When we did our little Thanksgiving celebration here in Mae Sot, I was asked what I most thankful for this year. My answers might be a little odd, but here are three counted blessings that keep coming to mind.
Shortly after we returned from the States this year, we made a decision to truly begin observing Sabbath. We had tried before, but not in the same way. We decided it would be a day to rest: what did we determine restful? What would rejuvenate us? We weren’t required to do language, we weren’t required to exercise, and we weren’t required to eat healthy. If those things would help us to rest and worship, then by all means continue! But is it worshipful for you? Does it rejuvenate your soul?
I won’t take credit for this idea; it doesn’t sound like me at all. I love seeing how much I can accomplish in a day. I love as many routines as I can set up here, which are very, very few. Honestly, I kind of hate rest. But Stephen is wonderful at really resting. He is so much better at enjoying things and cherishing them. He pushed me, challenged me, and corrected me through many Sabbaths. He questioned my heart and helped me to really discover rest and discover worship in a new way.
This has been revolutionary for my soul, and I won’t be shy to say that is has been a lifesaver to us. I can honestly say I wouldn’t have survived some recent challenges if it weren’t for one day a week that held no expectation except finding Christ and finding renewal in Him.
My hilarious husband.
In the same way, I can honestly say I wouldn’t have survived recent challenges without Stephen’s humor. This has been such a gift in the middle of tears and frustration and just generally giving up.
He has been a hero in quite a few other ways, including the Sabbath mentioned above and his wisdom in knowing me better than I know myself. And while I don’t mean to diminish those things, I am really thankful for his ability to make me, and so many others, laugh.
A place where everybody knows our name.
I love our little street and neighborhood. I just love it, and it is more of a blessing than I’ll even try to express.
I will say that little Jor Lay, who was born just days before the flood of 2012, has just learned to say “Kelli” at sixteen months old. It is so odd to see the kids that grow up with us versus the kids that had to get to know us at a young age. The little ones that were babies or young toddlers when we arrived have taken quite awhile to adjust to our white faces. We have often caused great big tears when they simply see us. But we are now encountering babies that we drove home from the hospital, they are now infants that don’t have to adjust to white faces: they have known us from the beginning. And now they are learning our names! It is odd; for so long we trained ourselves to stay away from anyone under two to avoid tears. Now, the babies are growing up in our yard and in our home, and they see us as a part of normal. They kids can leave them with us or run to get something without any tears at all. This is a very odd shift.
But I do love hearing “Kelli” come from a little bitty one!