Coming to an End

“’Cause everything looks perfect from far away,
Come down now…”

I’ve been thinking about these lines the last couple of days. I thought about how perfect going back to the States seems or how perfect family time will be. I know without a doubt that nothing is perfect, and returning will not be a perfect process. However, it still looks oh so good… until I see what I’m leaving behind.

When I boarded the plane to Thailand, it was the last thing I wanted to do. I was nigh angry at God for making me do it. Somehow, I still got here and then struggled through months of language learning and culture shock. It’s been said that most countries take about 2 months to really adapt to, but Thailand takes 6. That is the truth. After about five to six months, this very strange place became my home. I’ve learned to love it here. I’ve learned to love the people. I’ve learned so many things about God and His plans. It’s crazy how perspective can change.

As I think about leaving this home to return to another one, I have to remember once again, that home is not here on this earth. I sometimes wonder at why I attach to “home” so quickly. I think it’s because I’m human and essentially, I’m going through some sort of separation anxiety and so I want what I just can’t quite have. Anyway, I’m just reminded that these places are made by the people that are in them and no matter what, I will be missing someone for the rest of my life. My prayer is that all I know and love will not be missed in Heaven someday.

Spiritual Reflections of a Recovering Bulimic

The entirety of my worth and acceptance has been based on a number on the scales and the number on the tag of my jeans. I’ve spent literal years of life hating on me. After two and half years of counseling, I still find it to be a battle I fight every day. I will fight it till I die; or so I’m told. It’s an odd battle. It’s an important battle. I mean, how do you actually win a battle against yourself? That’s what it is. It’s a battle I fight against me for health-emotional, mental, and physical. I guess it’s the same for most who deal with eating disorders. It’s a question of what is the most hated: Ones own person, the body one is forced to reside, or the state of living in which one is.  It’s really just all a quest for contentment. However, contentment is a foreign concept because all actions become based on that hatred for oneself that are harboring within and the desire to just be different from who one is. Contentment becomes a fairy tale idea.

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t self-conscious of my weight or body type. Seven of my short twenty years of life have been spent in obsession over weight and looks. I can honestly say that I’ve never been content with the body God gave me. I very clearly remember the day I realized my five foot, nine inch, athletic body could never possible fit into a size two and my bones alone weighed more than my goal weight.  I was devastated.

So recently I’ve been reading a book called Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. In the second chapter, he talks about gratitude. Pointedly, he says that a grateful heart is a trusting heart. A grateful heart realizes the goodness of God’s nature. It knows the character of a God who works all things together for its good. The grateful heart trusts the true nature of God to care for it. It sees beyond itself and thanks God in reverence for the gifts He’s chosen to bestow upon it.

I immediately thought about my constant discontent and all my inward grumbles about my body. Then I thought about the many people I’ve seen here in Thailand. I could see in my head the pictures of the man who literally slithered on his stomach down the side walk. I thought about the man with a dent in the side of his skull the size of a softball. I thought of the lady whose skin looked melted off her face. I thought about all the men, woman, and children I’ve seen missing arms and/or legs. I thought of those who are deaf and blind. I thought of those who have had terrible things of such done to them and those who were born with these different disabilities. They all long to have what I have: A healthy body.

I spent a few minutes processing the pictures and praying. I found myself in a reverent gratitude toward the God who has made me thus. How could I ever have the audacity to complain about my body? I am healthy. I can walk. I can run. I ride my bike every morning to school. I can speak. I can hear. I can think. My body functions perfectly. The things I can see as “problematic” or a “nitch”, or “unfair” are too miniscule to even acknowledge. I sat in the presence of my God in silence. I was utterly ashamed  of my discontent. Yet somehow, in that moment, my shame wasn’t condemning. I found that I was loved and accepted and I was grateful to God beyond a place of spoken word.

What’s the fairness in all this? How was it decided that I was born to my working-class family in the U.S.A., while someone else was born to a starving family in the slums? I was cared for and loved upon. I learned to know and love Jesus. Then I see so many people without hope or love. I see children without a home or family. I guess these are things that I will never understand, or at least not until I get to Heaven. I’m not really concerned with the answer. I mean really, how concerned is God with fairness? He sent his perfect son to earth to die so I can have a relationship with Him. Really, how does that one work in the fairness scale? I realize that I can’t figure this out, nor do I want to. In fact, my only part in this is to thank God for His beautiful gift of life and be aware of the blessings He’s lavished so generously on me.

I can no longer look in the mirror and detest all I see. I can only look on in humbleness and reverent gratitude toward the God who “hath made me thus.”

Another Monday Morning

Another Monday morning had arrived, as it always does in every country; even in Thailand.  This particular Monday was a wee bit different than the past. Yes, I still had to be up at 6 a.m. and biking through CRAZY traffic by 7:40 to be at the temple school, ready to teach at 8:30. Teaching second graders English is never an easy task. However, it seems more daunting when one cannot even communicate with the children in the first place. Somehow, all of these things have become the norm. The difference, this morning, took place in the fact that I was sick with a head cold, my voice was barely audible, and my head ache felt as though it was caused by cymbals clanging at a great force into either side of my skull. Just another Monday, right?
                I arrived to school early- very early. I decided to take a few of my many extra minutes to stop and chat with the teacher in the Special Needs class. She, of course, was greatly concerned over my head cold and asked if I should go to the Hospital. This is all very normal in Thai culture. I told her that I was fine, it was only a head cold and I could just sleep it off. No need to go to the hospital. She asked if I would be coming to her class today, and I told her, yes, I would. It was Monday and that’s all part of the routine.
                After the second grade class on Monday, I go to the Special Needs class to help out and play with the children for about two hours. The classroom in which this class resides is quite literally a cage. It is outside, apart from all the other classes. It has a tin roof and something resembling chicken caging wire, only a sturdier, for walls. The door is a metal gate complete with padlock. All the Special Needs children are here; no matter their age, ability level, or by what the name of their specialty happens to be. These children are considered unimportant and shameful in Thai culture. It is assumed someone did something to deserve this child.  Culturally, this is where they “should be”.
                As I left the second grade class which was quite out of hand, and thought of the cage and chaos awaiting me, I contemplated just skipping out. I had already talked to the teacher. She knew I wasn’t feeling very well. I could just tell her I was still feeling bad and needed to go rest. She would understand. I decided that maybe I would just go for one hour and then leave. One hour seemed possibly doable.
                I entered the cage-like classroom, only to be greeted with the sight of a fifteen year-old boy completely bottomless. He was missing not only his pants, but also his underwear as well. Apparently, he had just wet his pants and taking off his britches was the best way to inform the teachers he needed changed. A few of the teachers got right to changing him and all the teachers were horrified that I the foreign teacher had seen all this transpire. I decided that no more attention needed drawn to this commotion, and attempted to distract the other children.
                Thankfully, I had grown up in a home where mentally disabled people were present. My mom worked by caring for people in our home. I had been around special needs my entire life and I have been shown a supernatural love for all people, no matter who they are, by my moms example. Because of this, a fifteen year-old, half-naked boy was of no surprise, given the circumstances.
                I talked with a Down syndrome boy and taught a very bright little girl some English. Before I knew it, it was time for lunch. The teacher asked if I would like to eat lunch with the class and I agreed (I was profoundly amazed that two hours were passing by so fast). I have no idea what we ate, as I was never one to enjoy school lunches and I find Thai school lunches inedible some days. After the meal, I told them it was time for me to go home and I said my goodbyes. The teacher came over to say “thank you” and then, she said, “I want to put a blessing on you. That you be blessed all your days because you come here.” My thought was, “Someone with such a bad attitude as I did when I got here, should not ever be blessed.”  Instead, I said thank you and took the opportunity to ask her if she wanted me to pray for her in anyway. She said yes, for her family. She knew I was a Christian and still was just fine with me offering up prayers for her and her family to a foreign God. However, she told me her son is a faithful mediator and he will be praying for me as well.
                Then something I found to be highly unexpected happened. She took my hand, looked me in the eye, and said,

“I love you like my daughter. I see you here and you are so far away from your family and I see that they must miss you very much. You are young and so far away from your mother and your father. I think they miss you. You are alone and without your family. I love you like my daughter and I think of you as a part of my family. I tell them about you and you are a part of our family here.”She darted off and wrote down something on a little green piece of paper. She brought it over to me and told me,              “If you are ever in trouble, day or night, you can call me. 24 hours a day you can call and I will come and get you. No problem. You can just call and I will come and take care of you. Do not think, just call if you need me. I love you like my daughter.”
              I was so taken aback by the honest and open love given me. My experience was that Thai people are generally ready and willing to help out, but to opening say “I love you” is a different story.  The only emotion really acceptable to show is joy. Yet, here in front of me, was an elderly Thai lady, welcoming me into her family. Needless to say, I was immeasurably blessed.
              As I rode my bike home, I cried. I realized that I was so close to missing out on this blessing. I have no explanation of why I even felt a desire to be involved with this class, or why I ever agreed. However, I did and I found that God has plans; plans bigger than me or mine. Here, all I have is to be.

One Month in Thailand

One Month in Thailand

So, for an official update…

This first month of December has seemingly flown by without our notice. Just as everyone says, it seems as if we’ve been here for an eternity and just arrived all at the same time. I find it interesting how quickly those things which seem bizarre become so normal. For example, the first time we went to a market for a meal, an awful smell penetrated the air and I thought I was going to be sick. It’s funny because just about three weeks later, I smelled that same smell and it reminded me I was hungry. Every day I am reminded of how much Thailand has become another home.

In the last month, we have….
…Gone through Module 1 of Thai language school
…Learned to sleep though Soi Dogs endlessly bark
…Learned to ride bike on the opposite side of the street. (So far, no calamities have occurred. However, one of our bikers has hit a parked car.)
…Made friends! =]
…Eaten a few things that some would classify as inedible. Fish meat balls are just not my favorite. I feel the same about cow brain.
…Drank coffee that is more like sweeten condensed milk with a mild coffee flavor. (I feel as though it took a few years off of my life.)
…Learned that ten baht bubble tea is a little taste of heaven on earth. (Ten baht is about 33 U.S. cents)
…Resolved that Chicken Fried Rice is the comfort food of Thailand.
…Found that four, and occasionally five, people can sit somewhat comfortably in a taxi
…Discovered that no one actually understands how traffic patterns work AND as long as no one has suffocated, room most definitely exists for at least three more people on the bus.
…Wondered how the buses are still working… “Guys, I can see the ROAD through the hard wood flooring. Woah, I think that board’s loose… Maybe, don’t step on it?”  
…Decided the most common pick up line is “Hello! I love you.” (Did that actually ever work?)
… Become a spectator’s sport.
…Learned that people walk where ever they may please. Just walk wherever you please and stay out of the way of others. (Impossible, yes.)
…Learned to love the people of Thailand.

To be honest, Thailand and I had a rough start. I had a fever the first few days and even though my physical health went back to normal in about a week, I still just felt rather pathetic and I wanted to go home. They say that’s normal. I can’t remember feeling homesick. New places, being on “my own”, and growing up always were the exciting things to me. All of a sudden, I wanted to be home and I missed my family and my friends more than the words I have could express. All these things brought me to think a lot about this grand thing we call life and I wondered at how we measure a good life. I wondered at how one is considered a success or a failure. I wondered at what I really find important in life and if being in Thailand for the next 8 months was truly worth it. Once again, I had to learn the hard way that I have to bring my troubles, cares, concerns, and heartache before The One who knows my soul and once again, learn to rely on Him for my strength. I find that this has been the case many times in life, but it’s an unending lesson. 

This road, I know, is not an easy one.  Of course, that is where the most valuable lessons are learned