A Morning at the Embassy

Tuesday we had an appointment at the U.S. Embassy to renew the four older children's passports. They all expire in 2018, and we need to have new ones before we get our visas for next year. While dealing with the U.S. government is less complicated than the Thai government due to being able to speak English and clearer requirements, it is still not a pleasant experience. And anytime five children have to wait in a confined space for very long is even less enjoyable.

Bangkok traffic is notorious. We thought leaving at six o'clock in the morning should leave us enough time to get to our seven-thirty appointment. It was, except for the problem of parking. Philip let the kids and me out of the truck to walk to the embassy while he drove into nearby Lumpini Park to find a parking spot with unlimited hours. All of the parking spots were full, and people just idled in their vehicles until someone left. It took Philip ten minutes to get into the park, another ten for a parking spot to open up, and then he walked the ten minutes to the embassy. By this time, we were already late for our appointment, and we still had to go through security.

Even though we don't get to enter the luscious grassy grounds of the embassy, remaining on the "caged" perimeter, the security is strict. Each person is only allowed one cell phone which has to remain at the security desk. Electronic devices are not allowed nor large bags nor food and drink. This all makes the job of entertaining five little ones more difficult. I can only fit necessaries in my purse - one diaper and a package of wet wipes. No books, no toys, no snacks. The children look longing at the swathes of grass and beautiful flower gardens on the other side of the floor to ceiling fence. "Why can't we go over there?" This has already been a long morning and it's just begun.

We haven't had a chance to get passport photos because all the photo places near us use a blue background instead of the U.S. required white. The embassy is supposed to have an onsite place for photos, so Philip asks about this. The lady behind the heavy glass directs us down the ramp to a different entrance to the same building. The embassy website had warned that we needed to have exact change for the photos - 150 baht - but we had thought we would be able to pay 600 baht at once. We are dismayed to find that the photo booth is unmanned and only take bills not coins. Now 50 baht bills are hard to come by, while everyone has plenty of 20 baht bills and 10 baht coins.

I have one 50 baht bill, so I begin the process of taking photos while Philip goes off to try to find change from the cafe. I ask Eris to watch Calla so she doesn't wander too far, feed a 100 baht bill and then the 50 baht bill into the machine, and try to get Simeon situated for his photo. The camera cannot be adjusted, so I have to try to get Simeon's face in the oval. He is too short while kneeling on the tall stool and too tall when standing. I have to boost him up with one hand and stay out of the picture. He is craning his neck and nearly closing his eyes with the effort. After several terrible attempts, I decide to give him a break and get a photo of Meriel instead.

After Meriel photo is taken, I step aside to let another gentleman take a turn. Just then, Philip arrives with two more 50's. He runs off to try to get one more. I watch as the gentleman now in the booth inserts six 20's. The machine accepts them. I had assumed that it wouldn't take more than the required amount. We would be willing to lose ten baht to get this done. But by this time, Philip's already run off, and I don't have a cell phone to call him back. I try again with Simeon, and this time get a passable photo, though not great. (Yes, blame me for the terrible passport photos the kids will have for the next five years.) Then I get Hollis's.

Finally, Philip is back. An embassy lady has noticed our plight and given him 50 baht, even though she is technically not supposed to. At least Eris is tall enough not to have to do any strange contortions to get her face in the correct place. We get the photos taken quickly and wait for them to print. And wait and wait. None of the other photos has taken this long. I stick my face up to the slot to see if there is a jam, but notice nothing. The screen doesn't show any sign of anything being wrong - not "paper out" message or anything. Just asking for "150 baht." While we wait, I look over the booth for something that could help. There is a phone number to call for assistance. The sign says we can use a "wall phone" to call. Philip goes off to find a wall phone. He finds one that is broken. Another man waiting for his photo to print goes in different direction and find another phone that works. He comes back and tells us that someone is already on the way to fix the problem.

Now in Thailand, "someone is on the way" usually really means "someone will be leaving in about fifteens minutes to come fix the problem and he is not in a hurry." Surprisingly, we don't have to wait very long; maybe someone was actually "on the way." He added paper to the printer and out came Eris's photos. So now we had everything we needed.

We went back to the first room; Philip waited in line to show the paperwork and get a queue number. I tried to find a relatively out of the way spot for the kids to wiggle. The most open spot happened to be right near the television on CNN. Just then a sobbing lady came on the news describing in detail some horrible acts that had been done to her. (If you've been following the news, you probably can infer what it was.) I quickly ushered the kids around a corner into a tiny hallway where the payment counter was located and distracted them by beginning a silly word game.

It turned out we were in the right place, because the next step was to pay - no one will do anything until you pay first. I was going to pay with a credit card. We had to get four different receipts - one for each passport. This meant that four different charges were going to appear. The first three charges went through just fine, but the fourth wouldn't. The lady at the desk said that it was common for U.S. credit cards to reject after a certain number of charge and often, if we waited, the system would reset and we could proceed. She didn't know how long we would have to wait, and we did not want to wait any longer than necessary. We paid for the fourth passport in cash.

Now we could find submit all the paperwork for the passports and wait for the approval step. The kind lady at the payment counter had handed out U.S. candy to the children which entertained them for a few seconds. I was thankful for the wet wipes stashed in my overcrowded purse. Some chairs had cleared at this point, so we sat down. Hollis and Simeon kept arguing over chairs; Calla kept wanting to walk all over, bumping into strangers; Meriel wanted to be left alone in a too crowded space; Eris watched the television which had moved on to discussing Trump and Wikileaks.

We had finally settled down a bit, when the news looped back to the distressed woman. I told Philip that I was going to take the kids outside; we would be close enough, he could just poke his head out when our number came up. I scooted them out as fast as I could. Even though there wasn't really a place to play, it was less crowded outside. Calla kept running down the ramp, and actually only fell once or twice. Eris and Meriel took turns scooping her back up and returning her to the top. Simeon and Hollis tried their best to get in the way of every person ascending or descending the ramp. Then I caught them sticking their arms through the fence to grab a leaf from a tree on the other side. I thought, We're going to get kicked out of the embassy for dangerous children!

We waited for over an hour. Inside, Philip repeatedly heard people being told they didn't have all the proper paperwork and would need to come back another day with this or the other "official, notarized, legalized" document. Then, of course, while Simeon and Eris were in the bathroom, our number was finally called. I hurried Meriel and Hollis into Philip while I waited for the others to come out. The man that had our paperwork was kind and friendly. He smiled at the children as he called each name. He asked Philip and I if we swore that the information in the paperwork was true to the best of our knowledge. Yes, I'm fairly certain that I know the birth dates and locations of my children, considering I was there. Then he said the magic words, "Looks like everything is in order. You should be able to pick up your passports in about two weeks." Followed by the even better, "Only one of you has to be here to pick them up."

Ten o'clock in the morning, and it felt like three pm, but we had accomplished on goal and next time only Philip would have to make the trip. Now on to lunch and Sanam Luang.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Light Shall Shine Out of Darkness

Each year on the twelfth full moon, the country of Thailand celebrates light. This was our first windy Loi Kratong, which really highlighted the futility of the "prayers" floating down the canal. We are blessed to know and follow the Light of the world. We pray that we are able to shine our lights to lead others to the Light.

 The people who walk in darkness
Will see a great light;
Those who live in a dark land,
The light will shine on them. Isaiah 9:2

 but if we walk in the Light as He Himself is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin.
1 John 1:7

 You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.“Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. Matthew 5:14-16

Praise Him, sun and moon; Praise Him all stars of light! Psalm 148:3

  For you light my lamp; the Lord my God illumines my darkness.    Psalm 18:28

As we light the kratong...

 for you were formerly darkness, but now you are Light in the Lord; walk as children of Light Ephesians 5:8

We have light!

 The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? Psalm 27:1

The wind has blown out the light, but we have no need to worry. The LIGHT shines on.

  Then Jesus again spoke to them, saying, “I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life.” John 8:12

Shielding from the wind...

We have light!

 For God, who said, “Light shall shine out of darkness,” is the One who has shone in our hearts to give the Light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. 

2 Corinthians 4:6 

Praying this for Pratunam Pra-in and all of Thailand.

Plan, Replan, Plan Again

This week was one of those weeks where things just don't go as planned. Over the summer, I spent quite a bit of time outline our Bible and history lessons for the year. Each week I put together a daily schedule of subjects for Meriel and Hollis and a weekly checklist for Eris. This week, we managed to complete all the activities for celebrating Reformation Day - this year being the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther nailing his 95 theses to the door of the church in Wittenberg. The rest of the week seemed a lost cause.

Simeon was sick on Sunday (again). Sunday evening, Eris became violently ill. Into the wee hours of the morning on Monday, I was soothing her best I could. Just about the time Eris's sickness passed, Calla woke up. I settled Simeon, Eris, and Calla into bed with me. We managed to sleep the rest of the night fairly peacefully, but I was alert each time someone stirred. Simeon woke up at 6:30. I excused Eris from school for the day, and I was too exhausted to complete the full list of subjects with Meriel and Hollis.

Simeon vomited in the wee hours of Tuesday morning. At this point, he had been having intestinal problems for a month and the round of empirical (treating without knowing the exact bug) had not been effective. I made the decision that he had been sick too long, and it seemed that we needed to do some lab tests to figure out what was wrong. I really wanted to do the Reformation Day activities and his sickness wasn't urgent, so I planned to take him into the hospital on Wednesday. I knew it would mean that particular day would unproductive as far as school.

I was correct. After nearly 8 hours at the hospital, we were no closer to a diagnosis. (Partly because Simeon was the least sick he'd been in a long while - it always happens like that). And I knew I was going to need to go back to the hospital on Thursday to drop off a sample, meaning yet another day of little schoolwork. I was able to be thankful for the time with Simeon, as all four girls had stayed with Daddy. Though, next time we have one-on-one time, I'd rather it not be at a hospital.

Wednesday night, I was discouraged and exhausted. I was thinking about how I would manage to rearrange the schedules to fit all the schoolwork in. I quickly realized that now was not the time to figuring out solutions. I needed to rest and recoup first. In the morning, I would be able to see it all in a clearer light.

That is exactly what happened. As I was getting ready to make the trip to the hospital with Calla, I decided to take one of the girls for one-on-one time. I also realized, that I had the freedom to scrap or revamp any schedule of schooling that I needed. I am not required to teach a certain amount of material nor squeeze two weeks of learning into one. I have the joy of teaching my children so that they learn, so that they delight in learning. One of the things I can teach them is that things do not always go according to plan; we need to step back and re-evaluated what is most important and make a new plan.

So this afternoon, we did just that. We didn't stress about what we didn't do this week. We picked a few subjects to complete this week, a handful of topics to move to next week, simplified a couple of activities, and created a new completely doable plan. So even if our school week didn't go according to plan, maybe we learned a bit more than if it had.

King

Today marks the finale of a year of mourning in Thailand. King Rama IX will be cremated in a ceremony this evening. I do not in the least understand all the events and proceedings, but I do know it is solemn and unique occasion. Even all the 7-11's (which are many) and chain supermarket Tesco Lotus stores are closed. Less traffic than usual zooms by on the road in front of our house. English Class and Kids' Club are cancelled this weak. Most people I do spy out the window wear solid black.

Our part in these events are small and peripheral. Last year on October 13, we were riding in a van with church members to participate in a weekend youth retreat. We chatted and kept the children entertained. Then Pastor Winnet (the head pastor) received a call on his phone. As he hung up, he quietly announced that the king had passed. Even though it hadn't been unexpected, we were all a bit stunned. When a man is nearly 89 years old and has served his country for more than 70 years, his passing is a shock.

Everything seemed normal as we arrived at the army owned retreat center on the sea. We began to wonder if Pastor's contact was mistaken. The official public announcement didn't broadcast on television until we were eating our very late supper. Then we all watched as the television showed black and white footage of King Rama IX's life. Philip and I were glad to be in the company of Thais with whom we were comfortable and could ask questions. In those first days, there were many unknowns.We took our cue for how to behave from those around us. We had not packed black clothing, but tried not to wear our most flamboyant shirts and skirts. My outfit options were particularly limited since I was almost 8 months pregnant. The wild outdoor games planned for the youth were switched for calmer activities. Mainly, life went on as usual just a bit subdued.

We chose to participate in the year of mourning recommended by the government by wearing predominately black. Philip felt that it wouldn't be remiss to be considerate to the point of even dressing the children in black. Over a year later, we are still dressed in black, at least when we go out in public. The only time Calla has worn bright colors was during the four weeks we spent in the United States last winter. I don't share this to show how "wonderful" we are for doing this or how much of a "hardship" it has been, but just as a major part of our lives here in Thailand.

Tomorrow will venture outside wearing pinks, blues, purples, flowery skirts, and vivid shirts. It will feel a bit strange. But we are also ready to embrace all the colors of the rainbow back into our wardrobe. For tonight, Philip will be with church members joining hundreds of thousands from all over Thailand to bid farewell to King Rama IX.

Last year, three year old Simeon was a bit confused between King Jesus and King Rama IX; he knew both died but  had trouble remembering which rose again to live forever. After much repetition and encouragement, he now knows that Jesus is the King of the world who reigns forever. We are blessed to know this King and pray that Thailand will come to know Him as well.

Of Plants and Prayers

Just the day after I wrote about my laundry balcony and lovely plants last week, I discovered that my two little trees are infested with mealybugs. These are little white, fuzzy creatures which suck their sustenance from the plant, destroying their host. Ants feast on a nectar-like substance that mealybugs excrete, so I was able to follow trails of thousands of ants around the plants, tracking down hundreds of bugs and squashing them. In my zeal for ridding my plants of these pests, I probably spent nearly thirty minutes searching them out. I finally had to return downstairs when I heard Calla screaming, Simeon fussing, and Meriel shouting. I don't normally take that long just to start a load of laundry and chaos was breaking loose.

Later in the day, I went back up to hang laundry. I discovered still more of the creatures of the blight.  One of the trees looked especially droopy and had a few yellowing leaves. I berated myself for not noticing earlier, but the bugs like to hide in places where to two branches cross or under leaves, so are difficult to spot. We always have thousands of ants around our house, so their presence didn't seem unusual. In the limited time I could spend on the balcony before running back downstairs to corral, calm, and teach children, I killed all the bugs I could find. While I hung laundry, I found myself praying that God help my plants to survive.

I know that God cares about me and all life on earth, so I don't think praying for my plants is wrong. However, the story of Jonah did come to mind and convicted me about my priorities. If you don't remember the less celebrated ending of Jonah, I'll give a quick synopsis. After Jonah warn the Ninevites about God's impending wrath, he sits outside the city to see what happens. A plant grows up and provides shade for Jonah. While Jonah rests in the shade, the people of the city repent and God forgives and spares them. At this point, Jonah becomes upset with God; he wanted the people to get what they deserved. (How easily we forget to be thankful that we don't get what we deserve....) Then God allows a worm to come and destroy Jonah's plant. When Jonah complains, God explains to Jonah that his love for people, including those of Ninevah, is greater than Jonah's love for the plant which he did nothing to help create or grow, so why shouldn't He have pity on His creation?

I concluded that I could indeed continue to pray for my plants, but I should first be more diligent in praying for the people whom God loves and asking Him to give me His heart for the lost. I do regularly pray for the ministries here - Kids' Club and English Class. But I don't routinely pray for the neighborhood and the future of this church. In this season, God is teaching me to pray faithfully for that which He lays on my heart. So I am using my afflicted plants to remind me to bring to the Father all the lost walking, riding mo-peds, and living in my neighborhood each day.

In January, Tawipon Church (where we live) will begin holding regular Sunday morning church services. Ajan (Pastor) V, will be leading with Philip also sharing some. I commit to praying diligently for my neighbors; for Ajan V, his family, and other involved in the ministry; and for the upcoming infant church. God used the jeopardy of my plants to get my attention and remind me of something I should already have been doing. I hope that my trees don't have to die, but if they do, may many new lives be born through the resulting prayers.

Why I (Still) Hang the Laundry

This week I've been thinking about my laundry time. I've delegated many household chores to my growing children. They wash the dishes, sweep the floor, pick up toys, and fold laundry. So why do I still hang the clothes? About two years ago I wrote about hanging laundry (Thoughts on Hanging Out the Wash), and most of those thoughts are still relevant. I actually do, in a way, like hanging laundry.

As the children have gotten older, they don't always follow me upstairs, so I can sometimes snatch a few moments for myself. Despite hundreds of neighbors living within fifty feet, I consider myself in solitude. I've always felt closer to God outdoors, in nature. My small balcony garden has grown, and now I have twelve potted plants. Chances are one of them will have a blooming flower; I might get to spy a butterfly feeding or a spider spinning. Just seeing the green is refreshing.

My laundry hanging time is my prayer time. I'm often thrown into the day by a child dragging me from sleep. I change diapers, start a load of laundry, prepare breakfast. As I stumble out of bed, I call out, "Good morning, God. Help!" Not until about two (or more) hours later do I have a chance to breathe. I dash up the stairs and begin hanging. I thank God for my green, for my family, for His will. If you're a family member, I pray for you here; if I pray for you daily, it happens here; if I've told you you're on my "laundry hanging" prayer list, this is when I do so; if God brings you to my mind, I cover you. I pray hanging up and taking down. I do at least one load of laundry every day except Sunday. These laundry prayers keep us going.

Many times a child or two will follow me upstairs: to water the plants, to ask questions, to play with the sprayer in the bathroom (Simeon!), to push the buttons on the washing machine (Simeon, again!). But I still pray. Mommas are pretty good at multi-tasking. If I'm having a hard day, my prayers are more serious and concentrated. If the day is going well (or it's a rainy day, which I love - maybe another post in the making), I sing. Remember those hundreds of neighbors? They've gotten used to it, but they used to look out their apartment windows and wonder, "Who is that crazy white lady?!"

My favorite time of day? Maybe when all the kids are in bed and I'm just now getting around to bringing in the laundry. This happens fairly often. Even if it rains, I just roll laundry rack indoors and grab the clothes on hangers, so I still have to take them down later. On the balcony, it's finally cooling down a bit; maybe there's a breeze that doesn't make it into the house. I might see some stars or the moon peeking out behind cloud skittering across the sky. A bat chasing mosquitoes dips and whirls. I breathe deeply; I relax; I take down clothes and pray.

Last night, I felt worn out. I just sat on the rickety plastic stool on which I usually set my basket. My prayers didn't have words. Finally, I mustered enough energy for the final push of the day. Before I stepped in the house, I looked up at the cloudy sky. A lone white crane winged his way home across the sky; peace entered my heart. Thank you, God, for the gift.

Now how could I delegate all that to my children?

First Steps

Let me invite you to a scene of delight: last Thursday evening...

I am reading Hollis's bedtime story, Jungle Drums by Graeme Base, about a little warthog who learns to be happy with who he is. Calla is standing, leaning against the couch. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her stepping forward; she takes one steady step, then a second, before toppling forward to her knees. Her first steps! I interrupt the story to clap and cheer for her. The kids are wildly excited - hopping about, laughing and cheering. I finish the story with a wide smile on my face.

A bit later, Philip is eating a late supper after English class. The younger kids are supposed to be completing the final steps in preparing for bed. Calla is trying to climb up onto the couch. I kneel on the floor a few steps away. "Come here, Calla! Walk to Mommy!" And she does.

All thoughts of bedtime are put on hold as Calla becomes a star. The kids take turns. One of them helps Calla stand steady against the couch, while another kneels a few steps away. "Come here, Calla! Walk to me!" And she does. Sometimes two steps, sometimes four or five. A few times, she successfully toddles the distances and walks confidently into outstretched arms. More often, she ends up falling headlong the last bit.

Every effort is met with cheering and clapping. Calla delightedly claps for herself. Simeon crows about the "wonderful baby walking show." Philip beams from the dining room table. I gladly take my turn as the receiver of the this talented baby. A baby taking her first steps is a small miracle. This night will become a precious jewel of a memory for our family.