While riding the water taxi this afternoon into the great metropolis of Siam, I decided to read, rather than meaninglessly sway back and forth to the rocking of the boat. I've been reading this book for...well, almost a year- and yes, I'm still not finished; however, I like to justify my actions by saying that I'm just taking the time to let it all really soak in.
John Piper's insight is fantastic. I know, I know- as I've said before- BUT, hey, I went to school for marketing- So, just look at my support of his literary genius as pro-bono marketing work. In today's reading, Piper addresses how writing has played such a crucial role in his growth mentally and spiritually, he states:
"Writing is a way of slowing us down and opening our eyes to see what we do not otherwise see.
This struck me so forcefully one day that I paused and wrote:
'I know not how the light is shed,
Nor understand this lens.
I only know that there are eyes
In pencils and in pens' "
Writing is soothing and yet so exhausting at times. I find myself frantically writing line after line of thoughts that seem to only snowball into a page full of...well..nothingness at times; but, at times when I later return and reread over that written nothingness, that nothingness becomes somethingness- and, usually, I can gain some sort of insight from my past writings.
Once arriving to my destination and hopping off the river taxi, I headed to the Starbucks to order what has become my "usual".
Yes, it's true- I have "a usual".
I am now one of those- one of those snobs ordering " the usual,"
however, snobbish or not, it's become a little routine that I look forward to sipping on such frequent occasion. As my "usual" Barista was preparing my fine cup of iced coffee, she looked up at me, smiled, and asked me how long I'd be here in Thailand.
I've seen this woman four days a week for almost two months now, and only now did I discover she speaks great English. She ("Jun" is her name,) directed me towards her friend that was waiting for her drink to be made at the pickup counter. Her wide-eyed friend looked up (yes, literally...up- she's about 4 ft tall) at me and began questioning me with the usual- "where do you live?" (which is usually followed with an bitter looking far, a perplexed glare and a "really? that's far"- mostly because many white people don't make it out to where I live in the Latphrao ghetto) questions following regularly include: "how long are you here?" "where are you going?" and "where do you come from?"
Once my friendly interrogation was finished, she laughingly suggested that maybe I could teach her some English. I was astonished. A two minute conversation with this woman and she decides that I'm the one to help her with her English.
I AM SO EXCITED. You see, in my little, lonesome world of teaching, cycling classes and long walk with my boyfriend (yes..that's right. my boyfriend.. Have I told you about him? He's small, black, and always with me..singing sweet songs to me..keeping me company..) I've named him iPod. This world of mine is more like a bubble...a bubble of an American girl surrounded by everything Thai, lacking much interaction on a daily basis. Sometimes, the entire weekend passes without having the opportunity to say more than a "hello" or "thank you" seeing as my Thai vocabulary hasn't really been extended more than the basics; however, I've been praying for opportunities to just TALK.
I was in the line at Subway the other day and there was a woman in front of me that was white. TARGET.
I took out my earphones and thought of just something to ask her..just anything.something...anything I could say just to talk to someone! I think I ended up saying something as foolish and meaningless as "hmm..looks good. Never tried that.." which lead to a speedy introductory conversation where I learned she's lived here for 5 years, she's from Alaska- and, she LOVES it here. I would love it here too if I was from such a frigid, inconvenient ice cap.
Talking felt so good- to both the Subway Eskimo and the friend of my "usual" Barista.
God answered my prayer by bringing me to Starbucks at that moment where I met Nong. I will now be meeting with Nong on Sunday evenings at 6, to enjoy a good coffee and English conversation.
Wow- God is so good. Not only does He answer my prayers- but, He answers prayers and gives me the chance to enjoy coffee.
cheers.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
speechless
This blog has become a sharp pain in my side..a grey cloud hanging over my head..a mother's nag. (haha)-
It's been two weeks now since I've returned here to Bangkok and I am fully aware that I have yet to post the details of my Christmastime escapade. I like to take my time and carefully construct a well-worded blog for your reading pleasure; however, the blinking cursor stares back at my perplexed mind and motionless fingers as I have tried to write this entry several times.
How? How in written reason and ryhme am I to describe what I experienced in Bali? Words cannot explain. Pictures, I've found, were pointless. The first few days I was in Bali, I carried my camera like a small child, close to my side, awaiting any kodak moments that might pop up. Digitally scrapbooking my experiences has been one of the great joys of being here- a hobby I've found enjoyment in; rather, this trip could not be captured on film. In fact, my journey wasn't even captured by my mind. Every morning I woke up at the chidlren's home I would go through the same routine. Wake up, read a bit, shower, breakfast, and then...sit and watch in amazement.
I didn't feel like "myself" while I was there, and, I do believe it's because I truly wasn't myself. It wasn't "me" to go off and do something of this nature. It wasn't me to be sociable with native Indonesian-speaking, foreign orphans. None of it was ME; and, as one of the only things I've ever been positive of in my entire life, is that this trip not being MINE but HIS, is what made this the best experience I've ever had.
God presented this opporutnity, carried me there, and delievered to me the timeless gift of company, wrapped in worn-clothes and dirty flip-flops. Christmas without the trimmings and frills of holiday bliss traded for the naive simplicity found in the faces of these children.
I spent the majority of my time at the home wanting to help with the varied chores and duties of the children; however, rather than lending aid, the children insisted on treating me as a royal guest. The children sleep 3 to a bed, in geco-infested, un-airconditioned rooms- and yet, I was given an air-conditioned room with a small bathroom to enjoy. Never did I imagine I'd have so much privacy in a home crawling with over 60 children. During the daytime I would have to search for the children, as they were busy working in groups performing tasks around the house.
The routine of these children gains nothing but my utmost respect. At 5:30am they wakeup and pray together. Afterwards, the older girls take a shopping list to the local market and buy food for the day as Sandra (the owner,) insists that the children enjoy only fresh food. Meanwhile, some of the younger girls begin folding and ironing the laundry (and believe me, it's a MOUNTAIN of laundry,) while others begin mopping and dusting. This home is run like a well-oiled machine, and yet, no one complains.
5:30am everyday? That would be my first complaint.
Ironing? Complaint number two.
Rice? Again? number three.
Obviously, I'm nowhere near as mature as these children. Their innate love and respect for each other, and their willingness to serve not only guests, but their subordinates, has been a continous challenge to my own heart.
I've learned that obviously, I'm far from the maturity and humility of an orphan.
It's been two weeks now since I've returned here to Bangkok and I am fully aware that I have yet to post the details of my Christmastime escapade. I like to take my time and carefully construct a well-worded blog for your reading pleasure; however, the blinking cursor stares back at my perplexed mind and motionless fingers as I have tried to write this entry several times.
How? How in written reason and ryhme am I to describe what I experienced in Bali? Words cannot explain. Pictures, I've found, were pointless. The first few days I was in Bali, I carried my camera like a small child, close to my side, awaiting any kodak moments that might pop up. Digitally scrapbooking my experiences has been one of the great joys of being here- a hobby I've found enjoyment in; rather, this trip could not be captured on film. In fact, my journey wasn't even captured by my mind. Every morning I woke up at the chidlren's home I would go through the same routine. Wake up, read a bit, shower, breakfast, and then...sit and watch in amazement.
I didn't feel like "myself" while I was there, and, I do believe it's because I truly wasn't myself. It wasn't "me" to go off and do something of this nature. It wasn't me to be sociable with native Indonesian-speaking, foreign orphans. None of it was ME; and, as one of the only things I've ever been positive of in my entire life, is that this trip not being MINE but HIS, is what made this the best experience I've ever had.
God presented this opporutnity, carried me there, and delievered to me the timeless gift of company, wrapped in worn-clothes and dirty flip-flops. Christmas without the trimmings and frills of holiday bliss traded for the naive simplicity found in the faces of these children.
I spent the majority of my time at the home wanting to help with the varied chores and duties of the children; however, rather than lending aid, the children insisted on treating me as a royal guest. The children sleep 3 to a bed, in geco-infested, un-airconditioned rooms- and yet, I was given an air-conditioned room with a small bathroom to enjoy. Never did I imagine I'd have so much privacy in a home crawling with over 60 children. During the daytime I would have to search for the children, as they were busy working in groups performing tasks around the house.
The routine of these children gains nothing but my utmost respect. At 5:30am they wakeup and pray together. Afterwards, the older girls take a shopping list to the local market and buy food for the day as Sandra (the owner,) insists that the children enjoy only fresh food. Meanwhile, some of the younger girls begin folding and ironing the laundry (and believe me, it's a MOUNTAIN of laundry,) while others begin mopping and dusting. This home is run like a well-oiled machine, and yet, no one complains.
5:30am everyday? That would be my first complaint.
Ironing? Complaint number two.
Rice? Again? number three.
Obviously, I'm nowhere near as mature as these children. Their innate love and respect for each other, and their willingness to serve not only guests, but their subordinates, has been a continous challenge to my own heart.
I've learned that obviously, I'm far from the maturity and humility of an orphan.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
On December 21...
“No eye has seen,
no ear has heard,
no mind has conceived
what God has prepared for those who love him”- 1 Cor. 2:9
On the plane from Malaysia to Bali- I had somewhat of a rough day; however, I met a girl named Maggie who was traveling with a YWAM group doing various missions-oriented work. After only a few minutes talking with her about my purpose for my trip to Bali, she looked at me, put her hand on my arm and said, “Can I pray for you?”
No words could have sounded any sweeter.
I wanted to cry so badly..to hear such a genuinely loving prayer was so encouraging. She had such a calming voice and I felt God with us as the plane took off. Her voice and her words reminded me of those of my sister.
One of the best sounds my ears ever hear is the voice of my sister. My sister, Taryn, is a singer..a songwriter and a devoted musician. Very rarely do I ever tell her how soothing her voice is to me, and, if “home,” could be heard, her voice brings me home.
Maggie’s voice soothed my anxious mind and her voice comforted me.
After we prayed together, Maggie slipped one of those silly little satin masks to shade her eyes from the bright glare of the sterile environment and fell asleep. For the remainder of the flight I sat in my seat, meditating on why it was God was sending me on this journey- and, why he was sending me…alone.
Once again, I found myself lost in the pages of Mr. Chambers’ lyrical genius-
“When I am born again, the Spirit of God takes me beyond myself and my experiences, and identifies me with Jesus Christ…
My experiences are not worth anything unless they keep me at the source of truth-Jesus Christ”
This was probably one of the most adventurous steps of faith I have ever taken. Coming to Thailand, unsure of the where’s, what’s, who’s, and how’s, was one thing; however, alone with a backpack, a plane ticket and a plan to meet 70 orphans in Indonesia on my own seemed completely out of my league.
I was flattered by the opportunity because God obviously knew it was just the right thing. This trip would come to be the greatest where, what, who, and how I’ve ever experienced and it’s all because of faith.
Chambers continued:
“..be relentless and hard on yourself if you are in the habit of talking about the experiences you have had. Faith based on experience is not faith; faith based on God’s revealed truth is the only faith there is”.
My aim is not just to share my experiences with you, but rather convey to you somewhat of the enormity of God’s ever-revealing truths to me throughout my journeys, where I have undoubtedly felt, seen, and heard Him in my life.
no ear has heard,
no mind has conceived
what God has prepared for those who love him”- 1 Cor. 2:9
On the plane from Malaysia to Bali- I had somewhat of a rough day; however, I met a girl named Maggie who was traveling with a YWAM group doing various missions-oriented work. After only a few minutes talking with her about my purpose for my trip to Bali, she looked at me, put her hand on my arm and said, “Can I pray for you?”
No words could have sounded any sweeter.
I wanted to cry so badly..to hear such a genuinely loving prayer was so encouraging. She had such a calming voice and I felt God with us as the plane took off. Her voice and her words reminded me of those of my sister.
One of the best sounds my ears ever hear is the voice of my sister. My sister, Taryn, is a singer..a songwriter and a devoted musician. Very rarely do I ever tell her how soothing her voice is to me, and, if “home,” could be heard, her voice brings me home.
Maggie’s voice soothed my anxious mind and her voice comforted me.
After we prayed together, Maggie slipped one of those silly little satin masks to shade her eyes from the bright glare of the sterile environment and fell asleep. For the remainder of the flight I sat in my seat, meditating on why it was God was sending me on this journey- and, why he was sending me…alone.
Once again, I found myself lost in the pages of Mr. Chambers’ lyrical genius-
“When I am born again, the Spirit of God takes me beyond myself and my experiences, and identifies me with Jesus Christ…
My experiences are not worth anything unless they keep me at the source of truth-Jesus Christ”
This was probably one of the most adventurous steps of faith I have ever taken. Coming to Thailand, unsure of the where’s, what’s, who’s, and how’s, was one thing; however, alone with a backpack, a plane ticket and a plan to meet 70 orphans in Indonesia on my own seemed completely out of my league.
I was flattered by the opportunity because God obviously knew it was just the right thing. This trip would come to be the greatest where, what, who, and how I’ve ever experienced and it’s all because of faith.
Chambers continued:
“..be relentless and hard on yourself if you are in the habit of talking about the experiences you have had. Faith based on experience is not faith; faith based on God’s revealed truth is the only faith there is”.
My aim is not just to share my experiences with you, but rather convey to you somewhat of the enormity of God’s ever-revealing truths to me throughout my journeys, where I have undoubtedly felt, seen, and heard Him in my life.
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