals here but still...my taste buds want more.

As I've walked in a relationship with Jesus, throughout my life there will be times that I catch a glimpse of Him in a special way that completely captivates me. At times my relationship has grown so deep that it feels like He really is beside me. Although, even fewer in number, there have been times that although I haven't heard an audible voice, it still felt that He had something direct to tell me in a way I believed to be His voice.

But just as there are those mountain-top adventures, there are also many valleys. The past year has been a valley, if I'm honest with you. If you asked me to name times I felt God's clear presence, I could probably count it on just a hand or two. Praying seems so one sided even as I've read books on prayer in hopes to help my seemingly helpless state. Ministry had drained me of joy and sometimes my inner peace, and what should be a blessing feels more like a task. 

On the outside I keep up the positive vibes. That's what people want from me and what they expect, right? Besides my mom and my boyfriend, few know just how hard the tug of hate and refusing to forgive those who have wronged me has pulled at my heart these past few weeks. Or how much I've played with the idea in my head that I am just a bad person destined for eternal damnation. Believe me, this future pastors wife has her share of doubts, both in the past and present.

And yet something won't let me give up...or maybe more specifically, Someone. As easy as it may be to think that my doubts are true or that Christianity just doesn't seem to live up to the apostolic potential, the taste that I've had of Jesus is still remembered in my mind. The dark days of uncertainty may sometimes feel more common than the mountain top experiences, but oh how sweet they taste to a hungry soul.

And the truth is, it's not even the happy-go-lucky times that keep me coming back to Jesus. It's the nights I stood crying in the rain from a broken heart yet felt at peace with what was happening all around me. It's the times I nearly let my selfishness and pride keep me from fulfilling the role God has called me to only to have Him bless me above and beyond what I could have even imagined in the first place. It's the times I doubted Him the most and shook my fist at Him and yet when my emotions were completely spent, all I knew was that He still loved me.

As Sara Hagerty puts it in her book, Every Bitter Thing, "When (we) are near enough to Him to smell His skin, the rest of the world and (our) circumstances fades into grey. His is that good." The memory of who He is and our daily search to know Him better changes everything within us, especially the way we see the world. What was sweet may not taste bitter, and even the most bitter things taste sweet. And those moments when we know Him to be who He is beyond a shadow of a doubt keeps pushing us back to find Him so close, and dare we keep believing, for Him to become even closer than He was before.