In my last blog I talked a bit about what ministry looks like. I talked about how it can be mundane at times, but that it’s also been some of the most meaningful work we’ve been a part of. For the most part, we’ve worked behind the scenes, not getting to see much impact firsthand, but knowing that fruit is still there. Today, however, I was blessed with the chance to see the people we’re helping firsthand and to connect with them through finger painting.
Nick and I went to the rehabilitation center where people brought in from Burma stay. It’s a center for people who need medical attention that can’t be provided in the jungles of Burma. At the moment, there are only two families there: a mother and her one year old daughter, and a father and his three year old daughter. The father has been moved to Chiang Mai while his wife gets medical attention for her leg. His family has been displaced from their home, they’ve been brought to a foreign country, separated from family and familiar language. All the while he’s waiting to see if his wife will lose her leg.
While they’re living in Chiang Mai, part of our ministry is to visit them. This can be difficult with the language barrier. So today we communicated through paint. We painted flowers and smiley faces, at first communicating mostly through smiling and nodding. After a while, the father made a three in red paint. He pointed to his daughter and said the Kachin word for “three.” I repeated in English. He then pointed to me, so I dipped my finger in green paint and wrote a sloppy twenty, pointing at myself. We used the same process to tell each of our ages, in different colored paints.
Finger painting is kind of stupid, kind of sloppy. But it opened the door to a small glimpse of communication and communion. It was a weird moment of looking at someone and wanting to be able to say or do something, but being totally unable. And knowing that even if I were able, there really wouldn’t be anything to say or do outside of just being there. So through that small bit of communication I had the chance to welcome someone in a culture and place totally foreign to them. I’m not sure there was much more that could have been done, but I’m not sure much more needed to be done either. It was a really small, fleeting moment, but it brought so much purpose to why I’m here and so much meaning to past strife. And I could tell from the father’s strong handshake and large grin when we left that it made an impact on him too.
I still believe our destination is so much greater than our journey—not to in any way invalidate the journey, but just to say that our hope and joy is in our destination. We are heading towards joy, and life, and reconciliation, and perfect communion with the Creator of the heavens. But it’s such a humbling experience to get little glimpses of that destination in the midst of the journey
