I am not a big fan of public speaking. I would much rather write about what I am thinking rather than stand in front of a group to talk. Yesterday while we were planning for our school visit two people felt that I should share. So I stepped out of my comfort zone trusting that God would provide words for me and I agreed to talk.
The school we were to visit has about 1000 students that piled into the huge two story gymnasium. Our group led some games with the kids aged 8-18 then sang some songs. I stood up to talk and God calmed my nerves. Shortly after I started talking a group of kids sprawled out on the floor and fell asleep. The translator apologized to me then said that they had been up since 5 am; it was not the easiest audience to talk to. The translator did not understand much of what I was saying, so I often had to repeat what I said. She was Buddhist and either did not understand the words I was using or did not want to say them. My prayer was that the Lord used my words for His purposes. After a skit and closing up the program, the kids fled the building. A small group of teachers pulled out tables and chairs and we were treated to lunch. My favorite part of the lunch was the Rambutan fruit. It is part of the jelly fruit family; it tastes similar to a grape, but has a big seed in the center and has spikes on the outside.
After lunch the guys got to play basketball so we asked the English teacher to take us on a tour of the campus. From our tour we learned that the school is one of the king’s special projects. Children from hill-tribe villages come and actually live at the school during the semester. The grounds were very nice; set up with playgrounds, game courts, a large cafeteria, dorms, and classrooms.
The English teacher called out to one of the students, Min, and asked her to join us. Min’s father passed away and her mother remarried. When her mother remarried, she dropped Min off and has not been back to see Min for the passed two years. Her teacher explained that many children can go home if their parents come to get them, but Min does not get to leave for breaks. It seemed to me like the English teacher had a special bond with Min and looked out for her, which was comforting to observe.
All of the food, toiletries, clothing, lodging, and education for the children is provided by the Thai government. We walked to one of the dorms where we found a few girls cleaning up some pots and pans. The teacher explained that the students help to prepare the meals. Freshly washed clothing hung on poles under the cover of the building on the first floor. I assume the children wash their own clothing too. A young woman on a moped arrived at the dorm and we learned that she serves as the dorm mother. She excused herself and went to, “unlock the door.” She did not come down for about 5 minutes so I think she really went up to tell the girls to clean the room quickly. Several girls welcomed us into a large room filled with enough bunk beds side by side for 60 girls. “Now this is community living,” Stephanie commented.
As I looked around at the girls I thought about what little personal space they have. I get frustrated on the World Race not having my own space; I cannot imagine living with 60 girls, especially 60 Jr. High aged girls. I tried to snap a few pictures of the girls, but they were very shy. I had to really encourage them to get them in front of the camera. When it came time to leave Min gave me a hug and said, “Bye Annie.” My name is usually not easy for Thai people to pronounce and most people seem to avoid using it, so I was touched that Min used my name.
I was not excited when Ray told us that we would be having a church service this evening. The World Race has been a year full of church services lasting usually 2 to 3 hours. Sometimes I feel burned out and would prefer to skip out on the service. Before the service I prayed that I would be able to have fun and enjoy the service. As soon as the congregation stood up to sing I started to have fun, because the congregation does motions with every song. I chuckled as I watched the men in our group flit their arms like birds and shake their hips to the beat of the music. The congregation got a kick out of our dance moves too. God does not want us to dread church and I am grateful that he answered my prayer.
