The House Collective

what quarantine looks like for us.

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When you live in a migrant community and run a community center, home quarantines really bring an abrupt end to your life and work as you know it.

If you take away the people, we just have a huge house we aren’t sharing. Our community center is echoes of silence, reminding us of the aunties that didn’t come for work and the youth that aren’t here for class and the kids that aren’t here to play. 

At the same time, because we do live and breathe in this community every other day, it is a rare thing to have so many days as just our family. We are trying to really enjoy these days with Oak, and that has been a gift.

So here’s what quarantine looks like for us.

We are starting every day with a walk or a run. This is keeping mom sane, because she’s a bit high-maintenance about exercise and being outside. There is a patch of trees that rise over the road near us, and it drops flowers every morning between 7:50am and 8:00am. It’s a highlight for both Oak and I! They smell fabulous, and are a beautiful reminder that time marches on.

There is an epic, sprawling highway being built just about half a kilometer behind our house and stretching almost eight kilometers through Mae Sot.

In the morning, we take this for walks. In the evening we take this for bike rides. Usually, at least once a day, we can catch the construction equipment. They let us bike or walk right near them, and we just watch them work, without cones or safety regulations except our own common sense. It’s every three-year-olds dream.

The new road also goes by and through many farms and fields, so there are always goats, cows, chickens, and horses to see. This farm is near to our house and a favorite. Goats and sheep and geese and chickens, oh my!

And wide open roads also create space for kite flying. We’ve been out for this a few times. And Stephen only had to search for the kite in the cornfield twice…

Oak has decided he absolutely loves books these days, and we are reading one after another. Not even two months ago when my sisters came, I was feeling guilty for all the new books they had brought: I felt like we had too many considering our neighbors… And now that I’ve read them all a hundred times, I’m over it. We ordered a new set of books on the second day of our quarantine. And while I’m hoping they arrive soon, knowing our delivery systems I more hope that the quarantine is over before they arrive 😬

And after weeks of telling him not to use loads of soap, we’re now just playing bubbles and soap for hours on end. Why not?

I’ve been excited to have time & space to cook–I’m currently not sharing my kitchen! I also wanted to enjoying cooking & baking with Oak, making things we don’t always have time to enjoy. However, it’s hard to enjoy fancy homemade meals (hollandaise, bagels, pizza, waffles…) while our friends are literally struggling for the next meal. Enter my genius husband’s idea: two meals a day.

We’ve tried to cut back to two family meals a day so that we can enjoy making bread and trying interesting recipes, but not feel as indulgent. (It also makes it more enjoyable to take an hour to prepare a meal from scratch and another hour to feed a toddler!) We also have timed these mid-morning for brunch and late afternoon for an early dinner, allowing us to be outside in the coolest parts of the day. Since most days are reaching over 100 right now, that is making our walks and bike rides more enjoyable.

Oak still has some snacks and meals on our walks and before nap so that he’s still eating three or five times a day. But for us, this–in addition to food distributions in the community–has helped us to balance the needs around us for our lives here and the quarantine lives of our friends and family stateside. It’s so odd to be between two cultures, and I’m often torn between my own privilege and our friends, as you see here, in every. aspect. of. our. lives.)

And we’re still enjoying incredible coffee, which I’m so thankful my husband makes daily.

We also have sweet friends, who even when they are short on rice and food, think of us! Thida brought rice for Oak just a few days into the quarantine, telling us, “I know you don’t really make rice, but he loves it. I’m happy to make it for him.” She brought him a lunch pail with rice, fish, and potatoes.

He absolutely loved the fish, so that when she arrived a few days later, he ran out and leapt to get the lunch pail. Once he’d opened it, he asked her where the fish was! 🤦‍♀️ She said she didn’t know he didn’t like eggs, but she’d bring him fish next time we went to the market. Oh my goodness, we’re still working on politeness and how not to ask our friends for their protein sources. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

As of today, we have found a solution to our visa, which has been a bit of stress during this quarantine. Our visa ended on 5 April, and we need to cross the border that is now closed. We also can’t leave the country with Oak, further complicating the situation. In the end, they have extended our visa here in Mae Sot, but only after two visits to immigration and $115. We are now required to visit immigration every fifteen days, and we’ll pay $115 every 30 days until the border re-opens. That is not ideal–for Covid nor with a toddler nor for our budgets–but we’re happy to be here legally and praying that the border is able to re-open sooner than later.

Until then, at least he’s cute with a mask and did wear it the whole time! {He kept telling me it was wet, and when I did take it off it was very wet. Turns out he’d been licking it or spitting on it the whole time?! Hence why toddlers should stay inside during such an outbreak.}

And so we are trying to do so! We continue to hope and pray for the best for our little migrant community here on the border.

covid food distributions, take one.

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We did our first food distribution on Monday.

I was quite scared as it drew near. We knew it was needed and the right thing to do; and it’s just a simple food distribution.  And while we are nervous for how and when Covid reaches our community, we feel like the lack of work and lack of movement is hurting them economically far before that. For a neighborhood living on daily wages (and sometimes barely living on those), having work cancelled for some, irregular for others, and unsure of what tomorrow will hold is chaotic. The idea of stocking up, even for a few days, is nearly impossible.

But we’ve spent so many years trying to establish boundaries: when we give, how we give. We’ve tried so hard to provide skills and jobs and relationships, not just give stuff. To just distribute food; it goes against so much of what we have worked so hard to create. There is a part of me that is scared we can’t go back; scared it will change the way we go forward.

But that might be how we all describe Covid for years to come.

And all the same, it’s what is needed in this season. It’s what is needed now, and we have to trust that God will provide in every aspect of the needs for community here and for our lives here: financially, physically, strategically, emotionally. We have to trust that he’s a God of completeness as he calls us to be here.  

So, here we go. None of us thought we’d be here in a million different ways. 

On Sunday afternoon we worked as a family of three packing up the food we’d purchased in the market that morning.

Oak helped us put cabbage into bags for ten minutes, and we spent the following two hours trying to prevent him from breaking eggs and smashing vegetables. (#quarantinewithatoddler) We packed up forty bags of rice–six-kilos scooped into flour bags we’ve been storing for something such as this!– and divided out cucumbers, cabbages, eggplant, garlic, onion, duck eggs, and chicken eggs that we’d purchased in bulk. 

Monday we had three teenagers scheduled to come by 8am, so we pulled them out of bed at 8:30am. (Because it’s still summer and they are still teenagers.) We handed out masks, gave them a bottle of hand sanitizer, and explained the goal: to reach the poorest families and those who really needed it.  We gave them a list of families that we knew would need it, and then gave them the authority to decide from there. We talked to them about the goal: to reach those who needed it, the poor. If they don’t need it, encourage people not to take it. If someone needs more, encourage them to share. And while one group of houses is all sharing germs, wash your hands as you go between communities to ensure you don’t pass anything between them. 

And it worked. It went far better than we could have hoped!

We let Oak go outside for the community right around us—with a mask and followed by a shower—to see some friends and share some food. We want him to understand why we are sharing food with our neighbors, why we aren’t seeing our friends, and perhaps even why I got angry when he threw his food earlier this week. 

The boys then trekked all over the neighborhood,, taking load after load of rice by bicycle. Oak’s bicycle seat can hold up to 22 kilos, so that’s helpful!

It was so great to hear their conversations: Does so-and-so need it? …We can ask. What about so-and-so? …No, they will be okay. This family will need it more.

Two of the boys even decided their aunt, who is a bit wealthier and currently on paid leave from two jobs, didn’t really need it as much as other families. 

Or to overhear, “Where are you?” … “Washing my hands!”…”Wash them at the end, not now. Come on!” … “He can wash them whenever he wants. Washing them a lot is good!” 

The boys were such a help. It is extra work for them (and so more money for their families); and much easier on us. We are exposed to different germs than much of our community—our trips to immigration this week, the grocery store, etc—and we don’t want to bring anything into the community.  We also felt that Oak couldn’t go to all the places safely, leaving just one of us to trek around in the heat through many kilos of rice. The boys were able to do it together in just over an hour. 

We also really loved seeing them have the authority to make decisions, to help their communities, and to deal with questions and explanations on their own. It feels like a small way to set an example of what Christ has asked us to do, but equip them to carry it, too. 

And so it begins: Covid Food Distributions, Take 1.

grounded and weighted.

by Filed Under: house calls, house church, kelli 1 Comment

I started doing yoga regularly at the end of last year.

After trying yoga a few times in the past, I was never really a fan. I really do love my time swimming or running or biking. However, I found that yoga has provided a great wind-down for the day and I became a regular.

(It also helps that my son loves it, and walks around suddenly saying, “Tree!” and standing in position. Adorbs.)

It’s become a great way for me to be aware of my body, particularly as it’s been fighting chikungunya for the past year. I can daily evaluate where my pain is and how intensive it is.

One of the Gaiam videos I have done over and over ends in relaxation pose, where the speaker talks of feeling where your body rests on the ground and the weight of your body on the earth. He reminds us to be thankful for another day lived with our weighted presence on the planet.

The first time I listened I started to cry, thankful for another day here. And since then, each day and each yoga session has meant more to me; for another day, weighted and present here.

Sometimes that is thankfulness for another day with Oak, here together as a family of three. Some days that is a thankfulness for another day completed, with Oak, fighting through a battle.
Some days I am weighted with thankfulness for our nearly ten years, right here in this community and in this house, and on this ground that has become so hallowed to me. Sometimes I am weighted by the days spent here, and the weight I tend to carry in from my friends, pressing me into this ground while I wish to fly away.
Some days I can hear my husband in the next room, praying with our son and singing to him as he goes to sleep, while I feel the weight of our lives together. Some days I feel the lightness of the gift he is to me. Other days I feel the weight of what we have experienced and waded through together, right here, on these floors that sometimes covered with water or sweat or blood.
This tile has carried so much of me, of us.

Some days I am thankful for the ability to move and stretch, feeling light in my capacity. Some days I am sad that an unlucky virus months ago has left certain muscles still aching, and I can’t hardly believe how some muscles feel 31 and others feel 131.
And then now, there are days where I realize not all of us will be able to have our weight on the earth day after day, as another virus spreads around the globe. Sometimes I feel thankful for my son breathing easily in his bed in the next room, my husband singing along to the music, with air in our lungs. Sometimes I feel worry for our parents sitting just beyond a travel ban.

These are such odd times.

Now, I’m doing yoga with Oak while we hang out at home. His preschool is canceled and we’re doing our best to keep our house not the hub of the community.

There are some positives: I’m loving the extra time with Oak. I’m loving the family time. That is a unique gift to receive ten months into an adoption, and we’ll take it.

I’m trying to focus on that.

In other ways, I’m terrified of what waits around the corner. While we pray Covid doesn’t hit our neighborhood, it will be tragedy if it does. Even as it hits Thailand and our town just twenty-four hours ago, we wonder how day-laborers, who live on daily wages, will make it past tomorrow. If there is no work, there is no rice. Pantries and refrigerators and cupboards don’t exist. Even now, as the shop down the street is closed, I wonder what the coming days will look like.

And that’s just eating, assuming we all stay healthy.

After seeing how hospitals in Italy and America have been over-run, I can’t imagine how our little border town medical establishments will fare. (The same town that gave me the wrong vaccine for my first dog bite and only found one break in my finger instead of two.) I’m nervous for supplies and ventilators; for how treatment will be given to those without legality, let alone insurance or universal healthcare. I wonder how the hidden caste systems and hierarchies will affect those who get treatment and those who don’t.

And I worry for my poor, illegal migrant friends who can’t even get six feet from their whole family within their own home. I worry for their lack of running water, and how that translates for washing hands.

How do you keep a pandemic out of a slum?

(I don’t like that word. I don’t want to call my home and my friends homes a slum; I want to call it a community or a neighborhood. But I know what you will think of with those words, and it usually doesn’t evoke images of one-room huts with outdoor “kitchens,” no running water, and shared “bathrooms.” So forgive the word, but apply the word picture that comes to a Western-reader’s mind.)

So we wait. We are trying to be wise. We are trying to be hopeful.

We are trying not to worry about our visa situation, where we will be overstaying our stamp ten days from now. We are trying not to worry about our visa situation, where we might be required to leave and Oak might be required to stay.

We are trying not to worry about Oak’s paperwork, that might be further delayed. Perhaps this process won’t even be completed as cross the five year mark next month.

We are trying not to worry about what we might see and experience in the coming days and weeks. We are trying not to be concerned about the decisions we might be forced to make.

Instead, I have my son doing downward dog right under me, his new favorite way to yoga. We are making tree poses in the swimming pool and falling over with a splash. I am ending the day, laying on the floor in relaxation pose again, thankful for another day on this tile, another day with breath in our lungs, another day with this little boy giggling beside us.

let’s book it!

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Guys, I am such a nerd. I always have been.

My dreams for this community often involve story times and libraries and visions of children sitting around in huts over books.

I loved Book It! as a kid: maybe for the pizza? But really, for the books. {And the personal goals and winning against myself. I’m my best competition.}

Anyway, this has been a long time coming, and it’s finally here! It’s been hard to collect a selection of books in Burmese that are at a good level, ensure they are positive topics, and simple enough for all readers. We finally found a set in Yangon last year, but weren’t able to bring it back in our limited luggage. Fast forward through nine months of Facebook conversations and friends willing and able to go to the publisher’s office to buy the books…and we have them!

We now have a collection of 38 books in Burmese, most of them biographies of famous people around the world and throughout history.

And we have a Book Club! This summer, we are challenging the kids to read. If they read five books through the summer and write a few short sentences telling us what they learned, they get a t-shirt. If they read six to ten books, they get a t-shirt, and we’ll all go together to get ice cream and play games at the local arcade. And if they read eleven books or more, we’ll be wearing our t-shirts to pizza and the arcade!

We made our own Book It for the summer, and as the season unfolds–English classes cancelled; everyone encouraged to sit inside–I’m not sure we could have rolled it out at a better time!

saturdays.

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Or shall I say, The Saturdays That Were.

With the threat of Covid-19 spreading throughout Mae Sot, we have had to cancel our Saturday program through the end of March. But, for a few weeks there, we had a good thing going! We hope it’s back soon!

And we still want to give you a glimpse into it! Each Saturday, we’ve had between forty and fifty students coming, from age two to twelve. [The thirteen and above group comes to English and other activities on Monday, for our youth night.]

We start at 9am with music, where Stephen leads us in guitar and we attempt to lead a group of second-language learners in all the “classics.” I then read a children’s book or two in English, which fulfills all my dreams of a library story time. 🥰

Lun then leads the kids in a bible story until 10am. She leads the children’s ministry at her local church every week, so she’s a pro!

We then gather around for rice, which Thida has made for us all in a superhero-like fashion in a Barbie-sized kitchen. It’s incredible.

After things are devoured and spilled all over and cleaned up, we divide into four groups for classes. The yellow group is our littlest, from about 2-4 years old. They start with Burmese, taught by Thida, and then move to English, taught by Pwin Pyu Hein or I.

The red group is about 5-8, taught first English by Pwin Pyu Hein and I, and followed by a bit of Burmese.

The blue group and green group are older, from 8 to 12, and divided by skill level. They each study more of the Bible story with Lun, now focusing on new English words from that week’s lesson. They also have thirty minutes with another English teacher, sometimes our friends Mia & Bryce, and sometimes me.

And somehow, we manage to teach two languages, songs, and Bible to a whole collection of kids for over two hours each Saturday! While chaotic, it’s pretty incredible to see it happen week after week.

And now we’re realizing how thankful we are for it now that it’s closed for a few weeks; we’re hopeful to back at our best before too long!

a gift.

by Filed Under: house church, kelli, schoolhouse 1 Comment

For those of you who have followed along, I think it’s quite obvious we spend many of our days in over our heads.

We live in a border town, working in a poor migrant community, operating in a different language. Now raising our recently-adopted toddler. We have a few small side businesses we support: local bread & flowers sales, sound reinforcement, a sewing project. We teach English to about sixty kids every week; we attend a local church in another language. We provide cajon, guitar, and (new!) singing lessons every week for the youth.

Oh, and we live overseas, trying to keep all of our paperwork up to date while we wait for our son’s paperwork to be completed.

There are two of us.

Yeah, I think we’re in over our heads.

And if you’ve followed us for the past decade, this isn’t a sudden realization. We’ve spent plenty of years praying for help, seeking it, and waiting for it. We have trained up neighbors to help in various ways and delegated whatever we could; even if that meant teaching a new language or skill.

And more than anything, we’ve just let God provide and amaze us and care for us.

And he has, again.

We’d love for you to meet Lun Ngai. We’ve known her for a few years; she’s been our Burmese teacher and my self-defense teacher. She helped teach our Life Skills classes for community dinner last year and helped us translate for our Family Christmas. She’s a dear friend.

And now, she’s a team member!

(Our lives are so odd I’m not sure I know how to put this into text, but I’ll try.)

She recently resigned from her job at a local organization and she’s attending a Bible school part-time. She’s continuing to teach us Burmese weekly, and we began to explore options of how we could work together.

She’s excited about community ministry. She’s excited about women and families and youth. And as of March, she’s excited to join us!

For the foreseeable future, she’ll be attending Bible school classes part-time, and she’ll be teaching both Burmese & English classes around Mae Sot for some income. Since it is difficult to raise support in the local church, we are also transferring some of our monthly support to her, to allow her to serve in our community, too.

She’s already jumped in with the youth and kids; she’s helping with our Summer Book Club and she’s teaching every Saturday at Schoolhouse (more on both of those to come!).

We have been planning a bible study to lead up to Easter that was scheduled to begin last Friday; she’s been helping us prepare and pray through this. It’s now on hold until we know how Covid-19 is handled locally; but we’re still excited to have her help us!

We are beyond thankful to have her with us. While we both operate in Burmese most days, talking about difficult things in another language is challenging and risky. We are really thankful to have another Christian working with us, who speaks Burmese and is the culture in ways we will never be able to know or be.

And so we’re thankful! I don’t really have the words, except to say we’re so excited for where God is going to take this, and my heart is grateful every time she walks in the door.

youthfulness.

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This might be our favorite crew right now. We have been spending more and more time with the youth in the community, and we feel like so much is happening for them. The hope is vibrant.

For many of these students, we’ve known them since they were six or eight. Now they are teenagers, in high school or finishing it up. They are making vital decisions about how they will live; how they will emulate their parents and brothers and sisters or how they won’t. They are working outside of school, and we’re desperate to keep them attending. They are on phones and at football fields after school; we’re doing our best to be involved and be present.

Many of you know of The Reinforcers, students Stephen has been training in live sound reinforcement. As the kids have grown and situations have changed, this is changing often, too. But in short: it’s growing! And it’s amazing.

We currently have three Reinforcers: Pyint Soe & La Point are brothers, and Yedi is a cousin. We’ve all known them a decade! Pyint Soe is taking his final high school exam this week and we’ll be celebrating his graduation this weekend. He’ll be continuing with us in a heavy part-time roll as he waits to get his exam results and decide about university options. La Pyint & Yedi are working extra over the summer with some recording projects, and partnering with two other youth from a local Burmese church. Stephen is teaching recording and coordinating projects every week for all five of them.

We also recently hired another teenager, Thaw Thaw, who is our new Computer Manager. We have three desktop computers available for the older kids to play games and video games together during our open house hours. It’s our effort to keep kids in a safe place, encouraging collective community play, rather than individualized phone time or the nearby questionable hangout.

Thaw Thaw has been learning new games and teaching the younger kids, while managing it all weekly.

This group is now called The Reinforcers+, since it’s a broad sweep! We’re trying to meet with them regularly in a mentoring capacity. We are addressing difficult topics and trying to give them openness into our lives and our decisions, while challenging them to be intentional with theirs. This past month we met to talk about phone and computer safety and addictions.

They all happened to show up in yellow, then voted for us all to match!

Throughout the year we have a weekly English class for the youth, and we’ve expanded it for the summer. Every Monday, we are watching Planet Earth and doing a workbook about what we are learning using a curriculum created by a local non-profit. We then play games and talk together, again providing safe fun and conversation.

The students are also a part of our Summer Book Club, which I am so very excited about. More on that to come.

And beyond that, we do whatever we can do bring the students together for fun! We want them to trust us and know us. There is a youth worship night held in town every month or two, so we’ve been inviting them to come along. They absolutely love it.

There was also a breakdancing competition a few weeks ago that boys went to watch. And Stephen took one of the guys out for ice cream and games yesterday afternoon.

We’re really excited to have these friends in our home a few days through the week, for English and cajon and guitar and worship nights and games. We love that Oak knows their names. We are hopeful for breaking some generational patterns within the community, and we are really hopeful for their futures!

happenings.

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Our recent happenings, in photos.

Sojourn Studios officially moved out of our home and into their new studio. To end this well, we celebrated!

After their last day in our house, we took the ladies out to purchase bicycles, so they could bike to work the following week. They each bought these out of their savings (win!), and we also had fun.

My son loves these ladies so very much, and they love him.

We also took their families out to dinner that night to a local favorite, where everyone gathers around and cooks the meal together at the table over a fire. It was fun; it was crazy. Our biggest win was convincing all the husbands to join, and we are so excited for how far these relationships have come in that way.

It also meant Oak’s two best friends in the community came along, and because the car was full, they were all in the back with me. He was LOVING it.

As a present, we had this digital artwork made by a friend in Vietnam and had it framed for each of them.

A non-profit circus organization, Spark! Circus, tours Mae Sot every year around this time, and they offered their annual public performance. We took some of the community to join us, and Oak absolutely loved it.

He is still talking about the man who blew fire out of his mouth, and how it was hot and he got wet, because…well, it’s a small town, and we were on the front row.

The kids are still in our house many days of every week, and we are still surprised at all the shenanigans.

At Christmas, one of the gifts we gave was a waffle maker. It came with an evening of teaching, which we only got to this month! But we brought the works and taught the whole family a few different ways to make waffles.

Another local non-profit was offering a cake baking & decorating course last week, and Thida and I signed up to join! Thida makes all our community cakes now–often a few a week, for about seventy kids! We have been using the depression cake recipe, but we’ve decided to make smaller-sized, better-tasting, more special cakes now.

She and I went on Tuesday to bake our cakes, and returned on Wednesday to make icing and decorate them.

And last, Oak’s fancy stage. His two favorite outfits lately are: his jeans, with Mom & Dad both wearing them, too (so far the 100 degree weather doesn’t phase him); and his longyi. It’s a traditional Burmese outfit; a casual cotton one would be worn daily, but this is more wedding-appropriate. He chooses it weekly, at least.

It’s also worth noting: his longyi is maroon with gold patterning, and his shirt is pink silk with a fake diamond at the top.
WOW.

He’s the best-dressed wherever we go, and it’s very popular!

That’s us; our best happenings!

adoption: an update.

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The other day on Instagram, a friend who is adopting for the second time posted an update on their adoption process. It was truly incredible.

She laid out every step of the process. She knew the time frames for each, and exactly what to expect. She knew what paperwork she needed and exactly how it would go.

I told Stephen about this, and we laughed.
Very often, we choose to laugh instead of cry in our lives.

In April of this year, we are five years into our adoption process. While we have Oak with us now (making the process much better!) we aren’t sure how much longer it will take. We aren’t sure how many steps are left.

When we went into the meeting five years ago, they said the entire process would be complete in about eighteen months. (Again, I’m laughing now instead of crying.)

Even now, looking back on over four years of this “process” I’m not sure I could describe it to you. I couldn’t give you a date we were placed, because technically speaking we received a call in late 2018 that went like this:

Caseworker: Hi, this is _____. Do you remember me?
Stephen: Yes, I remember you.
(Unsaid by Stephen: “I’ve been waiting for your call for MONTHS! I pray for you regularly! YES, I REMEMBER YOU.)
CW: Can you send me your new passport and work permit and visa papers?
Stephen: Yes, we can email you that.
CW: He looks just like you! (And then other things not understood…)
Stephen: …Who? Who looks like me?
CW: Did you see the photo? I open the photo and he looks just like you and your wife!
Stephen: Who?
CW: The little boy. You have not seen the photo?
Stephen: No. we didn’t get a photo. Did you send a photo?
CW: Oh, I need work permit and new visa. 
Stephen: Did you get his file? 
CW: Yes! I already sent it to the board. You send the work permit and visas.
Stephen: Yes, we will send them. Can you send the photo?
CW: Congratulations! I’m so excited! I want to tell you congratulations!
Stephen: Thank you…Yes…You say congratulations…for what? Are we…moving forward?
CW: He looks just like you! Ok, bye. Send the work permit and visa.

After this call, we sent our updated work permit and visa that afternoon. And we heard nothing–absolutely nothing–for nearly three months. We wondered every day if we should officially consider ourselves “placed”–but with what? We might be placed with a boy, but he/she is a very commonly mis-said pronoun, so we were hesitant to plan, hope, announce…

The next email we received said we had been placed. We learned his birthday and a boy was again referenced, so we thought it was more likely to be truly a boy, and perhaps we had then been placed?

Again, do we tell people this? What do we tell them: It’s a boy! (We think.) This is his birthday! (We think.) He might be ours…someday! It seemed a weak announcement.

It was another two months before we received a file and photo, when we got a name and what I would consider an actual placement.

We had him in our home within a month after that. We didn’t know that then; in fact, the day we met him–also the day before we picked him up–we were out at 9pm buying a car seat, clothes that would fit, and bedding. It turned out to be the one fast bit of this process!

We didn’t know the day we went to meet him that we’d be driving two hours to the home. Or that we’d spend the whole day with him.

The list of things we didn’t know when they were happening is so very long.

And is still true today: we’re waiting on his final paperwork. This might be contingent on another home check; it might not. We might be close; we might not.

They said six months from when we got him, and we’re at ten months next week.

We aren’t really sure what to expect even when we get the paperwork: do we go to court? Do we travel to Bangkok? Do they just send us a paper?

In the middle of this, we still have relatively no idea what’s going on.

I’m a little jealous of this friend, who has a fluent English speaker explaining every step of the way. I’m a little jealous of a culture that likes to tell you the big picture and every step of the way.

It would certainly make “giving an update” a bit easier. Or making a plan.

But it wouldn’t require me to learn trust like I have in the past five years. It wouldn’t push me each and every day to be reminded that this little boy is only ours by the grace of God. It would remind me every moment that God is in control and I most certainly am not.

I wouldn’t be learning the skill of turning tears into laughter. I wouldn’t be learning to hold everything with hands wide open.

If we’d taken any other chaotic path, we wouldn’t be holding this little boy in our arms each morning.

And with that, our process is going fine. We’re here for awhile still, and we aren’t sure when we’ll be able to visit. The questions in our future loom large and broad.

But we’re a family of three for now, and we are SO. VERY. THANKFUL.

a new year.

by Filed Under: kelli Leave a Comment

I sort of dread the start of each new year.

(And I’m writing this as February comes to an end, so obviously I’m a bit slow and pessimistic on the “new year” idea!)

I think that’s one of those things you’re not suppose to say. Everyone else seems to love a fresh start, new resolutions, inspiring words, & vision casting.

Yet again this year, I found myself seeing others goals, visions, words and feeling discouraged, rather than challenged. And while I’ve felt this each year that I can recall, I only now recognized it as a trend. I seem to hit a low each year at the start.

It’s always a bit isolating, as I watch so many enter with optimism that I struggle to feel. So this year, I just started to ask why.

I think it often feels like everyone has such hopes for the year; such plans. Such energy. It seems everyone sets a goal and they really might reach it.

So many of our years start with unknowns: we know that by the end of the year we’ll need a new visa, but we aren’t sure if we’ll get it. We hope to be living in the same place, but we aren’t sure we’ll be able to. We feel called to be in this community, but we aren’t always sure what will fill our days or what projects or traumas it will hold.

So many years have started with unknowns for our family personally, not knowing how long we would wait for Oak, or now how long we’ll wait to finalize his adoption. We don’t know how long it will be before we go back to the States, or if we’ll be able to travel this year at all. (In short, we might not be able to stay in this country, nor leave it–hopefully not both!— depending on how all the paperwork falls.)

We often know very little of what is in front of us; it’s a piece of the life God’s put before us. There seems to be light on just a very few steps in front of us.

And because this chaos is a bit of a normal, I often feel like I’ve just maneuvered a year of unknowns as well.

This year, I felt like I’d just managed to pull off 2019: adopting a new son and beginning to sort out how to parent alongside this community. We’ve just gotten another visa! We’ve just finished a year of training and a few small jobs. We’ve just had another community Christmas! We’re just starting to get in a groove, and perhaps we’ll make it here after all. (Even nine years in, we say this often: Hey, wait–are we making it?!)

Perhaps we’ll make it as parents.
Perhaps his adoption will be finalized this year.
Perhaps another visa will come through.
Perhaps Flour & Flowers will be profitable another year.
Perhaps English classes will still happen.
Perhaps The Reinforcers will have work.

Sometimes just a few knowns, a few concrete goals, sound so refreshing…and yet so out of reach.

And in reality, it is out of reach right now. That’s something I’m having to embrace yet again. I’m not sure of many things in our horizon.

I’m not sure where our next visa will come from, or where our next child will for that matter! I’m not sure where our role in the community is going, as we stand among some major shifts.

We did a restart in February, following the Christmas chaos and my sisters visit. We are looking to another restart in March, as Sojourn Studios moves out of our space, and summer begins: summer programs, new staff, perhaps internships?

It’s always changing. Perhaps it always will be.
Perhaps we’ll always be wondering if we are making it.
Perhaps we’ll always be praying for the next few steps to fall into place.

I’m trying to find the positive in this: it requires us to trust something bigger than ourselves. It requires us to be flexible. It asks us to take risks in the name of the Kingdom. It demands hope.

That said, we are hopeful for 2020. We’re late, but hopeful 😂
We’re also a bit tired.
Sometimes we’re fighting fear. Depending on the day, we’re a bit overwhelmed by the unknowns.

We don’t have a word to lead us. But we have a Father who leads us. Our visions and dreams are what you might describe as extremely hopeful, which means they require an incalculable number of miracles. But we follow a God of miracles. Our plans, when put in the most positive light possible, are flexible. But we have a Lord who establishes our plans.

And so as February comes to a close, I’m ready to embrace 2020 and all its unknowns. ☺️