My team found out we were not being sent to Thailand only a few days before we left for Myanmar. When we arrived in Bangkok, we split from the rest of our squad. Thankfully, after the Myanmar embassy was closed for a holiday, we were able to get our visas in one day; especially helpful considering the embassy was about to close again for another holiday.
We bussed 12 hours overnight from Bangkok to a border town. We crossed with some help from a contact of AIM’s, walking across the border with all our packs in the Thai heat. We then took another 15 hour bus to Mandalay, one of Myanmar’s major cities, then another hour taxi ride to the town Pyin oo Lwin, which would be our home for the month.
The weather there was mild, in the 70’s, usually sunny. It was a welcome change from the heavy heat and humidity of the Philippines. Pyin oo Lwin is a decently sized small city of more than 200,000 people. It was pretty and quiet, surrounded by farmland and mountains. The strong Buddhist influence (Myanmar is about 90% Buddhist) was apparent in the many temples, shrines and monasteries, within the town and tucked away in many of the surrounding mountains. Monks and nuns could be seen daily walking the streets, dressed in burgundy and pink robes respectively, both with their heads shaved. Many children, sent to the monasteries, trailed along behind them. You could hear their chanting throughout most days.
Often in Myanmar it felt like I had stepped back in time to the 40’s or 50’s. This is mostly due to the country’s six decades spent closed to the outside world, leaving Myanmar as is its own distinct place. It is probably the least Westernized country I’ve visited. It is a much simpler and quieter life than many of us are used to. It is mostly free from the influence of Western culture and very advanced technology common in other Asian or Western countries. The men and women still wear their traditional dress, especially notable on the men who don skirts called lyongi. (The men of my team wore these when doing home visits. I was wearing one the first time I ever shared the Gospel.)
Pyin oo Lwin is greatly agricultural, and still has traces of its time as an important government and educational center during the British colonial period of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. There are still many homes there in the unique blend of British and Burmese styles. It has also long been a mountain retreat for the British as well as the Burmese, contributing to its idyllic nature.
We worked with a couple, Richard and Hannah, who direct a ministry with several different facets, of which their orphanage was primary. They had 60 children while we were there, ranging in ages from 5 to 17, boys and girls. They came from all over Myanmar. Several had been taken from the Buddhist monasteries, their heads still shaved or closely cropped, their hair growing out. They were some of the most special children I’ve met. They were impressively obedient, pointedly devout, charmingly kind, humbly serving. I loved to watch them pray and praise the Lord. Richard and Hannah were passing on their ardent faith and trust in God to them. They prayed for every need and desire. One of my favorite moments was one night standing beneath the stars, hand in hand with my team and all the children, in a circle around a field the orphanage wished to buy, asking the Lord that He would provide a way. It was one of those times you recognize how blessed and special your life is.
Many of the children were particularly endearing to me, but there was one boy I was most drawn to. His name was Peter, he told us in a whisper one day. He was always about while we were at the orphanage, serving us and Richard in one way or another. He was quiet and sweet, always smiling shyly, always ready to help. I loved him. I hated that we couldn’t speak each other’s language; I so badly wanted to get to know him. I resorted to smiling and waving and saying hello whenever I saw him, to the point he must have thought I was crazy. I wanted Peter to know he was seen, and he was important, and he was loved. I would daydream about what it would be like if I could adopt him, the life I would want to give him; how he might come home from school every day and we could lay side-by-side on his bed and he would tell me about his day. Though I knew it could never happen it was still a beautiful vision. There wasn’t a child at that orphanage that I wouldn’t have adopted if I could have.
I found Myanmar to be the warmest most welcoming place I’ve been to yet. Though Buddhism has a strong hold there, they were very open to hearing about Jesus. We even saw an elderly couple come to know the Lord. The people are learning that Buddha isn’t the only option just because it’s traditional and cultural. I have a prayer and a hope that one day Myanmar will be a nation of Christians.
