Lazy days: Monday

A lazy Monday ... usually I don't like that "L" word but yesterday it was good. I hung out with my friends Heidi and Arthur at the Bamboo School. And did some quality peer talking. Sometimes I really miss that being here in Thailand. Boys, school, the future all those fun subjects came up. Then Heidi and I walked in 'the Jungle' it actually wasn't it was corn fields but the path we took lead to 'the Jungle'. I love hanging out with this amiga because she has an adventuresome spirit. It is inspiriational.

She mentioned something to me that I need to consider. I told her on Sabbath that sometimes I am envious of her laughter. She told me that it was a quality that was in a friend of hers and that she wanted to develop it and did. Hmmm... something I need to consider. Jealousy versus inspiration. Do I want to resent a person or admire and follow in their footsteps? I know the answer.

After that Markie and I had to return to Bangkok and so the adventure proceeded. We returned by train from Sai Yok. It was fun, the rhythmic clanging of the wheels on the rails, the dusty breeze and sunshine, and of course the good company. I think I would like to do it again.

God is good to me and I don't know why. Even if things weren't bright and cheery I believe that. Hopefully I will remember that too.

American Baseball (Thai Style)

Hmmm... American Baseball (Thai Style), is it as good as the Italian spaghetti made Thai style? Yeah. It definitely makes me smile.

Today I joined a 7th grade class for PE and was pretty hyped to find that it was a game that I was familiar with.... baseball. Do catch that I said I was familiar with it and not good at it. But comparing myself to others who haven't grown up with the stereotypical image of playing in baseball fields on hot summer days was a new experience.

What I found for best laughter today was the word, "foul". Everything was a foul. If the pitcher pitched bad what was supposed to be a "ball" was a "foul". If the runner up made a bad swing it was called a "foul" not a "strike". It gets even better when a hit was actually a foul. It was not a foul but a hit.

"Wing! Wing! (Run! Run!)" The students would yell.

That could be the end and it would be good laughs and all but that isn't the end. Sometimes two boys would end up on a base. Other times a girl would be out and return to the base as though she was still in the game. But enough with the humorous critism... they don't know

... is it true that this stuff runs in American's blood? I didn't really think so. Even if so it's good to get a Thai taste of something American. It makes me thankful for what I do know and able to bear similar games where I am the fool.

Mai bpen rai!

Goodbye Mr. Tong

Here is an entry from my journal that I would like to share. It happened over my Christmas Break.

I mentioned earlier that I enjoyed Mr. Tong's funeral I'm going to try to go into more detail as of why instead of just key words.

Mr. Tong taught me much. I only met him 3 times. Mighty awesome how such a short accquaintance can make a difference. He taught me to give what I have. I severely struggle with feeling worthy and realize big or small if I give what I have that's enough.

I gave Mr. Tong the "Renee's Song" he gave me a smile.
I gave him my presence, he gave me a lesson in taking care of one's self.
I gave him my time he gave me a reminder of the importance - no, the nessecity of love.
I gave him a farewell song he gave me serenity in goodbye.

The first time I met him was in the hospital (Wang Pho - Sai Yok) in the small, sterile, quarantine room. The skin and bone of a man sat in his bed in the fetal position with the stench of one ready to die wafting from his presence, from his being. Blood spittle littered the floor surrounding his bed and his bed side table was laden with pills he refused to take. He was ready to die. An HIV man, a Burmese, an abandoned one. His anger, his sickness had warded off friends and family and the only ones left were a farang with 60-some children - others, like him, who had felt abandonment but refused to abandon others.

As I stood there with Momo Cat, Na (?) and Zac I sang to him 'my' song - Light of the World. The combination of song and Zac made Mr. Tong smile. It may have been his last smile.

Mr. Tong died. I was happy - that sounds morbid. On Friday (January 5, 2006) he was cremated in a Buddhist ceremony. I walked to the temple, it was very peaceful and I felt beautiful in my Karen shirt and sarong. I got to the temple and no one was there only mangy dogs who growled at low tones. I was scared. So I sang to God. After at time the funeral procession came up the hill and then away from where I waited. He was burned downhill. All the party was Buddhist except for Momo, Arthur and his family, Mowai and I. They did the white string procession around the cremation site and all the participants gave Tong some incense and flowers for his next life. The monks chanted eerily and the poeple bowed meditatively. All the while my heart strings were being pulled. Sing. Momo mentioned it but I battled with myself,

"What will people think?"
"Will the others join in?"

I was almost too late - the monks changed again. Then Momo asked, "Can we sing song?"

"Dai! Dai! (Can! Can!)"

Our little group moved to where Tong burned and sang and prayed. It was lovely. Mr. Tong was burning, the greenery was beautiful and the birds flew in the blue sky. A beautiful goodbye.