Dear Dad.

Thank you.
Thank you for awaiting my arrival with excitement and for wanting me.
Thank you for caring - for every nappy changed and every book read. (Especially the countless readings of apple tree farm.)
Thank you for playing with me, listening to me and laughing with me.
Thank you for helping me with my homework and never pressuring me to do more than I could, but believing in me.
Thank you for taking me running - even though I complained profusely.
Thank you for teaching me about God since the moment I was born, and for not only teaching me but showing me what a Christian life looks like.
Thank you for the way you love mum - and for showing me what a good husband looks like so I might choose a good man for myself one day.
Thank you for disciplining me in a firm but gracious way.
Thank you for never beating me. For never allowing anger to take over. For never abandoning me.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being a father.

The longer I live here, the more my heart breaks for the lack of good men my kids have in their lives. Please pray for them.

Torn.

Some days, I miss home. I miss my friends and I miss being a normal 17 year old. I miss my home and my family. Some days - I just want to sit with my best friends, and talk for hours about nothing in particular. I want to be able to stay up all night, and still make it through the next day. I want to be carefree. I want to pick up my phone and be able to talk to whoever I want to, without figuring out time differences. I want to go to friends' birthday meals - instead of having to call for 5 minutes. I want to be there when my friends hurt. I don't want to be on the other side of the world. I miss feeling comfortable and at home. If I'm truly honest - there are some days where I just don't want to be here.
But I know. I know, that when the time comes to leave, I'll be heartbroken. I know that I'll miss seeing 30 beautiful, little faces look up at me every morning. (Alright - well 29. Only one is taller...) I know that I'll miss the funny things they say and the way they make me laugh. I'll miss their sweet voices and the way that I only ever understand half of what they're saying - if I'm lucky. I'll miss sitting with them while they cry and I'll miss being able to comfort them. I will miss being a part of their lives and knowing that, even if only for a short time, I am blessed to be in their lives. And I'll miss my room mates. I will miss their encouragement, friendship and wisdom. I will miss knowing that they understand. I will miss the 9 months that will have so quickly gone by.
Dundee is home, but I know that it won't feel like home when I go back. Not exactly. Things change, and people change. I know myself that I have already changed. Thailand doesn't feel like home. I do not belong. So I am torn. I am homesick for a place that is no longer truly home. And I am living in a place that never will be home. And then I remember. I remember that I was not made for this world. It's okay if it doesn't feel like home. In fact, I don't want to ever feel at home. Because this is not my home. I am only on this earth for a short while. I want to be homesick for heaven. For my true home.

These two are so sweet.

Children are honest. They will tell you what they think, and very rarely do they play mind games and try to make you feel better, or do something because it is expected of them. They understand the rules - but anything done beyond that, usually depends on their own opinions. This is why when they think you look beautiful, they'll tell you. And when they don't think your outfit is so great that day, they will tell you and proceed to try and fix it. I of course, speak from experience. If they are upset with another child, they will make sure we know about it. If they think they've done a really good job on something, they will make sure we acknowledge that. If they don't understand, they ask 'why'. They are not afraid of being different. They are not afraid of doing what they want.
The older we get - the less honest we become. We develop filters and fears. I am not saying this is a bad thing - but in this case, I rejoice in this unfiltered honesty.
One of our second graders became a Christian on Friday night. He is fairly new to our school and is living with his aunt and uncle because his mother is working in Bangkok. His aunt and uncle are Christians and have been doing devotions with him every night. On Friday night he was talking with his uncle about how some of his friends at school are Christians and some are Buddhist. His uncle talked with him about it and asked him 'Well, which do you want to be?' 'I want to be a Christian!'. And so, his uncle prayed with him.
He did this because he wanted to. He did this because he saw the hope and light that comes with salvation. Some may say he's too young, he doesn't understand. Yet, God says the complete opposite. He tells us to have child-like faith and let the children come to Him. He welcomes them with open arms.
I wish my faith was like the faith of this little boy. Honest and unfiltered. Without fear.
He is so full of joy and makes us laugh all the time. His noise effects are particularly famous amongst the teachers, and he has such a sweet heart.

When judgement backfires - a post about gold fairy dust and multicoloured jelly.

While in Singapore over the Christmas holidays, my family and I visited a Buddhist temple. Now, I've heard it said that once you've seen one Buddhist temple, you've pretty much seen them all. But this one was different - it stood out. This one held a tooth relic of Buddha, and various other relics too.

It's a warm afternoon, the sky is darkening with the threat of rain and we walk into the temple - intrigued at what it might hold. We watch as the monks chant and wonder where they fit in the time to breathe. We take time to read about the life of Buddha, and read all about 'enlightenment' and I am still just as clueless as I was when I first walked in. Then we walk through the part of the temple where Buddha's tongue, heart, liver, kidney, big & small intestine, brain and blood relics are kept. Might I add that his blood resembles gold fairy dust and his brain matter is multicoloured balls of jelly. Not to be disrespectful, but the main thought crossing my mind and lips were 'How can people actually believe this?!'. And then we get to the part where his tooth relic is held. I couldn't hold the laughter in. If that tooth could fit inside a human beings mouth, then Buddha must have had a mighty large head! It was huge! 

I would like to say that my thoughts and heart were saddened by this, and that I was truly heart-broken for the people following this religion. And while yes, it is heart-breaking watching young children make their offerings and seeing the lies in these people's lives, my heart was full of judgement. I could not, for the life of me, understand how anyone found truth in this. How anyone could worship this. My heart did not soften.

Then, a few weeks ago, I was convicted. I do the same thing, every day. I try to find truth in something other than God. I look for satisfaction in the work I am doing rather than the God I am serving. I look for comfort from friends and family instead of looking upwards. I look for joy in a funny film instead of what He has done for me. I look for acceptance and control instead of humility and trust. I stood judging and condemning those who look to false gods when my life is full of them. 

He reminds me that 'Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved'.

Reality.

'God shows up in our reality. He shows up in our weakness. His eyes are not running across the earth looking for the woman who lives in a romantic movie set of perfection. He is looking for the real, the weak, and the one who needs Him.'

Before coming here, my idea of what this year would look like was definitely geared towards the romantic movie set of perfection. The idea of pouring out love on these little ones, making their lives better and of walking hand in hand with them down dusty roads, laughing and playing with them all day because they need to be shown that attention The idea of feeling rewarded and appreciated every single second of every day. Feeling as if I matter because I'm here, feeling as if I am contributing something great to their worlds. The idea of writing back home and telling everyone how wonderful everything is and how I've never felt more at home. These ideas of course, all point to one thing. Myself. These ideas point to the misconception that I am enough. That I have enough energy, enough love, enough patience and enough joy for each day. That this year is all about me and what I am doing to help. That the reason to write back home is so that people see how wonderful I am.
Yet the reality, tells me that in no way am I enough, and in no way am I wonderful. The reality of never having enough energy. Of feeling drained and tired by 7pm, and feeling exactly the same way when I wake up in the morning. Of feeling like I have absolutely no patience and all this love that I want to give to my kids, is pushed out by frustration and weariness. The reality of not looking like someone from a movie set, in any way, shape or form. Of feeling sticky and sweaty, in cold season. Of having first graders say 'ouch' as they put their hands on my legs because I missed a spot when I shaved my legs in the shower that morning, because I was half asleep. Of spilling my coffee down my front at 6am and not getting home till 8.30pm to wash it off. The reality of missing the joy all around me, because I am too busy focussing on myself and my own ideas of what things should look like. The reality of feeling completely useless. The reality of not wanting to write back home, because I don't want to be real with people.
Then He whispers to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness'. He lifts my gaze upwards. He does not affirm that my ideas were correct. No, He tells me they were selfish and proud. He asks my who I am here for. He tells me that I am not enough, but that He is. His Joy is my Strength. A Divine Strength. He reminds me to lean on Him and depend on Him. To cast all my burdens and frustrations on Him. He prompts me to write home - not about how wonderful I am or how perfect everything is, but to write about Him. To write about what He is doing in the lives of these kids, and in my own life. He says 'Whoever welcomes one of these children in My name, welcomes me'. I am to welcome them in His name and in His power. Not in my own name.
So here it is - the reality of living here is hard. I love it, and I wouldn't change it, but it is hard. But, God is doing wonderful things here. He is working and He is being faithful. He is teaching me and growing me, and He is speaking into the lives of these kids.

And of course - there is always a little bit of time and energy for some cuddling!

Such as these.

Please note that the pictures do not necessarily represent the students in the stories.

He is the most enthusiastic little boy I’ve ever met and I don’t think there is a moment I’ve looked at him and his face hasn't been dripping with sweat. He’s a character. Picture this – he is waving so hard and so enthusiastically after we drop him home that he walks the old man who looks after him (who is in a wheelchair taller than the little boy) straight into a pole and just carries on like nothing has happened. Meanwhile this old man is probably thinking 'why on earth do I put up with this..' It was maybe a ‘had to be there’ moment, but it truly was hilarious! His story is a sad one though. He was born here in Chiang Mai, and was living with his Father but was being abused by someone else, so he moved down south to live with his grandfather. However, his grandfather died in the recent flooding and so this little boy has had to move back up here and is now living with his mother. She works two jobs, and so when we drop him home after school there is nobody to take care of him. He is left all alone. Nobody to ask him how his day was, help him with his homework, heat up his food for him or put him to bed.

She is a beautiful, sweet girl. She makes us laugh and tells us that all the boys love her but she doesn't love them back. She tells us what's going on in her class and who loves who and who did what. But her father has a quick temper. Her mother wants to leave and take her, but it's just too hard. She says she is scared for her daughter. We watch as this sweetheart bursts into floods of tears on the way to school. Like every other human, she just wants to be loved. Is that too much to ask?

He is hands down, one of the funniest boys I have ever met. He makes me laugh daily, and he really does have such a good heart. He doesn't care what others think - he wears his heart on his sleeve. He is sweet, and caring - most of the time - and everyone loves him! His parents have been in prison since he was 5 months old, and will be there for another 10 years because of drug dealing. He's grown up in a children's home, and while the home is a good place and he is treated well there, he can still feel all alone. My room-mate went to the hospital with him when he broke his leg. 'What's your father's name?' 'I don't know.' 'What's your mother's name?' 'I don't know.' 'Where do you live?' 'I don't know.' I watch his face crumple when, in a thanksgiving activity, someone expresses their thankfulness for a family. 

These are just three stories. There are thirty from our school, and thousands all over Thailand. The reminder of where these kids are coming from, reminds me of why I am here. What the point is. Why they need love.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

School video.

Please take a moment to watch our new school video and see what is happening in some of our kids' lives!