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Showing posts from 2015

Ordinary Miracles - Where I praise my friends

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I'm sitting on my friend Cindy's couch when Sam comes in. He's sad because of something that happened while playing, he got hurt, or his feelings were hurt, he needs some comfort. He lays down on the couch, head in Cindy's lap, and she rubs his back and comforts him while we keep talking. She reminds one of the kids to do their chore, she sends another to time out on the stairs for a few minutes for whispering mean things to someone else. She asks another to pick up the rest of the Lego after a child who can barely see had done her best to pick it all up.



By the end of 30 minutes, Sam still lays with his head in her lap, and 5-6 children have congregated around the couch.
"Mommy, look at this."
"Mommy, so and so said..."
"I'm going to sew something." Proceeds to sit down on the floor in front of the couch to do this.

It's all so beautifully normal, and home like and mundane.

Except...

Almost all these kids are foster kids, placed i…

Together

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She sits across from me at my kitchen table, an untouched cup of tea in front of her, and speaks out the details of the very worst moment of her life. Her eyes pour out her pain, and her voice breaks and everything, every hurt, every hard thing in her life since then, it leads back to this one terrifying, shattering moment, this moment she can't forget, and can't move past.

There is counsel, and there is a time for that.

But better, sometimes;

-to hold the hand of a hurting friend, enter into her pain, and grieve with her for the evil she has endured.

-to pray there is comfort in grieving together,

-to let her know that even though she feels alone, she doesn't have to move forward on her own,


We walk on together, hand in hand. One small step at a time.

Holding The Pieces

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I sat on a pile of concrete fence posts across from her. She juggles her baby, almost a year old now, she says. She doesn't really know because the baby's father has taken all of her birth records.

I ask her to tell me how she came to be "married".

"I was 12," she says, "I had only had my period 3 times. He called me to come in and lay down with him. I thought he just meant to lay together like children do. But he had sex with me. I bled a lot, it really hurt. The next day I couldn't even sit down. But didn't take me to the doctor or anything."

Her parents didn't know at first, because this happened far away at a cousin's house. But then they sent her to live with him because sex equals marriage around here, or at least, an obligation on the part of the man to care for the girl.

This is how she ended up married to a man twice her age and living at his house. His mother called her a prostitute when first she met her. He beat her, d…

When I realize, again, That My Husband is a Better Christian Than Me.

We had unexpected guests at the close of the year. One of the hazards of working cross culturally is that you sometimes often find yourself grossly misunderstood.

Like this one time, when Aaron reconnected with an old friend from his first few trips to Thailand. The friend said he wanted to move back to the area where we currently live and Aaron said, "Great, if you do you should give me a call we could hang out and stuff, maybe even work together."

Remember Aaron is basically still a beginner at Thai, his friend is a beginner at English. This is probably explains why, when his friend arrived on a bus the day before New Year's Eve, with his wife and child and all earthly possessions packed into a few bags, he thought we had a job for him, and a place for him to live.

Slight misunderstanding.

We don't have a job for him, unfortunately, we wish we did. But we weren't going to leave him hanging with nowhere to stay until he figured out a plan B. We have a few choice…

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