It’s hard to believe that our time in Thailand is almost over. I’ve written embarrassingly little for this here journal. I’ve taken lots of pictures, but I haven’t kept up with writing.

I’ve had lots of things to say, but have found myself thwarted trying to align time, energy and technology. When I’ve had the time to write, I haven’t had the energy. And when I’ve had the energy and time, I haven’t had access to my computer. Or the internet. And when I’ve had time and technology, well, you know.

I’ve also had a ton of other stuff flooding my mind – preparations for the next legs of our journey, for one. It’s back to Cambodia for me, then India. Just the emotional and spiritual weight of tackling another country is enough to keep me awake when I should be sleeping and make want to take a nap when I should be doing other things. Like writing.

At any rate, my time in Thailand is quickly ending. Which means my family is going home and I’m not. It’s not like I’ll be alone – I will have friends and colleagues joining me from the beginning of August until the close of my trip in the middle of September – but I’m not quite ready to let them go. In fact, I’m not quite sure I’ve scheduled this thing correctly, and I’m considering other ways of doing this next year so I don’t have to make my wife a single mom for so long.

So, tonight it was nice to have a relaxing and rewarding evening fishing with a group of sweet, sweet kids from Doi Saket 2. We went old-school, with Huck-Finn-style stickpoles. I’m not a great fisherman, so it was fortunate to have an extremely well stocked pond at our disposal. It was only slightly more difficult (and way less disturbing) than shooting the proverbial puppy in a box.

We grilled the fish over a charcoal fire, and ate it with mountain rice and generic Thai cola. Delicious, relaxing and a great way to spend my second-to-last day in the country.

This weekend, the Buddhists in Thailand observed their Lenten season, and all the schools across the nation were closed for a four-day weekend. That gave us the opportunity to take the kids from Doi Saket 3 and 4 out to the Chiang Mai Zoo and Aquarium. I’m at the point of the trip where I’m conserving my cash pretty carefully, so Pastor Mike Flinchum, one of our ministry advisors, generously kicked in some of his own money to help make the trip possible.

The kids were thrilled when they heard about the field trip, and apparently woke up very, very early clamoring for the day to begin. When we arrived at the zoo at the agreed-upon time, all of the kids and staff were already there, waiting for who-knows-how-long for us to arrive and pay the entrance fee.

The Chiang Mai Zoo is built into the side of a mountain. Unless you’re fit like Lance Armstrong and don’t mind drowning in your own sweat, the best way to get around is via tram. After we paid for the tickets, we jumped aboard a couple of these open-sided buses and headed up the mountain, around the bend to the aquarium.

It’s a good aquarium. It’s not as good as Chicago’s Shedd, but it’s good. But for a bunch of hilltribe kids who, until a year or so ago had never seen the outside of their village, it was absolutely mindblowing. In my everyday American life, I’m really pretty jaded, inured by my ready access to entertainment and amusement. But being here with these kids, I really get to rediscover my sense of wonder.

After the kids finally tired of walking through the glass tunnel and gawking at the scuba diver feeding the stingrays, we decided to see the rest of the zoo. Only we didn’t really get out of the tram until the last stop before the exit. As we passed the exhibits, the kids would squeal in Thai, “Ostrich!” or “Ooooh! Elephant!” As we headed through a densely forested portion of the zoo, I yelled, “Dinosaur!” and let out a loud roar. I think that at least two of the kids soiled themselves.

At the last stop, we got up close and personal with some hippos and posed for pictures with some pathetic costumed actors, who were probably crying sweltering tears inside their hot, hot foam-rubber sarcophagi.

It was a fantastic day. It was more than just a trip to the zoo, it was another chance to help rebuild the childhood which was stolen from these kids by death, disease and despair. The laughter, the hugs, the pointing and screeching all seemed, well, holy. 

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been in Thailand for almost a week, and I haven’t updated the blog once. Well, it hasn’t been for lack of trying. Some days, I have no time alone. Others, I’ve had no internet access. On the days in which I’ve had a little time, I’ve had to deal with unexpected issues that took away my attention.

Now that I have a few moments to myself, it’s hard to think about what I should tell you. Maybe I’ll just give sort of jumbled update and see if anything comes of it. 

We arrived in Thailand with my sister Julie, her husband Sam and their two kids, Anna and Ethan. Their family has generously supported Asia’s Hope from the very beginning, and Sam is now a member of the American board. This is their first trip to visit Asia’s Hope in person, and it was wonderful to spend time with them, enjoying the kids at the various homes and ‘talking shop’ throughout the day. When they left earlier this week, my kids were, admittedly, a little sad.

We were also joined by Glenn and Chantal Kelly and their three kids, Kaitlyn, Cassidy and Jeremy. Glenn and Chantal are members of the Canadian board, and Glenn also sits on the Executive Board. Glenn and Chantal’s church, Westview Bible in Montreal, sponsors our Battambang 1 home in Cambodia, so they were excited to be able to take their kids to see the children they hear about at home so often. 

Glenn and Chantal have for years worked tirelessly to support our Doi Saket 1 Thailand homes. In fact, this is the only home that we still have that sits outside of our normal church sponsorship model. We receive a portion of the total support from Chet’s Creek Church in Jacksonville, Florida, and the rest comes through the generous support of more than 100 sponsors — many of whom were Glenn’s friends and clients. Glenn and Chantal correspond with these Canadian sponsors, preparing updates and coordinating the collection and recording of the funds. This is a Herculean task, especially for busy people volunteering their time. A million thanks to Glenn and Chantal. We would have never gotten started in Thailand without their vision and dedication.

Anyway, Sam and Julie, Glenn and Chantal and all their kids have now left, and for a while anyway, it’s just our family. Since our arrival in Thailand, we’ve now visited 8 of our 9 Thai homes, and I’m pleased to say that the kids and staff appear to be doing great. We drove up last week to Wiang Pa Pow, our large campus about 2 hours north of Chiang Mai and killed a pig, feasted with the kids and staff and then distributed the meat to our other homes. The sow was probably 400 pounds, and died slowly, but deliciously.

We played soccer and were serendaded by the kids at Doi Saket 3 and 4, and toured the soon-to-be completed new home being built for DS4 by their sponsoring church, Grace Community in Fremont, Ohio. We spent a morning at the DS1 homes, and watched as the kids had their portraits drawn by local artists Glenn hired from the Chiang Mai night market. We played more soccer, and ran around playing silly games with the Doi Saket 2 kids, and worshipped on Sunday morning with all the kids and staff. The trip has been full, but rewarding. Today, we’ll be charting out the rest of our plans for our remaining two weeks in Thailand.

In Cambodia, I have a car to drive, and I can pretty much get around by myself. Not so in Thailand, so I find myself in the hands of others on a daily basis. Challenging for me, but the staff here is so accommodating it is really nothing more than an inconvenience.

I’ve also been unusually busy with correspondence – emails and phone calls and skype meetings often collide with each other, leaving me without much mental energy. But I’d better snap out of it and make the very best of my time in Thailand. I want to spend as much time with the kids as possible. I’m looking forward to the weekend, as the kids are out of school and available to play during the day.

I’ll try to update more frequently. Things here are busy, but pretty easy overall. It’ll get really complicated when I get back to Cambodia, and downright insane when I get to India.

More later…

Doi Saket 2 kids and staff

Doi Saket 3 kids and staffEvening soccer with the Doi Saket 3 and 4 boysMy daughter, Xiu Dan, and her friends from Doi Saket 3"Timothy," a former shaman from a Lahu villageLahu houses in a village similar to ones most of our kids come fromThe Wiang Pa Pow children's homeStaff and kids from Wiang Pa PowWaiting for pork at Wiang Pa PowPracticing guitar at Wiang Pa PowThis little boy is tired.Wiang Pa Pow children's homeGlenn Kelly and his daughter, CassidyThe entrance to our Doi Saket 1 children's homes

Portrait sessions at Doi Saket 1

Learning to make wax molds for silver rings

It’s about 4:00 in the morning, and I really should try to get back to sleep, but my heart and mind are so full, I’m not sure that’s going to be possible.

The last few days have been a whirlwhind. We met my sister, her husband and their two children in Siem Reap, spent two days with them there, drove to Battambang, spent two days here, and now in about 4 hours we’re driving back to Siem Reap where we’ll catch a plane to Chiang Mai, where we will spend 4 very busy days seeing all of Asia’s Hope Thailand before they head off to Koh Samui and then back home to Florida.

They’re on the last legs of a two month round-the-world trip. They’re visiting some of the many charity organizations they’ve supported over the years, including Asia’s Hope. Their blog is very entertaining. At least I think so.

I can’t tell you how excited I am to host Julie, Sam, Ethan and Anna in Cambodia and Thailand. They have supported Asia’s Hope logistically, strategically, prayerfully and financially since the very beginning. Now they get to see firsthand what it’s all about. And boy, that firsthand view is important. As Sam said last night, “All you need to do is to get a pastor over here and his church will support Asia’s Hope.”

The staff and kids at Asia’s Hope are also thrilled to have my family visit, and have been very welcoming. Upon arrival at our hotel in Battambang, we were met by a large group of kids, our national director and his wife, and all of the directors of the Battambang homes. They had flowers and a banner with Sam, Julie, Anna and Ethan’s names. And, as they are with all honored guests, they’ve showered the family with affection every moment they’ve been together.

For those of you who don’t know my brother-in-law Sam, he’s an entrepreneur par excellence with a shrewd, aggressive mind. It’s been great to have him over here. I can almost see the gears behind his eyes spinning as he talks strategy and finance with Savorn, our national director. Even better, though, is watching Sam play with the kids. He’s got a mean game of steal the bacon, and despite his shiny head and devil’s beard, the kids seem to think he’s a big teddy bear. They also love Julie – they cling to her and call her mom. And of course they like Ethan, who they think looks just like Justin Bieber. Some of the older boys were disappointed to find out that, yes, Anna’s too young for them. Back off, Bunheng. 

So, as hard as it is to leave Cambodia, I’m excited about showing off Asia’s Hope Thailand to these guys. I really do hope I can convince Sam to kill the pig at Wiang Pa Pow. Ethan fed a live duck to a crocodile in Siem Reap, how difficult can it really big to spear a sow through the heart?

I guess we’ll find out. Stay tuned.

The Van Voorhis family in Siem ReapSam at the Battambang 5 homeJulie at Battambang 4Anna at Battambang 1Ethan just before the July 4 dance party

Much of my time in Cambodia is spent doing “special” things with the kids – taking them to a water park, celebrating at a church service, boogying at a dance party. Last night, however, we enjoyed some nice, relaxed family time.

At both homes we visited last night – Battambang 3 and Battambang 6 – we got to enjoy a couple hours of games. We played Skip Bo, Uno, chess, Monopoly*, pickup sticks, cornhole, monkey-in-the-middle and a bunch of Cambodian games you’ve never heard of. We laughed, we lounged, we loved every minute of it.

It’s amazing, by the way, how many games can be played with a couple of sticks, some rubber bands, a few sets of hands and a half-dozen flip-flops. These kids know countless variations of rock-scissors-paper, hot potato and duck-duck-goose; they could teach all of our spoiled Western kids (and adults) a thing or two about getting by with less.

Last night provided yet another confirmation that we can create families, rather than institutions. The kids here are truly at home, and they know how to live together as brothers and sisters with their aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents.

Sure, the mountain-top experiences – youth conferences, water parks, beach outings – are a big part of rebuilding these kids’ childhoods. But the real progress happens every day as the kids brush teeth, eat breakfast, walk to school, help with chores and play simple games as a family.

Thanks for helping Asia’s Hope provide for these families. Please help me find more people who can make opportunities like this happen for more orphaned kids all across Asia.

Peace.

*Sort of. A pox on whoever thought Disneyopoly was worth creating. Explaining the rules and reasons for Monopoly to a bunch of Cambodian kids is hard enough. Replace Park Place and Broadway with Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast and the whole thing goes to nonsense pretty quickly.

BB3 kids play one of the many games that involve chanting and slapping hands. Our national director carried a real machine gun when he was not much older than these boys. I'll take legos over an AK-47 any day.Turns out Chien actually does remember how to play chess.The kids at BB6 play something like cornhole, but without the corn. And the hole.BB6's mom was a shark, but I beat her. Narrowly.

What a difference a year makes.

Almost exactly one year ago, Asia’s Hope grew by 21 kids and five full-time staff. We had the privilege of joining a team from the newly formed Battambang 6 children’s home’s sponsoring church, and together we welcomed a group of scared, confused and painfully shy kids into their new family. 

As I wrote then, “Soon, the photos from BB6 will look like the photos from all of our other orphan homes. The kids will be laughing, playing and singing. Not yet, but soon.”

What a joy it’s been to return and see the proof that what we’re doing is working — to see in dramatic fashion the transforming power of hope. Last year, these kids were  refugees. This year, they’re normal kids, attending school, studying, doing chores and loving each other as brothers and sisters. The kids are blooming!

Last night, we played together for a couple of hours and then shared a delicious meal — an anniversary feast of sorts. I told the kids just how much they’d grown and changed in one short year. I also encouraged them to be on the front line of welcome for the new kids who will be coming to Battambang 7 in a few short weeks.

Now all I want to do is more of the same. In more places, for more kids, with more churches, individuals and businesses. Join me in praying that God will give us this same experience over and over and over again for the sake of his kids and the sake of his kingdom.

Vihea, one year ago.

Vihea, today.

Soriya, one year ago.Soriya, today.One year ago.Today

Compared to the sprawling metropolis Phnom Penh, the riverside town of Battambang is positively monastic. Our hotel in Phnom Penh was steps away from the city’s Central Market, Sorya Shopping Mall, Psar Thmei bus station and the intersection of Monivong and Kampuchea Krom boulevards. I daresay there were more people within one square mile of where we were staying than in the entire city proper in Battambang.

After a long day’s drive, a short rest at the hotel and an evening of entertaining the kids from Battambang 1, 4 and 5 children’s homes and a really disappointing meal at a restaurant we all used to like, we’re whooped. Kori’s putting Xiu Dan to bed, and the boys are in their room watching Cartoon Network. 

Driving in Phnom Penh is textbook “sensory overload.” If you have personal space issues, the walls and windows of your car will just barely keep you sane — bicycles, motorcycles, buses, cyclo-rickshaws, petrol trucks, cars and tuk-tuks press in on every side. Hawkers and beggars hover around your windows at each intersection, waving flowers, newspapers and snacks and grubby, outstretched hands pleading futilely for you to either buy or donate something. Cynical and corrupt police officers — sometimes in groups of six or seven — stalk street corners seeking hapless victims unfortunate enough to be driving without suitable headgear, proper  registration, or sufficient levels of melanin (driving while white is, apparently, a citable offense). The sidewalks are choked with motorcycles, cars, grills, children, dogs, welders (add hookers and drug dealers after 7pm) and makeshift repair shops, some moving, some blocking the movement of others.

Leaving the city takes a while. In fact, it seems to take about an hour to get anywhere like “not-Phnom Penh,” but once you’ve broken free of the city’s hold, things get pretty rural pretty quickly. And speaking of “pretty,” this is a beautiful country. Unless you’re traveling during the height of the dry season, the Cambodian countryside stretches out endlessly on either side of the road in an almost Gaelic patchwork of emerald rice farms. If I wasn’t always in such a hurry to get places, I could turn the 5 hour drive to Battambang into a daylong photo safari epic that would probably win me some sort of an award. Just today I saw at least one hundred perfect vistas for which a more ambitious photographer would have fought a live bear.

Along much of National Road 5, droopy cows chew grass idly while naked brown toddlers sit with ancient, turbanned grandmothers in front of rickety tin shacks selling diesel fuel in Fanta bottles. Tiny schoolkids in dusty blue shorts and cloudy white shirts careen past on adult-sized bicycles while massive grey water buffalo plod by obdurately, chest deep in muddy paddies ready for new rice seedlings, sown meticulously by exhausted daylaborers hobbling perpetually in a painful hunch. Gigantic tanker trucks filled with 20,000 liters of petrol pass perilously, blasting horns in a high-speed and high-stake game of chicken with luggage-laden passenger buses and skinny young dogs feign alertness, guarding some unknown boundary line along — and sometimes upon — the busy road.

About 3 hours in, much of the traffic disappears — evaporating into tiny villages and unseen sideroads — and road stretches out like a carpenter’s chalk line from horizon to horizon. Although most of the terrain is perfectly flat, it’s punctuated by the occasional lonely green mountain, invariably capped by a golden wat, its crenelations glistening like a dancer’s tiara. It’s the kind of place where you can see a rainstorm a half hour away, and where I can really get lost in melancholy speculations about what might life might have been like for my son — my buffalo boy —  had he been raised by his birth family in a rice farming village in rural Vietnam. In my mirror I can see Chien staring blankly out the window, and I wish he really would take me up on my cash offer of a penny for his thoughts. Ben Folds plays sings “everybody knows it sucks to grow up” on the car stereo. Really. It’s kind of a moment.

The real treasure, however, is the destination. The people, not the town — Battambang itself offers little in touristic or aesthetic value. We visited three of our six children’s homes last night, and proved to ourselves once again that the kids here are just as wonderful as the kids we just left in Phnom Penh. We were so tired from our drive that I decided to leave the camera in the car and just enjoy the hugs and the laughter without the pressure of capturing any of it for posterity.

We played and played until Kori whispered to me, “Our kids are really  tired, honey.” Tomorrow we'll hang out at the hotel and relax before heading out to the homes after lunch.

This time, I’ll spare you some adjectives and I’ll actually take some pictures.

It's been a busy two weeks since we arrived in Phnom Penh. The team from Central Vineyard Church in Columbus, Ohio departed for home late last night after 15 days of lavishing attention on their kids from Prek Eng 2, and our family is making the 5 hour drive to Battambang as soon as I can get the kids up and at 'em.

This has been my family's second trip to Phnom Penh (although Chien came with me once when he as in fourth grade). The difference between the two trips has been pretty interesting. Perhaps it's their age, but on this trip, my kids have had far fewer experiences of amazement and wonder (Dad! Dad! An elephant!), but also a much higher number of deep conversations about what it is we're doing.

In various conversations we've had with the boys, and in other conversations team members have reported having with them, Chien and Pak seem to get what we're doing and way. They put things in terms of "fighting injustice." They report being heartbroken over the plight of kids on the street, and eager to see Asia's Hope expand to bring in more kids. They even observe that any sacrifices that we've made financially or professionally to make this happen have been worth it.

This is, of course, a good thing. Pak mentioned last night, "Dad, I'd like to try to Skype with some of the kids -- I've become pretty attached to a couple of them, and I think they're going to really miss me."

Today we end our time with the kids at the five Prek Eng children's homes. We were able to avoid the tearful good-byes, since we'll be back for 3 days at the end of July after we return from Thailand, but the team from Central Vineyard got the full bore of the kids' emotions as they said a final farewell to Prek Eng 2. As my wife, Kori, said last night, "Oh, yes. We understand. We'll have that experience about 20 times on this trip."

But today, we get the squeals and hugs of joyous reunion as we arrive in Battambang, the home of first ever children's home. I'm in a bit of a rush to get on the road, so I'll wait to post the last pics of Prek Eng 'til I'm ready to post the first from Battambang.

Peace to you, Godspeed to us.