Tag Archives: Wisdom Tree Home

Reach

November 16, 2020ache, Christian living, life on the foreign field, Poetry, this college lifeChiang Mai, gospel, healing, Jesus, lawyers, love, Mueng Chiang Mai Police Station, pain, Payap University, reach, Son of God, teaching, Thailand, translation, Wisdom Tree Homeinsearchofabrook

Could I but reach the pain–

Could I but touch the spot–

Could I but speak the aching word–

Could I but see through a clear glass, smudgeless of stain curling over the edges of reality, that burns the senses into dumbness, numbness, darkness and bleeds its bitterness into the currents of humanity—

Then, oh God, I would.

(It’s been a long day. I feel like I’ve seen a little bit of everything– innocence, laughter, pain, fear, kindness laced with subterfuge, depression, sincerity, deception, honesty. Hence the poem. From teaching 2 and 4 year-olds in the morning, to attending a college class at noon, translating for a sticky, depressing case at the station, and debating the principles of Christianity with a lawyer from another belief system, I guess I can see why I am little bit discouraged. I also don’t know if that last sentence is grammatically correct or not. Blame my PR teacher for making me doubt.)

A Year Later: My Baanies Part 2

March 3, 2019home, life on the foreign field, Poetryalive, Baanies, beauty, Chiang Mai, Friends, home, IGo, Institute for Global Opportunities, life, Mennonites, Payap University, people, Poetry, San Kamphaeng, Thailand, travel, Wisdom Tree Homeinsearchofabrook

Just recently I have been reminded of the importance of community. I am by nature not someone who gravitates toward community, but I have learned and am learning how important it is to surround yourself with trustworthy people. These ladies, the Baanies, have taught me so much. Where I fail, they make up for it. My weaknesses are their strengths, my strengths are their weaknesses. Alone we could never do what we do now. They have taught me about friendship, about sharing, about beauty, about strength, about trust. Close to a year ago I blogged a poem about my “baanies.” Click here to read it. Now it’s close to a year later and with several of them leaving, I find myself a bit nostalgic. I don’t post these poems because I think they are masterpieces in the realm of poetry– they’re not. But even if the rhythm and rhyming is stilted and simple, it embodies some of what these ladies bring to life here in Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Oh, we live in house that leaks when it rains

And spiders have tea in the cracks

But we are the Baanies so we don’t mind

Cause we’ve got each other’s backs

Kats wedding_180411_0026 — Judi on the left.

Judi went home, she said, “just because”

But we all really know why

There’s a guy named Mike she thinks she likes

Even though she’s back in Chiang Mai;

This Mike, we think, may be ok

But we’re keeping our eyes trained tight:

He’d better be good, and do as he should

Or we will all put him to flight.

Kim is well and busy as ever

And next week she is saying goodbye

To the tropics of Thailand for the snows of the North

For the handshake instead of the wai;

We’ll miss her heaps and all of her songs

And her passion and kindness as well,

But she’ll shine her light wherever she is

That we can surely foretell.

Retreat 2018_180813_0016 — Crystal on the left.

Crystal keeps life in this house refreshing

When naps in the bathroom she takes,

She likes to push others into the pool

And finds in her bike long skinny snakes;

She’s got a heart that is made of gold

(So her students would gladly say)

Coffee makes her happy (and of course us too)

She is just fun to be with all day.

9399 — Ask Crystal if she enjoys chicken now…

Oh, we live in house that leaks when it rains

And spiders have tea in the cracks,

But we are the Baanies so we don’t mind

Cause we’ve got each other’s backs.

Waterfall trip_190302_0025.jpg — Melissa on the left

Melissa is as sweet and understanding as ever

And just in the weeks that passed

She bravely called a man to come kill our rats

(Even though her heart beat fast)

Her Thai is better than ever before

But she is going home in May

This makes us wonder who will clean the kitchen

And makes us sadder than we can say.

Waterfall trip_190302_0046 — Nancy: second to right

Nancy has learned how to speak Thai

And she’s really good at latte art

We all like to listen when she laughs

And hers is a kind, sensitive heart

She drives a funny, yellow Fino

A lot like a bumblebee, I’d say

She zips around corners and weaves through traffic

While we hold on tight and— pray.

Oh, we live in house that leaks when it rains

And spiders have tea in the cracks

But we are the Baanies so we don’t mind

Cause we’ve got each other’s backs.

Waterfall trip_190302_0055 — Brit on the left

Brit will be an aunt before too long

We’re all happy for her sake

She doesn’t lose her phone as much anymore

And you should see the fires she makes

She’s smart and selfless and loves little kids

And really, she’s almost Thai,

And when we think of her leaving for home

The only thing we want to do — is cry.

Lori’s still here and her hair is even grayer

And she’s slipped down her stairs a few times

She’s got itchy feet and she dreams of the mountains

And she still makes weird little rhymes

She’ll still be in school for another two years

And then watch out, she’ll be free

To travel away, to teach or to train,

Or be whatever God calls her to be.

ขึ้นบ้านใหม่ศักดิ์อร_180401_0006 — With Thai friends from church

Oh, we live in house that leaks when it rains

And spiders have tea in the cracks

But we are the Baanies so we don’t mind

Cause we’ve got each other’s backs

My Baanies *

April 19, 2018life on the foreign field, PoetryBaanies, Chiang Mai, dogs, Friends, home, IGo, Institute for Global Opportunities, laughter, people, Poetry, teaching, Thailand, Wisdom Tree Homeinsearchofabrook

To the fine bunch of ladies that I do life with…. I live in a house with six other girls, all of who are volunteers at Wisdom Tree Home, where I used to work. This is a glimpse of what life looks like in our creaky old house.

Oh, we live in a house of seven girls

And bonny lassies are we

Seven girls and a dog (who cries when we leave)

All footloose and fancy-free

Where we’re from…

Lori and Crystal speak Dutch with each other

But Lori speaks it more to the dog

Nancy speaks Platt Dietsch when she talks with her mom

And leaves the rest in a fog

Kim hails from Canada, and so does Melissa

And Brit is a Buckeye at heart

She tries to speak Dutch but Thai comes out

Her brain can’t keep them apart.

Judi comes from where it’s cold all the time

And we like the way she says “sawlt”

We mimic the Canadians and the Thais and each other

And don’t always speak as we ought.

On Saturdays…

Brit goes to the market

And Judi goes to the mall

Where she walks and she looks

And buys nothing at all

Melissa goes to a coffee shop

Kim goes out with a friend

Crystal goes to the pool, and Lori,

Lori does homework till her hair stands on end.

Oh, we live in a house of seven girls

And bonny lassies are we

Seven girls and a dog (who cries when we leave)

All footloose and fancy-free

In the bathroom…

When Lori’s in the shower, she studies Chinese

And Brit plays songs in Thai

But Kim and Nancy play ukulele on the floor

By the tub where the echo rings high.

Judi sings songs like “Country Roads”

And also sings the song about the rose

But the dog outside outsings us all

When he misses his friends and howls out his woes

What we’re like…

Judi likes to kill things like mosquitos and snakes

But spiders make Brit turn white with fear

She’ll stand on her bed and shiver and shake

Till someone comes to smash it. Oh dear, oh dear!

Lori’s in a rush and can’t find her keys

Where Kim left her laptop is quite unknown

Brit wants to take a picture to send to her dad

But now she can’t do it cause she can’t find her phone

At a coffee shop…

Brit likes to journal and Nancy watercolors

And Kim always makes a new friend

Crystal studies Thai and Melissa writes an update,

And Lori does homework till her hair stands on end.

Kim swigs coffee, all black, by the pot

But Judi likes hers with cream

Brit walks the line between coffee and tea

But Melissa drinks just water, or so it would seem.

Oh, we live in a house of seven girls

And bonny lassies are we

Seven girls and a dog (who cries when we leave)

All footloose and fancy-free

At night…

Brit and Melissa go to bed early

Where Brit dreams amazing things

Crystal hums in her sleep, and all the rest

Wait to go to bed till the dtukae** sings

Lori sleeps up top at the end of the stairs

Where the others fear she’ll fall out of bed

Kim sits on her balcony where she sings all night

And Crystal smacks roaches in her room till they’re dead

In the future….

Melissa will get married and have 8 Chinese boys

That keep her on her toes and all look alike

Brit will adopt kids, and kids, and kids

Half of which will be two-year old tykes

And Kim will lead worship in a Chinese town

With her husband who’s 6 foot 4

While Judi sips coffee at her own little shop

On the edge of the Grecian shore

Nancy will marry and move to the States

Where she’ll make fajitas like a very fine wife

Crystal will move to Africa’s horn

Where she’ll look after orphans all of her life

While Lori rides her horse from village to village

As she teaches in the mountains of Pai

But for now we live in this shaky old house

Together and happy, here in Chiang Mai.

Oh, we live in a house of seven girls

And bonny lassies are we

Seven girls and a dog (who cries when we leave)

All footloose and fancy-free

* “Baanies” is a play on words that comes from the Thai word “baan,” which means “home.” Instead of saying “homies” when referring to our housemates, we call ourselves the “baanies,” which is another play on words in the English language, since it sounds like “bonnie.”

** a dtukae is a large lizard like creature that likes goes “Dtu! Gaa! Dtu! Gaa!” at night.

Glimpses

May 23, 2017life on the foreign fieldbeauty, Chiang Mai, children, homesick, joy, laughter, simplicity, Wisdom Tree Homeinsearchofabrook

Sometimes I have those moments of lying awake in bed at night and wishing I could take the next plane home, get out of the city, spend time with my family, visit my favorite haunts again, listen to the laughter of old friends, and tear down the road in a madcap gallop on a sorrel horse.

I do have those moments. In no small measure. But on the other hand, I also have moments of pure joy as I experience life in Southeast Asia.

It helps to count those moments. To look at pictures of them and savor the beauty and the joy. And the laughter. I face a thousand decisions a day and one of the decisions that come up the most is whether to laugh or to cry. Or lose my patience. And when I do make the right decision to laugh, it’s always a relief. Like the time I walked into the bathrooms after naptime and caught three of my three year old male students sleepily peeing into the toilet all at the same time. Sadly, the funniest moments are usually the most difficult to snap a picture of because they come at unpredictable moments.

Below are several snapshots of what life has been like in the last month. Beauty, laughter, and just plain cuteness.

This is what life looks like for me most of the time. Minus the green and yellow. We only wear these uniforms Wednesdays and smile with relief when the day is past. This photo was taken at Wisdom Tree Home during the exercise part of the day. The rest of the day is spent teaching, playing, eating, napping, and prepping for more teaching. In my room alone, we have 20 students, age 3.

This is Peem, one of my more solemn students. And sleepiest.

We get lots of giggles, as shown in the picture above.

Sometimes its really hard to wake up from naps, even when our blanket gets pulled out from underneath us.

We do art projects, we just simply look cute with our curls, we find worms and we fall asleep at the table. A lot.

Sometimes this happens!

Going to the market on Monday night is bound to bring me some sort of joy, whether its talking to the vendors, seeing people I know, or a tasty bite of fried chicken strips.

One thing that keeps me sane is horseback riding, usually done on Saturdays.

We got to go to a Karen wedding one Saturday.

These two, a coworker and her daughter, keep me in laughter.

And these two make me smile.

We went to Maun Jam, a local mountain lookout one Saturday.

At a local village, we spent some time with the children and later watched them play this game similar to volleyball.

Sometimes just looking at the sky brings me all kinds of joy.

One Saturday we spent time with a Thai friend at a 3D Art Museum.

And when you combine rivers and coffee, life just becomes too much to handle. 🙂

Child That Never Really Was Mine 2

May 13, 2017at risk, children, life on the foreign field, Poetrychildren, memories, Poetry, Wisdom Tree Homeinsearchofabrook

It’s now close to two years that I saw him last. Be was my first student at Wisdom Tree Home, and the one that left the most lasting imprint on my heart. I stumbled across a picture of him yesterday and floods of memories came back. Here is a poem I posted two years ago of him. I felt it would be appropriate to post it again.

*************

I miss you, I miss you, child of my heart

(Child that never really was mine)

Eyes so deep you’d think you’d drown

Drown in those tears of salty brine.

But child, child, I miss those hands

Brown and small that clung to my own

Clung to my hands and held to my heart

But now I hold alone.

************

The last time I saw you, child of mine

You looked so fragile and skinny and small

And I don’t know if I’ll ever again

Walk this way and hear you call

But child, child, I’ll never, forget

The way you hugged me that one last time

Child, I love you, no words can say

(Child that never really was mine).

-June 2015

What Is Missions?

September 28, 2016children, life on the foreign field, loveChiang Mai, children, missionary, missions, Thailand, Wisdom Tree Homeinsearchofabrook

What is missionary life? After reading an article called This Is Missions by Brooke Vanguard, a description of missions in China, I was challenged by a friend to write our own version of missions in Thailand. This is a glimpse of what it is. The photos are a bit random, some having to do with the words, and some not.

Again, a small disclaimer. Sometimes I hesitate to write anything about missions here, simply because so many people get the picture that missions is some sort of really special work that only really special people can do. It is not!! Sometimes I cringe when I am labeled as a missionary, because of this. It is a really special work that people with a really special God can do. And being a missionary does not mean that you need to go to a foreign country. It can be done on your very doorstep.

This is missions…..

It’s reaching up and finding spiders in your hair and going on wild mouse chases in the middle of the night. It’s brushing off the ants from that precious banana bread — and eating the banana bread. It’s waking up at night hearing rats running around attic. It’s setting sticky traps in the kitchen and having to haul off the results later, while choking back nausea.

It’s trying to make food that your Thai guests will enjoy and instead, it’s putting way too much water into the rice which leaves it sticky and mushy. It’s feeling like a bumbling city girl who can’t cook anything because you simply don’t know how to make Thai food. It’s ordering fresh milk and feeling stupid and naïve because no matter how desperately you calculate, you can’t think of how much 10 kilograms of milk might be in pounds. It’s feeling silly because you don’t know how to change children’s diapers Thai style— pull off the diaper and spray ‘em with the hose!

It’s being told that you are way too trusting when you invite the lonely stranger you met at the bus station to stay at your house. It’s being told by your neighbors and friends how you should arrange your furniture, how you should put up your shelves, how you should always close your door to keep out the mosquitos, and how you should not go out into the sun without long sleeves, or let yourself get wet. It’s feeling frustrated when you’re constantly told by your coworkers at school that you need to speak harshly to your children in order to make them behave, and feeling like you can’t do anything right because you don’t quite do it their way.

It’s trying to impress your hosts with your ability to eat spicy food, and then paying for your pride the next morning in the bathroom. It’s feeling frustrated by not being able to communicate the way you want to and it’s being tired of feeling like a 3 year old who keeps on using the wrong words and saying silly things.

It’s feeling totally comfortable telling a male friend at church how much you weigh. It’s laughing at jokes you would not have thought funny 2 years ago. It’s eating with your spoon in your right hand and your fork in your left without a thought. It’s being ok with changing plans at the last minute, or not even having any plans in the first place. It’s going home and asking your mom if the mattress in your room is new—- because it’s so soft! It’s asking people if they’ve eaten yet and what they ate, as a way of being polite. Or asking them where they’re going.

It’s feeling like you’re brain is permanently fried by language study and hot weather. It’s feeling like you use so much brain energy just surviving that all the profound, cool thoughts you used to think have simply vanished from your brain.

It’s wondering how on earth to help the bouncing ADHD student learn to control himself and stop shooting things with his imaginary gun. It’s holding tightly an angry child bent on hurting whatever he can touch in his little world. It’s feeling like all you do is tell little people what to do.

It’s going to church and feeling a heaviness on your heart because you wish so badly that your unbelieving friends could be there too. It’s driving home late at night and feeling the sadness of the city circle around your soul.

It’s being ecstatic about the fact that in a little over a week you get to fly home for an entire month. At the same time, it’s feeling terrified too.

It’s being on cloud nine after being able to carry an hour long conversation all in Thai, and then it’s crashing down to reality when you can’t understand a simple question.

It’s always feeling a little self -conscious, wherever you go. It’s being told you are sooo beautiful all the time and you speak Thai sooooo well. It’s being used to the stares that come from passengers on the backs of trucks as you drive down the road on your bike.

It’s listening to your friend recount with glowing face her new found faith and the way God is working in her life and leading her to witness to her co-workers. It’s listening to her bold statement of faith before she is baptized on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

It’s having a young student crying inconsolably after leaving school because she found out that Teacher Lori is going home to America, not realizing it’s only for a month. (Ok, not quite inconsolably. She was consoled by donuts eventually, I heard.)

It’s listening to a 4 year old student from a Buddhist family announcing to his friends, “When I grow up I am going to go to church!”

It’s watching the even rising and falling chest of a young girl as she sleeps and running your finger over her smooth cheek, praying that God would give her a hope and a future, even when all the odds are against her.

It’s feeling that odd tug at your soul when you crest the mountain peak – on those few occasions that you do get to the mountain – and seeing smoke rising from a valley village, far below. It’s that heartfelt connection that you feel after stopping at a roadside stand to escape the rain for a few minutes and striking up a conversation with the vendors and customers, finding that they too know the true God. It’s seeing the delight on a market vendor’s face because you speak their language and eat their food.

It’s feeling the small strength of a child’s hand in yours. It’s seeing the solemn trust in a little girl’s chocolate eyes and hearing her say your name. It’s hearing the squealing laughter of 30 children loose on the playground. It’s giving piggy back rides and bouncing wildly on big rubber balls and roaring like a tiger and rolling on the ground and doing other quite unladylike maneuvers.

It’s sitting at Wednesday night cell group, singing Thai songs and sharing struggles and realizing over and over again that we are brothers and sisters.

It’s knowing it is all worth it.

40 Ways You Know You Work at Wisdom Tree Home

May 15, 2016children, culture, life on the foreign fieldBaanies, Chiang Mai, children, love, preschool, teaching, Thailand, Wisdom Tree Homeinsearchofabrook

40 Ways You Know You Teach at Wisdom Tree Home

“The Wheels on the Bus” is your default shower song.
You find yourself patting the toilet and saying “Good job” when it finally flushes.
At the stoplight you find yourself singing, “The light is red, the light is red, the light is red, red, red.”
You say the Thai word for a bowel movement when speaking English instead of the English word since it sounds less impolite to say it in Thai. “She went to kii!”
You refrain from even glancing toward the window when someone arrives during class since you know soon the entire class will be headed for the window.
You swallow every bit of that snack in your mouth before you leave the kitchen and join the children.
You spray off little bottoms instead of wiping them with baby wipes. Or toilet paper.
You pull toilet paper rolls out of the trash because you know you can always find a way to use them.
You CANNOT get rid of the song “Humpty Dumpty” running through your head at the ridiculous hour of 1 in the morning.
You are able to do the Hamster Dance perfectly. Well, almost perfectly.
You start telling children to get in under the shade and NOT play out in the sun!
When the temperature drops to 70, everybody comes down with colds.
You feed hippos and lions in the crawl space of the building.
You say “good job” or “geng mak!” about 50 times a day.
You say “no” or “mai ou” about the same amount of times in a day.
You say “sit down” and “be quiet” 100 times in a day.
You sneak in ice coffee drinks and sip them on watch at nap time.
You find yourself saying things you vowed to never say to your children, “Think of all the hungry little children in this world who would love to eat this food.” Aaaarrrggghhh!
You are always hungry, for some inexplicable reason.
You eat rice for every noon meal and so does everybody else.
You come home from work with numbers stuck onto your dress with tape.
You find stickers stuck in the oddest places, like on your back.
When talking to American children, you need to bite your tongue in order not to speak Thai to them.
You find yourself watching children at the local market, sure you’ll see someone you recognize.
You become indignant and outraged when you’re at a restaurant and you see a 3 year old child sitting on a booth playing with a smart phone while the parents spoon feed it dinner.
You become immune to being grossed out by anything.
You wonder what kind of supernatural being you will have been transformed into by the time you finish your term of 2 years of volunteering.
You watch Matt at Dream English and Blippi videos for entertainment in the evening because they are soooooo cheeeeesy.
You go to the zoo with your students and you feel like you brought the zoo instead.
You say “It is soooooo hot today” on the average of 4 times a day.
You send 37 kids home in the evening and go home and collapse.
You like going to church and simply sitting there and watching kids and being glad that you don’t have to be in charge.
You like the feel of sloppy kisses and pudgy, dirty hands.
You wolf down your food at lunch while overseeing 13 other little mouths.
Your Thai co-workers call you a fairy godmother since they don’t think you’re bossy enough, but you feel more like a wicked stepmother.
You get told by the sassy little cherub beside you, “Eat your food!” when you happen to be chatting with some of the older children during lunch time.
You vow that your children will not know what a smart phone looks like until they are at least 10 years old.
You also vow that if you ever have children of your own, you will not let them be an only child.
You wonder if YOU were like this when you were a child!
And when you don’t see your kiddoes for 4 days in a row, you start missing the impish little pipsqueaks.

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

December 24, 2015children, life on the foreign fieldChiang Mai, children, Christmas, crazy, life, Thailand, Wisdom Tree Homeinsearchofabrook

Tonight is the night. Christmas will never be the same.

This is how a normal practice goes with a 2-4 year old cast for the Nativity scene. Once we get everybody quiet or at least a resemblance of silence, the story starts and the angel comes to see Mary, who is sweeping the floor with great vigor. The angel appears and Mary, in an effort to look startled according to the coaching of the teachers, stomps on her broom, trips over it, straddles it like a witch, and performs all sorts of un-Mary-like broom tricks. After the angel is finished, Mary is hustled off to another room and Joseph comes to dream, folds his blanket in fourths and proceeds to try to go to sleep on a tiny bit of blanket. While the angel speaks with him, Mary peeks out of the room with great giggles, as if pleased and embarrassed by the developments of Joseph’s dream. Once Mary and Joseph are supposed to go travel to Bethlehem, Mary is found chasing Joseph around with a broom, while Joseph fends her off with the blanket. The donkey takes them to Bethlehem while a pregnant Mary hangs on to his side and Joseph trudges way in the back as if reluctant to face what is going to happen next. When finally they reach the stable, Mary tumbles into her chair in a decidedly unpregnant fashion and dramatically pulls out from under her shirt, a sweater that has been knotted at the hood to represent a baby. While the angel appears to the shepherds (who are too busy talking and/or playing air guitar with the sash of their shepherd costume to notice that an angel has appeared at all) Mary is busy bopping the baby’s “head” against her own, and Joseph is out of his seat checking out what is under it. The Wise Men appear, following a star, and get distracted in their journey and begin waving to the rest of the children who are sitting not so quietly watching. After the Wise Men are coerced to kneel down at the side of the baby, and Mary yanks the gifts from their hands, Joseph decides now would be a good time to try out the flavor of the frankincense.

After this, everybody is put in a line in a haphazard fashion and we manage to sing, “It’s a Gift to You.” The first part is usually fairly quiet since most of them are busy poking their neighbor, or or are covering their eyes, or doing other mad sort of tricks. The last part of the song crescendos into a thundering roar, as each child tries to outsing outshout the others.

If we keep on at this rate, we will be vying for Oscars alongside The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Which is fine, too.

Just one more day….!