An Opportunity

I almost missed it.

I turned it down at first. And not gently. But quickly. And selfishly.

My roommates and I were in our teacher's planning room on a non-teaching day working on our prep. Emily opened an update from a local church here in Chiang Mai.

"Hey Brittany, they are looking for someone to help teach card making to a girl and her aunt who live in the slums. The girl has HIV and she is looking for a way to support herself. What do you think?"

Consumed by all I had on my plate, my response went something like "uh, yeah, that would be nice if I had the time - but I just don't feel like I do."

I think Emily thought I was frustrated that she would even bring that to my attention. Granted, she brought it up because she knows that I love making cards, that I love the opportunity to channel my creativity. And maybe I could meet a need by doing something I really enjoy.

But I see it differently - at first, I kept talking in circles, trying to justify my reasoning. About a minute later, I could feel the regret - I think I too hastily turned that down. I apologized for the way that I so quickly and curtly responded (thinking that would help get rid of the lump in my throat that just showed up).

But it didn't .

About a week later, after some thought and prayer - I decided to crack open the door. An opportunity knocked. I ignored it but it hadn't gone away. There was no update to say the need was filled.

The need was still sitting on my doorstep: the girl and her aunt (okay, not literally - just figuratively :).

They were still looking for someone to help. I wasn't comfortable about flinging to door wide open. I still had a lot of hesitations.

I mean, what do I really have to offer? Yeah, I've made home-made cards before - but they were just for fun. I never considered turning it into a business. I mean I am a foreigner in this country. I don't know the first thing about marketing the cards or where to find the best and cheapest supplies.

I had a long list of excuses but in the end, I decided to crack the door open. See if there was anything that I could to help - and if not - at least I tried. I could feel good about the fact that I peeked out. Then I could shut the door and feel justified.

So, I respond to the church's email. Letting them know I have a little experience in card making but wasn't sure about the whole resource and marketing piece of it all.

It took about a week to cooridnate between that email and the day that I went to meet the girl (Mae) and her aunt.

I drove into the slums. Parked my car. Made my way through the allies, walked past the chickens, past the shabby huts, sat on the rickety bench and met Mae and her aunt.

And as I drove away from my meeting, I prayed. And then I cried - knowing that this opportunity was one from God. Knowing that the door had been flung wide open and I no longer had a comfortable grip on the door knob. That me accepting it wasn't about me. It wasn't about how comfortable I felt or how prepared or ready or able (having time, resources, etc.). I still felt inadequate about what I was jumping into - but I knew I couldn't turn around.

It was His desire. It's about Him. About His sufficiency. About trusting that He will provide where I lack. It's about following where He leads - not justifying my reasons for standing still. But moving forward. Even if it's a baby step or opening the door a tiny crack - because He can use that. And He can move us forward - He just needs us to be willing.

I'm just starting a frienship with her; just starting to teach her - just scratching the surface of her story, my heart is broken and honored that I can be part of Mae's story and watch it unfold.

TO BE CONTINUED . . . (next I'll write a post about more of Mae's story and my first week of teaching her - which was last week. Also, I'll tell you how YOU can get involved in a simple but helpful way!)

Identity of a Princess

A story from my village trip this past October.

via Google Images

She wore her princess shoes.

She dressed up in the fanciest dress she's probably ever owned. It was white with fabric white roses tracing the top. Bunched in the middle and poofy and full at the bottom.

She's quiet and timid, but the sparkle from her shoes reflected in her eyes.

The light in her eyes created a permanent smile on her face for the day.

We'd been teaching English and Chinese language to about 75 students all week. (naturally, I taught Chinese - - - or not so much).

Today was the last day. The day of the performance. The day to get up in front of the other classes and teachers and show what you'd learned that week.

No one had costumes. They just wore the clothes they had. Some washed, some unwashed. Some with holes, some without holes. Some matched, some mis-matched. Some children had showered recently, some had not.

But it didn't matter. This was a safe place. A place where, over their school break, they could go for games, fun, encouragement, smiles, and the teaching of our Father. They could play. They could be themselves.

We get to the last day of the camp. To her, it meant something (not saying that it didn't mean something to the others). But to her, this was special. This was a day to get dressed up.

There would be no parents there to watch, no one except for the students and volunteers that had been there all week.

Still, she wanted to be a princess for the day.

And my heart melted.

She's beautiful. Beaming.

It occurs to me later, after looking through the pictures that she may be one of the many who doesn't have any identification.

Many of the people in this village don't have identificatioin cards. They themselves or their relatives were born in China. There was political persecution that sent them fleeing for Burma. However, since the changes that have take effect in Burma, they've crossed the border into Thailand.

Having an i.d. card didn't mean as much to me in the past as it does now. Without an i.d. card, you aren't in the system. If you aren't in the system - public schools are hard to get into (even for primary and secondary school). Jobs are hard to obtain. College is nearly impossible to get into.

Hope fades without any identification.

Trying to be someone different and unique is hard when you are so limited. "Being anything you want," gets crushed by harsh reality.

And then I remember, the most important identification we can have is in Him. In our Father. In the one that gave EVERYTHING for us.

I never did catch her name. But even if I did, I'd still always remember her as The Princess.

I pray that she'll always remember herself as The Princess, too. That she'll be reminded every day how precious she is to our Lord and how He created her as his beautiful, special, unique, talented daughter.

As important as I.D. cards are, what's most important is knowing that on her I.D. card from the Father, under her picture it says:

Daughter of The King.

This makes her a princess.

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." Galatians 2:20

In the Meantime

I have a lot to write about.

A lot of things I want to write about.

Jet lag is discouraging my longing for writing.

Therefore . . . I give you alternative readings for "in the meantime."

I am linking you to 3 amazing bloggers:

Amy is my roommate and our 2nd grade teacher at The School of Promise. Her most recent post Fighting Culture is a must read. Click here for the homepage of her blog.

Emily is my roommate and our 1st grade teacher at The School of Promise. Her post My Cup Runneth Over is a must read. Click here for the homepage of her blog.

Laura's husband is the director of Breanna's House of Joy (the girls' home that we are involved with). BHOJ is very close to our hearts. Laura's posts are always inspiring and honest. Her post We Were Wrong {The Orphan Crisis} is a must read. Click here for the homepage of her blog.

I will SOON have some posts of my own! :0)

Winter Snow

Christmas time. Though it feels less like the Christmas season that I've grown used to for 25 years of my life in Colorado Springs with the chill of the snow and the comforts of the familiar smells, it's still Christmas time.

The meaning is the same, even if the traditions and surroundings aren't.

{However, I get the amazing privilege of going home for 2 weeks, landing in co spgs on Christmas night!!! So grateful to my grandparents who generously offered me frequent flyer miles so I could come home to meet my niece! So thankful and excited!!!}

This year, I've been reflecting on the birth of Jesus. Trying to soak up all the symbolism of the Christmas story. Soaking up the

humble-ness of a baby in a manger.

On Chris Tomlin's "Glory in the Highest" cd, Audrey Assad sings a song that I have had on repeat. The lyrics roll around and around in my head. So thankful for a God that sent my Savior who is humble and perfect and the definition of LOVE. The lyrics are below and at the bottom is a you tube video of the song.

“Winter Snow”

Could’ve come like a mighty storm

With all the strength of a hurricane

You could’ve come like a forest fire

With the power of Heaven in your flame

But you came like a winter snow

Quiet and soft and slow

Falling from the sky in the night

To the earth below

You could’ve swept in like a tidal wave

Or an ocean to ravish our hearts

You could have come through like a roaring flood

To wipe away the things we’ve scarred

But you came like a winter snow

You were quiet, You were soft and slow

Falling from the sky in the night

To the earth below

Oh no, Your voice wasn’t in a bush burning

No, Your voice wasn’t in a rushing wind

It was still, it was small, it was hidden

Oh, You came like a winter snow

Quiet and soft and slow

Falling from the sky in the night

To the earth below

Falling to the earth below

You came falling from the sky in the night

To the earth below

May your Christmas Season be full of Him.

May you be reminded of the Love that is offered

through the humble birth of Jesus.

May you be surrounded by his Peace.

She's Here!!!!

She's here!!!
Welcome to the world

Kinsley Addison Gray!!!
Born December 10, 2010, 7:09am, 6lbs 9oz
She is SO SO SO adorable!
Zach and Jessica couldn't be happier - such a cute family!
Love this baby. Cannot wait to meet her!!!

{click on the collage to enlarge}

Dear Kinsley . . .

Dear my beautiful niece, Kinsley…

You are still hanging out in your mommy’s tummy right now, but I wanted to give you some important information right from the start.

Let me begin my introducing myself. I’m Brittany, your aunt. You can call me Auntie B (or whatever your cute little self comes up with). Just promise me you won’t listen to some of the silly suggestions your mom gives you – you can only call me Crazy Cat Lady if I truly end up living alone with more than 3 cats, okay?

I’m your aunt because your daddy is my brother. I know it’s confusing, but you’ll get the hang of it soon. Your mommy and I have been best friends since we were 13. That’s when your mommy and daddy met. But they started dating when they were both out of High School. You probably should just assume on waiting until you’re 25 to even start thinking about boys, okay?

Your mommy and daddy got married and had 2 monkeys! Well, actually, they adopted two puppies that your mommy calls monkeys. Again, I know it’s confusing. These doggies will be your brothers. Tater and Crosby. Just be happy your parents decided to name the dogs after Disney movies and hockey players and not you. ;) Have fun with them, I know they’ll have fun with you. If they try to play and bite you, you can bite them back.

Okay, so I think there are some important things I can tell you about your parents to give you the inside scoop.

Let’s start with your daddy. Your daddy is smart and handsome and funny (but don’t let him know I said that :0). He is kind and is calm. He is a peace maker, is thoughtful and has such a good heart. When you aren’t happy, he tries really hard to change the subject and make you smile and laugh and feel better. One of my favorite memories is that after we would fight when we were younger (you’ll understand what that’s all about if you have siblings later on), he would slip notes under my door to make up with me. (Of course, if you ask him, he won’t remember because he doesn’t remember anything from when we were younger, but your Auntie B remembers everything! Come to me for the stories, I’ve got some good ones on your daddy). He works hard and will be such a reliable daddy. He’s a really good athlete too. You should ask him to play hockey with you when you’re able to walk, he’ll love that. He already loves you to pieces. Oh, and he’s a total softie – don’t let him fool you.

And your mommy. Your mommy is smart and beautiful. She’s loving and passionate. She’s kind and thoughtful. She likes to make things really special. She’s creative and comes up with fun ideas. She is really fashionable too – so you’ll be one really well dressed baby. Your mommy is a really good friend. She and I have some of the best memories together. Classmates, sleepover buddies, concerts, road trips, coffee, shopping, talking, crying and laughing. Ask us for advice . . . we can tell you to make sure you thoroughly research how to drive from Phoenix to the Grand Canyon. We can tell you to make sure if you agree to walk ½ way between your house and your best friend’s house, that you are clear on what route you are both taking. We can tell you that friendship is worth working on and fighting for and that friendship is one of the best gifts you can ever give and receive.

Oh, one more thing about your mommy. She’s clean. Take cleaning tips from her, not from your Auntie B. Also, don’t make fun of your mommy for being a Monica - - - just embrace it and be thankful for the organization she brings to your life.

Know that you are getting one of the best mommies and one of the best daddies a girl could ask for. You are so special to them already. Your mommy and daddy can’t wait to meet you.

There are a lot of people waiting to meet you. You are so blessed with not only a fantastic mommy and daddy, but awesome grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and the like. Not only do you have all this family, but you have God who made you special. You are adored, little girl. Hold onto that.

I can’t wait to hold you and see your face and tell you in person how special you are. I promise I’ll do my best to get some cousins for you to play with (but at this rate, you may be 20 by the time I have kids, so don’t count on it ;).

I love you baby girl with all my heart.

Auntie B

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.

~~~

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.

~~~

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.

~~~

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.

~~~

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

~~~

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?"

*

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}.

*

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."

The Piece I Just Don't Like

Again, this is part of a series.

To read Part 1, click here

To read Part 2, click here

To read Part 3, click here

***

So, the piece I don't like. I want to preface, this isn't meant to be a gripe session. It's not meant for me to verbal vomit about all the things I'm unhappy about. However, it is meant to show honesty. To show that sometimes, life just stinks. Everyone has those days. There are different extremes to what we think of as issues. I know that my "issues" don't compare to those of the orphans I encountered last week. I know that my "issues" are different from those who suffer from life threatening diseases, from abuse and poverty. I'm not saying that my "issues" come close to that. And realizing that reminds me of how blessed I am.

***

However, I believe that no matter what, in the moment of whatever we personally deal with (big or small, justified or not) - sometimes it's just HARD.

This is the piece that I put in my mouth and take one bite and know I'm in trouble. Not sure if I can stomach it. My taste buds and my stomach have a fight and neither is willing to make a home for the piece I just bit into (figuratively speaking - it's hard to process). In the moment, I think "Why in the world would the creator of this chocolate put this piece in this box? Seriously, I didn't want this when I accepted the box. Can I take it back? Change the flavors?"

***

I won't go into too many specifics but I will share a short list of things that have happened since I've come to Thailand (not really unique to Thailand necessarily but things that I have gone through on my journey that makes the thought of "seriously, I signed up for this?" cross my mind from time to time).

***

Again, not complaining, just being honest with feelings.

These are the pieces (the days) when . . .

• things add up: the heat, the smells of squid and fish sauce and strange meats, the mosquitoes insistence on biting EVERY part of my body, the lizards jump out, the roaches scurry across the floor of our home, the ants invade our lives, the language barrier gets in the way of communicating and I realize charades just won't cut it, the stares that won't stop, the comments about us being foreigners ware one my patience, the difficulty in sometimes accomplishing simple tasks, the exhaustion from it all.
• last year when it felt like the obstacles were becoming more frequent, bigger and almost impossible to overcome
• I just miss people. My family. My friends. My family (did I mention them already?). I miss face to face conversations with the people I would "do life" with regularly. Knowing that I'm missing things is tough. Holidays, Birthdays, fun parties, showers, births, engagements, weddings, etc. This is probably one of the things that is the hardest. Missing out. On people. On conversations. On events. On memories.

***

However, I have the reassurance that God has me where He wants me at this moment. He knows it isn't easy to endure or sacrifice these things. However, He's asked me to be obedient. I have experiences, memories, people - friends and "family", and laughs here. They in no way replace those I've left back in the States, but they are still rich and full of blessings. He keeps teaching me through every experience. ESPECIALLY during the pieces I don't like.

***

I know that if God gave me the pieces I always wanted, I'd grow bored. I would grow unappreciative. I would take those pieces for granted. When he mixes up the box, He brings variety to life. He brings reminders of hope. Reminders of his grace and mercy. Reminders of his unconditional and unfailing love.

***

"Let me remember that when I question God's dealings. I don't understand Him, but the I'm not asked to understand, only to trust. Bitterness dissolves when I remember the kind of love with which He has loved me - He gave Himself for me. Whatever He is doing now, therefore, is not cause for bitterness. It has to be designed for good, because He loved me and gave Himself for me."

***

"Difficulty opens our eyes to pleasures we have taken for granted."

***

Both Quotes from Elisabeth Elliot's Keep a Quiet Heart.

The Nutty Piece

This is a follow up on a series. To read part 1 click here.

To read part 2 click here.

These are the pieces that I like. I don’t want all my chocolate to be nutty. But I like it. The “nuts” in life that I’m talking about aren’t almonds, peanuts or walnuts. They aren’t the cashew nuts that I so love in my cashew nut chicken.

What I mean by nutty is crazy, goofy, and sometimes just strait up random and weird.

Random is a constant here. Click here to read a post from last year about the random experiences we had at the beginning.

I am thankful for the nutty pieces, they are the days that make me laugh the most. Laughter is like water to my soul – it gives me energy and joy. I feel like since moving to Thailand, God has put a few extra nutty pieces in my box.

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

1. About a month or so ago, we visited another school in the community pretty close to our house. A friend of ours we asked to help with an English Camp Day at this school and she enlisted me and my roommates to help her out. That day happened to be a planning day for us and we weren’t needed in our own classrooms. So, we decide to help. We show up while the hundreds of students are lined up for assembly and the only way to get to where we needed to be was to walk right in the middle of where they were congregated. The looks on their faces were priceless, not sure they’d ever seen so many foreigners at once.

We are given our assignments and sent to our classrooms – we would each be in charge of one station where we worked with 15 kids for 20 minutes and then repeat this as 8 groups would come through.

There are 2 parts to this story:

a) Most of these kids don’t know much English – they get maybe an hour or so a week at their school. I am tasked with teaching them a handful of action vocabulary – painting, dancing, singing, riding a bike, etc. In one group of kids I had that kid (every school has at least one). He’s probably in 2^nd or 3^rd grade. Hair buzzed. Stocky. Cute. Ornery. Absolutely ornery, I could see it in his eyes. And then, he shows it. I reveal the “dancing” card and we go over how to say it and what it is. He promptly stands up and starts jumping up and down, one hand in the air like he’s a gangster and starts rapping in perfect slang “Yo Whazzup Man, Yo Whazzup Man, Yo Whazzup Man?” I look at the 2 kids from 9^th grade that were sent to be my translators/helpers for the day and we just all bust out laughing. This kid can barely repeat “I’m fine thank you, and you?” Yet, he perfectly utters “Yo, Whazzup Man” about 20 times in 20 minutes. It comes to no surprise that when we played charades, he chose the “dancing” card and went around repeating the phrase he was so proud of while jumping up and down. He was so hyper that he slipped on the floor while jumping and almost landed his head into the hard desk – thankful he caught himself because I’m not sure how I would explain myself to the parents, principal and paramedics. How does “Yo whazzup man” translate into Thai?

b) While at this English Day Camp, we meet a guy from England. In his 20’s and in university, he came to Thailand for 3 months just to experience it. He connected with the school and made arrangements for him to live and work at the school, helping a bit with the English program. While eating lunch, we visited with him. (side note about lunch – they made a special dish for us. Pad Thai – which is one of my fav’s – but apparently they ‘westernized’ it by substituting the normal chicken or pork for chunks of hotdogs). We’re talking to this guy and he asks all these questions about America. Then, he asked us if we were “truly religious” or if we just used it to secure a visa? We told him we were Christians. He was curious as to why we were here, why we would stay so long, why we would give up our friends, families, and comfort to work in a school. He didn’t really understand. Then, it’s like a light bulb clicks in his head, he turns to us and with total seriousness he says “so, what are you guys, like modern day nuns?” What do you say to that? After almost choking on my Hot Dog Pad Thai, a smile brimmed on my lips and a nervous laugh came out. We explained that we were not, in fact, modern day nuns.

2. Recently, I’ve had a couple instances with sties in my eyes. No big deal, they make me look like I got punched in the eye, but other than that, they heal themselves in a few days. One of my dear Thai teaching friends who speaks English really well comes up to tell me what Thai’s think about people who have a sty in their eye. Apparently in Thai superstition, they believe you get a sty in your eye if you’ve been peeking at people in the shower. Then, she said that to get rid of a sty, you are supposed to have the youngest male in your family pinch you on the back.

Great, I am seen as a modern day nun who has a “Peeping Tom” problem. Talk about an identity crisis! Not to mention the fact that I need to figure out how to get the youngest boy in my family to fly to Thailand and pinch me on the back so I can be cured of my sty problem! Lol.

3. What do you get when you have 7 Chinese people, 2 Korean people, 2 American people, and 2 Thai people with at least 4 languages shared amongst everyone?

Before I moved here, I would have answered that question with “mass chaos.”

Instead, my response is now “just another day of my life."

Let me explain.

Joel (the director of our school) is friends with a Korean couple who have a heart for the Chinese people. They have a training center here in Thailand for Chinese students. It’s too complicated to have their center in China, so they have it in Thailand. The students will eventually be sent out to work in different countries all over the world. The directors of the center desire for them to learn or improve their English since it is spoken in some degree or another in most countries. This is where I come into the picture. Joel and I have volunteered to spend 1 afternoon a week to teach these Chinese students.

We’ve been teaching for a little over a month now. I currently have 5 girls that I teach. I truly enjoy it, it’s such a fun group of people. They try so hard sometimes to explain something that they turn to me and sputter Chinese and my understanding of Chinese is non-existent. I have my moments where I switch from English into Thai, thinking that will help and quickly realize I am not speaking THEIR language.

Last week, we show up and the guys that Joel teaches aren’t there. They went with the director to a friend’s house to pick up a full moving truck load of stuff that was being donated to the training center. We are ½ way through our lesson and the truck pulls up. Enter random chaos and the combination of 7 Chinese people (our students 5 girls and 2 boys), 2 Korean people (the husband and wife who run the training center), 2 American people (me and Joel), and 2 Thai people (the 2 men in the moving truck). The 2 directors from Korea speak Korean, Chinese, some Thai and a little bit of English. The Chinese people speak Chinese, a small amount of English, no Thai and no Korean. Joel and I speak English, limited Thai, no Chinese, no Korean. The movers speak Thai, no English, no Chinese, no Korean. The 13 of us did not share 1 common language. Some of us did, but not all of us. Enter chaos and laughter as we try to communicate where things go as the men all try to move heavy furniture. I just laughed the ENTIRE time and shook my head thinking "this is NUTS."

Some days I look back on the day and laugh. Random (to me). But I’m thankful for the laughter.

I savor the nutty pieces.

They add to the variety and am pretty sure I wouldn’t like the absence of the nutty ones.