Oliver Thai

Introduction

Every story is at once personal and universal.  For we are not so different from each other.  To share humanity is to always have more in common, than not.  Every individual story goes into the make up the grand, human story.  

No one can ever really know another person's story.  For one, we live a lot in our heads and only a very, very little of what goes on there ever comes out the door of our mouth.  For many of us, even the things that do come out, rarely come out right.  

For another, much of life's experience is solitary, when there are no witnesses, save perhaps the Divine.

Great literature are the stories which resonate with people across time, and space, and culture.    

A few weeks back, I traveled down the road of another boy's life, one most of you will never have the opportunity to meet or know, and it left me feeling liked I had stumbled into a tale from Charles Dickens.  It was like Oliver Twist, but with this distinct difference, the setting was not London during the industrial revolution, but southeast Asia in the present.  

But let me caution you, the present life most of you reading this experience is very different from the present life many of the people you are about to meet experience.  

The time is the same, but the setting is drastically different. 

Thailand provides a powerful glimpse of this distinction.  You can travel a few hours out of the city I live in, and at the same time, feel as though you have traveled back almost 100 years in time.  

One exception often being the glowing screen of a smart phone amidst the primitive bamboo huts, open cooking fires, and latrines.  

This most recent experience left so many impressions on me, I wanted to try to put it into words.  Sometimes the best way to understand a large issue, is to zoom in very close to a single case, a single human soul.  Sometimes we understand the trees by studying the forest.  But more often we understand the forest, by studying a single tree.  

If you enjoyed the adventures, trials, and triumphs of Oliver Twist; I hope you will enjoy this brief adventure with my friend I am calling Oliver Thai.

Chapter 1 What is Home?

Oliver Thai lived in a small, rural village in northwest Thailand.  There was a small gas station---a tin shed housing a few 50 gallon barrels with hand pumps attached, and a clear glass reservoir on top where you could inspect the gasoline you were about to purchase.  A sleepy man with a large green hat lounged in the shade prepared, but not over eager to serve any potential customers.  

The hot sun baked everything left to its merciless glare.  People were rarely about this time of day unless they had to be.  When there was nowhere in particular to go, you stayed where the shade was.  

There was a rice mill where the farmers brought their crops to be processed, then transported and hopefully sold.  There was a small church too.  The legacy of a few brave foreigners who years ago had come with a message of hope and conscience for these poor, simple farming families.  There was also a local shop with snacks, foods, and home goods---very much the general store of bygone days in the west.  A young, thin girl manned the store, armed with a phone to ease the burden or boredom and occasionally help with the math of larger purchases.  

And down the road from the general store is the automotive repair shop.  The chief business consisting of repairing broken motorbikes and small engines from farming tools.  The greasy black floors testify to the same purpose of mechanics from every age and nation.  A health clinic sits proudly across the road, and a cell phone shop leans next to it.  

Beyond this small conglomeration of commercial enterprises, there are many small wooden houses spread out in the surrounding hills.  The main road into town is paved, and a few smaller roads leading to larger congregations are too.  But red dirt is the driveway and yard of most homes.  The wooden houses sit perched on stilts.  Not as tall as a treehouse, but several feet off the ground to keep some space from earth bound creatures they would not want to share a bed with.  The wood is rough cut lumber, of a more yellowish variety.  The floors are worn smooth by years of passing human feet.  There are no screens or glass windows.  The occasional aberration of a tv or a small refrigerator is a reminder that this is not some bygone age, but a modern dwelling.  

Oliver Thai was born in one such wood hut.  His birthdate is of some dispute.  Being born at home, to an illiterate mother, who speaks only her native language, and not the language of the nation where she happens to live, she never troubled herself to travel to the district office to register the birth of her son.  This is a great misfortune to Oliver, though he will not understand why for several years.  To be a person without an ID is to be severely limited in every prospect for the future.  

There are rumors of a brother who has legal status.  With the advent of DNA testing, if Oliver could find this brother, and prove they are genetically related, he would have a good chance of obtaining citizenship.  But this is uncertain, and the brother's whereabouts at present are unknown.  

Oliver entered the world stubborn and screaming, and he never relinquished either.  It has become fashionable in many modern circles to speak of the romance of primitive people.  Anthropologists are often fighting those cruel people who wreck romantic, primitive cultures with bigoted views of civilization.  

But having a mother with little formal education, who has known hard work and a fair share of hardship, whose teeth are black and red from chewing yaba while she works in the fields, is not an easy or comforting thing for a small child.  

I dare not try to put myself in Oliver's mother's shoes.  Her life is as alien to me, as mine is to her.  I am certain she is deserving of my sympathy and compassion.  However, for young Oliver, such thoughts are no balm to the wound of a mother who never expresses affection to her children.  Smiles, hugs, and kisses which are the daily food for many children from their mothers, are unknown to him.  

Thankfully for Oliver, his sister who is 12 years older than him, has a different spirit.  She loves the little baby, and is fascinated by the miracle of life contained in him.  She does the best young girl can to make sure he is fed, clean, and snuggled.  

Oliver's father was never mentioned or seen.  A sort of spectre whose existence could not be denied due to the fruit of his loins, but who he was, was never spoken of in the home.  The Fatherhood of Oliver and his sister was not at all certain to be the same.  Of this, the mother refused to give answer or explanation.  

Time in the village passes at a different rate than in the cities.  Days come and go, and come again.  Oliver grew strong, both in body and in will.  Before many such days, Oliver is 10 years old, healthy and strong.  The local school where Oliver has gone off and on for years is quickly losing interest for young Oliver.  Oliver is a friendly wanderer, who prefers the conversation of the shop workers, and farm laborers to the rote lessons of the school room.  

His mother never asks where he has been unless he got into trouble serious enough to be reported back to her.  

His sister is more intrusive.  She warns and threatens him, cajoles and bribes him to go to school.  She insists that he will come to no good if he doesn't stay in school.  But Oliver does not listen.  He is happier roaming the streets and listening to the town gossip in the shops.  Everyone knows Oliver.  

Some chasten him and tell him to go back to school.  Others laugh, and tease him good naturedly.  Oliver is no loner.  He wants to be with people.  It is this desire, this craving, that leads him into trouble.  It is not long before young Oliver discovers another group of roamers who have done away with school.  These are the wastrels of the village.  Every attentive mother warns her sons and daughters away with threats, and occasionally physical violence.  They have seen too many innocent lives ruined there.  But Oliver's mother is not attentive.  

Only once, when Oliver was caught stealing and the shop owner brought him home in anger, demanding payment and describing Oliver's companions did his mother rise in wrath to condemn and strike him, for falling in with such company.  But for Oliver the lesson was less a moral, and more a practical one.  Stealing was not so much denounced as wrong, as getting caught was troublesome.  Oliver left that day determined not to get caught.  Whether he was determined not to steal was a much different question.  

Oliver felt he had found his fellow wanderers.  There were brash and bold.  They were leisurely and were never found hurried or hard working.  But of course, such extreme idleness does not pass easily.  To help with the terrible burden of time, they turned not to work or learning, but to escapism and sensation.  There were more ways to get high in a small, rural village than you would believe possible if you were not familiar with such things.  Yaba was everywhere available.  For time immemorial, this part of the world was called the golden triangle and known for its opium production.  In a pinch, there was always glue that could be sniffed, and gas that could be huffed.  

In the meantime, as an essential part of maintaining the indifferent image of rebellion they wished to convey to their peers, the gang settled for smoking cigarettes and drinking beer.  Oliver found these poisons miserable, and joined in as little as he could, while still being considered part of the gang.  

Any reader who is familiar with such stories, can see where Oliver was headed, and it was to no good place.  But through an act of providence, it was these very unpleasant habits which brought him to the attention of Mr. Dang.  

Chapter 2  Mr. Dang

Mr. Dang may have been divinely appointed, but his appearance was not exactly angelic.  He was big bodied, with comparatively skinny legs.  He often wore a wide brimmed hat, and his eyes shined with energy.  His neck, right leg, arms and torso were covered in tattoos.  He owned a kick boxing arena outside of the village.  It was a nocturnal affair, the daytime being too hot for vigorous physical activity.  Boys and men flocked to his outdoor gym to punch, kick, taunt, gossip, and spare each night.  It was not, perhaps an ideal environment for young boy of ten.  There were often women who hung around the gym too, who were considered of questionable or even dubious reputation.  Prostitution in Asia takes a slightly different form than in the western world.  It is at the same time, both more condemned and more accepted as part of the culture.  The key, like Oliver's lesson in theft, is not to do no wrong, but to be sure your wrong, if done, is not seen.  

Mr Dang himself was, despite appearances, a compassionate, and even quietly devote man.  He did not approve perhaps of everything that went on around his gym, but at the gym itself, he was both justice, and protector.  He was not eager to meddle in the affairs of others, but was careful of his own conduct.  

On a particular night, like many others at Mr Dang's gym, after a few beers and some good fellowship of punching and kicking, Mr Dang was relaxed and happy.  His eyes scanned his gym.  Yes, he had done well for himself.  He had a good business, and he was valued in the community.  He had plans too.  He had already purchased a bigger plot of land nearby and was planning to put up a bigger roof for his bigger gym.  He would have the only kick boxing arena in the area.  He would host events and promote fights.  Maybe even get someone famous to come to do a fight at his gym.  Life was good.  Mr Dang looked at his girlfriend two tables away.  She caught his glance and smiled back.  She was a good woman.  She was tough, but fun.  She put up with all the craziness at the gym, and they had something rare in the village---a love relationship.  Neither his parents, nor hers had pressured them.  They had chosen each other.  Someday they would get married and have some kids of their own.  Maybe a future boxing champion.  He could train his sons from day one.  Mr Dang loved kids.  

Caught in this moment of reverie, Mr Dang was jolted to see a very young boy, certainly no more than 10, smoking a cigarette just outside his gym.  Mr Dang was devout, but he was not particularly pious.  He believed in God, and thanked Him every day.  But he also enjoyed his earthly pleasures.  

But this, this was not good.  A grown man with a cigarette was foolish, and likely to do more poorly in the ring, but that was his own business.  But this was a mere child.  

Mr Dang was not a shy man, especially not in his own gym.  He marched aggressively outside and grabbed the cigarette from the boys lips, tossed it on the ground, and stamped it out.  He gave the boy an angry eye, which the boy quickly deflected by looking to the ground.  He then turned to the old boys laughing nearby.  

"What do you think you are doing, eh?" he demanded.

The boys were still smiling, but the smiles were fading quickly.  

"Nothin'" one muttered.  "He wanted to be with the guys, what's the big deal."

"He's a kid, you dingos.  You want to ruin your own life, and be lousy in the gym go ahead.  But you leave his life alone. I won't have it at my gym.  I see it again, and you lobos can go to another gym."

This had the intended effect. 

"Hey, there is no other gym for 100 kilometers. Okay, okay, we won't let him do it again," the boys were eager to get back inside now, and leave this business behind.  

"Ayeeeeiiee, get your butts back inside" Mr Dang menaced.  

Turning back to Oliver, for Oliver it was, Mr. Dang said to him, 

"What are you about boy?  What is your name?"

"Oliver Thai sir."

Oliver eh?  What you doing smoking like an idiot Oliver?  Those boys can't stand 3 rounds in the ring, you know why?  Cause they smoke and their lungs is no good.  You want to be like that, or you want to be a real fighter?"

You need to understand, that Mr. Dang had a lot of experience with young boys.  He was not highly educated, but he had a lot of practical experience.  He had instantly summed up that Oliver would be more appealed to a positive goal---like becoming a good fighter, than by a negative prohibition.  He was in this, exactly right.  

At the words "real fighter" Oliver's eyes had lit up.  He nodded vigorously.  

"I wanted to be a real fighter!" he declared.  

"Well then, forget those stupid sticks, and come inside and let's see what you can do."

This was the beginning of the best 4 months of Oliver's life.  He became a permanent fixture at Mr. Dang's gym.  Mr Dang did his best to keep an eye on the boy, and helped train him when he could.  He had discerned Oliver's family situation quickly---it was not an uncommon one.  The boys in the village were bored, they had lots of energy, they dreamed of some glory, and were generally depressed with their prospects for the future.  Mr Dang's gym was an outlet, an escape, and an opportunity to dream.  

Mr Dang became something of an older brother to Oliver, but he was not a father.  He was generous to Oliver, but as the boy grew and so did his appetite, Mr Dang determined that Oliver had to find some way to earn his keep.  A friend of Mr Dang's, Yo came up with a solution.  There was a pumpkin factory 15 minutes outside of the village.  Yo offered to take Oliver with him Monday to Friday and he could help clean up the factory floor with other kids who had dropped out of school.  Oliver would earn some money, and could sleep at the factory in small rooms out back.  Yo would bring him back every weekend to the gym.  

Oliver was not eager, but having no other ideas on how to earn some money, he agreed to this plan.  Mr Dang, relieved to not have responsibility for Oliver all week, and trusting Yo, thought this also a good arrangement.  

Chapter 3  The Pumpkin Factory

Oliver quickly discovered that the intolerable conditions of his former school were not really so intolerable after all.  Up until this point in his young life, Oliver though by no means comfortable, had never really known lack.  His family was extremely poor by any modern standard, but the wealth of the land was abundant enough for all.  It was an old saying in Thailand that rice was in the fields, and fish were in the rivers.  In other words, a subsistence existence could be had by anyone with only the bare minimum of work and effort.  Bananas, mangos, lychee, jack fruit, and papaya grew abundantly, and rice was in every field.  

So while Oliver had always been poor, and known nothing else, he had thankfully never known extreme hunger which plagues many similarly poor, primitive peoples in less fertile places on earth.  Factories the world over are nearly synonymous with misery and dehumanizing conditions.  Rural Thailand, with its relentless heat and rather vague views on human rights was no exception.  Oliver's people were tribal.  They had their own distinct language and culture, and traditions.  Thai, was for them as for many other tribal groups, their second language.  Oliver's own mother could not even speak it.  Thankfully for Oliver, he had learned both his tribal language at home, and Thai at school.  

Oliver's first day at the pumpkin factory was a host of new experiences.  Yo had made the formal introductions and explanations.  Oliver held his chin extra high, as if to prove to his new employer that here was a mature young man ready to earn some money.  The effect was slightly less effective than he might have hoped due to his small frame.  But he was determined to make a good impression.  He felt quite proud of the fact that here he was working like a grown man, while his other friends his age were just little kids playing in school.  Somchai was the manager of the pumpkin factory, and thankfully for Oliver, a man of reasonable kindness.  

He first found the situation rather comical and was not quick to agree with Yo that a 10 year old boy should work at the factory.  Children were more of a liability than a help more often than not.  But Somchai was eventually persuaded when Yo, with some exaggeration, declared that there was no where else for the boy to go, and that his family needed money.  Somchai agreed that Oliver could work Monday to Friday, and sleep in the small rooms behind the factory.  Many workers also stayed at the factory during the week, because they lived further away in other villages, just as Yo did.  Food would be provided, and if Oliver proved his worth, he would receive $5 per day, or about half of an adult's pay.  

Yo found this quite satisfactory, and Oliver too, felt a rush of excitement at the wealth he could accumulate.  Other than rare times when his mother would give him a few coins with which to buy snacks, Oliver had never really had any money that was truly his own.  

Such thoughts, along with his natural curiosity and desire to prove himself, carried Oliver quickly through his first work week.  The first challenge he faced was the smell.  Oliver liked pumpkin.  His family often had it in soups or curries.  It was cheap, nutritious, and easy to grow.  But after a few days in the factory, he had lost all desire to eat pumpkin ever again.  The main work of the factory was cutting, boiling, and canning pumpkin to sell in stores.  Oliver's job was to carry pumpkins back and forth from the dumping site where large trucks left their cargo to where the cutters where chopping them into pieces to be boiled in large vats.  

He was a strong boy, who like most boys enjoyed the strain and feeling of strength that grew in his limbs with the new exercise.  He ate with the workers every day, and became something of a mascot among them.  One of the lesser appreciated aspects of factory work can be the social life that develops.  There is a culture, a humor, and a camaraderie that develops in every factory.  Oliver had always like the social aspect of school, but it was the sitting still that he could not bear.  Here, he was able to move about and engage in frequent jokes and gossip with the other workers.  

Still the days grew long, and the work monotonous.  He quickly grew bored, and boredom is seldom the soil of virtue.  Often, the exact opposite.  Oliver was able to return to his village and Mr Dang's gym every weekend with Yo.  He looked forward to those days with relish.  They were both a relief for his boredom, and his sole time for fun.  

Until he discovered the dice.  

Chapter 4  The Soil of Vice

The factory was busy, but not always.  The work being monotonous, some of the men sought for ways to distract and amuse themselves when they were free.  A small gang of the more haggard looking, had begun to gather in the back of the factory in a small circle on the ground.  

Oliver's natural curiosity quickly discovered this rowdy gang.  The man were rolling dice in a small circle, laughing uproariously, arguing vehemently, and snatching dirty bills back and forth.  At first, they laughed at Oliver, which only furthered his determination to join in.  The man took little notice until Oliver produced a wade of his own bills to show them he was serious.  

Hardly understanding the game he was entering, he quickly lost several baht of his already meager salary.  But the thrill was addicting!  His competitive nature, the surge of adrenaline that accompanied a lucky roll, and the roar of his companions was a heady mixture to any man, let alone a boy of 10 wanting to be accepted as one of the men.  

Oliver's funds were quickly depleted, and then he was indebted.  Before the end of the week, he was 3 weeks wages in debt to the most ragged man in the bunch, Sinn.  

Chapter 5 The Wages of Sinn

In defense of Sinn, a pumpkin factory gambling ring was no place for a 10 year old boy.  It was not his fault the boy was there, and it was at least originally not with his encouragement that the boy joined the dice games.  But Sinn was a poor man, and very few men, poor or rich has been able to resist the temptation of easy money.  He felt no animosity to the boy, but nor did he feel much guilt in taking the boy's money.  He ought to know when to quit.  Was it Sinn's fault he couldn't?  Sinn never troubled himself much asking how the boy was supposed to have learned or who was supposed to have taught him.  

As the Bible eloquently, and very truly declares: the wages that sin pays are death.  In Oliver's case, he had not yet labored long enough under sin's employment to earn such full wages.  But that his life had now begun to travel the path that leads to death and ruin, no one could deny.  He was certainly not the first, or the last young man to be enticed by the thrill of gambling, and ensared by the craving for acceptance among his peers.  He was not dead, but the best and most human part of him was now beginning to decay.  

Moreover, sin had (thankfully) paid him meagerly as yet.  But the debts he must pay Sinn, were growing with each day.  The other gamblers began to take notice of the mounting debt and to exchange uncomfortable looks with each other.  Eventually, one found some extra courage to try to stop any further gambling.  

"Come Sinn, that's enough for the boy.  He already owes you 3 weeks pay.  He ought not to play anymore."

Sinn, in I must confess one of his ugliest moments, caught off-guard by the rare reproof and angered by the vague guilt his own conscience prodded him with, replied not with anger, which would have been less evil, but with cunning.  

"Sure, sure Chai.  The boy is too little to understand these things.  He is too small to take part in these games.  That is enough for you Oliver.  Out you go."

This was the one thing that Oliver could not bear.  Had Sinn suggested any other exit, he may have seized it, for he himself was despairing of the mounting debt and loss of his hard won money.  Sinn's remarks had the effect he intended.  Oliver turned in anger, not on Sinn, who was exploiting him, but on Chai, who was trying to help him.  Sadly, far too many of us respond exactly in the same manner in similar circumstances.  We love those who hate us, and we hate those who love us.  Or at least, we prefer those who ease our path to ruin by telling us what we want to hear, instead of seeking our welfare by telling us what we need to hear.  

"Shut up Chai, I know what I am doing.  It's my own money, not yours."

Chai's small, and rare supply of courage quickly dissolved and the game went on.  Mercifully, only a moment later the horn blared for everyone to return to work before any more money could be lost.  

Chapter 6  The Orange Angel

On this particular day, a rather dirty, orangish guardian angel was observing Oliver's trouble.  Somchai had seen Oliver in the gambling pit, and felt something between unease and worry.  He had developed an affection for the boy rivaling that of Mr. Dang.  Oliver was clever, street smart, friendly, and as generous a boy as he had ever met.  Oliver was constantly buying things, and then giving them away to anyone and everyone.  He loved to give gifts as much as he loved to get new things.  It is one of the marvels of many poor people, that money, while coming and going through their hands, never seems to take root in their hearts, as it often does to so many wealthy persons.  If Oliver ever dreamed of wealth, I don't know.  If he did, it was in order that he could parade around like Santa to everyone he knew, handing out largess.  If he valued their admiration, he also equally valued their happiness.  This particular quality kept him safe from many of the more serious and more dangerous evils like pride and greed.  

Somchai was not prepared to do anything yet, but he had noted the situation, and he did not like it. Much virtue grows in us this way.  Uneasiness leads to dislike, and dislike to indignation, and indignation prods us to action.  This is a good and right reaction to any wrong we behold.  The opposite reaction would be indifference.  But so long as we care at all for another, anger has its good place and role to fill.  

But Asian anger is somewhat different from western anger.  Wester anger explodes, Asian anger boils.  Somchia's anger was warming, but it wasn't yet boiling.  That came the nest week.  

For now, Oliver had a new, slightly orange, pumpkin-scented angel watching over his life.  It is worth noting that Oliver's angels often came in disguise.  The Holy Scripture told of just such messengers, and cautioned us that we never know when our own hospitality might entertain such heavenly guests.  The first angel was covered in tattoos, the second in a greasy film of pumpkin.  But these were but the clever disguises God uses to teach us to look at the heart, not merely the appearance.  Indeed, God himself was said to have come in such disguise, when he took on the form of a poor peasant, among a ethnic minority, in a forgotten corner of the world.  Not unlike Oliver himself.   

Chapter 7  Overcoming Inertia

Somchai kept a closer watch on Oliver from that day forward, and along with warning glances to the other gamblers, he made a special point of taking Sinn aside and elaborating on the advantages of pleasing one's employer and staying in his good graces.  It was a very Asian way of letting Sinn know that he wasn't pleased and also a thinly veiled threat that Sinn was expendable.  Sinn received the unspoken message loud and clear, and Oliver to his disappointment and relief, was barred from any more gambling.

An old thought had sprung back into Somchai's mind following the gambling business.  He was a man of very limited education himself, but even he could appreciate the value he had gained from his learning.  He was troubled all over again about Oliver being in the factory in the first place.  Surely this was not the best place for a boy of 10.  Kids should play.  Kids should be learning.  There was plenty of time in life to work.  No need to start so early.  

In it's own way, as with Mr. Dang, this was love awakening in Somchai.  He began to think about Oliver, and by thinking about him, he began to care about him.  And in beginning to care about him, he began to determine to do something to help him.  It often happens slowly, as it did with Somchai.  But once it begins in earnest, it is all but impossible to stop.  Somchai would have adamantly rejected any official responsibility for the boy. It was not his son, not his blood.  Therefore, it was not his responsibility.  Had anyone tried to argue with him at this point, they may have only made matters worse.  But in God's own patient time, Somchai was growing to care about the boy more and more.   The more he grew to care for Oliver, the more determined he became to do something for him.

But like many of us, Somchai found himself lacking the resolve to act on his growing determination.  He had plenty to distract him every day, and it was easy to let things continue as they had so far.  This was a deeply rooted part of Asian culture.  There is a Japanese proverb that says: "The nail that sticks up gets hit."  No exactly an encouragement to rock the boat.  Government officers in Thailand are awarded and promoted for maintaining the status quo, even if that is bad.  The rare punishment or demotion is reserved for those who risk change, even much needed change.  This can result in a terrible inertia.  Somchai was caught in just such a slog. 

Then, on a Tuesday evening a gentle nudge was provided.  

Chapter 8 Anger Boils Over

Somchai was walking the factory floor.  It had been a good day.  They had met their quota for canning, the weather was not terribly hot, and everyone seemed to be in a fairly good mood.  No drama, that was what Somchai liked.  He was looking forward to a few beers with his friends and a game of football that evening.  

He rounded the southeast of the building wishing good night to the workers departing for home or headed to their small rooms for the evening.  Sitting amidst a group of 2-3 laughing workers was Oliver, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  Something about that jarring sight, a 10 year old child smoking like a delinquent struck a chord in Somchai.  His Asian anger over the gambling had not gone away, but continued to heat and bubble in his heart.  Unfortunately for the men at the table, it was at this moment that Somchai's slow boiling anger finally did boil over. It is perhaps odd that on two significant occasions, cigarettes were the last straws that led to major changes in Oliver's life.  But so it was.

Outbursts of anger in Thailand are rare.  That is not quite right, I should say that public outbursts of anger are rare in Thailand.  A stoic demeanor, and what the British would call a stiff upper lip is highly regarded in Thailand.  Somchai would occasionally bellow at his workers, but it was rarely in real anger, and the workers recognized it for what it was, good-hearted bravado.  But on this night, it was the rare, real thing---anger. With no thought at all for the political correctness of the act, still less for any potential lawsuits that might ensue, Somchai smacked the first man upside the head in a swift, harsh movement.  The shocked man flashed anger for a moment in his stunned eyes, but quickly lowered them when years of cultural training kicked in reminding him Somchai was his senior.  There may also have been thoughts of self-preservation as well, for he needed this job.  The man bowed quickly, and apologetically and scampered off.  The third man took a wide route around Somchai to follow the first.  The third, froze a moment too long in shock when the first was struck and received the verbal lashing that followed.  A limp cigarette hung precariously from his mouth, right before Somchai snatched it and threw it back at the poor man.  It singed his chest and he yelped in pain and swept himself to get rid of the burning ember.  Once it was safely on the ground, the man ground it out with his flip-flopped foot.  

"What is wrong with you eh?  Are you an idiot?  You let the boy smoke a cigarette?  You know those things are bad, and you let the boy do it?  Are you stupid?  You want to hurt yourself, go ahead, that's your own business.  But what, now you going to mess the boy's life up like yours?  You want him to grow up to be stupid like you?  Do I need stupid workers at my factory?  Maybe I should go find some less stupid workers for my factory."

The poor trembling man was still rubbing his chest where the cigarette had burned him.  He nodded vigorously as if to say that he was stupid and it would never happen again, and he really wanted to work at the factory all at once.  Oliver, up until this moment had been as shocked as the men, and was frozen to the spot.  As the third man was receiving this verbal lashing, he had the sense to get rid of the cigarette as inconspicuously as possible.  

The third man vanished as quickly as possible and Oliver was left alone with the angry Somchai.  To tell the truth, Somchai was a bit surprised with himself.  But at the present, he could not think about that.  He had to do something with the boy.  This was no way for a boy to grow up.  

He gave Oliver a hard stare that seemed to both reprove and say "You are better than this" at the same time.  Oliver felt a real, but not unhealthy sense of shame.  It wasn't the cigarettes really, but it was a feeling that he was treating his body, his life poorly, and that somehow that was a wrong towards those who loved him.  In this, he was quite right.  

Chapter 9  What is a Social Worker?

Somchai did what most of us do when we don't know what to do: he told his friends and asked their advice.  One of the girls at the restaurant had an answer: call the government social worker.  

No one at the table knew exactly how to do this, but phones were produced and google was employed to identify the proper agency, and contact information.  This took some time, but eventually mysterious departments and numbers were discovered and a discussion ensued.  

What was a social worker?  

No one at the table seemed quite certain.  The woman who first proposed this solution said it was someone who protected kids.  One man at the table asked if they were police officers.  After further discussion in was determined they must be like police, but not really police.  They were government officers, and therefore with the authority of the government, like police.  One man asked if they also had guns.  Another said this was ridiculous.  The woman took the first man's side, pointing out that protecting children may require protection from physical harm too.  After some more arguments on both sides, they returned to the main point.  What was a social worker, and what would they do with Oliver if they called the number.

A silence ensued and the first woman pointed out that the best way to answer those questions was probably to call and find out.  

Somchai determined this was his job since he was the one who was most determined to do something for Oliver.  The number was dialed.  Then a second number.  After some automated menus, he finally was talking to a social worker (whatever that was).  

Somchai was cautious, wanting to know what he was getting into.  The woman on the phone was used to this and gentle coaxed Oliver's story from Somchai.  She told Somchai he was right that the factory was not the right place for a 10 year old and soothed his concerns by telling him he had done the right thing in calling.  

"Well, what will happen to Oliver now?" Somchai asked.

"We will start a case file for him and send someone out to the factory to talk with him and get more information about his situation. "

"Then what?"

"Well in most cases like this, the child will be taken to a government children's home."

"What will happen to him there?"

"Well, he will be safe, and he will go to school." 

"What about his family?"

"Well, the social worker will contact them and work with them too.  But due to his present condition and the neglect it implies, he probably will not return to them."

"But Oliver, the boy, he isn't in trouble or anything right?  I don't want to get him in trouble.  He is just a kid.  He didn't do anything bad really.  He is a good kid, a good worker too."

"No, no he isn't in any trouble.  But we need to find a safe home for him, and the law says he needs to be in school."

"Yes, he should be in school.  He is smart, you know?  He could do things."

"That is why it is good you called.  We can help him have a better future."

"Ok.  Yeah, well, just take good care of him.  He is a good kid.  I don't want to see him ruin his life."

Chapter 10  The Children's Home

Oliver's chaotic life took another rather chaotic turn.  This particular turn would have far reaching consequences for this his life, but at this moment he was not aware of it.  Even if he had been, I am not sure he would have been able to comprehend it.  For the first time in his young life Oliver left the remote province in northern Thailand where he lived.  The pumpkin factory was almost an hour from his village, but now the social worker was taking him 3 hours away to the second largest city in the country.  It was a far cry from the small, agricultural village he had lived in all his life.

Here were malls, lights, sounds, traffic, air conditioning, and markets---endless markets and treats.  But Oliver wouldn't see much of it.  Life at the government children's home was strange to Oliver.  In the village, he had always known a large measure of freedom.  He came and went largely as he pleased since he was six years old.  The children's home was located on a huge parcel of land, with several government buildings, and aging playgrounds.  He was able to explore this compound at length, but anything outside of its walls was virtually unknown to him.  

Caretakers came in shifts, and there never seemed to be enough of them.  Children were everywhere, and while in theory, they were separated by age and gender in different buildings on the compound, there was so little oversight that the children mingled frequently.  The whole atmosphere was one of neglect and disrepair.  Some of the caretakers were kind, and others indifferent.  Most immediately troubling to Oliver was that he seemed to be housed with boys who suffered from mental illness.  He couldn't yet be sure, but it seemed that most of the boys in his building suffered from some kind of disability.  Oliver had no experience with special needs children, and was left therefore mostly in confusion and loneliness.  He later discovered that his concern was warranted.  The home for normal boys was full, so he had been placed with the special needs boys.  

It is remarkable, if tragic, how children who have never known consistency and stability, are able to adopt themselves so rapidly to new environments. Oliver began looking for friends, and of course ways to amuse and entertain himself.  At first, Oliver had thought he might return to school.  No one mentioned this, and he was somewhat disappointed and confused to be left among the wondering children when vans full of other children left each morning for school.  One great unfairness to our children is that adults so often do not communicate with them.  No one had really talked with Oliver at all since his first day.  No one had explained why he was here, or for how long.  And no one explained why he was left at the compound while most of the other children went to school.  

The days passed slowly and monotonously.  His greatest adversary each day was his own boredom.  But Oliver, once again was under a kind providence, and his third angel would soon intervene to help him. Nothing particularly bad happened to Oliver at the home, but very little that was good did either.  He was fed, and clothed, slept on a small hard cot, washed each day, and he could feel the vitality seeping out of him.  Thankfully, another change was coming.  

Chapter 11 The Bald Angel

Chat Chai was a gentle soul.  Ever since he was little, he had been soft spoken and cried easily.  He was  a strong, brave man in his own right.  It was sympathy, and a very strong sense of empathy that made him gentle with his human brothers and sisters.  He had a vivid imagination and used it to good effect often putting himself in the shoes of the people he met, and trying hard to imagine what life must feel like from their position.  It was natural he should study social work and want to help children.  

What Chat Chai had not counted on was all the human suffering he would see as a social worker and have to process for himself.  Several times, the pain he saw in those he tried to help, almost pushed him to quit his social work career and do something else.  But the pain that nearly pushed him away, also drew him in.  For, he genuinely cared for the children assigned to him, and sought to do the best he could for each of them.  In this, He was quite like the Father of all men, who is always working to help His children (though he was himself Buddhist and did not yet know the Father of men).  Chat Chai may have had a divine heart, but he had only human abilities and resources.  Therefore, he was often disappointed by all they he was not able to do.  

Chat Chai had seen Oliver the day he arrived at the children's home, but as Oliver was not assigned to him, and as there were another 50 children who were, we must forgive him if he did not immediately take much notice of the new boy.  But one afternoon, something happened which brought the two of them into friendship.  

A children's home can be a harsh environment.  There is almost always a famine of love and affection, so the few crumbs which are available are jealously fought over by those who crave them.  Moreover, there are very few toys or special things of any kind.  Perhaps because Oliver had not been there as long as the other children, or because he had been particularly fortunate to have kind adults take an interest in his life, he remained remarkably generous, and open hearted.   

On this particular afternoon, another boy named O, whom Oliver had befriended, had received a special treasure---chocolate.  A kind woman who visited the home, had given him a small chocolate bar, and ruffled his hair.  O was in the thralls of delight!   Affection and chocolate in one day!  He ran to find Oliver and brag about his good luck.  He might even share some of the chocolate.  Unfortunately for O, his good fortune that day did not last.  It is strange how often good fortune, can quickly turn to bad fortune.  O's chocolate bar had not gone unnoticed by the other children, and a small gang of larger boys was already quickly baring down on the young boy.  He was quickly cornered and relieved of his chocolate.  

Tears were in his eyes, but crying was not something that had much effect at the children's home.  O stood desolate.  With so few treasures, so far apart, the loss of one was a great loss indeed.  But a loss born with a friend is better than a loss born alone.  Oliver had seen it all and quickly came to O to console him.  Suddenly Oliver had remembered that Somchai had given give some hard candy when he left the pumpkin factory.  He had put it in his long socks, and forgotten all about it.  He ran to his room, and dug out his treasure.  This was a truly great moment for Oliver.  There was enough for his own pleasure, and better still, there was enough to give to O and experience the pleasure of seeing his friend's sadness turned to joy.  

Oliver already knew one of life's great lessons---that it is more joyful to give than to receive.  To find our pleasure and joy in the pleasure and joy of others is the greatest joy of all.  Triumphant, but cautious, lest the gang of boys take notice, Oliver produced the candy with a flourish before the astonished eyes of O.  Grinning from ear to ear, the two boys savored their treasure under a large mango tree next to the field.  

Chat Chai, who had been pouring over the mountains of paperwork that Asian governments seem so fond of, in his office and from his window had seen everything.  Oliver 's compassion had stirred his own.  He decided he wanted to know more about this boy.  

His bald pate shinning in the blinding sun, he approached Oliver and with a hand upon the boy's shoulder told him what a good and kind thing he had done for his friend.  Oliver was surprised that Chat Chai seemed to know about the candy, but this was quickly dismissed by the sheer joy of paternal affection and encouraging words.  Oliver swelled with pride, and felt things couldn't possibly get better than this moment.  But in this, he was mistaken.  

Chat Chai scratched his bald head.  It was a bit tricky getting involved in another social worker's case.  He didn't want to offend or worse, cause shame to one of his co-workers.  Though, truth be told, some of them were perhaps worthy of it.  He would have to think about Oliver and what could be done.  

The solution was still weeks away, and required help from others beyond Chat Chai, but the wheels had begun turning, and the next stage of Oliver's life was beginning.  This gentle, bald angel was forming a plan, and he would soon put in into motion.  

Chapter 12 Faithful Hearts

For the vast majority of us, we will never see or know the fruit of our life and love this side of eternity.  Love is a lot like farming.  We plow, till, plant, water, and we pray.  But the harvests of love can often be slow in coming.  At times, we despair altogether of any harvest appearing at all.  The virtue of faithfulness is very important when it comes to love and relationships.  We must not give up on our love or on those we love too soon, for want of fruit or harvest.  In the end, we do not love in order to change others, but in order to change ourselves.  We love because of what we are, not what others deserve.  

We must for the moment, leave Oliver's story and enter another which was running parallel to Oliver's during this same time period.  While each of us has our own story, one which we can never fully share with another except God, all of our individual stories cross, intersect, and connect in fascinating ways during our lives.  We are exceptional individuals, woven together into interdependent community.  

Dom was a man of small stature, but immense heart.  The loss of his father when he was only a boy, had led to his being moved to a children's home where he remained until he finished high school.  This had hurt him deeply, but Dom decided to allow the hurt to make him compassionate instead of bitter.  Not every child at the home was able to do the same.  Dom was now in his 50's.  He had spent the last 15 years of his life working for a foundation where he fostered up to 5 boys in his own home.  He was also the proud father of two biological sons.  

Being a foster parent was hard work, for little pay but Dom believed it was what he was made to do.  He was a teacher before, and one of his great loves was imparting knowledge to others.  His wife Muay was also a former teacher and shared his heart for children.  This work also gave meaning to his own painful childhood, and in a powerful way, redeemed it.  For if his suffering was meaningless, there was little good to be got out of it.  But, if the suffering meant he could help those in a special way who were experiencing the same kind of pain, then the suffering was not in vain, but for a purpose.  Human beings can bare an astonishing amount of pain if it is for a purpose, especially a divine purpose like the love of another.  

The foundation where Dom worked was called Faithful Heart, and he exemplified the name.  15 years with 5-7 boys living in your home would be enough to drive anyone to selfishness or madness.  But Dom had grown wiser and more patient by having his patience continually tested.  Many of us forget that this is the only way to gain more patience and are generally angry when our prayers for patience are answered in this manner.  Dom's faithfulness was beginning to bear fruit after all those years.  Two boys who spent most of their lives with him had graduated high school, gone on to finish college, and were now working in the city.  He couldn't be more proud of them, not only for what they accomplished, but for who they were.  For they were both kind hearted, and hard working like Dom himself.  Dom knew that they would one day be good husbands and fathers too.  

Dom's difficult, but joyful life had gotten considerably more difficult about three year ago.  One of his foster sons Bao had collapsed playing soccer in the hot sun.  They had taken him to the local hospital.  But as a poor tribal boy in an understaffed hospital, he sat on a gurney in the hallway for several hours.  Thankfully Bao, like Oliver had angels watching him too.  A strange foreigner came up to Dom and Bao, seeing the boy in pain and the father in worry.  It was very unusual to see foreigners at this hospital, even more strange to see a foreigner who seemed to work there.  The man asked what was wrong and Dom told him about the collapse.  The man's face became grave at once, and he asked who had seen the boy.  

"No one yet sir," Dom replied.

"He needs to be seen at once.  But this is not the best hospital.  You need to take him to Suan Dok."

"We don't have much money sir.  He is an orphan.  It would take time to get permission to go to Suan Dok.  I am worried about him."

"Wait here," the man said and strode quickly away.  

A few minutes later he returned with a chart in his hand.  He signed his name and made some notes, and then handed the chart to Dom.  

"Take him to Suan Dok right away.  These are his files.  I have already called, and they are waiting to admit him at once.  I think the boy has kidney failure.  His life is in danger.  Go quickly."

Dom was astonished.  "Thank you so much sir!  Thank you, I will go now!"

About 30 minutes later Bao was taken into emergency surgery with kidney failure.  They installed a port so that he could begin doing dialysis.  Both his kidneys were nonfunctioning, and had Dom waited another hour, the boy would have been dead.  There was some confusion later about how the boy had been admitted.  Dom tried in vain to discover who the faithful foreign doctor was who had saved Bao's life.  They never saw the man again.  

Years later, Bao had ended up with two separate kidney transplants.  After the first failed, a search was made for a blood relative of Bao's who would donate one of their kidneys to him.  A half-sister was found, and to everyone's surprise, she agreed at once and without hesitation to donate one of her kidneys.  Her's was another faithful heart.  For she loved without reason or consideration.  

Bom was finally healthy again, three years since his first collapse.  He finished high school, despite all the setbacks, and was now starting college.  Bao was leave Dom's house to go to college.  

This meant that Dom had an open space for another boy.  So while Oliver was at the boxing gym, and then working at the pumpkin factory, and the children's home, all along a place and a person were being prepared for him.  

Chapter 13 Making the Connection

Oliver had been passing his days as well as he could at the children's home.  He was oblivious to Chat Chai's efforts on his behalf.  Chat Chai had determined to say nothing to Oliver until he had something good to tell.  He didn't want the boy to get his hopes us and then have them dashed if things didn't work out.  

Chat Chai's brain was working overtime.  His normal caseload was enough to bury anyone, and Oliver's situation was increasingly filling his mind even when he went home each night.  A memory was nagging somewhere in his head that he couldn't quite bring out.  What was it?  Where was it?  A training?  Maybe.  A conference?  

Slowly the memory came into focus.  Yes!  Yes, a training!  Which training?  It was an acronym.  The foreigners loved acronyms.  But which one.  There seemed to be hundreds.  

Something about families.  FCT?  Family Care Thailand?  That was close, but not quite right.  Something Care Thailand.  Alternative Care!  That was it!  They had talked about different options for vulnerable children and families, so kids could stay with their families instead of get put into institutional shelters.  There was a young woman there.  She was very happy.  No, her name was Joy!  Yes, Joy!  She was with the foreigner with big muscles who smiled all the time.  What was the name of their foundation?  They said they tried to support single parent families whenever possible, but they also had foster families for kids who couldn't stay with their families or didn't have any.  What was the name?

Foster Foundation?  No, no that wasn't it.  Chat Chai sat thinking hard and suddenly it came to him: the faithful!  Faithful Heart Foundation!  He had it.  A few moments later, with the aid of Google, he had a phone number and had managed to get the happy young woman Joy on the phone.

Chapter 14 A New Home, A New Family

Chat Chai was beaming.  He was, with good reason quite pleased with himself.  He crossed the parking lot and field of the government compound and sought out Oliver.  

"Oliver!  Come here, I have some good news for you!"

This was a rare treat for Oliver, and he came eagerly.  

"Sawadii Krup Kuhn Chat Chai.  Hello!  You have good news for me?"

"Yes, you are a very lucky boy.  I have talked to a foundation and they have a place for you in one of their foster families."

Oliver had no idea what this meant, and there was a moment his chest tightened when he realized another major change was coming to his life.  But the children's home was not much fun, and he welcomed the change all the same.  

"Yes, you are very lucky!  This is a good foundation.  Everyone says they take really good care of the kids, and they really love them. You will be happy there and you will get to go to school.  Would you like that Oliver?"

Oliver's mind was racing.  A family?  School?  He hadn't liked school much in the village, but that was before he knew what the rest of life could be like.  School was sounding pretty good.  

"Yes!  I want to go. When will I go?"

"The foundation will come today, and the house father you will live with too. Get cleaned up and put your best shirt on.  You want to make a good impression.  I told them you were a good boy and smart.  Go, hurry.  The will be here in an hour."

Oliver was nervous, but cleaner than he had perhaps ever been in his life.  A black pickup truck pulled into the compound.  A short, thin man got out of the back door and a pretty young woman got out of the front.  The man who was driving was a foreigner.  He had big muscles and a big smile.  Oliver liked him at once.  He was like the boxers from the gym or the professional wrestlers on tv.  Chat Chai greeted them warmly and introduced Oliver.  The three new people smiled at him and he felt better.  There was a lot of paperwork and Oliver was left outside while they talked with Chat Chai for what seemed like a long time.  Finally, the short, thin man came out and began to talk to him.  He had a very square jaw, but spoke with a gentle kind voice.  

"Hello Oliver, my name is Dom.  I am a house father at Faithful Heart Foundation.  What do you think about coming to live with my family?"

Oliver replied at once, "I would like to go."

Dom asked him about his own family.  Oliver cautiously told as much as he himself knew.  

Dom asked if he wouldn't rather go back and stay with his mom.  Oliver shook his head.  He didn't want to go back to the village.  He had asked Chat Chai once about going back home, and he told Oliver that it was not possible.  They had managed to talk to his sister, who helped translate for the mother.  His mother said he was stubborn and disobedient and that she could not take care of him.  Oliver's sister missed him, but she said she couldn't take care of him either.  

Oliver decided he liked Dom.  He spoke slowly and listened carefully to what Oliver said.  it was strange to have an adult give him such careful attention and ask him questions.  Up till this point, Oliver had never really been asked about what he would like, and Dom had asked right away.  

Dom explained more about his home and his family.  He said there were other boys like Oliver, as well as his own two sons.  He talked about his wife too.  A short while later Chat Chai, the young woman, and the foreigner came out of the building.  Everyone asked Oliver what he thought about going to Dom's house.  Oliver said he wanted to go.  A few minutes later, Oliver had rounded up his meager possessions in a small bag and climbed into the black pickup truck with Dom.  

Chapter 15 The New Normal

Nearly a year had passed since Oliver had moved from the children's home to Dom's house.  Oliver was almost 12 years old, though his exact birthday was unknown to him.  It was sometime in May.  

He really like Dom's house.  The other boys were nice, and he made fast friends.  They fought like all boys occasionally did, but Dom frequently worked with them to resolve their own conflicts.  He would listen to everyone very patiently and then carefully explain what they could do, and then ask them what they wanted to do.  It was very strange at first, but Oliver had noticed a change in himself already.  Thinking about conflict like a problem to be solved helped him calm down and think, instead of simply react.  There had been other troubles.  Oliver had not been to school for a long time.  The rigid schedule and hard work took some getting used to.  Dom encouraged him to not worry about his grades right away, but to focus on his own progress.  

"If you get a little better each day, eventually you will catch up with the other kids and things will get easier."

The schedule and routine had at first chaffed him, but he was coming to see the benefits too.  For the first time in his life, he felt he could depend on things to go on as they had gone.  

Meals were at the same time each day, and there was always plenty to eat.  School was the same day in and day out.  Evenings meant homework, chores, and then free time to watch tv, or play games or just relax.  Weekends were the best.  Dom would take the boys to the big park and they would all exercise; running, playing football, or even sometimes swimming.  Oliver didn't know how to swim, but he was learning.  

He did not know how to feel when Dom asked him if he would like to go back and visit his family in the village.  

"Your not sending me back?!"

"No, no this would just be for a visit, to see you mother and your sister.  Then when we are done, we would come back together."

"How long would we stay?"

"Just a few hours.  We would go and come back on the same day.  What do you think?  Would you like to see your family?"

Oliver thought about it.  He would like to see his hometown again.  He missed his sister, and he wanted to show him mother that he was doing so well.  

"Yes, I would like to go."

Chapter 16 The Old Stomping Grounds

Oliver sat hunched forward in the rear middle seat of the black pick up truck.  The foreigner with the muscles was driving.  Joy, the young woman sat in the passenger seat.  Dom and Ploy sat on either side of Olvier.  Matt drove fast, and Oliver thought to himself that one day, when he had big muscles, he would drive fast too.  The others joked about this, and Matt laughed but often did slow down when they said something.  

Oliver had almost forgotten how beautiful the mountains were in Thailand.  The road wove through the mountains, through valleys, and next to wide brown rivers.  Bamboo, trees of all kinds, and many cultivated terraced fields filled the scenery as they drove.  It was over 3 hours to Oliver's village.  They stopped for gas and Matt tried to coax Oliver into eating something from a bakery.  Oliver hated bread.  Why the foreigners loved it so much was beyond his comprehension.  Why eat the squishy pastry when there was good rice?  Ploy rescued him and got him a sweet Thai tea instead.  

They continued the beautiful drive.  It was hard to see far, because there was smoke everywhere.  Oliver knew about this from his childhood.  Every year, after the harvest, the farmers all burned their crops.  It produced so much smoke that half the country was covered in haze for almost 2 full months.  The neighboring nations practiced the same sort of slash and burn agriculture which was was the haze was so thick.  

It was strange to be going back home.  Oliver was proud that he knew the way.  He asked if they could stop for noodles.  They said sure and stopped at the next noodle shop along the road.  They assumed Oliver was hungry, but he wasn't.  He was thinking of his mother.  Noodles were her favorite food.  He came back carrying the tightly rubber-banded clear bag containing the soup and noodles.  

They stopped again at the entrance to his village to get some snacks to share from the local shop.  Oliver jumped out and looked around. Sure enough, there was Mr Theerachai who ran the shop.  

"Ehhh, who is this boy?" a voice bellowed.  "This can't be Oliver.  Oliver was just a small boy, who is this big boy?"

Oliver smiled with pride, and a little shyness.  The man placed his hands on Oliver's shoulders and looked at him.

"How are you Oliver?  Are you a good boy?  Are you in school?"

"Yes, Mr Theerachai. I finished school last week.  I am on summer break."

My Theerachai turned to the others and laughed; "This boy.  He was never in school.   He was always here and there and everywhere."

Oliver blushed slightly, but the foreigner came over smiling, and put his hand on Oliver's other shoulder.

"This boy is very clever, he is doing very well in school.  He is a good boy."

Oliver nodded eagerly to assure the man that this was the truth.  Mr Theerachai seemed slightly surprised, but broke into a wide smile.

"Good!  You keep up the good work Oliver.  Make the village proud."

This was a new sensation for Oliver.  It had not occurred to him that some of the people from his village might view his staying in the city with the foundation as an enviable opportunity.  

Perhaps because he had developed the reputation as a ne'erdowell so soon, most people seemed to expect little of him.  Now, it seemed the village was looking to him to represent them well in the big city.  

They were nearing his home now.  A flood of memories and feelings came back to Oliver while he sat in that truck.  

They parked the truck in the neighbors dirt parking spot, and walked past the larger wood house to the small grove of bamboo and fruit trees where the small wooden house sat, on stilts like most traditional Thai dwellings.  it was rough cut timber, with no windows or screens.  A small platform off the back of the house was the outdoor kitchen, were food was prepared over an open fire.  A scraggly electrical line did run to the house from somewhere, and a small fan and a hanging bulb were evidence that at least at some times, there was electricity.  

A sheet metal outhouse sat behind the house on the left.  It was truly, a beautiful place.  Settled among the green hills, and the blue sky it was a picturesque background.  The human contribution was less so, but there was a primitive simplicity and beauty about the wooden houses too.  Patches of burned grass showed frequent fires around the house.  A blue tarp lay on the ground with seeds of some variety drying in the sun.  

Chapter 17 Home?

As they approached the house, two small children, a boy and a girl about 6 years old stood on the balcony to see this strange troupe arrive.  They quickly retreated behind the young woman who stood to greet them with a bow and folded hands, the typical greeting in Thailand.  A much older, and much smaller woman also rose and came forward.  Her head was wrapped in some kind of colorful shawl.  Her face was wrinkled and worn by the sun.  She moved slowly and with difficulty.  Her teeth were stained dark and there seemed to be a swelling of some kind on the right side of her mouth.  Her dark eyes revealed nothing.  She did not smile as the younger woman had and her bow was much more perfunctory.  

Oliver led the way up the few stairs and they all were seated on the floor in a rough circle.  Oliver had not seen his mother in over a year.  Yet, there was no sign of affection or greeting.  She neither hugged him, not extended a hand to touch him.  Her eyes betrayed a quick appraisal of him, but nothing else.  Oliver tentatively produced the bag of soup and noodles and slide them to his mother.  She received them, but said nothing.  He then produced another bag of snacks which he also slide across the floor to her.  These she received and began to examine.  She passed them to the two children who shyly, but eagerly grasped them and began to tear them open and eat them.  Oliver took off the large black sunglasses perched on his head and held them out for the little boy.  The boy looked at the young woman, before darting forward to receive them.  He put them on, and smiled proudly.  They were enormous on his small face and made the others smile, though not Oliver's mother.  

Suddenly, a loud grunt came from the small room opening to the left, and an equally loud smacking sound, like someone had just struck the wooden wall with force.  The young woman arose unperturbed and helped a large, fat boy to seat himself in the doorway.  His head was enormous, even for his rotund body.  the boy grunted again and again, and began to smack the frame of the doorway.  The young woman explained apologetically that this was her other son, he could not talk or walk, use the bathroom or feed himself.  His face was beaming with excitement to see the visitors.  He perked up even more when snacks were passed to him and the young woman began to feed small bites into his mouth.  His grunts and smacks were a frequent background to the long conversation that ensued.  Occasionally, becoming more insistent and intense when he wished to convey something.  

Oliver's sister, for so the young woman was, though clearly more than 10 years his senior, explained that the mother spoke no Thai.  She would have to translate from the Karen dialect spoken in the village for her and for the group from the city.  

"Are these your children?" Ploy asked her.

"Yes, my daughter is 6 years old and my son is 12," she gestured to the rotund disabled boy next to her.  "But this boy," here she gestured to the small boy wearing Oliver's sunglasses, "his mother lived nearby, but she threw him out when he was little and left.  So we take care of him."

This painful remark was made casually in the small boy's presence, and the boy himself, looked away, but said nothing.  

A young man climbed quietly up the steps and sat in a corner.  He was lean and strong, and his skin darkened by the sun.  

"This is my husband," the young woman said by way of explanation.  "He works in the fields."

The man nodded, but said nothing.  His face was wary, but not unkind.  He seemed uncomfortable among new people.  

Chapter 18 Village Life

Joy was the social worker at Faithful Heart and gave the introductions.  She explained that there were two reasons for their visit.  The first, was simply so Oliver could see his mother and family.  The second was so to complete paperwork that would allow Oliver to apply for official citizenship.  For this, they needed documents and signatures from the family.  

Oliver's sister nodded vigorously.  

"I have no ID, not does my mother.  I have two other brothers, and one of them managed to get his ID."

Joy said this was very good.  With new DNA testing, if they could prove they were related to the brother with the ID, it was possible for all of them to get citizenship and an official ID.  Joy motioned to Ploy, who produced a bunch of papers and they proceeded to sign and fill them in.  

Oliver's mother had been looking at him and largely ignoring the previous conversation.  She muttered something that was hard to hear.  

The sister, without looking up from the papers automatically translated.

"She wants to know if Oliver is still a stubborn boy."

These were the first words his mother directed towards him.  Dom answered enthusiastically, "He is a very good boy.  He works hard in school and helps at the home.  He is very generous. You can be very proud of him."

The mother grunted slightly but said nothing more.  The large boy sitting in the doorway suddenly grunted so loud everyone jumped, and began to pound on the door frame.  He refused the food offered to placate him and continued grunting and smacking loudly.  Oliver's mother moved next to him to try to calm him.  The large boy was as strong as she was, and grabbed the shawl wrapped about her head.  She used her free hand to hold it down, and the other to try to restrain the boy.  It was both comical and tragic at the same time.  The boy seemed to find her discomfort amusing and was only encouraged to further mischief.  Eventually, it was discovered that he was thirsty and water was retrieved by the little girl and he was quieted again.  

As if to apologize, Oliver's sister explained that she had given birth to the boy here in the house, with no doctors or help.  

"He was born here, and it was very difficult.  The labor was very long and painful.  Even when he came out, he would start to shake violently.  He shook like that for nine days.  We didn't know what to do.  We thought he would die.  But he didn't die.  But after that, something was wrong.  We didn't know until later that he couldn't walk or talk."

"Couldn't you get to the hospital?" asked Joy.  

"We have no car, and it is a long way.  Only the motorbike, and he was a big baby, even then.  There was no one to take us, so we just stayed here."

"Have you ever seen a specialist to see if they could help him?" Joy asked.  

"Yes, one time we went down to the hospital in the city and the doctors were training him to feed himself and communicate with gestures.  But we didn't have the money to keep going back.  It is a long way."

The foreigner, who had been largely quiet up until this point, looked shocked.  

"I want to make sure I understand," he said in halting Thai, "your son had seizures for 9 days when he was born, but you were not able to get to the hospital to help him?

"Yes, that is the word for the shaking sickness."

"And you have been taking care of him yourselves for 12 years?"

"Yes.  The hardest part is the pampers."

The foreigner looked at his colleagues with confusion.

"Diapers," Joy explained.

"It is quite expensive to get the pampers here, and he has to wear them all the time.  He cannot control his bowls."

"How do you get them here?" the foreigner asked.

"The shop owner orders them from the city and we buy them from him."

The foreigner was quiet for the moment.  He looked at the large boy in the doorway.  There were strange purple marks on his left forearm.  

"What are the marks on his arm," he asked.

"Sometimes when he gets frustrated, and we cannot understand what he wants, he bites himself."

"If we could help you get transportation to the city, would you be willing to take him to work with the doctors there?" 

The woman looked at her husband and seemed unsure what to say.  She finally nodded slowly.  It was not easy with the other children to travel, and the city overwhelmed and frightened them all.  

Joy suggested the foundation could help cover the costs of the diapers and occasionally, transportation for the mother and the boy to go see a specialist in the city.  The woman seemed grateful for this offer. The foreigner was sitting there dumbfounded and amazed.  He looked again at Oliver's mother, sister, and brother-in-law.  It awed him that this poor family was caring for an abandoned child, and a disabled child with virtually no help or support in a tiny wood shack in the middle of the mountains.  Oliver's situation gained some new perspective in his eyes.  A rebellious 10 year old, was perhaps a great burden for this already overtaxed family.  

The foreigner asked if there was snack shop nearby.  Oliver jumped up and said yes, it was just down the road.  

"Come, I will take you."

The foreigner and Oliver walked to the road and turned right.  They found a snack shop just as Oliver had said.  A slim, young girl was sitting in a chair absorbed on her phone.  She rose to greet them and then looked surprised to see Oliver.  

"Ehh, you are back!  When did you come?"

Oliver smiled big, "Today, just visiting my family, then back to the city for school."

The girl, who couldn't have been much older than Oliver retorted:

"You?  In school?  I don't believe it."

Oliver laughed and looked away.  

"It's true.  I go everyday now, and I study."

The girl was impressed, if a bit credulous.  But the foreigner smiled and nodded, assuring her it was the truth.  

"I finished 9th grade," she said proudly.  In the Thai system, grades one to six are elementary, then seven to nine is middle school, and then, if you are fortunate, you can go to high school for ten through twelve.  

The foreigner asked her is she would continue studying and she nodded eagerly  

"What about college?"

"Maybe someday."

"A smart girl like you, you should do it.  Our foundation gives scholarships for college.  If you want to go, ask Oliver and he can get you the information," the foreigner said.  

Oliver's chest swelled with pride.  Not only was he getting an education in the big city, he was now part of the means of bringing help to others in the village.  The foreigner asked Oliver to pick out snacks for all the kids back at his home.  After filling a large bag, the foreigner paid and they walked back to the house. 

The kids were delighted with the treats and tore in at once.   

Joy still had a few more questions.  Turning to the sister, she said,

"Do you think Oliver could come stay with the family during the school break?"

"The sister shook her head no.  There are many problems in our village.  Many people do drugs.  Her eyes darted for a moment towards the mother and her stained teeth, but immediately flew back.  There are a lot of boys here who are not good.  I am afraid Oliver would get back with them."

Oliver was sitting right there the whole time.  This strange way of talking about children in front them as though they were not there or could not hear was strange to the foreigner.  But Oliver merely listened and said nothing. 

Dom asked if they could take a photo of Oliver with his mother and family.  This was done, and then Dom spoke to Oliver,

"Oliver, why don'y you give your mom a hug?  It may be a while before you see her again."

Oliver looked unsure, but leaned in awkwardly and hugged his mother.  She seemed surprised by this, and didn't return his embrace, but neither did she reject it.  Oliver looked back to Dom, as if to say, "Is that enough?"  Dom smiled and nodded.  

Turning to the foreigner, who was always in some state of confusion, he explained that in Karen culture, they do not show much physical affection to their children.  

"It's not good though," Dom said.  "It is good to hug kids.  Our culture needs to learn this.  But you know, culture is hard to change.  It is very strong."

Joy's last question was how to get to the nearest government office where they could submit the paperwork for Oliver's ID card.  The sister showed them the way, and then began to serve them lunch.  This hospitality could not be refused without offense.  A large bamboo tray laden with rice was sit in the middle of the group on the floor.  Then several small bowls with a clear soup with lots of dark pieces and parts floating.  A chicken's severed foot could be seen, and something that looked like intestines.  The foreigner looked nervous, but filled a bowl of his on and was pleasantly surprised to find it was delicious.  A spicy blend of sour and savory.  When he told Oliver's sister it was delicious she replied with some pride that it was their own rice, and one of their own chickens too.  

One last event occurred which was of some significance before the party departed.  After lunch was finished, Oliver's mother hobbled down the steps and disappeared around the back without a word.  She entered the small shack where she lived, the house they were all seated in belonged to the sister, and she came back straightening out some red fabric in her hands.  It was a woven Karen tribal shirt.  These are very common among the Karen people, and every woman learns how to dye the threads and weave the shirts together.  They are beautiful and a symbol of the tribe.  No one knew where the mother had acquired this shirt, but other than being a bit crumpled and dusty, it was in fine condition.  

Without a word she pressed it into Oliver's hands, smoothing it on his chest, and nodding in approval.  Oliver could say nothing, but his eyes glistened with tears.  He carefully folded it, and kept it close to him.  

Goodbyes were said all around, with many bows and folded hands held near the face.  

Chapter 19  Bureaucracy and Blessings

Another 30 minutes in the truck brought them to the local government office.  The foreigner, who seemed to always be hungry, ran next door to a seven eleven to grab some snacks.  Seven Eleven locations are never far off in Thailand.  He returned eating a bag of peanuts, drinking a protein shake, and had a chocolate bar stuffed in his pocket.  He walked into the waiting area past several people.  As he sat munching happily, Ploy turned to him;

"Didn't you recognize the lady you just passed?"

He turned around and was shocked to see Wan Dii, one of the board members of Faithful Heart, smiling at him.  She was one tough lady.  She had worked as a social worker for over 30 years in Thailand.  She was a dignified, Christian lady who had seen it all, and when she spoke people listened.  She had an easy smile, but her eyes hid her thoughts until she decided to share them.  Her's was a mighty meekness of the kind that one day will inherit the earth.   She had spent a lifetime training for it; she had a boundless compassion, but also the wisdom to know when what a client needed was not a hand out, but a gentle push.     

"Ahhh, kuhn Wan Dii!  How are you?  What are you doing here?" he asked.

Wan Dii laughed and said she was working on an ID case.  

"So, are we!"

"Joy already told me about your boy Oliver, right?"

"Yes, that is so funny meeting you here.  I haven't seen you since our last board meeting."

Wan Dii laughed again.  "Yes, we meet here, in the middle of nowhere, and we never meet in the city.  Come, there is a man you must meet."

She brought the foreigner to a round, short man who reminded him a bit of Humpty Dumpty.  

"If you are a friend of Wan Dii, you are a friend of mine," the foreigner said in Thai.  

The man smiled and shook hands warmly.  

"I am Pong.  I am a specialist for ID cases."

Wan Dee spoke up, "Pong is being modest.  He is the number one specialist in the country for people who have issues with their citizenship.  He is a good man for you to know."

She turned to Pong and said, "Matt is the director of Faithful Heart.  He works with Joy.  They really love Thai people and they do a lot to help them."

The man shook his head in respect.

"Good, very good!  Here is my card.  If you need help in the future, you let me know.  Now for this boy Oliver, let me see what I can do."

Pong went up to the counter and was greeted by name.  After a brief conversation, he motioned for Joy to bring the paperwork.  They reviewed it together for several minutes and then Pong passed it to the man behind the counter with a smile and a polite bow of thanks.  

"Well, it will take time, but you have everything you need.  I will make sure his case gets moved along.  You are all set."

Everyone was pleasantly surprised.  A trip to a government office usually means hours of waiting.  

Oliver apparently had another unusual angel watching over him.  This was good news for his family too.  After a warm farewell to Wan Dii, they climbed back into the truck and started the 3 hour drive back to the city.  

Epilogue

Oliver's life was complicated.  The external chaos of his early years, left an internal chaos that he never could quite shake.  

Some kids at school called him an orphan because he stayed with a foundation.  In Thailand, the legal definition of an orphan is more broad and includes any child from a single parent home.  So technically, it was true that Oliver was an orphan.  

But he didn't feel like one.  He supposed in order to know how an orphan feels, he would have to actually be one.  Maybe he just didn't know the difference between how he felt, and how a real orphan felt.  He loved Dom and Piikune, and he knew they really loved him.  He also knew they were paid to take care of him.  His feelings for his biological mother were even more complicated.  

No boy could stop loving his mother, not really, or at least so his young mind reasoned.  Oliver wanted to love his mother.  But love between a child and his mother feels so unnatural when it is one-sided, especially when it is on the side of the child.  I am not sure Oliver's mother did not love him, but he could not feel it, and for a child, that shade of distinction was unhelpful.  For Oliver's part, he went to see his mother every summer when school was out.  He never stayed long, but it was important to him to see her, and his sister.  He was beginning to realize that he owed a great debt to his sister.  She had been as much a mother to him as his own mother had been, even when they were both quite young.  

Oliver was forgetting his native Karin language.  Dom was also Karen, but spoke a different dialect.  He knew Dom and Piikune loved him, but he wasn't sure where he belonged, who he was.  

That feeling, like an incurable itch, would be with him the rest of his life.  

Oliver had much to be grateful for, but also much to mourn over.  Many people had been with him in his sojourn on this planet so far, but a part of him would always feel alone. 

This is the end of this account of Oliver's story.  But his story is still just beginning.

Happy this sweet pea recovered from her tonsil surgery so quickly

We took the Faithful Heart Boys to the beach for a few days this spring break

Prayers with good friends in Samoeng, Thailand

Greeting from Thailand!  

Welcome back to our series on building a better life!
This is part 9 of 10.

(I needed to put a limit on this series, though only on the posts themselves---learning and changing is hopefully a lifelong process for all of us)

I think it is helpful for all of us to reflect on how we are growing and what we are learning about life as we go along.

I am sometimes embarrassed by things I thought when I was younger, or yesterday. 
But this is part of the humility of being human---we are never fully, completely, right; but only in the process of learning (that includes the present!).    

I considered calling this post "Rise by Lifting."  

"We rise by lifting others” is a quote by Robert Ingersoll that conveys the idea that helping others can lead to our own personal growth and success as well as those we seek to help.

Good things happen when we get Berean Baptist and Faithful Heart together

A great time with the Berean team

Middleschool graduation !

It has been a foundational idea in my life for many years.  

Jesus taught and demonstrated that the way to find our true selves, and our true life, was to lay down our lives for others.  

It can sound paradoxical in theory, but in practice it becomes obvious.  

We become better kinds of people, better versions of ourselves, and maybe most surprisingly, we become more our true selves not in isolation or individualism, but when we commit ourselves to others. 

Conversely, if our only commitment is to ourselves, and our own welfare, we become not only worse humans, but worse versions of ourselves.   

As we enter our 10th year in Thailand, one thing I have grown more and more confident of is that a life driven by commitments to others is also the best life for ourselves.  

Because our best life is never a selfish life.  

Swiss friends who also minister overseas

Talking about marriage at Kingdom of God church

Ezra climbing mountains

A commitment-driven life can be hard, and it is by nature restrictive, but it is so, so good! 

To gain your life, you must give it away. 
It is a paradox we must embrace to live well and to live in joy.  

The voluntary loss of some freedoms, results in the greatest freedom of all. 

Rick Warren wrote a very popular book years ago called "The Purpose Driven Life."

The idea was that a sense of purpose was more important for a good life than any other consideration---like wealth or success or fame.  

I think he was right.  

I want to add that the greatest sense of purpose in my life has come from serious, and costly commitments I have made to others.  

Sienna climbs too!

Memorial Service for a good man

Coffee shop customers

Anyone who has really loved someone else has experienced this. 

Usually this starts with our families in childhood.  

We commit ourselves to the people who have first committed themselves to us. 
We feel a strong sense of camaraderie, that our welfare is tied up with their welfare.  

If they aren't happy, we can't be fully happy either. 
If they aren't ok, we aren't ok. 
If they are sad, we are sad.   

Parents and siblings are the first people we experience this with.  

But perhaps the most powerful personal commitment we make is when we fall in love.  

Have you ever really considered wedding vows? 
They are pretty crazy things to promise to another human being.  

If this goes well, I commit to you.
If this goes bad, I commit to you.
If we are broke, I am committed to you.
If we get rich, and I could maybe find someone better, but I am still committed to you.
If you get really sick, I won't jump ship, but I will suffer with you.
Until death separates us, I am committed to you, and you are committed to me.  

[my paraphrase]

Pretty serious words.  

For most of us, we don't think much of those words until a few months or years down the road when they become much harder.  

When we realize the person we fell in love with isn't always lovely.  
One of the great tragedies to human happiness is the modern way we consider marriage.  

What used to be a wild, somewhat reckless commitment we made to another, has become a "test drive" to see how well the other suits us.  

The former was a grand and sometimes terrifying adventure.
The latter is a poor attempt to avoid risk and play it safe.  

What we have lost is intimacy and growth that comes from commitments, not feelings.  By hedging our commitments to others, our own lives have been diminished. 

Cute little guy

New linen cabinet is done (and huge)

Ob Khan park

A good marriage has great costs, but it also has great rewards.
Children are another great example of the rewards and costs of commitment.  

9 months of pregnancy, then labor, birth and at least 18 years of relentless teaching, playing, correcting, discipling, encouraging, celebrating, worrying, and praying.   

My point is that these commitments, whether we consciously or unconsciously make them, are not only good for those we commit to, (like our kids and spouses) but they are also good for us.

That is the part that doesn't always seem obvious. 
Especially if you have a difficult partner, or ungrateful children.  

A serious commitment to others almost always starts by feeling like a personal loss, whether it is a loss of freedom, time, or resources.  

But if we stick with it, the rewards are amazing. 
Indeed, they are the substance of all that is really valuable in life.   

Consider marriage again.  
The real gift of marriage is intimacy---and that only comes with time and commitment.

Our obsession with sex is partly a failure to understand real intimacy. 
Intimacy in marriage is so much more than sex. 
It is the bond that forms over years of doing life together.

The mutual understanding, the growth together, the successes and failures endured together, the joy and sorrow weathered together, and all that laughter and silliness!  

In other words, the joyful, secure intimacy of marriage is the reward of commitment. 
If we are unwilling to make that commitment, to take that risk, we will not enjoy the same reward.  

If we are always leaving when things get hard, when our commitment to the other person becomes costly and difficult, we will never experience the joys of intimacy---knowing and being known.  

Or if we enter into every relationship, wary of commitment, and leaving ourselves a convenient way out whenever things get hard, we will never build that intimacy.  

The risk is what produces the reward.  
You cannot have the reward, without the risk.  

Tables for our friend's church and children's home

Strong kids

Delicious home made Korean food!

Commitments to children are another investment that produces unbelievable returns.
Make no mistake raising kids is a lot of work, and it can be brutal at times.  

But the sheer joy and delight my kids bring into my life is unmatched. 
There is no hobby, or pet, or even friendship that really comes close. 

The reward is hearing a little voice screaming with joy, "DAD!!!!" when you come home from a hard day at work.  

It is snuggles on the couch.
Watching a beautiful mini-human grow and develop, and having a (terrifying) role in shaping that child.

The most rewarding, meaningful relationships in my life have come as a result of serious, costly commitments I have made to others. 

It wasn't instant, but the product of years of work.  

Let me go further.  Here is the part I want to urge from my more unique experience of living in a foreign country and working with vulnerable children:

If you want more joy in your life, make more commitments to more people.  Enlarge, don't shrink, the circle of your love. 

The greatest hurts as well as the greatest joys in my life have come as a result of my commitments to others.  

My commitment to my brother Jon made his death from cancer an agony.
But it is also what made it a joy to have him in my life in the first place.

My commitment to my church in college made it an agony to leave.  
But it is also what made my time in college so much rewarding. 

Commitment is always a risk. 
People let us down.
We let others down.

So isn't it better to just go it alone and avoid all that pain?

No.

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," (Tennyson)

It is our commitment to others that gives meaning to our own lives.  

It is the absence of commitment that leaves so many of our lives and relationships feeling shallow and unfulfilling.  

You don't need to be married or have kids of your own, to find meaningful commitments.  

The world has a huge deficit of love and commitment.  

Cute artists

More cute artists

Pii Pen showing her kayak skills

Commit to being a big brother or big sister to kids who need a caring adult. 
Commit to a local church and serve wherever it's needed.
Commit to a friend to communicate regularly and support each other.  

It is true that fulfilling relationships are often two directional.   
There is give and take from both sides---especially in marriage.

Relationships are also negotiations, as Jordan Peterson has pointed out.  Successful relationships are those where both parties have managed to negotiate successfully, so that they each are getting what they need from the relationship.

All that is valid and helpful.

However, I want to suggest that in many of our relationships we can still find deep meaning from a one-way commitment.

We can commit ourselves to others and find great meaning and purpose from that decision. Even if the return commitment is not shared.  

The need for love generally outweighs the will to love.  

In other words, there are more people who need to receive love, before they can give it.  

To address that imbalance, what our world needs is people who can receive love for somewhere (or Someone) else, and then pour love out to the people who desperately need to be loved now, so they can learn to love in the future.  

We need people who can commit to others without conditions, without a return.  

This isn't a superpower some special people possess, but an overflow when we feel secure and deeply loved already.  

Ezra under a boat

Date night!

Mattias of Redwall

"Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.  Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.

...Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.  No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us."  

-1 John 4 

We can love freely, even if others don't return our love, because Someone else loved us first.

God always takes the initiative in committing to others.  

He loves us first, so we are free to love others, with or without a return.  

This life of love and commitment to others is a powerful antidote to the poisonous idea that we if spend our lives doing what we think we want, we will be happy.

A life lived for others is the best life for us.

And the most meaningful commitments are to people, not just causes.   

Changing the world takes a long time.  
But changing one person's life can happen remarkably fast.  

You probably cannot change the world, but you might be able to change a life.  

When we are young, and insecure and trying to prove ourselves, our success compared to others make us feel good about ourselves.  

But imagine the feeling when our success is the success of others?
We can all celebrate together.   

Now that is something!  

Toothless!

German friends who also serve in Thailand

Power for Life

We rise, not by advancing beyond others, but by lifting others.  

We learn that there is something more powerful in the world than selfishness: Love.  

We learn that in giving away, we become richer.
By losing our lives for others, we find them.  

As we begin a new year, let me encourage you to take the risk of committing yourself to the welfare of someone new.  

Open your heart a little wider, and be delightfully surprised to see how committing to the good of someone else can make your own life better.  

Thank you to so many of you who have committed to us.  
May the New Year lead you closer to God and to others.  

Love,

Matt, Audrey, Ezra, and Sienna

Beach time!