The neighborhood we live in is divided into two different sections by a stretch of a small county highway. On the side we live on there is a stretch of houses along the main road, then a smaller road winds back away from the highway to the area we live in. Our house is on the edge of New Life Church of Wiang Kaen’s property. The church’s soccer field borders our house and then there’s the church, a big cement building with a bright blue roof. A few other houses are in back behind the church, all belonging to members of the church. It’s a blessing to live in a Christian section of this neighborhood as the influences of the neighborhood are often dark and immoral.
Crossing the road to the other part of the neighborhood is a clear line, both in feeling and in sight. Houses are mostly constructed of wood. There are bamboo homes, with only grass thatch for a roof. There are water faucets connected to random pieces of pipes, providing water for dish washing, laundry and whatever else. The water spills haphazardly onto the ground where broken cement slabs serve as a counter/table for the chores that need to be accomplished there.
It was to this side of the neighborhood that we walked to today and to a house that is one of the most dilapidated in the area. Trash lies around outside, longing for someone to put it in its right place. The walls of the house are constructed of wood planks, spaced in some places, so that light and every other kind of vermin can make its way in without even having to use the door. The floor is dirt, scattered with old cigarette butts, rusty nails and miscellaneous broken household items. The old grandpa greets us as we enter, inviting us to eat with him at his small bamboo table nestled on the floor. It sets next to the indoor cooking fire and a pile of ashes that rise high above floor level. There is a putrid smell, of smoke I suppose and the closeness of humanity. A little boy named John is the person we have come to see. His mother carries him out from the back bedroom to the main room and lays him on a wooden plank bed. The bed is covered with laundry and long, dirty nails poke out from the underside. This little boy is Rudy’s age, 19 months old, but he couldn’t be any more different from this jolly little son of mine that I’m holding in my arms. 7 months ago the neighborhood flooded and little John, having just started to walk, wandered away from whoever it was that was watching him. He disappeared and was found almost 30 minutes later, face down in a rushing stream, stopped by the strong roots of a tree that held him in place. He was immediately rushed to a big hospital in Chiang Rai, about 2 hours away, where he spent the next 7 months. At times he was on a respirator. Recently he was released from the hospital after being given a tracheotomy. John lies very still on his bed. At times phlegm and water start coming out of his nose and his tracheotomy site. His mother works quickly to suction out the areas that are causing trouble as John struggles to breathe. I felt faint and almost sick watching the site. It wasn’t the phlegm that bothered me and there was no blood to be seen. It was just everything that seemed to crush and overwhelm me. The exhausted mother, the almost lifeless child, the stiff legs, the distant expression on his face, the filthiness of the surroundings, the hopelessness of his condition. What darkness there must be when one doesn’t know the Lord and is faced with these circumstances. As a mother a week of sickness in a child is a challenge and a major concern, but this, this is possibly a lifetime of serious and grave concern. John’s father has deserted the family and the only other person around, grandfather, is hardly able to help with the tasks of caring for this child. I could see a look of defeat on the mother’s face. We’ve talked to his mother many times since John’s accident and she always seemed incredibly strong and positive. This time though I could see that tiredness and hopelessness were beginning to creep into her features. She is not a believer and although we pray with her every time we visit, I know she won’t have the incredible peace that the Lord gives until she accepts His gift for herself. Would you pray with me for Ching Muay and her son John? Pray that Ching Muay would accept the Lord as her Savior and rely on Him to supply all her needs. Pray for John, that the Lord would heal him.
I rejoiced in my boys the rest of the day after our visit. What a reminder it was to me of the blessing of good health and safety. I rejoiced in the ridiculous amounts of energy that they seem to be able to put out every day, because it means that they are healthy and strong. I rejoiced in the questions and singing, because it means that they are able to speak and think and that they are developing normally. I rejoiced in the huge meals they were able to devour, thankful that the Lord is providing for all their needs. I am thankful tonight for all the things that I so often take for granted.
It’s a long trip from Bangkok to Wiang Kaen. A 90 minute flight from the Northernmost airport to Bangkok turns into 12 hours of driving time. Add an hour worth of stops for 2 pairs of restless little boy legs, 1 hour for snacks and meals, and usually an extra hour for bathroom stops and coffee breaks. It adds up and we’re always excited to arrive at our final destination
Bangkok is an enormous city, packed to the gills with everything and everyone that you can possibly imagine. During our time there we literally saw people from every end of the earth, crowded into that city to make a living, to shop and to eat. Eating in Bangkok truly is a joyful experience for us. Having left behind our sparse outdoor Wiang Kaen market, we are thrown into a variety of restaurants and food courts that span every appetite and craving. Our trip was a blessing. Not only did we receive a renewal of our visa that makes it possible for us to continue living here, but we also had a relaxed time together as a family, things I don’t take for granted.
I love to watch the scenery as we travel home from Bangkok. The towering ritzy high-rises of Bangkok are replaced by prosperous but smaller cities. The cityscapes are soon transformed into mile after mile, or kilometer after kilometer of factories and then rice fields, forests and quaint little towns. I used to feel more and more isolated and lonely as I traveled these roads to our far-flung home, but now it feels like coming home to enter the countryside of Thailand. The road changes, from 8 lanes, to 6, to 4 and then 2 as we make our way northward. Faded flags wave in the rush of passing traffic, alerting drivers and passengers to roadside stands that sell products and souvenirs that are famous to a particular district that we pass. Bright orange pumpkins are stacked in neat rows alongside deep green watermelons, creating a striking display. The next set of stands advertises roasted snake. Little plastic bags dangle from their tables, containing a feast for those who choose to partake. We drive on.
Rudy is asleep in his car seat, thank you Lord. These trips are probably the hardest on him because we can’t explain where we’re going, or why, or that we’ll stop for lunch soon. He is patient most of the time and for that I am thankful. He has been a real trooper, taking in the sights of the city from his stroller seat or toddling through malls and walkways as we made our way from place to place. Rudy still tries to charm the waitresses with a coy little look, although he pretends to be uninterested when he’s offered the chance to be held by the lady who serves our ice water. He’s a sweet little boy and I think he’ll be happy to be back in Wiang Kaen again.
It looks like rain up ahead. Not the rain from huge, fluffy clouds, but from a dark, hazy and overcast sky. We sure do need it. It must be a welcome sight to this dusty brown landscape. This time of the year, until April always seems a little surreal in terms of the weather. A normally lush and wet country turns dry and brown until rainy season arrives in May and reminds us why the dry months are such a blessing.
We’ll be stopping for dinner here pretty soon. We were going to stop earlier, but then Ray fell asleep and we decided that a nap was more important than lunch. This little town must have a restaurant although I must admit it’s not as much of a welcome sight to me as the places I’m familiar with in Wiang Kaen. The restaurant owner is nice, she has a blond cat with blue eyes and Ray is excited to chase it around while we wait for dinner to be served. Ray and Rudy split an order of fried rice, I have my own plate of the same and Jeremy has garlic fried pork with a fried egg on the side. We’re glad to be back on the road again, everyone’s nerves are getting a bit frayed.
One of our last stops before home is at a grocery store about 2 hours from our house in a town called Chiang Kham. Ray is excited. He loves to go on outings, anywhere, even to the grocery store, and this is no exception. He wants to know what we’re getting and of course “why?”. He is such a curious kid. He loved Bangkok, after he got over being scared of the traffic. He is like a sponge these days and it’s so fun to watch him spend the day soaking things up and then enjoy watching him sleep and dry out for another day of taking it all in. Ray expressed being sad to go back to Wiang Kaen although I think he’ll get back into life there easily enough. Bangkok is a fun place to visit but I don’t think any of us would really want to live there.
We’re almost home now. The road is familiar. I recognize a newly planted rice field and how dried up the corn stalks are looking these days. We try to guess if it rained while we were gone or if it’s still cool, unlike Bangkok which was hot and humid even during cool season. There’s our house, everything looks fine. I’m thankful to the Lord for how He has protected our home while we’ve been gone. We unpack the van, the boys are still asleep. We carry them to their beds, they’re happy to be in a different position. We unpack the groceries and the suitcases. Falling into bed at 10:30pm feels wonderful. The cool breeze blows the curtains at our window, the crickets chirp, the night is still. We are home.
