My favorite day!

Monday, June 6 was a special gift from God in the most extraordinary-ordinary way. We had our regular community meeting at MEP (the French Foreign Missionary Priests) and then as normal, we all go our own way for a day of rest. Typically we go to the home of an ex-patriot for 2 nights, granting us one full day out of the slums to rest, build a friendship with another family, and to speak our native tongue! This week, I decided to stay at home in Jet Sip Rai. I love staying with families, but packing an overnight bag every week is becoming exhausting and I find it hard for me to remember my mission some weeks by leaving my home—even if it is hot and smelly. Kate (en route to return to mission in India) also ended up staying to finish painting the mural on our wall before we open the house again on Wednesday to the children, so we would stay together.

Here’s the story—I was walking home, exhausted and overwhelmed after our 3 hour meeting of our schedule and sharing about our friends, who we visited, their story, and explaining where they live in the maze of streets in our neighborhood. I walked across the rickety bridge and happened to see two children. One boy, about age 8, and one girl, maybe age 9 or 10. The boy was wearing pants a bit too long, as one pant left hung about twelve inches off his foot, and the clothes of both of them could have used a good laundering. They asked me for money, typical approach to a ‘farang’ (western foreigner). I said, “Mai mii”, I don’t have. Then they said they need to buy food, do I have not even one baht? I then recalled I had my change from the bus in my pocket, so I took out the twelve baht and said, “Here! I also live here in Jet Sip Rai, I don’t have much money to give.” We spoke a bit, and discovered the boy’s name is Meua and the girl is Peut. They said, yes, they have a mom and dad, and they live just to the left of the canal under us. I remembered the bunch of bananas Marie had handed to me to bring home, and asked if they like bananas. As I pulled them out of my backpack, they smiled so big, they jumped and clapped their hands! Never have I seen such rejoicing for bananas! It made me so happy, I wanted to invite them home to dinner! But we were still a 15 minute walk from home, on the other side of the expressway, and we had no food at home even to give. So, we spoke—and I tried to understand them and speak in return in my little Thai—for about 20 minutes standing there on the bridge as people walked past.

My journey home from the bus was not yet complete- After the bridge, I must cross the expressway, and then the train tracks, walking pass the motosy drivers sitting there drinking and staring, pass the mosque, and then on the bricks that spray dirty water if you don’t step carefully. I made my way through the narrow soi as normal, coming up to Yaay’s house. Her door had been closed the past 4 or 5 days and we thought she was gone on tiaw (a trip). But as I passed, I saw her inside on the floor with her legs up. She had the small gauze taped on her hands and arm left from an IV, signs of the hospital. Thanks to communicating in body language to augment my understanding of the Thai, I understood she had been in the hospital for 4 days. Something is wrong with her leg (“maj mii rEEng”--have no power/strength) and she cannot walk. She will be going to get  a walker or something this week. I held her hand and smiled, kneeling next to her.
Then, I continued walking after she learned I was going home to eat with Kate.

I looked for our friend Phaa Poo, on the left, but didn’t see her. Then, five feet later, I heard a voice on my right—it was Phaa Poo! She asked “Paj naj?”, the typical question, Where are you going?. Its like the equivalent to “How are you?” or “Whats up?” and no one really caring what the answer is. Except, we always answer as if they care! Phaa Poo asked if she could come over, I said sure! Later that evening, she came to the door and Kate and I spoke with her in the house for almost two hours! Its amazing, the patience of our friends when we cannot understand, or they must repeat something so often! It takes a generosity of heart, and I think, a real desire for friendship. Phaa Poo has an interesting story. She came a couple days ago too, explaining that she is alone, although she lives with her sister, she has no husband, her 3 children are all gone—one died, and the other two do not care to visit or see her. One was in prison, and we believe the one died from drugs. Phaa Poo works making beautiful rugs and hats, and usually only once a week as one day of work earns her good money. She is often drunk, as the Lao is her only friend. Thus our friendship is so beautiful—she is a very social person, only 51 years old, but often says she wants to die. She says this and tears up, but then cracks a joke to save face. She is beautiful, with the lines on her face that I love, right by her eyes when she smiles (crow's feet, we say, no?). She tells Kate and I, "Suaj, Suaj"-- beautiful! And we say it in return, in all sincerity, and she doesn't believe it. She thinks she looks like a man and isn't beautiful at all. 
She asked us how we make money (it took me about 15 minutes to understand her question before I could answer it). I explained, we do not work for money. Mom and Dad don’t give us money. We are here to live with the Thai people, to love the Thai people, and to be a friend. She said, Dii maak! Very good! She was very happy to hear this! We tell her, you are not alone! You have a friend, 6 friends, now! But she was not satisfied—no, I live alone, I eat alone, I spend all day alone, I drink alone. I want to die and go to the temple. (In Thai Buddhism, the dead are cremated and placed in the “cemetery” at the temple, or placed in an urn and kept by the family in the home).
Kate drew her face as we sat. Phaa Poo continued to talk and laugh, grabbing our arm or leaning over to sniff us (the Thai ‘kiss’). After two hours, we were yawning and my mind was exhausted-- my brain was hearing and translating Thai, and as time passed, it just burned out. Kate gave Phaa Poo the portrait to keep. She loved it.

This was indeed the day God kept giving. In my exhaustion, He opened my eyes to see His face and to experience His life and creation. 

These are not really extraordinary experiences to me, or probably to you. But-- why not? Why can't an encounter with a person be extraordinary? Could we say it is always extraordinary, to see and speak with another person, created uniquely and with a specific purpose to be ALIVE? 
I think that's extraordinary. I just don't know how to keep it in front of me in every encounter...It must take practice. ;)