L’envoi

This will be our last post as a result of our mission to Bangkok.  The headline refers to both a poem by Kipling, and a literary term for drawing a meaning or conclusion at the end of a poem.  I suppose it is too soon to deeply reflect upon what we did, whom we met, and what we saw, but here goes anyway.

I just reread what I wrote when we returned from our mission to Lithuania these five years ago, (Reflections on return).  Much of what I said then would apply now – except for the part about how similar Lithuania was to any other Western country.  Except for shopping centers, which are the same all over the world, not much in Thailand was like life and culture in the States.  As you’ve been following our blog, you have noticed what I mean, and I won’t rehash here.

A mission, at least in our experience, is like a stage of life.  You put down roots, establish relationships, get in the groove, so to speak, and then it’s over.  This is very obvious to those of you who, as Bonnie and I, have moved frequently over the years.  For those who’ve stayed put, however, think how many people – friends, family, neighbors – or institutions have left or changed beyond recognition.  It is with a profound sense of loss that this takes place, and even though we were only at the Centre and our neighborhood for about five weeks, nevertheless bonds were formed.

Memories, however, last for a very long time.  It is unlikely that we will ever see any of the folks we met again, at least not until “Earth’s last picture is painted”, but Bonnie and I are much the richer for having had the opportunity.  On our first mission trip, to Jamaica in 1998, to an orphanage, a kid named Charles asked if I would ever forget him.  I said no – and obviously haven’t.  If you’ve ever considered a mission journey, take it.  No matter what you may contribute to others, no matter the time, expense and often discomfort, you will be the gainer.

Although we should all bear in mind that day “When only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame . . “, in the meantime there are some wonderful experiences to be had, and some wonderful people to meet.

Sawatdee, krop.,

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Be ready

Therefore
keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will
come.  But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at
what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not
have let his house be broken into.  So you also must be ready, because
the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.”  (Matthew
24:42-44)

This is
not the only place in the Bible that exhorts us to be ready, that Jesus will
return without warning.  I don’t spend much timing worrying about the end
times, however.  After all, Jesus said:  “But about that day
or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son,
 but only
the Father.”
 (Matthew
24:36)  So, I do the best I can to love and serve the Lord and hope for
the best. 
Living in Honduras has brought a new, and
immediate, meaning to “be ready.”   Two weeks ago I was puttering
around in the evening when I got a text message from Suzy.  “David and
Evelyn lost the baby.”  No warning, out of the blue.  Early the next
morning I arrived at their church for the velorio (wake.)  Suzy had been
there since 7 am, others all night.  The Hondurans knew just what to
do.  They are always ready.  More and more people were
arriving.  “How did they find out,” I wondered.  Most people don’t have
internet at home so a group email was not an option.  I didn’t see Dulce
and Gloria (Casa LAMB household staff) and I thought I 
should call them. 
No need, they were already cooking for an indeterminate number of
people.  I saw clients from our micro-credit program and Jose Luis and
Ariel, construction workers from the Children’s Home, were there.  How in
the world did they know?  Somehow the word is spread far and wide when a
tragedy happens.  The Hondurans have an instinctive and immediate response
of love and support.  They are always ready to drop everything and go.
It is
not only in the sad times that the Hondurans are ready.  The children
at the Children’s Home are always ready.    I can’t
walk more than about 3 steps with something in my hands before a child, even a
very small child, runs up and takes it from me, always ready to help.  The
older children are always watching the younger ones, ready to rescue a child
from danger or pick up a crying child.  I can’t count how many
(microscopic) bites of food I have had, offered by a dirty, sticky little hand,
always ready to share.   They are always ready to give a hug, a
smile, or other expression of their love.

We were still reeling from the loss of the baby when
another text arrived on Tuesday evening.  “Dony’s father was
murdered.”  Again, I got a lesson on being ready.
Be ready to provide food and
coffee for the people coming to the velorio.   Food arrived from many
people.  The women, of course, knew just what to do.  Soon coffee and
sweet bread were being passed around while another group of women were
preparing a hot meal for later in the day.
Be ready to arrange flowers for the
velorio.  Someone arrived with arms full of cut flowers.  A
teenage girl and 
some women who live across the alley from the church hastily
gathered empty coke liter bottles, cut them in half, and filled them with
flowers.   They made an arrangement around the casket, the containers
disappearing in the beauty of the vibrant flowers. 
Be ready to find and purchase tall
candles for either side of 
the casket.   Karen B. had arrived to
spend a week playing with the children and bonding with her sponsored teenage
girl.  Instead, we were driving across town to find velorio candles which
she contributed to add reverence and dignity to the deceased.
Be ready to leave vacation (all of
Honduras is on vacation during Holy Week) to stand together with your friend
and co-
worker.  Spending the day and all  night keeping
watch. 
Be
ready
 to
provide financial support.  C., a frequent visitor saw the terrible news
and immediately wired money to me for Dony’s family.  She couldn’t be here
so she did what she could.
Be
ready
 to
lead a memorial service at a moment’s notice.  Suzy, of course having no
lead time to plan, got up and led a memorial service for everyone
present.  We sang, she ready scripture, and Jackie, the principal of our
school, led us spontaneously in a beautiful prayer. 





The next morning, we were in my car on the main
street in Flor waiting for the funeral procession to start.  Dony came
over and leaned into the car to talk.  
Suddenly an older man, slightly
drunk and reeking of alcohol, joined us.  
He tearfully told us his
story. He has no family, his mother abandoned him when he was
young.  He thinks God loves him but he isn’t sure.  Sometimes he
wants to “leave this world…”  He is afraid of death, but even more afraid of not being loved. Dony, on his way to his father’s funeral,
began sharing the Good News with this man, assuring him that Jesus loves
him, that He will never leave him.  Dony, even at the worst moment in his
life, was 
ready.

Am I
ready?  Are you ready?

Downtown Bangkok and Life Along The Tracks

Bangkok is a huge city.  Every time we went downtown we were amazed at the number of skyscrapers on every side.  The traffic was continually like rush hour at every hour of the day.  It is very densely populated–about 15 million people, a figure we question since it must be impossible to count all the people living in little shacks of corrugated metal which line the railroad tracks.  It is obvious that business is good in Bangkok; there are business from around the world there and construction was evident everywhere.  Despite the booming economy there were so many very poor people living in deplorable conditions.  Following are some photos I took, some from the windows of the train, which should give some idea of “a drive through Bangkok.”

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Pictures of the recently deceased king are everywhere as well as pictures of other members of the royal family.  The black and white bunting shown above is draped everywhere throughout the city–even out where we were–who knows how many miles of this have been hung.  He passed away in October and there will be a year of mourning.  The Thais love their royal family.

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I loved these Thai “Fuller Brush men”

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Our transportation of choice downtown—a tuktuk.

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Eateries line the streets–some just food wagons and some with a few tables like these.

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Buddha Store

Life along the railroad tracks:

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Of the 3,272 pictures we took while in Bangkok, I have shared with you a little of  all that we saw and experienced on this amazing visit.  We feel very lucky to have been able to see all these things and hope that we were able to make a little contribution to the mission here.  I think we received more than we gave.

Sa Wat Dee Ka,

Bonnie

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A Walk Through Our Neighborhood–Lat Krabang

We considered “our neighborhood” to be be the area which was walk-able distance from our lodging. Looking back through these pictures of our neighborhood already makes me feel a little sad that we will probably never again see these streets which became so familiar to us during the five weeks we were there.    Once again I must say we are very happy that we had the chance to experience this very different place in the world and meet the people there.

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Typical students in their uniforms walking down our street.

Most are not walking but riding  motor scooters.  One day I counted 32 motor scooters going in or out in just five minutes.

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At the end of the street is this place where you can grab a ride on a motor scooter or, occasionally, a cab.  One day Chuck and I took a motor scooter to church together.  It was just a bit harrowing, especially when our driver was going against the traffic (which is very heavy here no matter where you are) and when we went over this little pedestrian/scooter bridge pictured below.  Whee! Wish we had a picture but we were busy holding on.

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The 7 Eleven dogs.  These two were always lying in front of the doors to the 7 Eleven.  They found a way to beat the heat this way as whenever anyone went in or out, a blast of the very cool air conditioned air would come out.  I fed them scraps sometimes although they were not starving and one wore a collar.  At another 7 Eleven across the street from our church there were two other dogs (also 1 black, 1 brown) who had discovered the same way to keep cool.

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Here’s the guy who supplies the fruits and vegetables to the food stands along the streets.  There is always an array of fresh fruit and Chuck and I often bought some for our breakfast the next day.

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I’m amazed he can balance his scooter with all this hanging from it.

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We referred to this woman as “the chicken lady” although she also cooked fish at her little street-side grill.  Chuck always stopped to greet her on his morning walks (which I did not do because of the oppressive heat–I only walked when there was something I really wanted to see as when we were touring.)

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Chicken Lady’s “kitchen” up the stairs.  We ate here (at the one and only table)  one day–just chicken, no sides, and no drinks.  When we wanted a Coke they went next door to purchase one for us.

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We discovered this place the last week and ate there four times.  It was almost like home.  They had a wonderful pepper gravy on either steak or pork chops.  Very tasty.

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The sweet waitress (owner) of Steak For U.

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My lunch.  It looked so good after eating mostly Thai dishes for weeks.  It was more expensive though–Pork chop -$2.99 and t-bone  steak  $ 5.07 – the most expensive item on their menu.  We usually spent about $ 4 total  for lunch for both of us with drinks in the Thai restaurant on the ground floor of our dormitory.

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This open-air food court was just around the corner from us.  In the evenings, the little “restaurants” around the perimeter would begin cooking and the tables would fill with mostly students.

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Along the street in the evenings.  Time to eat.

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A couple of blocks up the street was a side street where fish were trucked in and prepared for sale.  Notice temple in the background.

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Along the streets were several micro-businesses such as laundromats, usually with 2 or 3 washers and no dryers. People dry their clothes outside on their balconies (as we did) or right on the street.  Across from us was a small hotel where you could stay for $15 a night.  There were tiny drug stores, internet cafes, and sewing shops.  Everywhere the Thais seemed an industrious people always working hard.

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