there's something about the baby house...

I was not in the mood for my "shift" at the Baby House. I was tired, had some important emails to respond to, and was concerned that a whole evening of taking care of the kids would wear me out too much. The Baby House is where kids who had been living in prison with their moms could receive a healthy home environment in which to grow and go to school. We also welcome in the moms when they are released, give them time to reunite with their child, and help them regain an independent lifestyle. All good stuff, yes, but like I said, I wasn’t in the mood for it.

Chat and Nee are the house parents, and they stuck around all night, even though it was their day off. I somehow forgot how I always feel like family when I’m there, and how warm they welcome me into their home. I spent about an hour watching the kids play together outside, and could see Saw Min Oo, the newest boy to the home, laughing hysterically as he was being chased by Simomo. After that, Bobo noticed my Thai dictionary and wanted to practice saying the characters of the alphabet. At four years old, I was impressed with her ambition. We sat there for an entire hour while she repeated the alphabet, learning from her mistakes and moving on to the vowels. As Chat walked by, she said (in Thai), “Look dad, I can read the alphabet!” He gave her a smile that warmed my soul, a thumbs up, and said, “Alright! Great job!” as enthusiastically as possible. He was so proud of her, and she knew it.

We broke for dinner, and I realized that the best was yet to come. After goofing around with the kids and making some videos (Nee and one of the kids’ mom’s got in on the action, too), Chat gathered the kids together for some worship time. Did I mention it was his day off? This was not something he had to do, nor was it something the kids had to do. They were so excited. They gathered in front of him, ready to sing and dance their little hearts out. In between each song, Chat asked them what they thought God was like and got these responses: good, kind, and “I feel happy around Him”.

He asked me if I had anything to say to the children, and I thought it would be neat to ask them what they want to be when they grow up. Bobo, who is usually very quiet, said she wanted to be a doctor without any hesitation. While the boys wanted to be pilots or truck drivers, Simala, a 14 year old girl who has already endured a lifetime of suffering, had the most thoughtful response. She said she’d like to work at the Baby House, to help Chat and Nee, and that she would like to work with people who have broken hearts. This kind of wisdom and heart is rare in anyone, let alone a young girl with plenty of her own pain. It’s beautiful to see God’s healing and restoration at work.

Chat told the kids that they all have dreams, and that they have futures where anything can happen. He told them that they can ask God for anything, and that God will help them. We prayed for the kids, for their futures, and for their precious little hearts.

I left because I felt like if I stayed any longer I would be keeping them up, and not because I wanted to or had to. I left feeling whole and alive, without a care in the world about the emails in my inbox. It was not a distraction or an obligation, but an absolute privilege to be welcomed into their lives, and to experience the community of family that takes place in this home.

hope and a future

Chico is a handsome young man from Burma, who has been spending some time in Mae Sot trying to earn money for his family. He is too old to beg (depending on the day, he says he is either 13 or 19), so he has had a tough time here. He visits our Drop-In Center on Wednesdays, and never wants to leave. You can see the ache for safety and affection on his face. He has really connected with my friend Katie, and she has a special heart for him.

Last week, he showed up at our office with his friend Ali. They wanted to return to Burma that day, and wanted us to give them money. We stood at our gate and delivered our standard, "I'm sorry, we can't give you money" response. Looking miserable and defeated, they started to turn away. We asked if they were thirsty, and invited them to sit at the table in front of our office. They gulped down some water, and Katie went to a restaurant next door to order some food for them. Enjoying our unexpected visitors, Katie began speaking with Chico in Burmese, and I talked to Ali in Thai. We engaged with them separately in different languages, periodically stopping to tell the other what we were hearing.

Ali explained that he lost his vision when he was eight years old. He comes from Burma, and has no mother or father. He cannot work because he's blind, and he is lucky to have a friend like Chico who will hold his hand around town. They are currently staying in one of the poorest neighborhoods, and they face challenges every day just to survive. They don't know when or how they're going to get food, if they'll be safe, and now, how they'll get back home to Burma. As I watched Ali speak with such desperation, words weighted with the suffering he feels every minute, I came quite close to bursting into tears.

What kind of future does Ali have? Will this incredible spark in Chico's eyes last much longer?

Where will these young men end up?

Just as it was all feeling too heavy for us to stand, Chico casually mentioned that he speaks English. When we asked him if he actually does, he just said, "yeah!"... like it was no big deal. We quickly calculated what we had already said to each other in English, and realized he understood us saying how cute he was. Oh well.

Ali told me all his troubles, with every bit of misery apparent, but then told me that he felt good sitting there with us. He asked if he could come back every day, and I had to say no. I explained it was our office and that they couldn't come every day, but that we really liked spending time with them and would meet them over the weekend. He said, "Really? You'll come see me?", and I replied, "Really, we will!" (it sounds so much cooler in Thai)

So we did. We took two of our male Interns to visit the community where they were staying, and found Chico in a small house with almost 30 other people. I had never been to this street before, and was overwhelmed by the poverty. I have seen poverty here, and let me tell you... I was overwhelmed. The dead-end road was lined with a long apartment-like structure on each side, and each little home was spilling over with people, laundry and garbage. We sat on the concrete floor in the living room with old men and women sitting against the walls, babies and little kids crawling all over (of course with no pants), young women lying down and watching TV, the men talking and watching it all, and another 15 people standing outside and crowding the windows to peer in. Ali was apparently staying at the mosque, but we got to see Chico and let him know that he was worth visiting. He smiled the whole time. So did we.

I pray for the futures of these kids, and for their hearts to be protected from all the trouble around them. Some of the kids have seemingly resigned to life on the streets, but I can see that Chico wants more. He has dreams, and I cling to hope that he can someday be all he wants to be.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. -Jer 29.11

Burma has stolen my heart.

I came here because I knew there were social justice issues on the Thai-Burma border, but I was not prepared for what I would see and feel.

Issues can get to you… I cried my eyes out as I learned about sex trafficking, and my blood has boiled over other types of injustice.

But people… people can forever change you. When it’s no longer an issue, but a face – and then, not just a face, but a heart and a soul – all bets are off. I doubt that I’ll live in or near Burma for the rest of my life, but I will never forget these amazing people or the suffering they endure.

Let me start with a little background. The military junta has been in power for the last 50 years, and it has been an era marked by cruelty and tragedy. The country is closed, no photos are allowed and no news is supposed to travel in or out, and the military is constantly watching the people. They are always on the move, terrorizing whatever villages they come across. The people of Burma are subject to the rapes and killings that so frequently take place, and families are often separated. Because the military has planted so many landmines all over the country and doesn’t want to cross paths with them, they will take men, women and children from their homes to be human minesweepers for them. Or, they might be forced to be porters, carrying heavy loads for impossible hours until they are either killed or escape. If the people are so bold as to resist, there are bloody battles and the military’s control will only tighten. The Karen State in Burma has stood their ground, and currently has armies fighting Burma’s military, which is ironically called the SPDC – State Peace and Development Council. There has recently been activity on the border, with an attempted assassination, gunfire and bombs near Myawaddy (just across the bridge).

There have been two major uprisings – one in 1988 and one in 2007. Citizens came together to march for freedom, and were shot in the streets. The monks joined the protest in 2007, and their temples were raided, ending in abductions, beatings and killings. It is striking and saddening to see how the people’s hope has been strangled. After living under oppression for so long, hope was born in beauty as they saw the possibility of a better future. And it ended when that door was closed and the tyranny worsened.

I witnessed this in their faces when I spent the day in Myawaddy last month. While it was just a short walk across the Friendship Bridge, something changed when I entered Burma. I could see the military presence as soldiers marched around with their rifles. I saw the poverty, the children and disabled men and women begging on the streets. I saw the fear in their eyes and the absence of hope.

Can you imagine a life like this?

For many, their best option is to escape to a neighboring country like Thailand. While they may be escaping some immediate danger, they are entering a life as being an “illegal” person. They will have no documentation, no chance to work at a fair wage, to own a home or a vehicle, or to have health insurance. They still must live in fear of being caught and sent back to Burma, and they are unable to leave the city because they would not make it through the many security checkpoints.

I met a man who had gotten a full scholarship to a university in Sweden, but he couldn’t go because he did not have a passport. His plan was to traffic himself to another country, where he would then try to get the paperwork he would need to travel. I have not talked to him since he left.

Through Compasio’s engagement at Mae Sot’s garbage dump, we met a man and woman from Burma who shared their story with us. They had eight children in Burma, and after every child died, they came to Thailand looking for a better life. They had been living at the garbage dump for the last twelve years, along with about 200 more people with similar stories.

My friend works at Mae Tao Clinic, a non-profit clinic that serves mainly Burmese people. Many will save their money for years just to make it across the border, and will often sell everything they have to get there. The clinic sees some extreme cases of illness and injury, and they created the Burma Children Medical Fund to expand the care they’re able to provide. My friend has interviewed wounded soldiers, and she has shown me the prosthetic lab where 20-40 people who lost a limb from a landmine will receive a new arm or leg each month.

I have a friend who cannot return to Burma because of his suspected political involvement, and he has not had any contact with his family in over ten years. He spent four years in a refugee camp before coming to Mae Sot, and now his future is so uncertain.

I have sometimes felt guilty that I happened to be born in America, and I have never understood the value of having a US Passport until now. I can go anywhere I want to. I could go to school in Europe, get a job in Asia, go on vacation in South America, and return home at any time. Apologizing for that doesn’t get one anywhere, but it has both humbled me and angered me.

The Bible says that the enemy comes to kill and destroy. I’m pretty sure he’s living in Burma.

But I also know that the Lord loves justice, and that he calls us to love and care for the poor and oppressed. I’m not about to march into Burma and start demanding freedom, but I am praying. And I’m asking you to pray. If you feel something for these people, if you want them to have hope and a future, and if you are wondering what you can do, this is the answer: Pray. God hears, and he is always working. Let’s have faith that we will see great things here.

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.

… For I, the Lord, love justice. Isaiah 61: 1-4, 8

Food, Shoes & Games: 500 Baht. An Afternoon with the Street Kids: Priceless.

A couple weeks ago, I was drinking coffee and studying for my Thai lesson outside a popular restaurant in Mae Sot. I watched as a frail, dirty boy walked up to the man at the table next to me, begging for money. The man ignored him, as most people do when they want beggars to go away, so he came to my table next. I'm familiar with many of the street kids from everything Compasio does, but I didn't recognize this one. He held out his hands and succeeded in giving me a very desperate plea for money. We don't give money, but we will give food... and we will always give our attention. I am unfortunately not able to communicate with most street kids, because I'm learning Thai and they speak Burmese. This little boy said something to me in Thai, so I asked him if he spoke. He did, so I found out that he was six years old, his name was Ali, and he walked the few miles into Mae Sot from Burma every day. I asked if he was hungry, so we walked down the street to get some food. I grabbed his hand before we ventured into the busy street, and that was the first time I got to see his smile. It was pure joy.

This afternoon, I stopped by Tesco Lotus to pick up some groceries before heading home. When Ali ran up to me to say hello, I realized that even if I had plans for the evening, they would take a distant second to what was now in front of me. We want the kids to know that we're not just here to buy them stuff, but that we also offer our love and friendship, and I certainly don't agree with spoiling the kids. However... sometimes kids should be spoiled. There are times I tell them no, times we'll just sit on the sidewalk, but today I wanted to let this six year old boy be a kid. I asked him if he wanted food, but more than that he pointed to a small train ride on the side of the building. He climbed into his little car and started playing with the steering wheel, and proceeded to wave at me every 50 times he went around the small loop. It melted my heart to see his unrestrained glee, and I felt so proud of him. I asked him what he wanted to do next, so we went and got some fruit. After that, he started looking at toy cars and trains, but I saw some shoes at the next stand. I looked at his tiny bare feet and thought of the long walk home he had that night, so I thought that might be a better purchase. He picked out a pair (quite cool, if I might say so!), and then we headed in to Tesco Lotus to the 3rd floor - the arcade. While I was watching him crash into the wall in a racing game, another boy plowed into us.

Koko is about 12 years old, and he's one of the first street kids I met. He has hung around our office the last couple Tuesdays around the time of our staff meeting, including today, and we've taken him next door for lunch with us both weeks. The two boys ran off to play together, and then we walked back outside. Koko noticed that Ali was wearing shoes, so that was of course our next stop. After that, Ali and I sat on the sidewalk while Koko ordered some food, and I realized that Ali hadn't stopped beaming and practically jumping up and down the whole time. After dinner, they got some ice cream and accompanied me into the store for the errand I had come to do an hour and a half ago. Ali wanted to hold my hand all the way back to my motorbike, and I tried say that I hoped to see him again soon.

It's these experiences I love. They are the ones that keep me here. I enjoy living here and have made some great friends, but nothing compares to seeing this kind of light in someone's eyes. To see hope and joy in the face of a child on the street or a kid at the garbage dump has an incredible kind of power.

I drove home feeling like I had just accomplished more than any amount of office work I could've done, like there's nowhere else I would rather have been, and like I loved these kids as if they were my own. I thought of a teenage boy that was just killed last week and of four street kids that recently went missing, and was struck with fear for the safety of these boys. I prayed for their protection, for their futures, and for their spirits to remain intact through whatever darkness may lie ahead of them.

No longer will violence be heard in your land, nor ruin or destruction within your borders,

but you will call your walls Salvation and your gates Praise.

The sun will no more be your light by day, nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,

for the LORD will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory.

Your sun will never set again, and your moon will wane no more;

the LORD will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end. -Isaiah 60:18-20

40 People in 40 Days

I was happy to make a new friend who doesn’t work for Compasio, so I have some contact with the outside world in Mae Sot :) Her name is Katie, she’s from Australia, and she works at Mae Tao Clinic.

Mae Tao Clinic is a non-profit clinic providing medical care to people who can’t afford it. They see many people who walk across the border from Burma, and we’ve taken people from the garbage dump there to receive treatment. Katie gave me a tour of the clinic recently, and I was amazed what a large campus it was. The buildings sprawled across a huge piece of land, and there was a separate building for each department of medicine or patient type. What I saw was astounding.

There was a room for abandoned babies, because it wasn’t uncommon for a mother to give birth and take off without her baby. There was an area for people who were terminally ill or highly contagious, and they lay on mats across the bare cement floor. We saw people recovering from surgery in the 100+ degree heat, and rooms filled with rows of beds, just like you’d see in war movies. Katie pointed out a man who now lives at the clinic, because he has nowhere else to go. People in his town threw acid on him, and he now had trouble with his vision and with using his arms.

We also visited the prosthetic workshop for all the amputee patients. As we watched a couple men molding and altering legs and feet, a man waited with one leg on a bench and another man walked by on crutches to try out his new leg. I noticed the white board behind us, and saw that it tracked the patient activity and gave a description of each recent case. The two boards covering the wall were full, so I was shocked to see the dates next to the names. The chart only went back 40 days, and there were already 40 names on it. Each name had a designation of “leg” or “foot” next to it, along with a diagnosis. A couple said, “disease”, but the overwhelming verdict was “landmine”. These men had come across landmines in Burma, planted by the military, and had lost a limb. Sometimes it’s an accident, because there are landmines are all over, and other times it’s because they’ve been coerced into the position of “human minesweeper”. Because the military doesn’t know for certain what areas are treated with landmines, they’ll take men, women and children from their villages – from their families – and will make them walk ahead to trigger any landmines in their path.

The injustice is sickening.

But, I couldn’t help but notice how there was an order to the chaos, people were being treated, and people were healing. It made me thankful that Compasio has a place like this to take the people we care for from the street or from the garbage dump, and that we have relationships with workers and nurses there.

I grow more and more firm in this every day: “I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.” -Psalm 27:13

After 1,200 Curves on Death Highway...

The day started with a lizard falling on me from the ceiling as I was turning on my light at 5:30am. A co-worker picked me up at 6am with two other women from different NGO's in town, and we began our journey. Travelling the 3 hour stretch of road on "Death Highway" through the mountains was both breathtaking and physically painful. South of Mae Sot and right on the border of Burma, we arrived in Umphang. My vomit tally was up to 5: four on the road and once in the car.

Our first stop in Umphang was to see Nana, an incredible Karen woman around 50 years old. For years, she operated a clinic inside the border of Burma until the Burmese military soldiers raided it in October 2008. She had four nearly grown children at the time, and decided she could take in more. She opened her home to kids from Burma who would now get a safe home and a better education. She currently hash 40 kids. Her house is large, and it's surrounded by pigs, chickens and catfish. Her family recently received a micro-loan to start a large farming project, and we took a trek down the road to see the progress. Out of only a handful of farmers, two of them are missing a foot. One was blown off by playing with a shotgun as a child, and the other was the victim of a landmine in Burma.

Next was a visit to the H2O orphanage to visit a family who needed our help. We were invited into their small hut on stilts, and I wondered if the floor made of woven bamboo could hold all of us. ToeToe held TuTu, his 15 year old daughter. in his lap as he explained how they need help caring for her disability. She suffered brain damage following complications from meningitis as a baby, and the mother had been home with her every day since. There are no wheelchairs or handicap access in their remote village, they also have a 6 year old daughter (WaWa) to care for, the father worked nearly around the clock to support his family, and the strain was increasing. Traces of a lively spirit still flickered in his eyes, but despair was taking over. He spoke with such concern for his daughter and her quality of life, and wanted to receive training from a physical therapist on how he could best care for her. We had already decided to employ him if he wanted to move to Mae Sot, but they didn't want to move WaWa from the new school she loved. We told him we could provide food and housing for him to come to Mae Sot with TuTu for a week or two, and that we could arrange for them to meet with a good doctor. We are also exploring what long-term engagement in their lives could look like, which has led to some very exciting ideas. My co-worker said to ToeToe before we left regarding our effort on their behalf, "I can't promise you anything", and he responded, "Can you promise a little?" The thought of being there when we share how we can work with them, and to see some hope restored, is almost enough to make me brave the intensely sickening drive again.

I took a tablet of dramomine and thankfully slept for most of the drive back. After a shower and a brief nap, I was off to a going-away/birthday party for someone from another NGO. I met a guy there who completed the package of this impactful day. He is 20 years old, and escaped to Thailand from Burma a few years ago. He went to school, and then lived in the Umphiam refugee camp with his parents for one year. We actually drove by it earlier that day, so I had the image of hundreds of tiny huts lining the hills along the highway fresh in my mind. He currently works for an NGO, and he just received a scholarship to attend university in Sweden. But, he has no passport or documentation to be in Thailand, so he's unable to leave the country. He said it's easier to get paperwork in Malaysia, and would like to give that a try. Without realizing how silly this question was, I asked if he'd go ahead and buy a ticket to go to Malaysia. He laughed. "No, I can't buy a ticket. I would have to be trafficked". He has contacts in his refugee camp who can assist him in trafficking himself, which would put him at all manner of risk. It struck me how different out lives are, and how extreme the challenges are that he'll face. I realized the value of a US passport and the ability to freely go anywhere in the world. To not be "illegal" and to not have allow myself to be trafficked in order to have opportunities for education and work. I asked him if he ever wanted to go to America, and he gave an emphatic "no". I was taken aback by his response, but he explained, "I will never be able to go to America. I can't even think about that".

I went to bed with a healing stomach, a full head, and a racing heart.

Heartbreak & Hope, continued...

Mae Sot is a treasure chest of people, and a place in the midst of incredible suffering. As I've tried to find words to express my thoughts on having hope in all of this, I found that I could do it best in a video.
This song was actually written in Thailand, at a brothel in Pattaya.