The Miles Between

This past weekend, my roommate Megan and I were invited to attend a bible seminary graduation for an intern pastor who spent a year teaching the children in our Remember Nhu homes. The school was in the province of Khon Khan, Thailand, about 10 hours from our home in Chiang Mai. We also have a home in that province that neither Megan nor I have had the chance to visit since it’s quite a distance away. We accepted the invitation to attend the graduation and decided it would be a great opportunity to visit the girls’ home in the process. In Thailand, when traveling to another province, the most common form of transportation is a coach bus. We went to the bus station earlier in the week and purchased two tickets for the overnight, double decker bus that would take us to our destination. Like two girls excited to go on a road trip, we packed our overnight bags, double checked that we had our chargers and toothbrushes, and set out on our way to the bus station. 

The ride itself wasn’t too bad; we sat in the front row of the second story of the bus with our own personal view of Thailand’s countryside illuminated by the bus’ headlights. Sadly, I didn’t see any deer, elephants, or tigers lurking in the bushes. Naturally, I was wide awake for most of the night drive, reading and daydreaming as the bus driver took us deep into and out of mountains and rice fields. I could only imagine how magnificent the mountains must have looked, hidden in the dark night sky. From the mountain view, the stars are quite lovely to watch as they twinkle against the backdrop of the black sky with no city lights to steal their shine. Every now and then when I’m out and about, the view of the mountain ranges all around Chiang Mai takes my breath away, reminding me I am far from home and yet comfortably at home. 

At about 3 AM, I finally fell into an exhausted sleep only to be woken up by an attendant telling me in broken English that we had arrived in Khon Khan earlier than expected, a painful 5:20 AM. I barely had five minutes to gather my stuff, which I managed to unpack during the drive (really, I don’t know how everything came out of my bookbag). The bus started pulling out of the station before I could get down the stairs and like a frantic, crazy person I was expressively and loudly asking the attendant to tell the bus driver to open the door. They happily let me off and I wandered on over to where Megan was sitting, with our luggage, wondering how I managed to almost not make it to Khon Khan.

Our friend Salah picked us up from the bus station and took us to the children’s home. Since we arrived earlier than expected, we were able to eat breakfast with the girls and send them off to school. Most of them recognized Megan and I from previous trips to Chiang Mai for Christmas celebration or Sports Day and were very excited that we came all the way from Chiang Mai to see them. We watched as they piled mounds of rice and sausage links on their plates laughing with each other, discussing what they thought would be for lunch, and if their crushes would be at school that day.  

The normal, girly conversations I had the pleasure to eavesdrop on. My very exhausted heart was filled with such love for these girls, so far from home and living such cared for lives.  

As soon as breakfast was finished, all fifteen of us piled in a songthaew (a truck with the bed covered and benches put in place to transport people to and from) and we headed to school. The girls eagerly got off the songthaew with their tiny hands held open for their daily ka-nom, a snack. With their free hand, the girls waved and shouted, “goodbye,” as they ran off to their classrooms in their bright yellow uniform shirts and pleated skirts. I could have died from the entire cuteness overload. 

Afterwards, we helped the house mom with her weekly grocery shopping at the local market. I’ll never get over how meat and produce are purchased on the sides of the road. Many venders set up shop from their motos or carts, fanning away flies and curious dogs hoping to nab scraps that have fallen on the floor. The streets were full of produce venders with baskets of luscious morning glory and bok choy.  Meat venders displayed trays of pork, chicken, and fish ready to be weighed and purchased by the kilo. Even though we shopped early in the morning, the full bodied smells of meat and sewage reminded me I was exhausted and couldn’t battle Khon Khan head on.  So, I gracefully stepped to the side, numerous times, to escape being trapped in the smell of pork ripening in the summer heat. There was so much stimulation going on; mothers toting their children around as they inspected eggs, fruit vendors pushing their carts of mangos and pineapple calling out to potential customers, homeless men wandering around the streets begging for money or scraps of food, and normal everyday life happening whether I was there or not. We left the market around 10:30 and decided to grab lunch. With my mornings normally starting around 8 or 9, I was surprised that so much had been accomplished before 11. 

At noon we were dropped off at our hotel. I showered and laid my head on the pillow to be woken up a couple hours later by my boss’ wife calling to let us know we should be ready around 4 to make a final visit to the children’s home before heading to the graduation.

The children had just gotten home from school when we pulled up to the house, and they had immediately started their chores. A group of girls began laundry, another started cleaning the living room/bathroom area, and another group started cooking dinner. The girls were excited to see us again but were focused on finishing their chores. Once they were all completed, they gathered around us as we brought out games like Chutes and Ladders and Memory.

We only had about an hour with the girls before we had to leave for graduation. During this time, I learned that two of the girls living in this home were related to a young boy that lived in our boys’ home in Chiang Mai. The house mom shared that their father had passed away from a disease and the mother was not capable of taking care of all four of her children. Her young son was the first to enter our home and when he would return to his village during breaks he would share his experiences with his mother. She appreciated that he had chores he needed to complete every day, that someone was able to help him with homework when he didn’t understand, and that every time he came home to visit, he always had more than enough clothes. The mother, growing older and incapable of caring for her three remaining children, decided she would enroll them into our homes. Unfortunately, there was no space in our Chiang Mai homes. The only available option was Khon Khan, about 13 hours away from their village. The mother loved what she heard about our homes when her son would visit that she didn’t think twice about sending her girls so far away. Although the distance was a huge factor in sending her children away, the values and skills her girls would learn in this home made up for the miles between them. I showed them a photo of their younger brother I had taken just weeks before and their faces lit up! They immediately started asking me questions like, was he behaving or being naughty and if he was doing well in school. I was just as excited to have answers for them. I was also excited to take a photo with the girls, so I could show their brother who I had the pleasure of meeting that weekend.

We left the home and headed to graduation, which was encouraging, watching about 24 students receive a diploma allowing them to pastor future churches. The intern we went to support was so thankful that we were able to be a part of this meaningful moment. Graduation lasted about two and a half hours and once it was finished we headed back to the hotel knowing we had an early morning and long drive back home.

As I laid in bed, the smiling faces of our girls replayed in my mind. I can’t imagine the hardships these little ones might have gone through before arriving at our homes. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be separated from family members because of financial, emotional, or safety reasons. I can’t imagine how much they must miss home. Yet none of these emotions ever showed on their soft, round faces. The emotions you could see were happiness, love, laughter, and hope. How exciting that these children have future to look forward to!

For I know the plans I have for you," says the LORD. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11