The rest of the blogs

School is finished for the year. Whew! The last term was hard to keep up with. First, I had less help. Then, when Malee’s husband, Brian, returned to New Zealand I took on four of his classes. It was good for the students learning English, I think, but hard on my schedule. Not much besides class preparation and grading fit in anymore. Now I am back in Longview with lots of time between visiting people and presentation preparation. The next few blogs are to catch up with the events of the rest of the school year.

:J

Experiment

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Posted in the teacher's room at BSF when I stayed there recovering from my shoulder break.

The Return of the Pope

Coming back is as traumatic as going. Probably in the same proportion. The trauma of coming back will be as traumatic as the trauma of leaving. Of course this will depend a lot on how much of a melodramatic person you are. Me? Personally, I’m not.

I can also tell you being in the middle of a traumatic experience is not a reliable source of the significance of either the going or coming. That only comes with reflection.

This only counts for traumatic experiences. A traumatic experience only allows you to deal with the trauma at the time and only reflection allows you to analyze. You have to analyze, because people want to know how it affected you. How are you different today then you were when you left? What happened to you? They watch how you act and physically look. They wonder if you’re different. One of the ways you can tell if it was a traumatic experience is that you are never the same afterward.

The process of going leaves marks. You don’t leave behind everything you know and understand without feeling loss. The feeling of loss does not occur until after you’re gone. This is because you don’t know what you have until you don’t have it any more. You can say, “I’ll miss you”, but you don’t feel it until you’re gone.

There are some easy things to discuss when you come back. Weather, food and language are a few of those. Feelings are not. How to be fair about both cultures. Biases exist and you don’t want to insult anyone. What the cultures do to you, is harder.

Most of the time the discussions come down to differences and similarities. But this is not a fair methodology. Cultures and people are more complicated than this. You have to consider ambitions, desires, and tastes. The world is so intertwined it is not easy to see the pureness of a culture.

Contrasts are easier to see the closer you are to the experience. Live too long in one or the other and you lose perspective. This is because the differences are most noticeable in the beginning.

The more we try to be different the more we are becoming the same. I mean the human race. Deep down we have probably always been basically the same. Sure we look different: white or brown, tall or short, fat or skinny. I’m talking about the inside. Didn’t God make us all? Yes, people act differently as a result of thinking differently, but the motivation?

I guess what I’m trying to say is, we all do the same things for the same reasons. It doesn’t matter where you live. The difficulty is understanding this in context of the culture. We are all alike. Deep down. Every where else, we are different. We focus so much on the outside, which is easy, and forget about the inside. I think I’ve learned it is easier to be accepting of another culture if you don’t focus on the outside, but the inside. I wish I had internalized that lesson earlier in life.

GP

Chiang Mai Emergency care

It’s good that they make you buy insurance when you buy a motor scooter here. They must have lots of experience with inexperienced drivers, like me. Last Sunday afternoon I tried to cross the street and turn, while merging into fast-moving heavy traffic. That was more than I was ready for. As a result I got a first-hand look at Chiang Mai’s emergency medical care.

Getting up after crashing into the curb, and noticing my left arm was weak, I felt a pointy bone poking up near my shoulder. That point made me realize I didn’t have the choice of going on to church with my dirty shirt. A lady had stopped to help me. When I showed her my shoulder, she called an ambulance. I wondered how much that was going to cost, but felt unable to do anything else. Gary had taken our visiting daughter to Cambodia, so I called my resident “mother”, our housekeeper, Hok. She had given me her number on Saturday in case of this kind of event.

Hok spoke to the Thai lady who had stopped to help me. Then she came, arriving just before the ambulance. This was all near my house, so Hok was able to take the motorcycle there and then join me at the hospital.

The ambulance was a pick-up truck with a high cover over the bed. It didn’t have as much medical equipment in it as ambulances I’ve seen displayed in the US. I sat on the tailgate and then moved backwards to the stretcher that was its bed. That was good enough for them, since Thais are used to hard beds. Because of my injury, they let me sit up for the ride. It was kind of cool seeing how we drove around the traffic with the siren on. It probably wasn’t as different from a regular ride as it would have been in the US, though, since most of the drivers here ignore sirens, and many of them do what this driver was doing anyway.

At the hospital they made me lie down after I moved myself onto the gurney. Then they rolled me to just inside the door of the emergency room. The checked me over, took my blood pressure and temperature (BP & T) and decided they needed an x-ray of my shoulder. It was good we had seen doctors there before because our registration was in their system. All they needed was my name to find it. They washed and bandaged my road rashes and then rolled me to the x-ray room. All the equipment was the green kind I’d seen in the US 20 years or so ago. This was the oldest hospital in Chiang Mai, after all. Everything seemed to work fine, though.

Soon after I was back in the emergency room, Hok arrived. She made sure all my things were together and safe, including the necklace I had to take off for the x-ray. The emergency room doctor looked at the x-ray and asked if I could stay in the hospital. I thought that was kind of strange. In the US they don’t give you a choice, they decide. Since it was about 5 pm by then and I didn’t know what else I was going to do, I said, “Yes.” A few minutes later they brought a form and asked more questions.

“Do you want a shared or a private room?”

I tried to ask how many people would be in the shared room, but they just took that as a private room choice.

“Do you want a fan or air conditioning?”

“A fan,” I answered. We hadn’t used the air conditioner at our house for a few months. They were a little surprised, though, and asked again to make sure. Then they had me sign the admission papers. They took my BP & T again and gave me a sling for my arm.

Before too long they were wheeling me to my room. It was up a few floors, so the orderly rolled my gurney up several ramps to get there. Then we went down a bare hallway to the room. It had a bed with hand cranks, a couple of folding chairs, a cushioned bench seat with a back, a fan on the wall, a rolling tray table, a nightstand table, a refrigerator, a TV, and one other small table with drawers. The cushioned bench seat had a pillow and a blanket on it. Some nurses took my BP & T again and gave me some loose pants with a drawstring and a shirt that crossed over and tied. After they left, Hok helped me change clothes. In that process we found that I had a large lump on my left hip. We joked, in Thai, about that being black, purple, and green soon.

Hok began to ask me if I wanted her to stay the night with me. I wasn’t sure because I didn’t know what they were going to do with me yet. My Thai and their English weren’t quite good enough for me to understand everything. Then Chiang, another friend I called, came with her husband and son. They used their Thai and English skills to help the hospital staff and me understand each other. All of us together got the accident report filled out accurately. We also learned that the orthopedic surgeon had not made his rounds yet and he would be the one to decide my treatment.

Chiang told me it was Thai tradition for a person to stay overnight with someone in the hospital. They helped me tell Hok that I thought I could stay by myself unless the doctor decided to do surgery. The nurses had left a sign in my room saying, in Thai, no food or drink for me. That indicated they thought surgery was still a possibility that night. Hok decided to stay until the doctor came and made his decision. Chiang and her family left to get dinner and their other son.

Hok told one of the nurses who came in to get my BP &T about the lump on my hip. One of them must have told the doctor because he looked at it without my saying anything. He also ordered an x-ray of that hip and showed me an x-ray of one that was broken in just a fall. I guess that was because I moved my leg around to show I didn’t think it was broken.

I thought they would take me back down to the x-ray room, but instead the technician brought the x-ray machine came to me. Hok helped me stay in the right position for the first shot. On the second, the technician made her move toward the backside of the machine. I guess one shot of x-rays for her was enough.

The doctor came around again to say my hip wasn’t broken and my collar bone could be fixed with a brace. They would put the brace on in the morning and I was to sleep sitting part way up. Then a nurse took the “no eating” sign down, pointed toward the nightstand with the hospital phone and my cell phone, and said I could call “the woman” to get some food. I didn’t understand what woman to call on which phone, so I waited for Hok to come back from getting her own food. When she returned, a few minutes later, I told her what I could. Then she went to check on the hospital kitchen. It was after 9 pm. She found it closed.

Hok volunteered to get me something, so I gave her some money. She came back with some mystery sandwiches, sweet rolls, milk, and water from 7-eleven. Even after eating one of the mystery sandwiches, I couldn’t say what was inside the bread. It didn’t make me sick, though. Some of the milk and rolls we put in the refrigerator for breakfast. I said goodbye to Hok, assuring her I would be ok. She said she’d be back at 9 am.

The room was very quiet. No sounds came from the hospital except the nurses who took my BP & T a few times. The few other noises came from the apartments across the alley from my room. We had found a Gideon Bible in the nightstand with both Thai and English in it. I read that before I tried to sleep and again in the morning. My shoulder ached some since they hadn’t given me anything for pain. They had given me an antibiotic.

A nurse brought me a pill for pain at about 6 am. She said something about taking it before or during breakfast, so I took it with some of my milk. Breakfast came about 6:30. It was rice in a brown broth, some mild spices and onions to sprinkle in it, and a small carton of chocolate milk. I was glad I still had milk and rolls left from dinner.

At about 8 the doctor and some nurses came to put on the brace. They had me sit on the edge of the bed with some of the women nurses in front of me and the doctor behind me with the other nurses. They said, “Sorry,” as they took off my top to put the brace on. It is a thick, padded, cloth-covered strap that goes around the front of my shoulders and crosses in the back. Velcro holds it together in the back. The doctor said not to take it off for anything and to see him in three weeks. He also said not to lie flat or to lift anything heavy. He did want me to let my arm out of the sling to exercise the lower part of it, but not to lift the upper part away from my body. He didn’t say anything about changing the gauze pads over some of my scrapes.

Hok came at 9 with a change of clothes for me. She also had the documents about the motor scooter insurance to show the man from the hospital business office. He wanted a copy of my passport too. Since I only carry copies, Hok had to go get it from the house.

In between the visits of the business office man and the nurses taking BP & T and giving me another antibiotic, Hok helped me put on my clothes. Everyone was gone when the orderly delivered my lunch. It was rice in a thicker broth with bits of meat in it and a bowl of steamed greens. The lady poured some water for me to drink. It tasted good, but I added another roll and the cookie left from dinner to the meal.

Some other friends came to make sure the hospital bill was covered and to take me home. The insurance ended up covering all but $10 of the hospital bill.

I was surprised that they didn’t come with a wheel chair after I was cleared to leave. In the US, hospitals don’t let their patients walk out, as far as I know. My friends suggested I ask for a wheel chair anyway, so I did. It was kind of a long way down the ramps, or the stairs, after all. Soon I was on my way home with another piece of my Chiang Mai experience over with. Now I can’t wait for the brace, the sitting-up- sleeping, and the sitting around at home experience to be over too.

:J

What is in your hand?

A pastor recently quoted what God said to Moses in Exodus 4:2 to sum up his message; "So the Lord said to him, 'What is that in your hand?' He said, 'A rod.'" God used that rod to display Himself to the Israelites and to Pharaoh. The pastor's message was that God wants to use what He has given us to do His work in the world.

When I saw Beth Moore's story again recently about the Lord's direction to her to brush an old man's hair, that message was reinforced in my mind. The old man in the airport had long matted hair and he looked too weak to brush it himself. She at first resisted the Lord's prompting, thinking, "I should witness to him. Tell him about Jesus," but she felt Jesus insist that she brush his hair. Finally she did. As she began working carefully through the tangled hair, she thought, "I can DO this. I've raised three daughters." When his hair was smooth again, she asked him if he knew Jesus. He said he did. Her brushing his hair didn't bring him to Jesus. Yet the stewardess taking him to the plane was crying after seeing this display of love for a stranger. She asked Beth what made her do it, and that was where the witness happened. Jesus was glorified in what Beth did, so her presentation of Jesus to the stewardess had greater impact.

This is how I see what we are doing in Thailand. The Lord has given us health and healthy independent children. He has given us the ability to enjoy a foreign environment and adapt to it. He has given us a source of income so we can be here without having to be paid. He has given us some ability to learn a new language and has given us experience and training that He can use here. Gary has knowledge from his Masters in Business degree and through his work as a business owner for many years. I have some knowledge from my Masters in Teaching degree and from years of experience working with children.

I'm not saying I am the most qualified person to be the head English Teacher at this new school. There are many people with much better teaching experience and ability than I have, but they are not here. All I am doing is giving what I have to teach English to the Thai children in my school and trusting that God will work through me and in me to use it for His glory.

We don't know exactly how God will glorify Himself in this, but these are some of the possibilities we, and others, are hoping for. First, we are trying to help the children in the school to know Jesus and English well so they can become an influence for Him in their country. As I teach, I sometimes I get to say something about God in the classes. Sometimes I reinforce the faith they express. Other times I pray with them in English or join in their Thai prayers. Sometimes I encourage the faith of the Thai teachers, and they mine, as we share about our faith with each other.

Gary and I also meet and talk to other Thai people in our neighborhood and our community. Sometimes we get to say something or demonstrate our faith to them also. We don't know how God will use any of this, but we are expecting that He will. We went to a seminar last week where the speakers explained that the biggest impression we can make on the people in the Buddhist culture is through our demonstration of Jesus' love. That kind of love is missing in the Buddhist faith. Still, we need His help to truly show His love, and we need to give Him the credit for it at the right moments. Please pray for us to be able to do that.

Thank you.

:J

Eating Weeds

One of the amazing things about Thais is they will eat almost anything green which grows in the ground. From an early age they seem to be taught what is edible, and most everything is edible, if not tasty.

This morning I went to inspect the hedge surrounding our yard. I look for weeds. Ok, what I think are weeds. My definition of a weed is: Anything that is not the same as what was planted there originally. A reasonable definition. So I picked out a “weed” I encountered and threw it on the street. Then, I walk to the ATM machine to get some spending money, and when I get back, guess what? I was gone maybe 10 minutes and my “weed” is gone.

I suspect an elderly lady who walks the streets. Why her? I have caught her inspecting the neighbors’ plants around their houses. If they see her and talk to her, she seems to be lecturing them on what they have that can be eaten. I don’t understand Thai but it sure looks like that. I have even caught her picking out “weeds” from the neighbor’s yard across the street. I don’t know how these “weeds” get in our yards but I do suspect the old lady.

Why her? When they were remodeling the home across the street, she took over the front hedge area. Not to plant a hedge, but other edible things. I don’t know what they call that stuff, but she’s there every morning, tending her garden and gathering her rewards.

When we have dinner at night in the neighborhood restaurant, I always get some green leaves in my soup. I have often wondered if any of those came from my neighbors’ yards. Now, when you pull those weeds out of your garden, you should stop and pause a minute. Could this be feeding some starving kid in Thailand?

GP

Advice

Have you noticed how some people love to give advice? Some just say it. Others disguise it. They write a lengthy, scholarly article, book or paper. Usually, you’re considered intelligent if you give advice. It doesn’t necessarily have to be good advice. A lot of bad advice gets published.

What is it about giving advice that makes us want to dispense it? There must be some reward in it for us, whether people take it or not. My father never gave me much advice when I was growing up. Sure, he said change the oil in the car. Take a bath every once in a while, but not the important philosophical truisms that you can live your life by. I guess he thought experience was the best teacher. Although later in life, perhaps in his 80’s, he

tried to dispense some wisdom. Problem was, by then I had already made most of the mistakes he thought he was saving me from. The “strong, silent types” will say their lives are their teaching tool. I was always afraid for them because I don’t see many people paying attention! So, like my father I’ve chosen not to give much advice. I really don’t need to. I’m married and that’s being taken care of! (Thanks, Jean)

I’m not saying you shouldn’t give advice. A big reason I came to Thailand was to give advice. My kids left home years ago and I’ve been married 30 years so I didn’t really have anyone to give advice to there. I thought the Thais might want some of the wisdom we Americans have accumulated because of our great economic success. After nine months, other than wanting to learn English, I haven’t found a single Thai looking for advice. What I discovered was, they think they know it all too! Then, last Sunday, my opportunity, my big break you might say, presented itself. It was a white person, but at this point I am not going to be choosy. I was sitting alone, minding my own business, which is very American, and a young white man approached me. After hearing his question I knew I had prepared well. I told him the bathroom was down the stairs and to the left. Sigh! When giving advice it’s probably better to start out small anyway. I did feel important. After all, knowing where the bathroom is located is very important in Thailand! I bet some of you are saying, “That’s not advice, that’s directions.” Well, that’s easy for you to say, you’re not in Thailand trying to find someone who wants advice. I don’t want you to think I’m discouraged, because I’m not. I know it’s going to take time for someone to ask me the answer to the bigger questions in life. I hope I’m as prepared to answer those questions as I was with “advice” on the direction of the bathroom. Life can be so simple sometimes.

Gary