The Right Time of Year
This is definitely the right time of the year to visit Northern Thailand: upper 70s (fahrenheit, of course) in the morning and evening, no higher than mid 80s in the afternoon.
April – the absolute worst month for air quality and temperature – is still a few weeks away, and we’re a long way off from rainy season. So, yeah. It’s pretty much ideal.
The cool weather makes the long evenings with the kids a real pleasure. We can play badminton, volleyball and takraw for hours without melting. You can still see a few mosquitos, but they’re pretty manageable with a light dusting of insect repellent
Best of all, I’m here with Kori. Unlike last year, she’s not stuck back in Columbus working. Oh, and I’m not confined to a guesthouse recovering from COVID 8,000 miles from home. In every way, this has been a better trip than my last one.
Having skipped a year, Kori’s meeting a lot of new kids – and missing a bunch of the teens who have graduated and moved off to college. We have pretty much given up on remembering individual kids’ names. We have more 200 kids in our care in Thailand, and most of them go by nicknames, making it impossible to review names based on their official bios.
Also, we’re old.
But there are always a few dozen whose names spring easily to mind: Bo, who always makes flower bouquets for me. Khaopoad (Thai for “corn”), who sticks to me like glue. Noah, who has always had a special connection with Kori – as a tiny boy he would attach himself to her hip, and hold her hand anytime it was free – still smiles at her shyly and chooses the seat next to her at church, despite the fact that as a lanky teen, he now towers over her.
And there are ones I’ve met only recently whose names I won’t share here, but whose personal stories have made a lasting impact on us. Ahe young girl who was orphaned after her father killed her mother, tried to kill her, and then ended his own life. Or the boy who came to us after both of his parents were given a life sentence for drug trafficking. Or the girl who was abandoned by her mom and orphaned when her dad was jailed for killing her older brother.
Yesterday at church I shared a simple message – the only kind I feel called to preach these days – about God’s love. The kind of love that never abuses, never abandons, never gives up, never runs low on money, and whose arm is always long enough to protect. It’s the sort of love that many of us accept on an intellectual level, but rarely absorb at an emotional, tangible reality.
I hope some of it got through, and that my preaching and prayers helped even one child felt a little more safe, more accepted, more loved. But I know that no sermon can replace – or even add meaningfully to – the experience of God’s love these kids receive from their parents and caregivers at Asia’s Hope. That’s what heals them. That’s what gives them hope.
It’s an honor to play even a small role in the lives of these kids, and to help provide for the families that have welcomed them.
