The problem with kids.

The problem with kids is that they have problems.
Learning problems, family problems. Problems that break your heart,
but you just can't fix them for them.
Zo Win Tho and his sister Me Pyu A,  for example. He is eight, she is five. Or that is the vicinity of their ages. Mom and Dad work on the Similan Islands, and these two stay with an uncle and various extended family. About thirty people in fact, in a room about the size of our English room. His parents send money each month to help out, but the kids are mostly on their own. We realized today they both have lice. Send them home for a shampoo? Sure we can, but they'll have it again in a day or so. Everybody shares bedding, in a situation like that. Both have learning problems. So slow to pick things up. They both try, that isn't the problem. But it just doesn't stick. Today Me Pyu A asked Bidya if she could live with her. They live in the same size place, but it is just her and Gospel. A dream come true, probably. Bidya told her she would pray about it. And it is doubtful that these are the only two in this situation. Just throwaways, and I started to say "especially bad and dangerous for a little girl"-- but in this day and age just as much for a young boy. Pray for them.

Funny story today! I was outside, and Soapy Mou was playing in the rockpile out front. He had a piece of rebar, about twenty-five inches long, that was bent in half to 90 degrees. He was leaning on it. I asked PoEiCho to tell him that it was dangerous, and I did not want him to get hurt. I asked him if I could have it, and he gave it to me. I put it inside the house, and we each both went on about our own business. A little while later, he came back over, and brought me another piece. I guess he figured I didn't want him to get hurt with that one either. It was cute.

Where have I been all this time? 27 Nov 2013

Hello,
I don't know if I can keep up with this thing or not, but it would sure be nice to be able to "share" some info without having to write to ya'll individually, and without having to FB, and with more detail than our bi-monthly letter. Pray for me.

A few weeks ago, our bunch from the Patong group of believers came to us on Sunday, rather than us going to them. They brought treats for kids, and I walked down the street and invited a few of the Burmese kids to come. Some people looked tentative, so I told them, "Mom can come too!" and we ended up with at least six moms, and fifteen or twenty kids. Katy told them about Jesus, taught them some scripture, and some songs in Burmese. The ladies were as good participating as any of the kids. It was a blessing. When they were finished with the lesson and services, they passed out treats and donated clothing from friends and some friend/shopkeepers around where they work.

It was a good day and good to see the adult ladies participating and enthusiastic.

I tell all this to tell about now.  Gospel and Bidya (Burmese) are now co-workers in our village. We have prayed for someone to come and help us for seven years. They feel they are called here. Pray for us for funds to be able to keep this up, because so far it is a blessing.

We are now having a Sunday worship here at our house at 9 am. Then we (Mike and Jody) go to Patong to meet with our people there, of whom really only Julie's family, and Katy and now Nunu are coming.

They  talked to the lady across the street. Kids had told me she was a Christian. She is but in name only. She was really enthusiastic to have them here.

We started teaching kids today. These are kids that cannot afford the "school" that a Buddhist foundation is providing for the Burmese kids. Between the school fee and the bus to get them there, it costs about $200 per kid per year. A few of them couldn't go even if they had the money, because they (most of the time) have to look after little brothers or sisters. Three hours a  day. Burmese, Thai, and English.

Sixteen kids came. This is without advertising, just word of mouth. I don't know if we could handle more, the room was full. Gospel took the little brothers and sisters (not included in the sixteen--these are too young to study) and tried to play with them outside, but we don't know how this will work out. They are difficult to manage and the only one who really looks after them is the big sister that was in the room trying to study!

Also came was one adult (young woman). She talked to Bidya. She is "interested in Jesus" and wants to come to our church service Sunday morning in our village. But she cannot speak any English. This therefore promptly dumped the Sunday morning preaching (like it or not) onto Mr. Gospel. He perhaps cannot translate well yet, but he can give his testimony and preach, and at least tell us(Mike and Jody) what verses he is going to in English. So woo hoo in just a short time the Lord is moving.

They also talked to Soapy Mou's gramma. She told them that grampa is a Baptist (had told us a Catholic, but she is Buddhist and doesn't know one from another) I don't think it is deception, I really get the impression she knows nothing. anyways, Grampa wants to have a Christmas something (they say he usually does) and we may be able to use that as an outreach. It will depend on when he wants to do it, we suggested the 22nd, the Sunday before Christmas--since Christmas day we already have an even planned with the group in Patong as an outreach to their friends. If Soapy Mou's grampa IS
a Christian, he is a back-slidden, hard-drinking one. But other than that he is a nice man.

So if you read all this again in a PL at a later date, don't blame me. I just wanted to put this info out there, to get some prayers for these situations! And pray for Bidya, she is about five months pregnant with her first child. Don't know that maybe she hasn't been taking care of herself.  Bye for now. It is hot here.

Day #3

Today was a day to relax, so I slept in till 645.

We did some running around Chiang Rai (on foot) before getting a ride with another missionary to the Big Spoon restaurant for a group lunch. A good time had by all, too much food but it was good. Visited with a young man we knew from many years ago. We had been passing out tracts at a local school one afternoon, and he came over and brought us a bottle of drinking water. He is a Christian, and his family owns the restaurant.

That evening was the last evening of the preachers' meeting. Saw our old little friend again, who we taught Jesus Loves Me to many years ago. Only got one picture, and it isn't that great, but it was nice to see her and she is becoming such a young lady.

Day #2

    First full day of "vacation" and we got up VERY early, and walked to the bus station from the hotel. It was an hour and a half ride on the bus to Mae Sai, which is the Thai city in the north that is at the Burma border. We got on the bus by 8, and Moe had been calling us since 7, to ask when we would get there. They had already made food in anticipation of our arrival.

    When we got to the Mae Sai bus station, we had to get on a "songteaow" to go to the border. Then wait in line at the Thai Immigration to "check-out" of Thailand. Thank the Lord we had already gotten our "re-entry permit" before we left Phang Nga, or that would have been more time. Without that, we couldn't get back into Thailand.

    After "departing" Thailand, we had to go to Burmese Immigration and apply for a visa to visit Tachileik. You aren't allowed to enter the rest of the country here, but you are allowed into the Tachileik area on a short tourist visa. Ours was for 24 hours. Pay the money, take your picture, stamp the visa into the passport. Unfortunately we were behind a Norwegian group of about twenty people, so we had to wait for them to finish. I guess the Immigration Officer thought I was an old lady or something, he said "Sit down, (mommy or madam, don't remember which--they might say either to a "mature" white woman)" because we had a bit of a wait. It took at least an hour to get through the process.

    Once we were across the border, I called Moe again. The plan was that she would come to meet us once we got there. So I called her and they were on their way. We waited a good while, and unfortunately when you stand around in Burma as a foreigner you are such a target: for salesmen, beggars, taxi drivers, etc. If you look at all like you are unsure of what you are doing or where you are going, you better look out. You just must look determined or ignore people a lot.

    A white car full of people pulled up; there was Moe, smiling and nervous but so happy to see us; it had been a couple years since she and her family had left Thap Lamu; her dad was still alive--he just wanted to get back to Burma (he had AIDS) because he said "I don't want to die in Thailand." And he had gotten his wish.  Moe held on to my arm or my hand most of the time we spent with them. She loves her teacher. I think it was her cousin or brother in law driving the car. He is a motorcycle taxi driver, and borrowed the car for the day for Moe. I am sure she paid the expense. And as many of the extended family as could packed into the car to come and greet us, and to take us to her sister's house.

     Immediately we were fed, everyone else claiming they had already eaten. They all (basically) just watched us eat. Not uncommon we found out in our Burmese travels. Invite you to eat, then watch you do it!

     Well to shorten the story, after eating we spent the next few hours visiting pagodas. I guess it is just the thing to do when you have company. Isn't our idea of fun, but we weren't really there just for us.

     Moe confided to me that the rest of the family did not know what her father died of, and they did not know her mom has the HIV virus. Moe is staying in Tachileik right now out of concern for her mom. Before Moe came, her mom was working a job, and making about 40 dollars a month. Probably working six or seven days a week. Moe came from her village and got a job making about 60 dollars and insisted that her mom stay home while she is there.

    We talked about the Lord. Moe had listened to our witness while in Thap Lamu, but her understanding of English is not great. She is now going to church one a week and to the (Buddhist) pagoda at least one other. She thinks all religions are good. But she wants so much to understand what I have.

     Before we had gone, I set up an email account for her. I planned to go with her to an internet café to show her how to use it, but we ran out of time and needed to get back for our Tuesday evening meeting. I gave her the email address, told her my plan and she assured me someone could help her.

     She was so sad to see us go. And we to have to go also. Tachileik was hot and dry but it was a lovely day with my English student who loves and misses her teacher.                          

Our trip 2013

Well whaddaya know, here I am again. I am hoping to catch up on telling somebody about our travels last month. I am going to try a day at a time. If possible.

Day #1. If this is a holiday, why do I still have to get up so EARLY? Because I needed to boil fish for the cats (they are still hungry) and be ready for our Filipino pastor friend to pick us up at nine to go to the airport.

We departed on schedule, with a stop (barely an hour) in Bangkok, and then flew on to Chiang Rai. Thank the Lord everything smooth(except special meal, of course) and we arrived right on time.

Chiang Rai was our first stop. We were there to attend a preachers' meeting for missionaries. A pastor from the States was the speaker, and the first night he preached on "Losing Jesus"-- as in when Joseph and Mary did. And also Martha, when she was cumbered about. A very good message for me, since I am as "Martha" as you can get!

In Chiang Rai, it means old friends: Sutin and his mom and dad. Actually, this picture is Sutin, his mom and his wife. Dad had to go to a wedding or something. Ha Ha I just noticed Sutin is holding a baby bottle. Yes, they have a little one now. About a year and a half old. I think she is hanging from that cloth his wife has tied on to her. But Sutin and his wife still look like kids themselves--he is about 27.
A good first day of travel.

Just Wave

     Just as the sun came up, the Burmese girl and her young daughter climbed off the motorcycle with her things. She turned and started digging around in her bag for the money requested by the driver. I can only guess she was just returning from staying all night at the temple after yesterday's tsunami scare. She had to pay for her ride home. I thought about yesterday.
      We had returned from a day of running errands, and dinner was almost ready. I decided to sit down for a minute with a book and a cup of iced coffee, but before I could, the phone rang.
      It was Khiow. She asked me where I was (she always does). I told her, and asked her where SHE was, which she hates as it interrupts her story and her line of thought.
      "I'm in Bang Niang. Have you heard any news about Thap Lamu (our village) ?" She sounded urgent.
      "No, I haven't heard anything. What is it?"
      She paused.
      "You don't see any cars driving around? Are there people there?"
      "It's like always. What is it? What is the news?"
      "PaDeng (my Thai name), they say there was an earthquake and a tsunami is coming!"
      I looked out the back door, and could see a couple of people here and there. One of them on the phone also. But nothing really unusual. She repeated the information and I said alright, I will check on it.
      I went and told Mike. We got on the Internet and looked at the email. No messages there (we are subscribed to get earthquake alerts for anywhere in the world). No sirens were going off in the village. No SMS messages on my phone (signed up for alerts there too). It was probably four PM.
      I looked around at the houses across the street. I could hear people jabbering here and there, but not much. A few minutes later, maybe ten minutes, the Thai woman across the street drove up in a tizzy. She ran around the truck, opened the gate to their "warehouse" where they keep their dogs and have big coolers to store fish. She was in a panic, getting the workers to grab all her dogs (about six) and put them into the truck. She ran around hollering at them and they all jumped in their truck and drove off. But said nothing to anyone else.
       Things started to pick up. Cars and motorcycles started driving by, all heading in one direction--away. The earthquake had occurred at 3:38 PM. It was now about quarter after four. We still had nothing on our email, or on the news, or on my phone.
        Then forty-six minutes after the event we got an email from the Global Disaster Alert and Coordination System. And shortly there after I got a "red tsunami alert" on my phone. Mike was looking at the information on the website and calculating times and places.
        I closed the front door. Pipo and PoEiCho ran up to the house. I asked them what they were doing, they said they were going over to the tsunami building (our new "escape from calamity" tower). But they said, if we were leaving, could they go with us? I said sure!
        Then the Thap Lamu Warning Siren went off. This is a siren, and it is loud. After the siren, it says in Thai, and English, and then Burmese, that there has been an earthquake and that a tsunami is coming. It tells us to go to higher ground. None of us want to take our chances on that new calamity tower. Is it tall enough?
       We decide to leave. We are locking the kitties in the house. Better in the house than outside in the aftermath of a tsunami, I  figure. I would rather they died in the house than whatever else I can imagine if they are outside running loose.
       You are supposed to have a bag ready. All I had was my purse (with money and passports). My passport is all I really care about when things are at that point. Mike grabbed a five gallon jug of water. The girls, their mom, and several others came running into the yard with their purses. I opened all the car doors and said "get in, get in!" More people came, and before we drove out of the yard there were Burmese people hanging off the back bumper. We didn't take time to count, but there had to be fifteen people.
There were still many people standing around, or walking down the street. We had no place to put them.
       I have never seen so many vehicles  on the road in Thap Lamu. Where did they all come from? Are there really that many people in our village?
       It is a five kilometer drive from Thap Lamu to the main highway. It is the only road in and out of the village. And it runs parallel to the sea, between the Thai Army and the Thai Navy base. On that road is not really a good place to be if the tsunami comes. And within one kilometer of the main highway, the cars were backed up in traffic. It had been a little over an hour since the earthquake.
       We drove to the OBT building. This was the designated place of refuge during our practices of "oh-pah-yop!" (or exodus--departure). But there were only a few people there.  Most of the people had gone over to the Buddhist temple which is where community activities often happen.
        We dropped off everybody, and told the local man officiating that we were going back for more. As we went to turn onto the road back to Thap Lamu, the soldier tried to stop us. He said, in his meager English, "Sorry! Tsunami!" We told him we knew and we were picking more people up. Another official told him to let us go, and we went.
         I was, myself, getting a little nervous. It had been over an hour since the earthquake. We drove down our road, and many Burmese were milling around, looking a little nervous. We picked up everyone there that wanted to go, and got a few more on the main street. This was not everybody. But not everybody wanted to leave, either.
        By  six PM, we were back at the OBT. Most people we had brought on our first trip had walked the quarter of a kilometer down to the temple (that's where their friends were). So we pretty much lost "control" of those we had picked up along the way. And there were hundreds of people now at the temple.
        Mike wanted to go again. I did not. We stopped and talked to our police friend. He said the tsunami is projected to come to Thap Lamu at 640 PM. We decide to wait it out at OBT.
        Six-forty PM came and went. The tsunami had not yet hit Patong, where we go on Sunday. And Patong is south of us, and it would get there first. There were no reports of any waves hitting anywhere.
        By seven, everyone was getting pretty restless. Nothing was happening. And shortly thereafter, people started going home, or getting on the road. Between 730 and 8 PM they said the warning was lifted "but be careful." We loaded up the people that were still there that had come with us, and drove back to Thap Lamu. I saw Pipo and PoEiCho sitting in the front yard. They had already gotten a ride home.
        As we were coming in the house, I got an SMS on my phone, with a warning from the Thai "National Disaster Warning System" telling us to be ready to "oh-pah-yop" because there had been an earthquake and they were expecting a tsunami. Not a new one. This was a warning for the earthquake that had occurred some four hours earlier. I didn't laugh.
        The cats couldn't figure out what all had gone on. But they were nervous. It was a windy night. Nobody was that interested in dinner, even us. In bed by ten PM, we slept really good. If there were aftershocks, you couldn't prove it by us.
        I know this has been a long story. But back to the young girl getting off the motorcycle at six the next morning. As we kept walking on our walk, it occurred to me. She might have been one of the ones we took down there, that then walked over to the temple. There was a whole truck load of people somewhere that either got their own ride back (like Pipo's family) or they were still there? A "truck taxi" drove by us with a load of people. He comes to town every morning while we are out walking, but he is usually empty. Did these people have to pay too? I wondered. They had been trying to escape calamity. Was someone making a little extra money off them rather than helping them out?
        I asked Mike if we maybe should go see if more people needed a ride (most Burmese have no vehicles--if they have anything, it is a bicycle). I kept walked down the road, and Mike walked home and got the truck. He picked me up and we drove the road to the highway. When we got almost to the highway, there were three ladies--and one little boy and one baby. One lady was carrying a heavy bag of things for her child. They were just starting the walk-- five kilometers.
       We picked them up, and communicated as best we could (her Thai was minimal) that we wanted to drive by the temple. By now, there were almost no people still there. The ones who were there, for their morning offerings, had vehicles. They were all Thai. So we asked our ladies if their friends had gone home yet, they said yes, they all go back already. We took these poor ladies home. I felt pretty bad, but then was remembering they weren't where we had dropped them off. Had they been, we would surely have taken them back to our village.
        Why do I tell you all this? I guess just to tell you how it went in our village on Wednesday. And to say, any time we take two loads of people down the road one way, we will try to bring (at least) two loads back to where they need to be.

       Galatians 6:9,10, 5:14 and Mark 1:17
Oh--that tsunami that we thought was going to be the Hand of God crashing down on us? It turned out to be--just a Wave.

     
   
    
   

four kids, two fishes

When you are in this "business" sometimes you "give til it hurts" if you know what I mean. Sometimes you might feel like the only thing that you have taught someone who doesn't have much is how to "take"; and that can get to where it hurts also.It isn't that you "expect" something in return. At least you shouldn't.

But sometimes...

I just will mention that the fishing boats hadn't gone out in about seven days. It happens every month. A few days before the full moon, they stop fishing for about five to seven days. I guess the bottom line is that it gives the fish population a break, as well as the fact that when the moon is full, apparently the fish "catch on" and avoid being caught. So it is not a very productive time to fish.

We have to plan ahead now, because our cats eat fresh fish. They didn't always. Stinkey and Miss Dufus "grew up" on canned food. But when two or three "street cats" infiltrate the ranks, things start to change. And since we lost Dinkey, and then Boomerang, these guys have just started to enjoy the finer things. And we can (usually) get fresh fish for about the same price as canned food.

Like I said, when the full moon is coming up, I have to plan ahead. I buy as much as is available that I can fit into my little refrigerator's freezer. This amounts to about five or six kilos, as long as it doesn't need to be defrosted. And that will often get us through long enough until the boats go out.

This time, though, there has been a bit of a problem. I guess the boats have been going out for two days already, but still no fish (pla lang) available that my cats like (and we can afford). There are many fishes that are expensive. And many that have such a lot of bones, or bones so tiny it is a waste of my time. My kitties have been without real fish for two days. I tried to get fish yesterday, and failed. Again today.

Miss Dufus and Stinkey can manage the first day. They will eat the canned for a day, no problem. And day number two, Miss Dufus will still eat it, but Stinkey goes into rebellion and refuses the canned stuff. She is a more fussy eater anyways. She will eat some of the dry stuff, and then after that goes outside, or goes back to bed. And gives me this look "why are you doing this to me?"

I didn't mention Little. Or Mr. Little as we call him. Mr. Little was trained by the great and powerful O.K. (whose picture still adorns the top of this blog). OK, my love, and my street kitty who could out scrap all who took him on, except the last one-- kidney disease. OK trained Little (by example) how to eat a raw fish (the whole thing) or a raw squid (with the evidence of a permanently stained black spot on his nose). I think they particularly enjoyed the thievery. The Burmese ladies lay the fish or squid out in the sun on frames strung with screen or string mesh in order to dry and then store it. And these guys were pretty adept at getting away with one before anybody could catch them or throw something. So Little likes fish. Real fish. For awhile, he tolerated the canned. But now, he just turns his nose up and walks away.

And don't get me wrong, Little LOVES to eat. Everybody tells me he is fat, but I say he is just well rounded. And has long fur. But he won't eat just anything. He wants fresh fish.

Little has not, therefore, eaten for two days. I confess, he does eat dry food. But it is really only a filler, and a time waster to tide him over for the fish. I did everything I could today to get some fish. One of the kids told me this afternoon that there have been a lot of sharks in the water yesterday and today, and so the smaller fish are scarce. So Little has had no fish.

The kids across the street were my last hope. I had already asked the "fish lady" (my Burmese neighbor who is my 'liaison') for fish. Yesterday, and twice today. But nothing. And when the last kids left today (from coloring,and my little Burmese English student) I asked Pipo if they had any fish at her house. She said "I don't know. I will ask." Everybody knows my kitties and knows why I want fish. Like I said, I had already asked the fish lady, who, like Pipo is Burmese, and is somehow connected to Pipo's mother(sister? aunt?). So there was little hope, in my mind.

I opened a can of food for the kitties' evening meal. Miss Dufus ate a little, Stinkey less, and Little...well you know.

We sat down to watch our Tuesday night Thai movie (another story, another day). And the show was noisy at parts, but all of a sudden I could hear someone yelling my Thai name "PaDeng! PaDeng!" When I finally realized this, we shut off the movie and I went into the room with the sliding glass door.

There stood four little Burmese kids, grinning, shouting my name. I said "What is it?" They said, "the fish came already!"

They were holding a bag with two small Pla Lang. Not too small. Just the right size that would make three kitties very happy this evening. I said, How much? And they said, "No, we give them to you." I could only smile and say thank you. I went and put the fish on to boil.

A little later I realize the kids were still playing on the porch (as is common at our house). So I went and took this picture, and asked about the fish. I guess some body's "elder" got some fish today. And they said, "He gave us one fish for every two kids. Hence, four kids, and two fish. They had two small fish. And they gave them to us.

And see their reaction.

Mr. Mike's Wild Ride

We started with a plan. Our work permits were approved, and our 90 day requirement for reporting in to Immigration had arrived. The plan was simple enough, we thought. Pick up the work permits at the employment office, which is just across the road from Immigration. Then go to Immigration, present them with the required work permits, and waltz out of there. And Mike thought we might be able to be back home by noon. We have plenty to do at home.

But of course that was only our plan. The Employment office was a little crowded. Lots of law changes in the new year, the lady explained. One older Thai lady expressed her aggravation loudly, and everyone smiled (as they do here) and she was helped in short order. Don't want those older (or squeaky wheels) people(and a teacher to boot)to wait. But it wasn't too long for us; we paid our money and went across to Immigration.

The office was changed. No counters, lots of desks. All new faces. This was not a bad thing, as far as I was concerned. The officer there before did not like me, and her being gone was ok with me. We were called to the desk to say what we came for.

"90 day" was our reply. I got out the passports and the work permits. The clerk started looking through our passports, flipping the pages back and forth. She looked confused. She brought over the supervisor. He asked if we wanted to apply for a visa extension? I said no, just report 90 days. He said, "Your visa expires today, or you must go out and come in to extend it for 90 days." I said "No, the Embassy in Florida gave us a one-year visa."

The Officer said, "At the airport they give only 90 days. If you want more than 90 days you must go out and come back in, or apply for an extension. Let me get the list of requirements." Now I must explain the list of requirements for a visa extension is never short, and never easy. And would have been impossible to do in one day.

So these were our options: 1) Overstay our visa, for as long as we could get away with it, without being deported. Cost, 500 baht per person, per day. Not really an option, but I just wanted to show you our options. 2) Apply for an extension today, which was not possible to complete the paperwork, which included a letter of approval from the Provincial government.or 3) Cross the border into another country for any amount of time, even five minutes, and automatically be able to stay for 90 more days (we have a multiple entry visa, and as long as we go OUT every ninety days, we CAN stay one year.) Since we had driven to Ranong before (but never crossed into Burma) we decided this would be the best option.

We decided we needed to drive back home, leave the cats in a better position (food, litter box) than we had when we left in the morning (expecting a quick trip over to Phang Nga and back).

One way trip to Phang Nga Immigration, one hour. Return trip, one hour.

Back home, made a quick sandwich. Took care of kitties. Burmese lady showed up wanting to sell me some fish. I told her I wanted it, but did not really have time to "receive it" right now. She told me she would ice it for me so I could get it in the morning. Thank the Lord I did not mess with the fish at that time. We left some lights on at the house, and took off.

I suppose it occurred to both of us that there might be some time constraints at the border. But do borders ever close? We really had no options, so neither of us brought up our concerns, but the truth is, individually, we both prayed along the way: "Lord, if there is a cutoff time, let us make it there in time."

We drove. And drove. It seemed like every big truck there is in Thailand was in front of us, and always on a curve with a blind spot. We left the house at 1:30 pm. The drive to Ranong from our house was, we estimated, three hours. We were driving into Ranong at about 4:15.

As we pulled into the gas station at the pier, a guy walked up to the car. Made the motion with his hands (assuming we could not speak Thai) showing someone "stamping" something, presumably a passport. We nodded. He asked if we had a ten dollar bill (USD) because Burma Immigration would require it. Assured us that if we didn't, he did. We got to Thailand immigration office about 4:25PM. They checked us out of Thailand.

Going to Burma to get your passport stamped, at least at Ranong, requires a short boat ride. You get on a boat in Thailand, ride to a "passport control" for Thailand,
ride on to a "passport control" for Burma, and then go on to Gaw Thaung, where you check in at the Burmese Immigration, pay your USD $10 (it has to be a beautiful bill--any markings, inks, defects, not acceptable.) Then you get back on the boat, go back to the passport control for Burma and get released, go back to the passport control for Thailand and get sent on, and return to the mainland, where you must check in at Thailand Immigration, get your passport stamped and accepted back into Thailand for 90 days. No problem.

Before we left on the boat from Thailand, the boat man again asked about our ten dollar bill. If we didn't have, he did. He would sell us one (each) for 450 baht. Well, the current exchange rate is 30 baht to the dollar. So he was wanting to charge us about $5 to exchange our Thai money into a $10 bill. Give him $15, he gives us $10. This seemed steep to me. And we would have had to do it, if I hadn't still had some US money stuck in my purse from our furlough. I got out a $10 bill. He examined it. Said "no good" and showed me a magic marker marking on the corner. I put it away. I had one more. I showed him that one. It had a red ink mark on it. He said, "no good." The only other thing I had was a twenty. It looked pretty sweet to me. I showed him that one. "OK. OK." He said. "That one OK." Thankfully we could pay for both of ours together.

We climbed onto the boat. Actually, we had to climb onto another boat that was in the way of our boat, and climb off of it and onto ours. These were like the long tail boats that the smaller fishermen use, with a motor with a long propeller that he would use to steer. This was not a "group charter" or anything, just us, the boat "captain" and the man who we made the arrangements with. To tell you the truth, I was concerned that they would drive us out to a secluded place, tie us to pieces of cement, throw us over, and grab my purse (he knew I had at least twenty more US dollars, even if they were ugly!). But after I saw out on the water that this situation was occurring all over the place. Many boats crossing the span between Thailand and Burma. A lot of them with Burmese people, larger groups than our boat. And I suspected they were NOT paying the 300 baht per person that we were (in addition to our $10 for the Burmese Immigration). But once I got over these aggravations, it was a pretty nice trip. Sunny day, a cool breeze out on the water. "Zooming" along at a reasonable clip, no water leaking into the boat, no sputtering motor. Another boat almost kept pace with us, with six or eight Burmese passengers. Looked like a family heading back home maybe. The two boat captains knew each other, and chattered back and forth once or twice when they were close enough. Really a pleasant ride in the late afternoon out on the water.

We pulled up on the Burma side, amidst a multitude of other boats, just like ours. They banged and bounced against each other, with nobody too concerned about it. The captain tied up the boat, and hurried over to help the lady (me) off the boat. You would think they would have a pier or something. I guess this was the economy section, because we had to climb out of the boat, again onto another to get to shore, then stumble over algae covered rocks, broken "red bull" and beer bottles, and then CLIMB over the hand rail at the edge of the water. I was so glad I had worn my "exercise" stretch pants under my skirt that day!

Another guy came up to us. Asked if we had copies of our passports, we said no. He said he would get them for us. So we went with him to a copy store just behind Burmese Immigration. All along the way, guys are cat-calling at us. "Give me a souvenir" "Do you want a souvenir" "want to buy whisky or cigarettes?". We ignored them. The guy got our copies(we paid him for them of course) we went through Burmese Immigration where the officer carefully examined the twenty (it passed) and shoved it in his drawer. Another guy typed us into the computer, gave our passports back to the officer with the cash drawer, and he stamped them-- oh, that desired stamp we had been waiting for! We turned and headed back to the beach and the boats. Several of these fellows who had been following us started getting loud as we got back to where we had to climb the handrail. "Where's my souvenir? I gave you money for a souvenir! You took my money!" I looked at one of them in surprise, and I think they were looking for a reaction or an altercation. The boatman grabbed my hand and started helping me back over the rocks, and we climbed onto another boat to get to his boat. The souvenir scammers were still hollering, "where's my money? where's my souvenir??" But by now we were safely back on our beautiful boat.

And we were off from the Burma coast. Now I really appreciated the boat ride. By now it was 5:30, the sun was low on the water. We admired the view. Another man was riding with us on the return. A Burmese man who worked taking people from the Thai side out to a casino. He gave the boat man a few baht, and he dropped him off on the Thai side at either an island or close by coastal section after we had passed again through the two passport controls.

We got back to Thailand, climbed over the boats to get back to land, checked in at Thai Immigration and filled out our "arrival cards," got "mug shots" by Thai Immigration cameras, and paid the boat guy.

Mike stopped him to ask a question. "What time does Thai Immigration close? What time do they stop stamping passports to leave Thailand?"

"You can come into Thailand any time." He said. "There are tourist arrive many hours. But they only stamp for leaving until 4:30." "Four thirty?" Mike asked. "Chai" he said. (Chai means 'yes'). We looked at each other. "Thank the Lord."

We gave the man who sold us the ride the 300 baht per person a gospel tract, and left the pier. We stopped and ate some "khanom jin" at a stand right across from the pier, knowing it was another three hours for our trip home. While we were enjoying our food, the captain of the boat walked by, apparently getting off work. "You! You!" He called out to us and nodded a greeting. He was amused that these two foreigners were eating at a little food stall that he must have frequented. He nodded at us, thumbs up, that the food there was good. We agreed.

It was a long drive home, same situation as the ride up, only in the dark. But the Lord was with us, it was tiring, dark, but uneventful. Not always the case on the rural, coastal roads.

Back home, our trip had been another three hours, exactly. We left Ranong at 6:45, we pulled up to our house at 9:45. Twelve hours from our original departure that morning. The kitties had to manage with only dry food for dinner, but I think they were relieved that we made it back home. Actually, so were we. But it was only with the Lord's help(Psalms 37:3-5). More lessons learned that day. More adventures and lessons to come, I am sure. Thank the Lord, my husband sure can drive.

Journey

Last week we were preparing to leave New York. And as I am wont to do, I studied the road map and our “Googled” instructions for traveling to our next destination. But for the first time, it occurred to me that the small town we were travelling to is due north of Mebane, North Carolina.

Other than a “parentheses” of about twenty years--when he joined the U.S. Army, went to war, visited San Diego and married my mother and fathered his four daughters--Mebane was where my father was born, lived, and died. I lived under the same roof as my father for a brief span of less than eleven years of his sixty-eight year life. The “open wound” in my heart never had the opportunity to heal.

I wondered about being able to visit his grave. I don’t remember if we were not notified right away when he died, but either way, I don’t think it would have occurred to me to go to his funeral. I was not angry with him in the beginning, just broken-hearted. But in time that rejection turned to anger, resentment, and self-guilt. How could a daddy who professed to love me just leave me behind; only to call at Christmas? It must have been me—so unlovable. It was an adolescent pain that no one could soothe or heal. And when Jesus Christ came into my life, yes, He loved me unconditionally. And is a better Father than any other could be. But He doesn’t remove the scars, you know? They are still scars.

So now, for some reason He put in my mind the desire to visit my father’s grave. I knew there had been only one cemetery in Mebane. And thanks again to Google, I was able to determine that there still was only one cemetery, and that it was called Oakwood. After floundering with trying to do it myself, I prayed, and called one sister that I thought might be able to help me. She was one of two who had maintained some contact with my father’s bunch. In fact, she had the phone number of his step-daughter and of my father’s brother also.

When I called Frances, his step-daughter, I knew from her voice that she was a frail, and aging, country woman. But her voice was kind. She knew who I was when I told her my name, and she seemed glad to hear from me. I don’t know if she was surprised. Frances said that there was no tombstone, but only a foot marker. She was concerned whether I would be able to find it on my own; she lives miles away, counties apart, and suggested I call the city records office. Our conversation was short but congenial. In trying to open a door of witness with her, I was able to find out she is saved.

The next day, the woman in the city office was going to try to send someone to check at the cemetery for me. But this was Friday, and with our schedule, the visit to the cemetery had to be on Saturday. So I hesitantly called Frances again, hoping for some more help.

She was groggy from sleep and the pain of some of her ailments, but she still talked kindly and told me of some of the years I had missed out on in my father’s life. Some of it was personal: only information fit for the ears of a broken-hearted ten year old girl who so missed having a father in her life. And things that provided some relief to the pain. Somewhere in the conversation, she mentioned his Bible. She went on to something else, but this caught my ear. I had already tried to find out from others if there was any possibility my father ever had gone to church, or knew the Lord. I knew he had never shown evidence of it in our family life in California. I had long ago given up hope that there was any chance he was saved. So a Bible? What would he be doing with a Bible? I asked her about it.

“My father had a Bible?”

“Yes,” Frances said quietly. “Your Daddy got saved a few months before he died.” The tears began to stream down my face. “He was telling everybody about it. And he told one of his neighbors, and they got saved.” I believed it now. What better evidence of salvation than to want to tell others? My pain, my broken heart finally had a chance to begin to heal. This was a miracle that could not have been worked out by anyone but the Lord. For me to be in the vicinity of my father’s hometown, for Frances still to be alive and accessible. I am convinced that had I waited four more years, it is likely she would not be around to tell me these things; and I had no other contacts. The telephone number of his brother has been disconnected, and even had I been able to reach him, by this time it would not have occurred to me to ask. Like I said, I had long given up hope. But the Lord knew. And He wanted me to know too.

Amazingly enough, the lady from the City of Mebane called me back. She had sent a worker to the cemetery, and verified there was a ground level marker on the grave, and the approximate location of it in relation to the street. “Park by the little brick church,” she said. “You should be able to find it.”

I could find the grave, and we did. Thank the Lord for Mike, who was willing to take me on this journey. It was a sunny, hot and muggy day, and we stood there and prayed and I thanked God for letting me hear that my Daddy did love me, and to know that I would see him again. I realize now that I am my father’s daughter also--all my life I have only acknowledged the attributes from my mother’s side of the family. Being my father’s daughter, I know he felt the regret of his failures as a parent; just as I have felt the regret of mine. I failed in my job as a mother. But my failures were not because I did not love my daughters. I love them deeply, and my father loved me. I can love him now too. And Jesus Christ loves us both.

“But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
1 Corinthans 15:57

my Boomerang June 14 2010

When you lose someone special you really don't want to hear about it from email. You don't want it to happen in the first place, Lord knows. I just opened the email to hear that we lost Boomerang on Monday at 6 am, Thai time, that would have been 6pm Sunday for me. He got hit by a fish truck in the road, I guess in front of our house. I have lost three of my kitties in the last ten months. I really did not want to get back to my blogging this way.

I had asked the Lord not to let me lose any of them while we were gone. I suppose He thought this would be easier. But it isn't.

Rest in peace.

My Boomerang WILL come back.....

When I went to the market this morning, a Thai man who lives near us and also has cats said, "Gone three days, he's dead for sure." He also pointed out that (according to him) Thai's won't, Mus-aa-lims won't, but Burma--ese will-- kill cats. (I don't know if he meant they would EAT them, or just KILL them). It seems funny to me, because a lot of the B around here have cats of their own. Anyways, his comments did not really help me too much, this being the fourth day of Boomerang seemingly disappearing without a trace...

This afternoon, about four pm, I was chatting with my little student, Asah, who had come over for a visit. She asked if the cat had come back, and I said no. I told her that "Phaya The Kein"(B language for "God") would have to take care of him for him to be able to come back. I don't think five minutes passed, and I turned and looked and saw Boomerang, collarless, walking up the driveway. I called out his name excitedly and said come here come here....he came running. Asah was all smiles too.

I really am not sure, I think he was out seeking a new wife. There is a female cat across the road. But he also is very de-hydrated. And he was "invisible" to us and the neighbors-- for four days. I don't know where he was-- his "real" owner and I were both concerned about someone stealing him. He is a pretty cat--in fact, I think he is the first "Siamese" cat we have ever seen in Thai, and he is not afraid of people, especially if they have some fish for him.

I am just thankful--and glad--this Boomerang came back. I must add to that statement-- this time.

Thank you Lord (Phaya The Kein)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

Please pray for Boomerang and for me. He has been missing for 48 hours. I have looked everywhere, checked with everyone in the vicinity. No matter what is happening, Boomerang comes back for food if he is able.

Dinkey 2005-2010

Today my pain is more than I can bear. Yesterday morning all the kitties were healthy and happy and went out to play. Last night I carried Dinkey back. He had to have been dead already for several hours.

My heart is broken. He must have gone out and went to investigate the fish traps our neighbor builds. They are made of tree branches, and mesh netting over the frame. All we can think is that he climbed in, played for a while during the time in the morning when they were still in the shade of the house. When he got hot and thirsty, he must have gotten disoriented and couldn't find the opening. I don't know that he could have gotten out easily even if he wasn't dehydrated.

Why I did not go looking for my kitties every couple of hours yesterday I don't know. If we are home, I always wonder where they are after awhile and go check on them. There is too much that can happen, as I regretfully now know. He just didn't deserve to have to die like that. All of us are beating ourselves up. Me, M, Khiow, why we didn't wonder that we hadn't seen him all day, until I went outside after dinner and it hit me. I walked to the fence where the traps are lined up between the fence and the road, and I saw him. I ran to get him out, throwing traps out of my way. I could not get him out of the opening myself. Our neighbor came and pulled him out for me, as I waled in anguish, running him to M who had just come outside, apparently with the same idea. He had no idea what was going on until I frantically brought Dinkey to him. M laid him down on the cement and patted cool water on him, squeezed his chest hoping to resuscitate him, but poor Dinkey had probably long since gone from his over heated body. I just am heartsick, I have to say.

We buried Dinkey this morning, next to OK's grave, which would not be pleasing to Dinkey if he knew, as they did not get along. But now I know the Lord has eased the pain for them both.

So much for garlic...

Last Sunday we met for church meeting at a member's house. Food and everything. It was a noodle soup, part Burmese part Thai, really good. I should have been suspicious I guess, but didn't think to ask, the dreaded......MSG? question.......

Afterwards, M needed to stop at the hospital for a lab test, and just for fun I asked them to check my bp (I had checked it that morning at home, it was 119/71 or something)
And halfway through the process, she says...."I think you have high blood pressure" well, it ended up 140/101(or something!), which is pretty bad. I was feeling rotten over that, and after just bragging about my bp and garlic, when we remembered, M's was up for him also. Something that almost never happens. Then we remembered, we ate that noodle soup. In this country a common additive, even in home cooking, is MSG...especially soupy type things. And I react REALLY BAD in a bp way, to MSG. We call it "pon-chu-rote" here. But I thought my garlic had "totally healed" me. Just shows, you still must be careful...
The horse is prepared for the day of battle, but safety is of the Lord.....is that a direct quote? I will have to check. And I better start remembering to ask!

miracles

well don't take my word for it. but last year I started taking garlic (fresh, one clove) every morning. Not just when I felt like I was coming down with something, but EVERY MORNING. I chop it up, put it in a little dish, and while I am eating my oatmeal I spoon a spoonful of garlic, and drink it down like pills with water. Well, about a month ago, I started thinking, "you know, I don't feel like my blood pressure is up." (I hadn't checked it or been to the doctor for a long time.) So I just stopped taking it, but I kept up the garlic. Two days ago I checked my bp. 115/71....hmm not bad.
I checked it again this morning. 114/69.....
I guess I will stick with the garlic....less side effects, and the Lord provided it naturally!

Amen!

Corn, or Boomerang....which is it?

Boomerang went missing again. He and Little (or Liddell as we call him now) went out the door last night. Liddell came back at bedtime but no Boomerang. No bells jingled all night long. And no show at breakfast. As you know this is very unusual, so we did check the outside bathroom, but I knew that could not be it. And when he was still not back this evening, I took a walk to the neighbor's and asked if she had seen him. "Yes, he is here with his girl," and pointed under the picnic table at the front of the house. And there he was, following her around like she had a little string tied from her to him. He was in his own little world. So my neighbor and I chatted a bit, and while we were talking, then Boomerang realized I was one of the pairs of feet standing there. He ran over to me, and "spoke" to me. I picked him up, and he nuzzled and hugged a little. I told him it was ok, and he could stay, and I put him down, and he went back into his little cat world, following his woman around. Out of curiosity, I asked her, "What do you call him here?" and she said, "Corn. But, he doesn't come here much anymore. And he doesn't know that name." So I told her what I call him, and why, and she and her household had a great laugh over "Boomerang." But they all understood his name....so I came back home,and as I left, I could hear the kids calling him, just to see if he knew his name, "Boomerang! Boomerang!" Really. Does this look like a "Corn"??? Or a "Boomerang!" You tell me.

The Tell-Tale Boomerang

Boomerang went missing yesterday. Late in the day I didn't see him anymore, after Mr. Uan and Khiow had left. And he didn't come into the house last night. Strange. During the night, I thought I heard his "jingle bell" on his collar a few times, but it never lasted long. If he is outside, he will usually go jingling around and around the perimeter of the house during the night, until I notice and let him in. But I heard it once or twice and that was it. And then, he did not come for breakfast this morning. So I knew something was up. The last few days there has been a white female cat around, and Boomerang apparently had his eye on her. He chased her up a tree a few days ago, and fell asleep at the bottom of the tree waiting for her to come down. But she was gone. So this afternoon I started thinking that perhaps he had followed her home.

The other strange thing was, the rest of the "regular" cats of ours (Miss Dufus, Dinkey, Stinkey) were in really good moods today. They were so excited, going in and out, playing. They normally are cautious when outside, because they DON'T LIKE BOOMERANG. I started to think they knew something I didn't, which may have been the case.

After my English students left, we needed to make a run to Takuapa to pick up M's computer. So we did that, ran some other errands, and came back home to make dinner. All the time, me still preoccupied with "what happened to Boomerang?" While the potatoes and cabbage were boiling, I walked to our neighbor's house; the one I claim joint ownership with Boomerang. She hadn't seen him, but I could tell she was concerned also. I said, "He comes and eats at our house EVERY DAY." What I didn't say was that he eats sleeps uses the bathroom intimidates and creates havoc at our house EVERY DAY. She said she would look around for him too.

After dinner, we went outside, like we sometimes do, walked around the yard, M pulling a few weeds and me picking up a little trash. I kept looking to the route I would always see Boomerang travelling between her house to ours (to make sure he made it to both places in time for dinner). And I said to M, you know, Boomerang has been coming here or staying here EVERY DAY for at least the last three months (he was doing this before Ok got sick the last time, and that has been three months). So Boomerang must be sick, or restrained somewhere, or somebody took him away. And I walked back towards the house, near our bedroom window. Then I thought I heard a little quiet "miao." And I said to M, who's that? I hear a cat. M said, oh, it is just Miss Dufus, she is in our room and she is crying at you. I said, NO! That is coming from over here! I was standing near one of the outside bathrooms. We use it for storing gas for the mower and some other lawn stuff. And the miaoing kept up. Mike grabbed the little lock that was in place but not locked, and yanked the door open. And there, in the dusky light, stood a BOOMERANG. Who jumped into my arms and rubbed his head up against me, and then looked over at M, who said, "You're welcome!"

So we had a grand re-union. I guess when I heard him jingling last night, He must have walked around in the bathroom and then given up and laid back down. All I could think of for a while after that is some of the frogs we have found, over the years, that got stuck in a window sill somewhere around the house, and could not get out. A perfectly formed, dried out little dead frog. I just kept telling Boomerang, "I sure am glad you aren't a dried up frog!" Thankfully it was a storeroom/toilet room, so he did have access to water. (yuck)

And I am remembering the Edgar Allen Poe story about the man who bricked up a wall in order to hide a body of someone he had killed, and thought that a cat was back there too. (Is that how it was? my memory fades now.)

So this is my tale of the tell-tale Boomerang, and thankfully, this "tail" has a happy ending!

what next.....?

well, next thing we knew we had a kitten. Some neighbors must have thought we were animal lovers or something, and dropped him off. I ignored him for awhile and then couldn't stand it any more. I tried to feed him. By the way, he was almost totally black. Tiny bit of white on his face. Cried like a banshee(sp?). Anyways, he would not eat. Only cry. And followed me around. I finally said, maybe we should take him to the temple! That is what everybody else does! I even thought of paying Khiow to do the dirty work and drop him off. But then she says that you have to sneak and do this. You just don't go in and drop the animal off. It has to be sneaky. Apparently, though everyone does it, you aren't supposed to do it. So what to do. Then, my student/friend Jeep shows up, to bring me a little gift. She loves to bring me little gifts. She is just a gift giving person. And I am told she is rich, so I guess she can afford to. I tell her to stop, but she will say, "when I saw it I thought of you." So...Jeep came by with something, and I told her I had a problem (by the way, she loves cats). I told her about the kitty, and she said what do you want to do??? I said, to tell you the truth, I was thinking of taking him to the temple!! So she wanted to see him, and she picked him up, and petted him (it was all over now, you know) and said all he needed was worm medicine, and to be dropped off at a small hotel/boarding room type place where foreigners would take good care.

And she offered to do this! amen, PTL. So Jeep rode off on her motorcycle with this little kitten. First she put him in a plastic bag, but he was not enthusiastic (we can all imagine!) and I brought out my plastic travelling basket that we used to use for the cats before we got a real pet carrier. and off the little fellow went on his new adventure!

But what! She drove back up in less than half an hour. AGHGHGHHH I thought. But she was just returning the basket. Said she had already fed him the worm medicine and found a place for him and everything....oh, how wonderful to have contacts..

ps....Jeep came by with bananas yesterday....kitty had a little trouble, so she gave him another worm med dose, and I had some antibiotic that I had just mixed up for Little (another story) and I gave her that....off again... hopefully he is better as we speak....