choo dah

There were 20 patients lined up on the bench outside our little operating room, each with a black arrow drawn on his or her forehead that indicated either the right eye or the left. Their pupils were blank and clouded, but their faces were not. In patient expectation, they waited for their sight.

I decided to document the journey of one woman sitting on that bench. Choo Dah seemed quite willing. I photographed her getting settled on the operating table. The team prayed, lidocaine was injected, and the surgeon went to work on the old woman's right eye, carefully guiding his instruments toward the little white disc responsible for her blindness. I videoed as the procedure progressed. The medics assisted with growing confidence, their concentration dovetailing with that of the surgeon as he removed the cataract with gentle precision. Within 20 minutes, the eye was stitched back together and a bandage applied. Its owner had not flinched once.

We took Choo Dah's hand to help her to her feet and guide her to the recovery room at the back of the building. She sat down serenely on the woven mat to wait again, this time for her body to repair itself from the damage inflicted by surgery. I sat with her, struggling to communicate using my limited Karen language skills. Then I noticed that Paw Ku Htee, one of the medics who had assisted in the surgery, was flapping her hands at me in an animated sort of way and smiling broadly. Eventually, I realized what she was trying to tell me. Choo Dah was her grandmother.

I was delighted, of course, and completely amazed that I had chosen at random to follow along with a family member of one of our own medics. Paw Ku Htee asked me if I thought the two of them looked alike. I didn't really think so. But the next day, when Choo Dah's bandage was removed, I changed my mind. I could definitely see a reflection of the grandmother in her granddaughter's face.  For the first time in years, Choo Dah had the chance to see it too.

promised land

A few weeks ago, my coworker asked if I'd be willing to teach ballet to her 3-year-old daughter, Nenana. Since the bulk of my own ballet training occurred during half of my 5th grade year, 3-year-old is just about my speed. So I picked out the song "When You Believe" from The Prince of Egypt, and I've been prancing around my living room, choreographing movements to match the meaning of the music.

I just got back from a 10-day trip to Beung Klung, a small town 8 hours south of where I live in Mae Sot, Thailand. It looks like a fairly unassuming place at first glance. Vegetable stands, partially paved roads, a couple barrels with hand-pumps that serve as diesel stations. But if you take a right about 1 kilometer before the Burma border, you'll come to a little hill in the midst of the betel nut trees, and on that hill you'll discover something most extraordinary: an outpost of the Kingdom of God.

I think the whole compound sort of spilled out of the hearts of the people who now work there. Eliya lives like a well-aimed explosion. His wife, Cat, is a tornado in rewind. Pastor Samuel's family is like the flame that everyone else lights their candle from on Christmas Eve. Sue Bu is perpetual springtime. There are others. And they all love Jesus with candid passion. The results? A children's home, a school, a healthcare training center, a clinic, a church, a store, several houses, and an endless supply of vision for more creative ways to bless people on both sides of the Thai/Burma border. It's nothing short of incarnational.

Our team had the privilege of joining in this good work last week. With us was an experienced eye surgeon who removed cataracts from the eyes of 20 people who would otherwise have been essentially blind. Among these was Choo Dah, grandmother to one of our medics. Her granddaughter, Paw Ku Htee, assisted with the surgery and was right there, grinning ear to ear, when the bandage was removed the next day. They were able to look into each other's eyes for the first time in years.

We did vision screening and glasses-fitting, malaria treatment and hearing aid distribution. We helped the kids paint watercolor pictures of Jonah and the big fish. We listened to our Karen friends sing a lot of songs and sang a few of our own.

On Saturday morning, we held a "Run for Relief" for the kids. Races are run under that name all over the world to raise money, awareness, and prayer support for the oppressed minorities of Burma. It was no small thing to witness those hundred children advocating for their own people - for their families, for themselves. They prayed together at the start line, shouted "Free Burma!" to the sky, and launched themselves down the hill in a mass of slapping flip flops. The route took them within 50 meters of Burma itself. Maybe some of them wished they could keep right on running.

The truth is, Eliya and the others who live on that compound are not where they really want to be. They are Karen, and they long to go back to the land they still consider home. This is what they pray for, often through tears. For decades, they've been in exile, forced out of Karen State by the oppression of the Burma Army. Now though, with the peace process actively underway, there's more hope of a collective Karen home going than there has been in over 60 years.

Every afternoon, when the kids from the children's home got out of school, they flocked over to play with the foreigners on our team. Somewhere along the way, one of the little girls grabbed my hands and we started to dance. It occurred to me that it might be fun to teach her the choreography I had just put together for Nenana. I was right. Pretty soon, I had a whole dance class of little girls spinning along with me to the soaring melody pouring out of my tiny travel speaker.

"Many nights we've prayed with no proof anyone could hear.

In our hearts a hopeful song we barely understood.

Now we are not afraid, although we know there's much to fear.

We were moving mountains long before we knew we could."

And I thought, yes. The Israelites had to wait 400 years for their exodus, but it came. I desire that it will come, too, for my Karen friends. I do pray alongside them that this will include a return to their geographical promised land, and soon. But the evidence in Beung Klung has proven to me that their journey to a far more glorious place, the Kingdom of God, need not wait. It is, in fact, well underway.

"There can be miracles when you believe.

Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill.

Who knows what miracles you can achieve

When you believe.

Somehow you will, you will when you believe."

bunker

 Anne returned from her prayer walk looking rather excited. "What's that dug-out building thing over behind the church?" I had no idea. It was only my second time in Beung Klung, and I hadn't found occasion to wander the surrounding jungle alone.

We asked the lead medic about the building that day, and this is what we found out. It's is a Thai military bunker built within the last year. It overlooks a Burma Army base on the other side of the border. There hasn't been any fighting in that area recently, but it appears that Thailand wants to be prepared in the event that their neighbor decides to try anything unfriendly.

Anne considered the empty bunker an ideal place for spiritual warfare, so that's where she stationed herself the following morning. She wanted to pray something from Scripture, so she pulled out her Bible and opened it at random. Her eyes landed on Psalm 91.

"Whoever dwells in the shadow of the most high will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."

It so happens that Psalm 91 was the passage given to me by two different prayer warriors shortly before my first trip to the same area. Through Anne, the promise was being confirmed, its truth underlined by repetition.

A few days later at the clinic in Lay Tong Ku, we had a worship service with the medics one evening. I asked the Karen to sing a worship song of their choice. This is what they sang, in Karen...

"Hide me now under your wings
Cover me with your mighty hand"

Double underlined.

And then, Anne had Sue Bu, our Karen administrative assistant, read from the Psalm that had been percolating in her heart...

"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart."

Triple underlined.

Lay Tong Ku is in a vulnerable position. It's barely on the Thai side of the Thai/Burma border, and unlike in other areas, there is no river separating the two countries. Patients in need of care can cross the border easily. So can soldiers, spies, and traffickers. Our medics faithfully serve in this beautiful, exposed, strategic location.

"You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you."

I believe that, through prayer and the power of the Holy Spirit, we who trust in the Lord are sheltered by a spiritual bunker. I don't claim to understand what this means for God's physical protection of his children, because that kind of safety is a small part of a much greater reality. But I have absolute confidence that we can trust him, fearlessly, for his protection from every single thing that he has forbidden to touch us.

"'Because he loves me,' says the Lord, 'I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.'"

leader

I like it when people tell me what to do.

I operate well when I have reasonable, clear, structured expectations. I finish projects when I am given a deadline. I color beautifully inside the lines. I'm not so good at drawing the lines myself.

School is made for people like me. Real life isn't.

I was recently put in charge of a clinic Partners helps manage in Lay Tong Ku, middle of the jungle, Thailand. Lay Tong Ku village has a fascinating story - centuries of prophetic legend, the arrival of the Gospel 50 years ago, ongoing staunch traditions, an actively growing church. The local church, in cooperation with Partners and FBR, has set up a respectable little clinic. It's a work in progress. My job is to make sure that progress continues.

I have now made two visits to LTK clinic.


Visit 1.

"Theramoo (teacher), come now!" I was pulled away from my lesson preparations to see a baby with a fever. The medics were all in class. I had no translator, no clue where supplies were, no medical reference in English - in short, no idea what was going on. Other patients pressed in to see me while I was trying to work out how to deal with the first one. I wanted to take off running into the jungle.


Visit 2.

(Controlled) chaos again, alleviated (and aggravated) by the presence of two other nurses, a dozen medics, translation, medication, and medical reference. My brain began to sluggishly sort through the activity around me. Hemoglobin and malaria tests being used properly - good. No place to wash hands - not good. Medics spontaneously giving disease prevention education to patients - good. No effective patient follow-up - not good.


I confess that I was feeling overwhelmed. What needs to be done? In what order? How? By whom?

Late one night after a busy clinic day, I lay on my sleeping mat in the medic dorm. Everyone else was asleep, though I could hear someone's phone softly playing Karen pop music in the next room. I stared up at the mosquito net, reveling in the coolness of the dark and sending prayers up through the purple mesh.

"Lord, I don't think I'm cut out for this. I can follow trails, but I don't know how to blaze them. I'm supposed to be the leader here, but I need someone to follow."

And then, immediately, inaudible but clear, I heard these words: "I will be your leader." Simultaneously, I felt as though my head had been touched, and a gentle shock zinged down from that place on my scalp to the toes on my right foot.

My eyes and my heart were suddenly full. God as leader. I hadn't really thought of him that way before. He wasn't just behind me, launching me forward; he was in front of me, promising to show me what to do. What a relief and comfort that knowledge was to me! He knows what I need. He IS what I need.

"Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all the day long." (Psalm 25:5)

songkran

Yesterday, I experienced Songkran.

My bike ride over to my friends' neighborhood was an obstacle course. Every 50 meters or so, a group of people along the side of the road edged toward me, smiling. They each had one hand out to stop me, and the other was holding a bowl of cool water. As I slowed, they shouted cheerful greetings and gently doused me in gallons of water. It felt really good, since it is crazy hot this time of year. Well, sometimes it felt good. Other times, drunk people dancing in the back of moving pick-up trucks chucked buckets of water at me less gently, and I was obliged to stop and recover my ability to breathe and see straight before I continued on my ride.

Songkran is the annual Thai water festival which welcomes in the new year. I've read that the tradition is for Buddhists go to temples and pour water over the statues there. Then they collect that water and pour it respectfully over people's shoulders as a blessing. There may be a few Thai's who still carry on the tradition, but for most, Songkran has become a massive country-wide water fight.

When I arrived at the neighborhood of migrant Burmese who live across the street from my friends, Stephen and Kelli, the kids were ready and waiting. They ran up to me, giggling, dumped cups of water on me with relish, and smeared white talcum paste all over my face. After a round of tickling and chasing, I set off on my bicycle with Mung Eh and a group of her friends and relatives. Mung Eh is Kelli and Stephen's primary contact with the Burmese community, in part because she can speak Karen, and that's the language we've been studying. She's also a born leader. Yesterday, she took on that role with enthusiasm.

We biked the few kilometers to the Thai/Burmese border, getting splashed by road-side water ambushes at welcome intervals. I wondered what exactly we were going to be doing, until Mung Eh helped us all park our bicycles and led the way down to the Myawaddy River. It was a sight to see. Hundreds of people were eating, shopping, dancing - both on the banks of the river, and in the middle of it. We sloshed our way in as well, and spent an hour having water fights with each other, and with anyone else who came in splash range. According to Mung Eh, we were among Burmese, Karen, and Thai's - all having a splendid time and getting along famously.

Then it was off to Mae Sot's science center park for a walk. While we were there, we came across some teenage Thai girls who were being followed around by what looked like a professional photographer. Presumably because I'm foreign, they insisted on me having my photo taken with them... all of them, individually. That was definitely weird.

Finally, ironically dehydrated and understandably exhausted, we made our way back to their neighborhood. We were greeted by Mung Eh's mother, a thin, playful, probably intoxicated granny with a propensity for dancing. She also liked dumping plastic cup-fulls of water on everybody. I sat eating peanuts with Mung Eh while we watched four very flexible guys play Teh Kraw (a cross between hacky sack and volleyball) and Granny having water fights with adorable, naked toddlers.

I was almost dry when I got up to bike home. That didn't last long, of course. Yet again, I was grateful for the open, outstretched hands, the hoses and the buckets, the smiles and greetings... but especially for the inundations of water and of good will. It's difficult to describe, but I felt it in the way most of my dousers tipped their containers out over me. They were delicate, reverent, joyous... like they had been waiting for this opportunity, and it pleased them to delight me. I came away dripping from my ponytail to my flip flops.

And I thought, what if I blessed people like that? You know, lived my life in anticipation of the opportunities, reached out to everyone in range, and covered them with God's love until they were dripping right down to their flip flops.

...

Near the beginning of my time in Japan 9 years ago, I remember going to a worship service where the title of the message was something like "How to be a Missionary". I was eager to hear, and got out my journal to take notes. I hardly needed to; it was so memorable, even though it wasn't what I was expecting at all. The speaker had set up a demonstration. There was a huge glass tank of water on a table and an empty bucket on the floor. He told us that the water in the tank was like the Gospel of Jesus Christ and all that it contains. And the bucket on the floor  represented the world, desperately thirsty for living water.

But how was that water going to get from the tank to the bucket? He pulled out a small length of rubber tubing. It represented us, the body of Christ. We were designed to be channels of God's truth to the waiting world.

But three things had to be true of the tube, and of us, in order for everything to work properly. First, the tube had to be patent, open. Unconfessed sin and fear threaten to block us like silly putty in the tube, and we cannot allow that. Second, if the tube was positioned higher than the water tank, nothing was going to flow out of it. We have to be lower than the source - humbled before Christ himself. And third, the tube had to have one end completely submerged in the water if anything was going to come out the other end. In the same way, we have to be submerged in relationship with God constantly if we are going to have anything to share with the lost and hurting people around us.

Then the speaker dunked one of the tube into the water, and held the other end over the empty bucket on the floor. Immediately, water gushed out of that tube, splashing into the waiting bucket. I can still see it flowing in my mind's eye, unimpeded, free. Gospel Songkran in action. May it be so!

orientation

Every year at the Partners retreat, there is a talent show. At a staff meeting, Sonya happily announced to me, and everybody else, that I would be putting something together for this year's show on behalf of the Mae Sot crew. This is what happens when you major in theatre.

So I wrote this musical, and the Mae Sot Partners staff performed it, to the great delight of our audience. There was dancing, there were stuffed animals, there was applause. And Sonya, who complained the loudest when I told her that the whole would be enlisted to help, later admitted that she wished she had a bigger part, and vowed that we do something similar next year!

PS. We got first place.

Partners Orientation

Setting:            Thailand

Characters:

KERRINE       Experienced Partners orientation official. All business.

HEIDI             New Partners employee. Overwhelmed, uncertain, in awe.

Pee on the Ground - Hunter, Kritsana, Marci, Hsar Paw

Eye of the Tiger - Say Boh, Matthew, Sonya, Hsar Paw, BST

Under Sarong - Marci, Nenana, Abby, Pranee, Say Boh

Mission Impossible - Pranee, BST, Sonya, Kritsana

KERRINE       (in sunglasses) Hello. You must be the new candidate for Partners initiation... I mean orientation. My name is Kerrine, and I'll be your orientation guide. First I'll just have you sign this waiver, and then we'll get started.

HEIDI             Waiver?

KERRINE       Yes. Standard stuff. (Reads) You understand that accepting a position with Partners means you may be put in unpleasant situations, including but not limited to falling off elephants, being forced to eat monkey poo, and being attacked by tigers. Oh, and you won't hold Partners responsible for any of it. Sign here.

HEIDI             Um. Okay. (Signs)

KERRINE       Great. (Folds waiver and pockets it) Moving on. I will be walking you through 5 orientation topics today. Essential, all of them. Item 1. Language. You will be given several months to focus on language study. Tip. The most useful thing you can learn is how to understand and accurately answer the question "Do you have a boyfriend?" in Thai, Burmese, Shan, Karen, Greek, and Yiddish.

HEIDI             Yiddish?

KERRINE       We're a Bible based organization.

HEIDI             Yosh.

KERRINE       That's actually Japanese, but who knows; it might come in handy. Now we get to the exciting stuff. Item 2. Babysitting your coworkers' children. This is part of every employee's job description. Fortunately, all the kids in question are outrageously cute. Parents of un-cute children aren't in fact allowed to work at Partners.

HEIDI             Sounds great. I love babysitting.

KERRINE       Your previous babysitting experience will be useful, but it will not have prepared you for diaperless child care in the jungle. Hit it.

PEE ON THE GROUND (to the tune of YMCA)

Young man, you're a jungle kid now, I said

Young man, there's no diapers around, you might

Think that you are careless and free. Don't assume that's the whole story.

Young man, listen closely to me, I will

Hold you out strategically, and you'll hear me

Start to say sh sh shuu, you can take that as your cue cause.....

We really want you to pee on the ground

We really want you to pee on the ground

Potty training's begun. You are never too young.

Have you ever had so much fun?

We really want you to pee on the ground

We really want you to pee on the ground

For as mommy well knows we don't have enough clothes

For a more laissez faire approach.

We really want you to pee on the ground

We really want you to pee on the ground

You can water the trees instead of our knees

And we promise to cheer so please

We really want you to pee on the ground

We really want you to pee on the ground

Young man, young man! There is no backup plan.

I sure hope that you understand.

KERRINE       You'll need to learn this song and sing it to all Partners children under age 2 as the opportunity arises. And bring wet wipes.

HEIDI             Got it.

KERRINE       Marvelous. Item 3. Hiking. You will need significant physical prowess to make it up and down the mountains inside Burma.

HEIDI             Oh I think I heard about this. Don't we have to carry 40 pound backpacks up a 6 hour vertical sprint in Chaing Mai before we're allowed to go on one of those trips?

KERRINE       Uh, no. That's not us. We just walk around the block a few times before we go and pray a lot when we get there.

HEIDI             Sounds like it could be pretty rough.

KERRINE       It depends on the person. (To the hikers.) Ready, guys?

EYE OF THE TIGER

(Partners people slogging painfully across the stage with small backpacks, and Seh Boh running blithely past with three bags and a kid on his shoulders, shaking his head woefully at everybody else.)

HEIDI             Is that really what it's like?

KERRINE       Yes. Item 4. Bathing.

HEIDI             That doesn't sound too hard.

KERRINE       Let me expound. Bathing. In a river. Wearing a sarong.

HEIDI             With people watching?

KERRINE       Usually.

HEIDI             Does the sarong ever fall off?

KERRINE       Sometimes.

HEIDI             Then what happens?

KERRINE       The audience gets bigger.

UNDER SARONG (to the tune of UNDER THE SEA)

Imagine you hike for hours

The mud in your shoes goes squish

You're covered in sweat and jungle

You smell like a rotten fish

But there on the far horizon

The promise of washing up

You pictured a bath or shower

You get something much more fun

Wah Oh -

Under sarong. Under sarong.

Out in the open, where the whole world can join in your song

Smile at the water buffalo while you are scrubbing at your toes

Yeah! It's amazing. Gotta love bathing...

Under sarong.

It don't hurt to have a lesson

On shower sarong technique

They like to conspire against you

To fall down and leave you - eeeek!

But there is a good solution

To prevent embarrassment

Before you attempt the river

Install strong elastic bands

Wah Oh -

Under sarong. Under sarong.

You will smell better, and you will get your chance to cool down!

Under the sunshine or the moon, humming this catchy little tune

You'll want to live here, down in the river

Under sarong.

HEIDI             Sounds like that could actually be really fun. Especially with elastic.

KERRINE       Indeed. Moving on to our last and most important topic of the day... Item 5: Sneaking. Sometimes our border crossings are best kept under cover. Do you have any experience working with the CIA?

HEIDI             No.

KERRINE       Do you watch a lot of spy action movies?

HEIDI             No.

KERRINE       Hm. Did you play dress-up and hide-and-seek as a child?

HEIDI             Yes!

KERRINE       Excellent. Then you'll be fine.

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

(Sneakers come out in their garb and get from one side of the stage to the other very sneakily. They mime hiding behind trees, ducking in a boat, and crawling under things. Dramatically.)

HEIDI             Wow.

KERRINE       I would have to agree.

HEIDI             I guess I didn't realize when I joined Partners that it would be quite this... involved.

KERRINE       That's what they all say. But you're not freaking out are you? You'll stay?

HEIDI             Yosh.

KERRINE       Great. Congratulations. It's official. You're in. (bestows HEIDI with sunglasses and shakes her hand)

testimony

It was morning, and the students had gathered at the top of the stairs in the house where we were staying in Lay Tong Ku. They had come from at least 5 different villages - all ages, all levels of training, both men and women. Our class was scheduled to start at 9, but that was set aside for the opportunity to share Jesus.

Allan read some Scripture and then asked me to give my testimony. So I did. Dhee translated. I told about how my mom had read the Easter story to my brother and me out of our picture Bible when we were children. I had seen the figure of Jesus on the cross, and it broke my heart. I asked why he was dying, and my mom explained that it was for the sins of everyone in the world. "My sin too?" I asked through my tears. "Yours too," nodded my mom. I was only 6, but I had a sense of the weight of that sacrifice already. Dhee was wiping tears away as she translated. So were the listening students.

Then I told them how my mom explained to me that this wasn't the end of the story. She turned the page, and there was Jesus, alive again and surrounded by light. I remember being so thrilled that he was alive. "What should I do?" I asked my mom. "What should I do?" She explained that I could accept the gift of life Jesus was offering to me. I prayed with her to do exactly that. I was overwhelmed with joy. I was supposed to be going to bed, but I jumped around my room, singing instead. Eventually I did go to sleep, but it was as a changed little girl.

When I finished my story, Allen got out his gospel flip book and showed the students pictures that corresponded to the descriptions from my childhood. They saw Jesus on the cross, and they saw him alive again. They nodded thoughtfully. One of the elderly birth attendants suddenly said, "We heard the story, but now we see and understand. I want to bring more people from my village to see and hear again tomorrow." She did. And Dhee had the opportunity to share with them a short version of God's whole story, from creation to the Second Coming of Christ. At the end, she asked them where Jesus was now. They said without hesitation, one by one, "Jesus is in my heart."