Fingerprints

I was thinking about going. Then "Nah, I'll be sane and stay."

Then... "Hm, who said insanity was bad? I'm going."

On Sunday afternoon a group of kids + a few teachers piled into trucks and headed up into the mountains, to a village to participate in and attend an evangelistic meeting. I hadn't heard in time on Sunday to go, and besides that, I felt half awake. I stayed on Sunday.

Monday, however, was a whole different banana. 

I decided I wanted to go and experience what it was like. So I accordingly took my bath and prepared myself to leave at 3:30. 

At 3:30, a group headed out in one vehicle. The rest of us were waiting for a church member's truck to come and get us.

One thing that must be understood about the Karen: a typical Karen will almost NEVER be on time. Never. 

Our driver must be a fairly typical Karen. Because he wasn't on time.

Sometime around 4 or so, he showed up, and we all piled on. I noticed, however, that one student (a choir member who was supposed to go) had vanished. And this wasn't just a choir member. This was my student.

Tee Nee Too. He'd been in the driveway, and then vanished. Obviously, he didn't want to go.

From the bed of the truck, I turned and asked Hannah, "Are we leaving Tee Nee Too here?" 

"Um no... Tee Nee Too! Come!" 

A grinning face peered at us from between the banana trees. I motioned to him to come, and he shook his head with a smile as wide as the Pacific Ocean. The driver was pulling out now, and it looked like we were going to leave the little scapegoat behind.

I had suspicions about why he, of all people, wanted to stay. Due to suspicion and the fact that it’s Tee Nee Too, I was determined to win.

Naw Da Blet called for the driver to stop, and I shook a threatening finger towards the banana trees and yelled at Tee Nee Too: "Young man, if you do not come right now, I'm going to fail you on your English exam next week!"

Naw Da Blet translated my threat for the whole group of students—including the culprit—to hear. Before she even finished, that boy was out of the banana trees, running for the truck like someone lit a fire under him.

Hannah laughed and gave me a smack. "Heidi, you're getting as bad as them!" 

I grinned. Oh well.

Having close to 20 of you crammed in the back of an open-bedded truck, going around hairpin corners and up sharp inclines is quite the entertaining experience. I'd recommend it, actually, with the exception of one thing: motion-sickness.

I haven't gotten carsick since the first time I rode in the very back of our white station wagon. I didn't think I'd get carsick today.

But I did. Of course.

Sitting on the floor of the bed of the truck, with girls on this side and on that, a few boys here and there, and Hannah sitting with Naw Da Blet, Mu Wa Wa and Tee Nee Too on the tailgate, I got carsick. Not enough to feel like throwing up, but enough that I was pretty miserable. Great, I thought, now I'll be like this all evening.  

We arrived at the village and found out that we were waiting to start the meeting til after it got dark. There was a powerpoint presentation, see, and it needed to be dark to work. So they were going to feed us first.

There were only a few of us who were strict vegetarians: Harvey, Hannah, myself, Naw Da Blet and Thara Eh Guh Nyaw. We got situated in a little hut and had the blessing (Eh Guh Nyaw did—and he prayed in English! That's the only time I've ever heard him pray in English. Wow.) and then dug in. 

There were a few things there: a bowl of rice for each of us, a big dish of raw cucumbers and another green vegetable, some veggie curry, a soupy type of curry, and three dishes of this...stuff. It looked almost like beans, but Eh Guh Nyaw said it was eggplant. Ohhh good. I like eggplant.

I took enough to generously mix with all my rice, and then took a bite of it. 

I'd failed to realize that when you can SEE the chiles in a dish, it's going to be hot enough to blow your socks off and change your hair color. 

It was hot. Hotter than anything I'd eaten in...well, a long time. (I think the hottest stuff I ever had was pre-packaged spicy noodles from the cafeteria in OHSU in Portland: remember that, Sarah?) And the problem was that this wasn't flavor with some hot. Hot was the flavor.

I never ate so many raw cucumbers in my life. Ever. I added almost everything to that dish to tone down the flames, and it still didn't help. Harvey looked at me from across the floor and grinned. "Getting a little warm?"

"Um yeah. Just a little."

A few minutes later... "Hey though, I can't say I'm nauseated anymore!"

I felt like I was swallowing a flaming wood furnace, but I finally managed to finish the whole dish. I set the empty bowl down in a bit of triumph and continued to eat cucumber. The final extinguisher was a banana....and then another banana. By then, the carsickness--and the flames--were both gone.

The meeting went well. We sat in a little area carved out from a hillside, on mats and tarps. But even in our secluded, primitive meeting hall, we had power, lights, and a whole powerpoint presentation. I was impressed.

As it got darker, I started noticing the cold. I'd only brought my three-quarter-length jacket with me, and I tried to huddle down into it more. Nothing saves you from this penetrating cold though. I was cold clear through pretty quickly.

It was late when the meeting finished. We piled back into the trucks. I sat on the floor again, with some other girls, one of them lying in my lap. Some girls gave me a handful of huge trumpet flowers, glowing eery in the moonlight. They smelled just slightly sweet—and as I buried my nose in them, I wondered... How many more times will I have experiences like this to remember?

The truck pulled out and as we headed down the bumpy road, the whole truck bed erupted into loud singing. Like, yelling-at-the-top-of-your-voice singing. Oh, they were happy, bouncing along the dirt road, falling around corners. 

I lost a flip-flop to the hoard up front, and tried to keep a little bit warm in the nippy wind. Tilting my head back, I "considered the heavens," something it always awes me to do. The moon, not even full, lit up everything with a pale glow—from faces in the truck to leaves along the side of the road. And a sense of thrill, wonder...and sadness...filled my heart. 

Oh, the things people miss. What if my family could experience this? My friends? What if... But then, what if I never experience it again?  

We got back late. I got sick from having been out in the cold without proper attire. I still say it was worth it.

A group went up again today. Due to sickness, I stayed behind. Some time later, Thara Timothy carried a little girl up to the porch who had fallen while playing a game, landed smack on her chin and knocked herself out. She was having trouble breathing, her mouth was all bloody...and we have no nurse. 

. 

No phones were being answered, so I ran across the road to get Lisa Sharon. She, Travis and Jason all came, the boys running and Lisa at a fast walk to save her back. Maybe a broken jaw, was the conclusion. Maybe a concussion. But hopefully no imminent danger. 

The crowd on our porch dissipated and eventually Sharon, Lisa, Travis and I were the only ones left with the little girl. We got to talking about this and that, telling stories and laughing together. 

And then Lisa looked right at me and said, "Heidi, I just can't believe that you're leaving."

I kind of laughed. But my brain didn't. I can't believe I'll be leaving either. But really, has anyone really noticed I'm here?  

Lisa then asked, "Is there any way that....you know, go home, see your family for a few months and then come back?"

I admitted this was technically possible, because my visa doesn't run out til next August. But I also added that this was technically impossible because I have no money wherewith to get back. 

Lisa looked at Travis and made a face. "That's... disgusting." We laughed.

"I want to come back, I really do," I said. "But I don't know if this is where God wants me again...I don't know if He's called me here."

Lisa smiled. "Well, you were called here..."

"Yeah, and besides, the last chapter of Matthew tells you the same thing," Travis put in, mischief in his eyes. "Actually, Mark and Luke give the same message pretty clearly too."

Again, laughter. But it made me think....

I am going home in March. To see those I love, and to share with a world that is mostly asleep about what God has done in my life...and how they can help to change another life... 

I need to go back.

But there's no law that says I need to STAY back. 

I've already known I want to come back, if for no other reason than to visit. But have I been called to give my entire life for these people, these children? I just don't know.

I do know one thing. God has a special work for me to do, in a special place. No one else can do it. Only me. 

And if I don't do it, no one else will.

I want to do my heaven-appointed work. 

The question is where is it? and what is it? Is it Thailand? Home? Or somewhere else?

Only time...and trust...and the Lord Himself...will tell. 

For now, I know where I am. 

And I still have time to leave fingerprints on this place that's already left so many fingerprints on me. 

The boys playing soccer. Oh, how I wish I could play with them! They're rough on each other, but I get this urge to run out there and play with them every time I see them. Maybe eventually.

 The sign that Brenda cleared bushes away from last week.

Walk with Hannah and Sharon.

Thara Dah Bu (on the left) and Thara Eh Guh Nyaw (on the right) between classes.

One of my sixth grade girls.

July Paw, covering her face in the typical Karen fashion, meaning "Oh! How embarassing!"

Waiting for my seventh graders...

Flowers between the school building and the chapel.

Tee Nee Too, my main antagonist.

I never thought I'd use chalk on a blackboard again after 3rd grade. Now I use it all the time.

Naw Da Blet on the way to the evangelistic meeting.

Found a semi-comfortable place to sit.

Kids.

November Paw, before she hurt herself the other night. Poor little thing...

Pastor Eh Blu Ray, before the meeting started.

Villagers in the foreground, students in the background.

Little choir members...

 Hannah and Naw Da Blet sang a song in Karen for a special music, with Tee Nee Too on the guitar.