“In this world you are called to live fraternally, not as a utopia but as a real possibility; in this society you are called, as true missionaries of Christ, to build the civilization of love” (Blessed John-Paul II)

Maria, Kathline, Cecile, and I in front of Holy Redeemer Church one morning

At the end of January, we welcomed two Heart’s Home India missionaries into our community for three weeks as they applied for new Indian visas. Discovering our charism of compassion through Kathline’s (21, from France) and Maria’s (20, from Germany) eyes been a tremendous experience of unity for me. In almost every way (except for the prayer and community life we share), the girls’ lives in Tamil Nadu look so different from ours here in Bangkok. The saris they must wear every day to keep covered and their prohibition from talking with men in the street are a stark contrast to our freedom to wear what we choose and the sexual promiscuity and exploitation so glaringly present in Thailand. They sleep on the floor and eat with their hands, while we enjoy the comfort of our simple beds and our forks and spoons. They drooled just to step into a convenience store here, while we enter at least one of the 3,400 7-11’s in Bangkok daily. They arrive at Church and their apostolate visits in 15-30 minutes, usually on foot, while we find ourselves battling Bangkok traffic for several hours each day in getting to Mass, school, hospitals, the immigration prison, and back to our neighborhood by combinations of bus/taxi/skytrain/walking. On visits, they are often welcomed into family homes for hours as they are hand-fed (literally!) until they want to explode, while we encounter Thai hospitality most often in small gestures of friendship and conversation in the streets. Their days are spent in a virtually Indian-only area (they are the only westerners there), while we share our time with an array of refugees and asylum seekers from all over Africa, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia, European and Latin American ex-pats, and of course our neighborhood Thai friends. They often find themselves lost in the deep complexities of Indian traditions, while we often find ourselves struggling to penetrate the superficialities of Thai culture and relationships. And yet in sharing our joys, questions, and frustrations, we find ourselves so close to one another-- seeking to embrace and help carry the particular poverties of our country, in prayer and through binding ourselves in friendship to those who suffer most. We meet the same hungers of the human heart. This new awareness of unity within Heart’s Home has also deepened my sense of unity with each of you -- as we each seek to live compassion for those Our Lord places in front of us each day-- and with the whole Church, whose very identity is this movement of Christ’s compassion for each and for all.

Maria, Kathline, Cecile, and I  take a walk

My third and fourth sponsor letters....

Sponsor Letter 3-- May

Sponsor Letter 4-- August

A video peek into our life :)

CLICK HERE for Heart's Home Video Montage

“Let us be concerned for each other, to stir a response in love and good works" (Heb 10:24)

During a visit with Jaij Somchit and her son, Anan.

For decades, Jaij Somchit's life has been centered on caring for her 50-year-old son, Anan, who contracted polio as a two-year-old, which has left him bed-ridden and unable to care for himself. She feeds him, changes his diapers, helps him roll over to prevent sores in the awful heat, applies medicine to the sores she can't prevent, and soothes him when he cries. Though he cannot speak, the two of them have a language of their own, and his smile is worth the most beautiful of conversations. The way she looks at him day after day, with deep tenderness and loving faithfulness, is of God.

The two-room house that the two of them have been living in for many years had all but caved in on itself a few months ago, in desperate need of rebuilding. This has left her living in a tiny room one soi over as her old place is rebuilt. Besides being much hotter (zero airflow gets through the two little windows), it sits below the street level, which means it will surely be filled with water as even worse flooding is anticipated this coming rainy season. The rent is nearly equal to the money she makes in the little she can still work and the money she receives monthly from a local charity. Just today, she told us she ran out of the money that needed to last her until a week from now. Which means she'll skip her doctor appointment because she can't afford the taxi (and refuses to let us help pay), and she'll eat the bare minimum amount to make sure Anan gets enough (she did finally concede that we could bring over leftover food from all that we cook this week).

We go to give Anan a bath twice a week, because the "shower" at their new place is an outdoor faucet down the hallway that is shared by four other families. To clean him, two of us load him on a mat and carry him down to the faucet, where we try to bathe him with as much dignity and love as possible as people walk by to enter their rooms, or come to clean their dinner dishes, give a bath to their children, do their laundry. We always wash his hair twice-- partly because he doesn't get so many baths, and partly because the smile and giggles he gives us in return are often the best part of our day! Being seventy years old and almost legally blind, Jaij could clearly not do this herself. And it's no big deal for us. I mean, how often do we get to give Jesus a bath??

But Jaij is always so, so grateful. She is constantly sending us home with delicious fruit-- from the little she has, as she herself just scrapes by. If she could only grasp that she gives us so much more than we could ever give her. She is a person whom I held in the front of my mind all of Lent as I tried to cultivate in my heart a deeper concern for the other (inspired by Pope Benedict's Message for Lent 2012, which is relevant year-round: http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/messages/lent/documents/hf_ben-xvi_mes_20111103_lent-2012_en.html)-- because her whole life is a look of concern on another. All is concern for Anan: How will the heat affect him? The flooding? Does he have enough food? If I go to the hospital to treat my aching back, will he be ok alone? And she constantly repeats the question that has dominated her thoughts for years, "What will he do if I die? Who will care for him?"

In his message, Pope Benedict writes: "Humbleness of heart and the personal experience of suffering can awaken within us a sense of compassion and empathy... We can then understand the beatitude of “those who mourn” (Mt 5:5), those who in effect are capable of looking beyond themselves and feeling compassion for the suffering of others. Reaching out to others and opening our hearts to their needs can become an opportunity for salvation and blessedness." Jaij's witness continually calls me to try to live this kind of compassion in my life, too. She calls me to salvation and blessedness for sure. I'm working on learning to express that to her in Thai :)

"When we suffer, we should love"

We've begun hosting a "school of community" meeting every couple weeks with some of our friends from Church. We all read a chosen text before each meeting, then come together to discuss how it applies to each of our lives-- a way to discover together how God is actively working and speaking through the concrete experiences of our daily lives. At one meeting where we discussed a text on suffering, M. a 12-year-old Pakistani refugee, shared: "When we suffer, we should love. That's what Jesus did." Boom. Wow.

Praying together after our school of community meeting

M. and his two brothers came here with their parents almost a year ago, and they continue to await acceptance from a host country. The boys have left behind their relatives, friends, school, language, home, culture... and now find themselves here, waiting indefinitely. They're attending a Thai school (Urdu is their first language, English their second), where they've had to accept being on the outskirts because of the language barrier and the color of their skin. Though they're honest about how much they hate going to school here-- and how ready they are to move on and start their new life-- they very rarely complain.

"When we suffer, we should love." That's exactly what so many of our refugee friends are teaching me. They could choose to mope, sit around and do nothing, complain, pity themselves, despair. But they don't. We know that they suffer-- and they honestly share that-- especially the  parents who mourn the pain, loneliness, and missed opportunities of their children. But they don't let that define their identities or determine how they spend their days. They are doing their best to take each day as it comes, for what it is, spending their time in prayer, volunteering with organizations that serve other refugees and the poor, building community among themselves as they support one another at weddings, funerals, and in day-to-day life.

J. and A., a refugee couple who also fled Pakistan with their two children for their Catholic faith, amaze me as well. In Pakistan, J. was a successful attorney with a generous heart and enough money to donate land for a hospital to be built. When he and his wife decided to be baptized Catholic, they knew it could endanger their lives. But they made the choice and followed their call. Now they find themselves here, awaiting acceptance from a host country-- choosing to live in the unknown and in poverty rather than to renounce the Christ whom they love, and who remains so close to them throughout this journey. Like many of his peers here, J. is an intelligent, successful professional. But now here he is: accepting to rely on others, to give up control, to wait, to beg, to see his kids miss opportunities he'd do anything to give them. His humility is just... wow. Saintly.

But he doesn't let his suffering triumph. Because as he suffers, he loves. A couple months ago, he and his wife treated Erika and me to McDonald's with all the money in his pocket. He would not let us help to pay, saying, "You have been Christ to us through your friendship. You remind us refugees that our lives matter to someone; that we're not forgotten. For us, to feed you is to feed Christ." The two of us were speechless as we held back our tears. Talk about humbling. Recently, after a school of community meeting, he insisted that we take home a box of delicious mangoes he had brought to share. When we protested that he should take them home to his family, he insisted that they had enough already and 'couldn't possibly carry all of these home.'

When we suffer, would should love. That's what Jesus did.

All is gift

Paa Noi is a long-time friend of Heart's Home and a fellow Christian. She works long hours doing Thai massage, helping many of the arthritic grandmothers in our neighborhood. One of her daughters, E, has struggled with drug addiction for many years. E is a single mother of five children, all with different fathers, the oldest of whom she had when she was just a young teenager-- unfortunately, a story all too common in our neighborhood. The HIV she contracted from this lifestyle was passed onto her youngest daughter, an adorable, independent toddler who loves to play hard to get with us.

A group praying at Paa Noi's house during a visit.

Paa Noi lives in a one room house, where she cares for four of her grandchildren. She always asks us to pray when we visit, especially for her daughter. We will circle up, place our hands on the ground, and each offer our petitions for their family as well as our prayers of gratitude for their friendship and for God's grace at work in their lives.

Paa Noi is exceedingly generous. She invited us all over for Christmas Eve lunch, where she put so much love into the meal and then offered each of us a carefully wrapped bar of soap and some cooling powder. One time when I spotted her on the rot son teew (a bright red truck with two benches in the back that we can ride from home to and from Mass or the market for just 6 baht), she moved over to let me squeeze into the seat next to her. As we chatted and showed each other what we bought at the market, I had to hold in my giggles-- I could practically feel the collective "Huh??" as our fellow passengers wondered how this tall, goofy white girl knew this tough grandma from the slum. When we got off at our stop together, I offered to help her carry her groceries. As I adjusted the bags on my arms to get out my money, she smiled. "Mai pen rai (Don't worry). I just paid for us." That small gesture of friendship sticks with me. With just 6 baht she paid for my rot son teew trip and stole my heart!

Another time when we went to visit her, her grandson brought home a big basket of food. Because school was out, he had spent the day making merit with a monk-- which includes helping him collect and carry food offered by faithful Buddhists along their morning walk. The basket was full of fresh fruit, meats, canned foods, rice, snacks. He gave it to his grandma, who immediately began dividing up the food-- a pile for us, a pile for her neighbors ("They need it more than I do"), and a few remaining items for her own family. She didn't think of herself first; she barely thought of herself at all! It was a humbling gift to receive, and one that I'll continue to remember. Paa Noi is teaching me that poverty of spirit involves how we share and give from what we receive. It's to remember that all is gift. She doesn't think of all that she lacks, but all that she has been given. And in her gratitude for what she has and what she had just received, she was moved to give. This amazing attitude embraces the dynamic movement of love-- receiving and giving with joy. Paa Noi calls me to do the same with all I've been blessed with.

Receiving our Reality with Joy

Paa Puu is a beauty who lives alone in a one-room shack, which is adjacent to a chicken coop and rests on wooden boards just inches above the polluted canal water that runs all through our neighborhood. About a year ago, when our community first met her, she was at a low point, spiraling downward into depression and alcoholism. She said she felt very alone, ugly, and unloveable.

To see her today-- well-groomed, always smiling, volunteering at a neighborhood organization serving the disabled, spending time with the friends she's made there-- is to see the power of the Resurrection bursting forth in a single human life. She carries herself with real dignity and has an admirable sense of honesty about her story. She's one of my favorite people we visit, because she is always so genuinely happy to see us and interested in how we're doing. She's one of the people here who makes me feel most welcome, wanted, and loved. 

Marie and MoMai pose with Paa Puu and some of the baskets she makes (out of drinking straws!) and sells.

In the last several months, she has had an almost constant pain in her hip. Some days, she has found it agonizingly painful to move at all. A couple months ago, she had surgery on her hip and had to stay at the hospital for a week. Like any friends would do, Erika and I found out which hospital she was at and hopped in a taxi to go visit her. When we got to her bed, she was so surprised. "What are you doing here?!" "Paa Puu, we came to see you. We miss you!!" The smile on her face was incredible. Ear to ear. "You're the only ones who came to visit me." True to form, she had made friends with three of the other women in her room, and gladly shared them with us. A lovely afternoon.

Her house is in direct sunlight, so it becomes an oven in the heat of the day and never cools down to a very bearable temperature. I honestly don't know how she sleeps there. Hers is a good face to picture and offer up when I'm bemoaning my own struggles to sleep in the oppressive heat. Like everything else, though, Paa Puu takes it in stride and with a sense of humor. We'll often find her sitting in a patch of shade somewhere in the neighborhood. "I just found this spot. It gets a better breeze than the last one!"

Because of her hip problems, she has been unable to work for the last 3 months-- up until she was able to start again last week. When Marie took a group of high school volunteers to go visit her, all were astounded by her oppenness and honesty as she told them: "Right now, all I have is 26 baht" (enough to buy one very small meal) "...but that is enough for today." Between help from friends and neighborhood charities, she knew she'd be ok until tomorrow. Paa Puu is teaching me how to receive in poverty of spirit-- to accept the reality in front of me with trust and true gratitude. Not to deny the reality of the suffering, but to take it in stride, a day at a time. To choose joy.

My First two Sponsor Letters :)

Some reflection on and pictures of my first 2 Months of living & loving in the Land of Smiles:
Sponsor Letter 1-- December

4 month update:
Sponsor Letter 2-- February

A photo/video tour of Christhaimas 2011

Focolare came to share the meaning of Christmas with the children. That's the Gospel story being projected on our wall-- Thai cartoon, of course!

Watching intently.

quiz time!!

Nativity play in under 1 minute!!! at Baan Chivit Mai, a Christian organization in our neighborhood that serves children with disabilities.

Wait, where'd Jesus go?????

Thailand's Funniest Home Videos material.

Hosting some grandmothers in our neighborhood for lunch January 23. 

Yaai Somp Chit-- a beauty who devotes every day of her life to caring for her severely handicapped and bed-ridden son.

We were invited to Paa Noi's house for Christmas Eve lunch--  beautiful in its simplicity and gratuitousness.

Mollie makes a friend on the way home from lunch. Even when you're a visitor to our house, the kids know you're there to love them and they give you their hearts right away-- which is fantastic.

Stopping to play... always a good idea!

Spin me!

Christmas Eve dinner at the French parish after Mass. George, 12 (on the left) is a Sri Lankan refugee who made his way across the city by bus by himself to join us for Mass and dinner. We then dropped him off at the nearby English parish so he could altar serve at the midnight Mass. What a STUD. One of my best gifts this Christmas was going to help him pick out a new bike with money that Maria (the woman next to him, who was so moved by him that night) donated so that he could have a Christmas gift.

Thuy looking elegant on the way to Christmas morning Mass at the local Thai parish.

So Thai right now.

The Hello Kitty in the manger scene by the Church door gets me every time. EVERY time.

We visited and brought gifts for a family that has been long-time (20 years... since the beginning) friends of Heart's Home. 

Of course Ket's favorite part of the gift was the hand-me-down toy baby bottle. He used it to feed their cats.  

Christmas joy, of course! A real Nativity image for me.

Erika and I pose with Phii Tim and Ket.

Bye bye!

Christmas lunch with an amazing family from the French parish and a few neighborhood children.

The visiting grandmother and Faa bonded, as Faa delighted in the much-needed affection.

Holding baby Philomene together. I wish I had a picture of everyone in the room adoring her at this moment. 

Monthita, a Thai friend, speaks to the children about Christmas.

Fon adores the baby Jesus.

Time for presents... for 70 children in the neighborhood, all donated by generous friends of ours!

Happily going home to show off their gifts!

Tour of the neighborhood with Marie, Mollie, and our guests. This grandmother is a joy and a half to meet on the way to and from the bus :)

Sharing a peek into my life with Molls was SO wonderful!

Life on the street by our house-- amazing in its uncapturability.

The power of simple love.

Look who we found! Dancing with Oo in the street.

A quiet Christmas dinner with the community.

Marie goes in for the kiss. Thuy looks on disapprovingly (not of Marie's fish-kissing, but of the spiciness of said fish).

New Year's Eve Community Adoration. Of the 50-some-odd saints and holy people in the basket, I picked the intentions of Our Lady of Medjugorje to pray for this year. Providence. For. The. Win!!!

"A great respect for those Jesus identifies with"

From Why Don't We Go Lower and Lower?

by Fr. Thierry de Roucy

I do not like the talks about poverty,

and the summit meetings dealing with this theme, in Sheraton hotels. 

I find them rather scandalous! 

The point should not be to speak, first about poverty,

 but to experience it with the poor people!

I also disagree when we speak about “the poor”, 

even if I myself do it, too much. 

For we already side with the wealthy people; 

it divides and puts us apart from the humble ones.  “Them” and “us” should not be used, because, 

from now on, there is only “us” in Christ.  In our talks, we too often consider poor people as a phenomenon.  We too often go towards them as if we were going to a zoo.  We are certainly not doing a sociological study of poor people.  What we have chosen is to establish 

a communion of love with them, 

a mystical one. 

This is quite different.

We will never show enough consideration for poor people. 

Never will we consider them undeniably 

as human beings, gifted with their very freedom.  We often want to make decisions in their place, 

we often want to speak in their place, 

and act in their place.  We sometimes consider them as two-year old children.  Aren’t we rather supposed to inquire about, listen to and welcome them? 

I am so worried that we might consider the ‘penniless people’ as ‘reasonless beings’.