Broken into beautiful

It's been one of those weeks for me. Those weeks when you are reminded countless times just how broken life is, how broken each of us are. We run around pretending that we are okay, covering our shame, our fear, our emptiness, our pain. We struggle with the ordinary moments, the monotony of daily life as we dredge ourselves up to do it One More Time. We struggle with the crises, the moments that divide lives into 'before' and 'after'. Weeks like this weigh heavily.

Truth is, we're all broken. But you know that, you don't need me to tell you. You know that the person next to you, the one who looks like they have it all together, doesn't. Too often we think we are the only one whose house is a disaster, whose family is struggling, who crumbles under the weight of their job or their relationships or their expectations. But we aren't the only ones. You don't usually even have to peel back many layers to find it. Right under the surface, we carry our silent grief, our hidden guilt, our quiet tears.

As I encountered situation after situation this week that broke my heart, I was reminded of how easy it is, especially in the age of social media, for us to build a façade and hide behind it. I know I do. But I was also reminded that wherever there is brokenness there is also Jesus. Lift up your heads, you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. 

In our weakness, He is there. When my family gathers for a fall weekend in Northern Michigan and I sit under the air con in Bangkok, the King of glory may come in. When leaders stumble, the King of glory may come in. When cancer invades and families are left without husbands and fathers, the King of glory may come in. When young people make tragic decisions, the King of glory may come in. When the clock ticks on and hope seems futile, the King of glory may come in. When babies die and a mother's arms are left empty, the King of glory may come in. When families struggle, the King of glory may come in. He can make broken things beautiful. He's the only one that can make broken things beautiful. In fact, he came to make broken into beautiful. 

Whatever you are facing this week dear friends, the King of glory may come in. 

He loves you. 

He is with you. 

He is for you. And he is mighty in battle. 

Run Clare, Run!

I am not a runner. In middle school a friend talked me into joining the track team to increase my fitness for skating, and I did the long jump event. On vacations up north in high school I'd try to go running with my friends and turn back early. In college my friends and I made bucket lists, years before bucket lists were a thing. I put "run a 5K" on my list right alongside things like climb a mountain and meet Michelle Kwan. That's about how realistic I thought it was. 

In early 2006 I decided I wasn't getting any younger and my knees weren't getting any better- it was now or never for the 5K so I used a couch to 5K program and ran in the Dexter-Ann Arbor Run. A year later I ran again, and cut 3 minutes off my time. Then, I moved to Argentina and did a small bit of jogging from time to time, but not much. Everywhere I go I seem to find myself in the midst of runners- Katie and Cora in Ann Arbor, Rebecca, Donna, and Joanna in Argentina, then a whole lot of people here. About this time last year my friends convinced me that I should run a December 10K with them. I was doubtful that it was physically possible, but I trained for it  and dragged myself across the finish line (which by the way, ended up being more like 11.7K). I wanted to be sure I got back in the running habit after Mike and Sara's Christmas visit, so I ran a second 10K in a early February. 

This past week I did possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life: I signed up for a half marathon at Angkor Wat in December. I just may come home in a body bag. I know I've felt that way about shorter distances before, but this time I really do have significant doubts. To make matters worse, my training program is supposed to start Monday, but I've had some major pinched nerves in my neck and the past week and unable to do anything much at all. Hopefully that will get sorted out soon so I can start getting some miles in. I still don't really like running or consider myself a runner but somehow I thought this would be a good idea. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it! 

Clare vs. The ATM card: losing the battle, and the war

Those of you who have been following my blog from the beginning may well remember the Great ATM Card Debacles of 2011. In my first semester here I lost my ATM card. Twice. To be fair, one time it wasn't lost, but rather eaten by the machine when I could not remember the PIN. I've had an ATM card (and sometimes in more than one country) since the late 90's and I'd never lost one before I came here. In a cash based society, losing your ATM card is fatal. It took me several tries to get it all sorted when I did it the first few times, and the lady at the bank branch definitely scolded me the second time, seeing as it was only a month or so later. 

It's been nearly two years since I lost my card. I was feeling so proud of myself. 22 months, and luck ran out. Pride cometh before the fall. 

The root of the problem is that the very last thing the ATM does is return your card, so it takes a great deal of concentration to not walk away without it. The first time I lost it, I had been talking to a friend while getting cash. Never again have I talked and used the ATM at the same time. This past Friday after school, I need a massage. I'd been in moderate to severe pain all day due to muscle tension (too much tension to feel the pinched nerve underneath it) and ended the day with a stressful meeting that made me want to pull my hair out. Or someone else's. I needed cash for the massage so I stopped at the ATM in that frazzled state. Mistake. 

Saturday morning I got ready to leave for a friend's house and discovered the card was gone. Checked for card activity: none. Called to cancel the card. I'm a pro at this now. In theory it's actually quite easy to get a new card, except you need your passport, and our school keeps ours, so mine wasn't accessible until today. Friends loaned me cash for the weekend and I was not stressing out. At least, not too much. 

There are two types of bank branch- main branches and branches inside malls. The main branches are open from 8:00-3:30. Seriously, who set banking hours? So I go to the mall branches. Today after school my passport and I were off to the bank. I wasn't in a rush so I took the bus, walking in the heat to the bus stop, riding on a bus with no AC, then walking to the bank. I waited in line for an bit and then signed the million forms for a new card. Paperwork set. And then she got out the new card. It has a special chip in it, she told me. New security feature. Cannot be used at any other bank besides Bangkok Bank. Uh-oh. I use mine on the islands, at other banks when the BKK ATM at my apartment runs out of cash, and perhaps most importantly, in foreign countries. No can do lady. Except they don't have regular cards at the mall branch. I was unclear on whether this was just because they were out or because they don't issue them. Cannot madam, cannot, was about all I got. She told me I had to go to a main branch if I wanted a regular card. Tomorrow. Between 8-3:30. 

If I rush right after school, and probably take a taxi instead of a bus, and cancel the students coming in for help, then I can make it. But I was already there today, hot, sweaty, and tired. With a flight I need to book online ASAP. And a race I need to register for as well. I know it sounds trivial, but I wanted to cry. I kinda wanted to punch her in the face too, even though it really wasn't her fault. 

I was reminded a few weeks ago that these frustrations are not limited to Thailand. It's just as bad trying to get things done in Argentina, or with most US government agencies (Secretary of State or DMV anyone?). It's 100 times worse in Brazil, or so says my friend who lives and blogs from there (incidentally her stories confirm to me that I will never live in Brazil). But I guess the thing is, when it happens in the US I can at least communicate clearly, and maybe even tell them how ridiculous I think it is. 

So tomorrow I will make attempt number two. And maybe, just maybe, I will emerge with a card that will allow me to get some baht. I also plan to hide some cash in my house for the next time this happens. I hide dollars for if/when disaster strikes and I need tradable currency on hand (perhaps I've lived in Argentina too long) and now I think I'll add baht to the collection. Not for disasters so much as for my own stupidity. 

A city of contrasts

There are days and times when this city chews you up and spits you out. Like when you have to go to four stores to find plain vanilla ice cream, or you can't find a taxi driver to take you to your very nearby destination. Or when you find a driver who will, and he spends the trip asking and moaning at you about why beautiful American women don't like Thai men, then asks you repeatedly if you'd like to try one. Some days you just pretend you don't understand Thai :). Some days the humidity beats you down or Bangkok Belly lands you on the tile floor of your bathroom. 

But not every day. Some days, you get to run in a beautifully maintained public park on a Saturday morning, and then visit the bustling market nearby for a week's worth of fruit and veggies, and fresh flowers. Some days the neighborhood motorcycle taxi drivers don't even have to ask where you're going, becasue they already know. Some days, a plant vendor sets up shop right in front of your apartment building and speaks English and sells bags of potting soil. Organic potting soil. So you buy three bags, and a new plant, since it's been a few months since you've been able to get soil to plant a new acquisition. Some days the sky outside your window lights up in hues of orange and purple, or a gray summer storm crawls slowly across it, rumbling under its breath. 

And some days, you get a whole bunch of both. 

All You Need is Love

I had a conversation with a friend yesterday about living a gospel in Thailand that teaches grace and love to a culture whose majority religion is so deeply rooted in works- in earning ones salvation. And then this morning I read Ephesians 3, and if I could sum up verses 14 to 19 it would say something like

If only you knew! If only you grasped! If only you understood- 

   The depths of God's love for you, and 

   The strength of his power within you.

Truth is, I don't think we have a clue. If we did, how different the world would be. How differently I'd respond to students or stress or inefficiency or even myself if I responded out of a place of love instead of a place of fear or insecurity. 

Have you ever watched a child who truly knows that they are safe and loved in their parents presence? Such freedom and trust!  I was at my friend's house the other day and her nearly-two-year-olds were playing a game jumping off the couch into their Daddy's arms. They leapt off the edge with complete abandon. (Never mind the moment when one didn't notice Daddy was already catching the other and she just walked right off the edge with a plop on the floor, stunned but no worse for the wear). 

I want to be more like them in my spiritual life.  I want to be rooted and established in that love. I want to be filled with the love that surpasses understanding. I want to know that He who does immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine is on my side. I want to fully get it, grasp it, know it. And then I want to live it in a world around me that still stumbles through the darkness of works, that they too may know the freedom and joy that is found only in grace. I want them to know the Beatles were right. All you need is Love. 

First Day of School

No matter what job you have, there are always days when you Just. Can't. Take. It. There are always times when you want to quit. So I am writing this post for those days- which I know will come- as a reminder for myself: I really do actually love my job. I enjoy what I do. I'm good at what I do. And not everyone has that privilege. 

It was a good first day of school. I have tremendous colleagues. Seriously. None of them are allowed to leave or transfer to other departments because our 6th grade team rocks. And we had multiple awesome people jump in and help us this morning as we taught roughly 100 eleven year olds how to open a combination lock. In humid 90 degree weather. In outdoor hallways. That's a lot of little sweaty hands. 

And I have amazing students. I had one 6th grader assigned to helping some new students navigate their first week at ICS. She wrote to me today about how she might be talking in class a little bit but that I should not be concerned- she would be helping her "ambassidees" (she being their 'ambassador'). And sure enough, every time I saw them today they were a little trio. Others treaded through their first day in the midst of last minute schedule changes or broken lockers or extra long lunch lines. My 7th grade Spanish class followed along and got the gist of things and even laughed and smiled as I started off their introductory level class with some language immersion. One of my former students, now an 11th grader (have I really been here that long?) spent part of her summer watering my plants. She stopped by today to give me my keys and chat for a bit- and I love it when my old "kids" stop in. 

I love how new school years give all of us a fresh start. Even when I get behavior reports or academic scores for a kid, if I haven't met them they still get to make a first impression. But it goes the other way too. I get a fresh start with the students I haven't taught before. I get to find better ways to relate to them, better strategies for teaching them, better ideas for supporting them. 

So first day of school, thank you. Thanks for reminding me of why I do this and what I love about it. But also, you are a bit exhausting, so thank for being over too. 

Make new friends, but keep the old

Coming back this year means not only readjusting to life in Thailand and being back at work, but also life without some key individuals. Those friendships, though certainly not over, do move to a new phase and I do have to keep moving here with building on other friendships and making new ones. Without any family around, friends play a much bigger role and many of them even become like family. All the coming and going is part of life abroad, but it's not a part that I have to like. 

And so I walk into this new school year with open arms, ready to push and stretch and try new things. This morning I ran to the park/market with a group of women from our community who run there on Saturday mornings. It's a group I've been aware of since I arrived, but the first time I've stepped out and joined them. I knew all of the ladies there today, but they are not people I see often or really know well and it was a stretch for me to be willing to run with other people (I don't go real fast). So I am proud of that. And I'm excited for things I have in the next few weeks that will help me step out a bit more and make connections with people. But I am also a bit heavy hearted and you know, that's okay. It's okay to miss my friends and colleagues, to step back from time to time and say yeah, this sucks. For the most part, this week has been too busy to dwell in it too much, but it has still been strange and hard to not have them around. I am very thankful for those who are still here, especially my closest friends who are missing the same people I am. In such a transient community, I am grateful for every bit of continuity I can hold onto. 

I also walk into this school year with an ever growing list of people to keep up with long distance. While free texting apps certainly make that easier, there's still a limit to how much time you have for friends and family who are far away. So we juggle it as best we can and treasure the times we do get to talk or Skype or visit. I am so blessed to have friends spread across the globe and thankful for the efforts they make to maintain our friendship over the miles and years.