Thanksgiving and Then Some

In pictures.

{click on each collage to enlarge the images}

First collage: Thanksgiving Day. Paper hand and feet "I am Thankful" turkey crafts. Joel and Marvel hosted an aweome Thanksgiving dinner with the school staff and a few more friends- sharing our Turkey dinner tradition with our Thai friends.

Second collage: The day after Thanksgiving. No black Friday here. We had the day off so our awesome friend, Nida (my 4th grade counterpart), and her husband and daughter took the day to show us around Doi Inthanon, the mountain where their villages are that they grew up and still call home. We visited the highest point in Thailand, the Pagodas, the gardens, 3 waterfalls and Nida's cousin's village. It was such a fun day and an honor to get a tour from our friends.

A Place for Imagining

"Sumoot waa" she says, loudly. Repeatedly. A seven year old talking to her friends. I think I heard her say it about 5 times within less than 10 minutes of their after school play.

It means "suppose" or "assume" or coming out of a 1st grader's mouth it means Imagine.

Imagine this. Pretend that. She directed her friends on what they should imagine in their minds to make their play more fun. Thinking outside of the box.

It's funny though - especially when imagining happens in a language I don't fully know. I try to figure out what they are pretending as 3 of the first grade girls tie 1 scarf around their waist and shuffle their little black shoes across the uneven asphalt, tripping softly into each other and giggling. Still, she directs. She goes to the dirt and draws a line and says again "Sumoot waa." I laugh because I really don't have any idea where their imagining is taking them.

But I don't have to know. I take comfort in knowing that they are pretending.

Playing. Dreaming. Imagining. Giggling.

We were talking with one of our Board members - Brad - last week when he was here for a work trip that brought him to our neck of the woods. We discussed the upcoming fundraiser they are doing for Hope International Schools {Asian Fusion - next week, December 1st at Community Church of the Rockies in CO Spgs at 7:00 - auctioning off things from Thailand and will be Skyping with us here. You should go. Really. It'll be awesome}. We decided it would be cool to include the kids in on the Skype since it'll be class time here when the auction is taking place.

"Why didn't we do that last year?" We were all thinking it. Then quickly the lump caught in our throats.

Oh yeah, we didn't have students this time last year.

This school was student-less.

We imagined too at that time. We pretended to be curriculum writers. Pretended to be painters, builders, landscapers, etc. Imagined what it would be like to have students.

But it was different. We knew what the goal was but there were times we would ask God "is this really what You want?" "Why is everything seem like it's going wrong?"

However, 1 year later, it's a place filled with the laughter of children.

A place for pretending, for dreaming and imagining. A safe place where children are encouraged to be themselves. To ask questions. To investigate who this God is that we tell them about. This God who loves them so much that He knows every hair on their head. The God that formed them in their mother's womb. The God that desires to show Himself to them. This is a place where they can discover themselves. A place for them to be encouraged.

A place for them to not only imagine but to discover :

"For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

-Jeremiah 29:11

Bloopers

Pictures for a couple projects we're doing. One project is for the kids to decorate frames (I'll put a picture of the student in) and the students can give them to their parents for Christmas.

Sounds simple enough.

Right?

I took each kid out of class one at a time. Took some good pictures. Took some not so good ones.

And then there are the BLOOPERS.

The ones that make me laugh.

Ones that won't make the framed picture for their parents (or maybe I'll still print it out and put it behind the "good" picture).

The bloopers probably capture their personalities better than a basic smile can.

Teacher, You

“Teachah {his version of Teacher}.” He approaches while pointing to scrapes on his legs. I ask him (in English), what happened?

He replies “Teachah, YOU!”

“Me? I didn’t do that to you.” I laugh thinking he is joking.

“Teachah, YOU” he says emphatically while pointing to his pain.

“Buddy, I didn’t do that to you. Do you think I did that to you?” I start to get defensive thinking to myself ‘I’m pretty positive I would remember if I caused that.’

“TEACHAH, YOU” he says strong. Points at his wounds again, then points down that hall and says “clineek.” CLINIC.

The lightbulb goes off.

Ah yes. Teachah is stupid. Sorry buddy. You need me to go with you to the clinic room and put bandages on your legs. Got it.

I laugh and apologize for not understanding what he needs. He sits down and I try to be someone I’m not: a nurse. I don’t know why, but they come to me looking pretty normal and they leave the clinic looking like war victims because of all the bandages I put on their tiny little limbs.

I quickly tell him, oh, think we’re going to have to cut it off {while I take my fingers and make the cutting motion}. I start to hop on one leg and tell him he’ll be okay with just one leg. His eyes get a little big but he starts to laugh and says “no, teachah.”

“Well, okay, I guess you can keep it.”

“kahol” he mutters as he’s trying to tell me to use alcohol to clean it. Apparently he saw the way I was picking up multiple tubes of ointments and tried to find the small amount of English writing on it to tell me what it was for. It’s a wonder the kid actually stayed in the room.

I take the alcohol and knew it would sting. At first, I was going to do it but instead, handed it to him and let him do the swabbing around the wound – and I tried not to let him see what I saw: him wincing. I pull out gauze and iodine and tape. I secure the bandages and he says “thank you, teachah.” He goes to clean up the mess – the swabs, the cotton with iodine on it.

“I got it buddy. Go to lunch.” I smile at him.

“THANK YOU, TEACHAH!” he says again and runs out the door while I throw away the used supplies from my poor attempt at playing nurse.

I get to thinking. Wow, I’m glad my encounters with God are not like this encounter we just had.

I’m sure glad God speaks my language. The language of my heart. I’m so glad that when I’m scraped and hurting and in need of help, it doesn’t take me multiple times to explain to Him where I’m hurt, why I’m hurt and that I need it cleaned and bandaged. He knows.

He knows before I go to find Him, before I talk to Him. Before the tears brim my eyes and overflow onto my cheeks.

He knows how to fix it. He doesn’t need me to point to the iodine and cotton balls and tell Him what I need. He has the perfect antidote.

Sometimes the cleaning process hurts.

But He knows what’s best. He doesn’t turn his face when I wince. He wants me to know that He sees it. That I don’t have to be a “big girl” and bear it by myself. He comes to me with compassion and mercy.

I’m thankful he’s my “teachah” but also takes on the responsibilities as my Father, my friend, my comforter, my healer, my Savior. He doesn’t have to fake it – He is perfect.

I’m thankful I don’t have to clean up all the messes that are made from my mistakes and my sin. Granted, I have to live with my decisions here on earth – but God offers his unfailing love and grace. And more than that, he offered His Son to pay for (clean up) those mistakes and make a way for eternity with the Creator.

So today, as I’m reminded of who He is, I look up to the sky and say “Thank YOU, Teacher.”

The Final Piece - CARAMEL

This is my last post of my Chocolate Series.

I talked about the Unexpected but Satisfying Piece.

I talked about the Nutty Piece.

I talked about the Piece I Just Don't Like.

Now is the final piece. The piece that I love. My favorite. The one that I hope for every time I open the box. The caramel piece. The piece that is everything I think a piece of chocolate should be. I discover that I found this precious piece, and it's often better than I remembered.

I have had a hard time thinking of specific stories. I know they are there. I added a couple links below for stories already written. I have a lot of stories on my heart that I want to share, but not sure they fit into the series. Maybe they do, but not sure so I'm going to post them separately. So bear with me as I become more general on my list below. But do know I intend on posting other significant stories SOON.

Here are some personal examples of when I have a piece (a day) like this . . .

1. When we first started our school last year (in the 1st location) and there was an "incident" in the bathroom. Every time I think of that little boy, I smile. To read that story (The Snake Story), click here. Caramel. That story is caramel.

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2. When we got our license (to read about that - click here). The day that our school opened was a day of celebration after the year we had previously gone through. Caramel.

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3. On days when something clicks. Something that God's been trying to teach me - and it finally sinks in. I feel the peace and the joy in knowing God's active in my life. My next post will be called "Teachah, YOU" - a story about an interaction between my student and myself and what parallels I drew to my relationship with God.

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4. When prayers are answered. Days when I specifically see that God answered a prayer {whether the way I wanted it or not, big or small} - stuff with the school, needs (i.e. my computer - He provided what I needed), things back home, etc. Anything, everything. Ways He shows that He's in it. In my day. In my life. In my heart. Caramel.

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5. The trip I took to a Chinese village on the border of Burma and Thailand a few weeks ago. (stories to come!)

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The whole point of this series was to give you a little view into my days. Also, it's to express to you {and to me} that there are reasons that our boxes have variety. If EVERY piece I ever got was a piece of Caramel, I would eventually get tired of it - would be craving something different because if you always have ONLY THE BEST, you have nothing to compare it to and start to think "is this really the best?"

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However, if you get a taste of the crazy, of the unexpected, of the disgusting - you start to appreciate every piece for what it is. Different. And a gift from God {even the disgusting, not pleasant, hard to swallow pieces}.

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And so, I will end this series the way I began it:

" Wishing you a piece today that makes you thankful for the box, the maker, and the opportunity to taste the richness."