tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83348002852624384762024-03-06T01:12:53.882-08:00White Girl in the JungleAmber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-79790411115102321262015-01-25T14:50:00.004-08:002015-01-25T14:53:52.699-08:00Old Journal Entries and Encounters<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiidg8Z117Pp33pbhZWBRalIaUW3rfByltQxh0pLFMsesMwOTX2pavG6Y_uzfgsmn8DPuIug6Wad4gpZS1p6EsQkXgZoMGS08bNQOmip89WoOU5CTqnBvHjTScn8iFQu1k6ciVlhAQ78o4/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiidg8Z117Pp33pbhZWBRalIaUW3rfByltQxh0pLFMsesMwOTX2pavG6Y_uzfgsmn8DPuIug6Wad4gpZS1p6EsQkXgZoMGS08bNQOmip89WoOU5CTqnBvHjTScn8iFQu1k6ciVlhAQ78o4/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honduran Mountains</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px;">This morning, I came across some old journal entries from when I was spending two weeks in Honduras the summer I turned twenty one. It was fun to see my old entries, to-do lists, currency conversions and such. But I also rediscovered a section in my journal entries that had been forgotten called "Encounters", and in this section I would record encounters, meetings, or interactions that I had with people there. Some of these "encounters" were just me, observing something new I had never seen before, a cultural discovery of sort, or some wisdom I imagined gained. Some of these encounters I remember to this day, but I'm sure when I am older one day that I will greatly appreciate my old journal entries. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Ethan"</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px;">One of the encounters I had there, was with a little baby boy I met at an orphanage in the capital city of Tegucigalpa. I named him Ethan because I fell in love with him, and I could sadly never find out what his name was. He had some development struggles, but he had a bright smile and an endearing personality. I went to see him two times while I was there, and both times I found him in a room, in a crib, all alone. My heart practically broke. I was younger at the time, and couldn't take care of him, but I loved him while I could, as all children should be. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px;"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPEogiCz_F32GusOAgBpNv_HP0g4jTE08BubEWMOINury-Z2tLvQM-fEBaF3XO0U6T86kbSqIy0bcQZWGcB0hgMD6glDaowmVNeY9_MvcJqOYcdv0hafiANfhacbxYvbqovSnR1VOPLI/s1600/DSC02292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPEogiCz_F32GusOAgBpNv_HP0g4jTE08BubEWMOINury-Z2tLvQM-fEBaF3XO0U6T86kbSqIy0bcQZWGcB0hgMD6glDaowmVNeY9_MvcJqOYcdv0hafiANfhacbxYvbqovSnR1VOPLI/s1600/DSC02292.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love em while you can!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RqgIjepjPv2HTpH_YH3hi2Mw3dYNkWqrKMzJBh1v3rsd-X96oquozuLDW2AGDYcpC0i_UZWycnDoMD0zA35_dPXPm0EMIc148_lbT7DVi06l94xD0vGJ246RBNtaYArY0VA5U68voO8/s1600/DSC02085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RqgIjepjPv2HTpH_YH3hi2Mw3dYNkWqrKMzJBh1v3rsd-X96oquozuLDW2AGDYcpC0i_UZWycnDoMD0zA35_dPXPm0EMIc148_lbT7DVi06l94xD0vGJ246RBNtaYArY0VA5U68voO8/s1600/DSC02085.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noah/Spiderman</td></tr>
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<div style="font: 24.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
Another encouter I had there, was with another little boy named Noah. He was the four year old son of the missionary couple I was staying with. I loved his bravery and strength even as a young boy. He didn't care he was the only white, blonde headed, blue eyed kid around. He was just himself, and loved to play and climb trees. This is one of my favorite photos of him as he confidently paraded around as Spiderman. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdITIKijdLW5Rmcosms3sXQt-hm0VRUv89xjKKtaNz44ww3_sitPAJY7BuapjwXFOYy4fm3eEhenfUPqW6-DI9eWSQ_x7gUj2JDywoW8UvHp0EvkcP2O6Ff8GL0cNTtK-LstYYMQC0Fk/s1600/DSC02210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdITIKijdLW5Rmcosms3sXQt-hm0VRUv89xjKKtaNz44ww3_sitPAJY7BuapjwXFOYy4fm3eEhenfUPqW6-DI9eWSQ_x7gUj2JDywoW8UvHp0EvkcP2O6Ff8GL0cNTtK-LstYYMQC0Fk/s1600/DSC02210.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Thank You Card</td></tr>
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<div style="font: 24.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
Another entertaining encounter that I had there, was when my older, female cousin and I decided to write the guard who watched the gated community where we were staying (there are high levels of crime and gang activity in Honduras - thefts, drugs, kidnapping...) a thank-you card. We proudly presented it to him in broken Spanish. My cousin who had been staying there all summer, surprisingly and embarrassingly got a letter back from the guard declaring his love for her, and his desire to marry her even though they had never really spoken. Boy! Learned a lesson there. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWnBDjRkpHNW8o3-SUEaX_hUUyg10LYB6yfgk9ZGzl-4nlq8L7v6408sWfyE8EY3lNfyjomI7c6gUrfAiN3wKm1IRPduuZyeRxaqhflIzsRk5WbU4PacQoW_Fo4IoQubcjZc8NshP4tE/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWnBDjRkpHNW8o3-SUEaX_hUUyg10LYB6yfgk9ZGzl-4nlq8L7v6408sWfyE8EY3lNfyjomI7c6gUrfAiN3wKm1IRPduuZyeRxaqhflIzsRk5WbU4PacQoW_Fo4IoQubcjZc8NshP4tE/s1600/images.jpeg" height="154" width="200" /></a>Another encounter I had, was when I flew into Tegucigalpa. Honduras had just went through a military coup of sorts, and a major leadership change just a week or two before I flew in. Basically, I was the only white person on the plane and I arrived to an airport surrounded by armed soldiers. That, was after bouncing around and landing in one of the most precariously, located international airports dropped in the middle of a crowded city and tall, jagged mountains. </div>
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Anyways, all of this is to lead to the point that I would like to re-engage in recording different encounters in my life again, as a way to reconnect with others and to capture some of the youthful, enthusiasm that I feel I have lost over the past few years, even though I am still quite young. So stay tuned, and I will be writing up some new encounters for ya!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWiPLUR8cKV05-k52wIjcOTUKRITq72zkx_RQzRNYaZAE4KNQECScQdUx3BM00ngV41B7v1Wy1dFKBsWxN5TruPT2mmNmYFLR4DEKqYNZb23mps9pe9xOMOJWT6Tt5LaugNlwpU1asgsc/s1600/DSC07939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWiPLUR8cKV05-k52wIjcOTUKRITq72zkx_RQzRNYaZAE4KNQECScQdUx3BM00ngV41B7v1Wy1dFKBsWxN5TruPT2mmNmYFLR4DEKqYNZb23mps9pe9xOMOJWT6Tt5LaugNlwpU1asgsc/s1600/DSC07939.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is my begrudging acknowledgment to the beauty of winter, even though I'm still a sunny, sunshiny, summer girl at heart, and also to another cozy winter spent with my family in Minnesota. Although, my heart may yet still be off wondering looking for new adventures and for new places to travel.<br />
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The Quiet Of A Winter Night<br />
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"The Snow tucks itself in for its Winter Slumber. A cold chill seeping into the ground, touching the flowers, bushes and trees, and putting all it touches to rest. Waiting for the light and warmth of Spring to return. Yet, in-spite of its deep slumber, there is a magical, beautiful mystery in the air. The Sun may turn in early for Winter, but light still lingers in the air, as it reflects off the white, snowy ground. Leafless trees and snow dusted pines are silhouetted against the Winter Sky. A peaceful calm, a certain magical quiet pervades and beckons one to walk through its doors. Pulled to discover its source, or to perhaps, find some Winter Magic for one's self. By chance, its Slumber might be broken by a fierce Winter Wind and the falling of more snowflakes. Or, by the light of day and the fluffed up fluttering of birds searching for their breakfasts buried under the White Blanket of Winter. Buried under a Spell. The Spell of Winter, found in the quiet of a Winter Night - - magically beckoning and peaceful."<br />
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<br />Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-87295885174219815772014-11-19T15:20:00.002-08:002015-01-02T20:11:53.519-08:00Normal Life<!--StartFragment-->
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I haven’t written anything here for a long while, mostly
because, it doesn’t seem like I have much to say or tell, which really isn’t
true. But sometimes, life just gets into a rhythm that is normal and not all that
exciting and doesn’t seem to have much adventure worth telling (which isn’t
true either). I suppose this the part of growing up in life and what maturing is
about, learning to be happy and content in the normal everydayness of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even this is filled with little joys,
adventures, and lessons too. So, as an update on my life for anyone who might
still happen to check this blog, I will tell you about my normal, everyday life for now, and find some little adventures to write about later.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpZQ27jjKa7lqZRMUhkSW48lxs5lLZahVZyAYKFbu2g31jseeA1qKfWvWAE3upW1vMC3uDuCd_7ieNRwTdnJ0JN1tpOOEOBW2lgTdS3Tjzq64wNGnPWqnVMV_ZhWEBomxjl0bYAus_M4/s1600/10346303_868849568281_7187806821061014663_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpZQ27jjKa7lqZRMUhkSW48lxs5lLZahVZyAYKFbu2g31jseeA1qKfWvWAE3upW1vMC3uDuCd_7ieNRwTdnJ0JN1tpOOEOBW2lgTdS3Tjzq64wNGnPWqnVMV_ZhWEBomxjl0bYAus_M4/s1600/10346303_868849568281_7187806821061014663_n.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Land of Snow and Cold<br />
(AKA, Minnesota)</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEx99IYBAAowD5sm_9OoQlZ5Rwg89kGn23Qo9wA3mH6sxmr-JvXOrs4_Gg46o3DbSWXT4bf5S2anlE7VK2tddU7VL89HzLsUYYKZaykS-45wbl0vLf1NItJGdSuJzQ_wDGzjcstjDt00/s1600/10151806_870095221981_8482251902209614619_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEx99IYBAAowD5sm_9OoQlZ5Rwg89kGn23Qo9wA3mH6sxmr-JvXOrs4_Gg46o3DbSWXT4bf5S2anlE7VK2tddU7VL89HzLsUYYKZaykS-45wbl0vLf1NItJGdSuJzQ_wDGzjcstjDt00/s1600/10151806_870095221981_8482251902209614619_n.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Little Indoor Garden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am in Minnesota right now and its November, so that means
that I am actually in a place called the Land of Snow and Cold. I am supposing
its somewhat like Russian-Siberia or the Canadian Wilderness, at least, that’s
what it feels like to me! I tried to prepare myself for the long cold winter by making a little Indoor
Garden, and I try to think of all the time spent indoors as a good
time to catch up on some reading, and as a time to inspire some creativity.</div>
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I have been working at an office as an assistant, which means
I do exciting things like make copies and file papers... I also have gotten to
work with my twin brother, Travis, at the coffee shop he is now managing. It's pretty
great getting to work with family, and get paid too! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxxC1VFFsDzTW1Je70yOG0Q4ufKM9B612SSuif84c3c8xgvBlf0TKB2gSA2T5K3gUU35_BuB352eOmYg8vBnA1gLwbuZXc3n31ioDllEicWJ-JA0_OxnExqBflVbpm2gZS3DSDlV8dkI/s1600/10665379_867096840761_7493717394076768538_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxxC1VFFsDzTW1Je70yOG0Q4ufKM9B612SSuif84c3c8xgvBlf0TKB2gSA2T5K3gUU35_BuB352eOmYg8vBnA1gLwbuZXc3n31ioDllEicWJ-JA0_OxnExqBflVbpm2gZS3DSDlV8dkI/s1600/10665379_867096840761_7493717394076768538_n.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olive and Annabell, watching a movie<br />
with their flashlights. Cuz it's much<br />
better that way!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I really enjoy getting to spend time with my adorable niece
and energetic nephew. I get to spend lots of Friday nights playing games, making
cookies, and watching movies with these little guys, which I gladly enjoy.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGcAYw8rUiR9NxaBQU6kSnWRJTU_YWSoWEagvaXdTx3xz65_gaQI6awSsRO3ejvE7Sbm-msLepu4CFyjTuFF0kri5YsSrdcR9VsLUgiSY2GOcO5_KmEQJVQue48Cpa6lbU7uKthVcZwuE/s1600/10806488_10154824246230486_3754352416040319458_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGcAYw8rUiR9NxaBQU6kSnWRJTU_YWSoWEagvaXdTx3xz65_gaQI6awSsRO3ejvE7Sbm-msLepu4CFyjTuFF0kri5YsSrdcR9VsLUgiSY2GOcO5_KmEQJVQue48Cpa6lbU7uKthVcZwuE/s1600/10806488_10154824246230486_3754352416040319458_n.jpg" height="320" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bekah, who stole my heart.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I also got to spend the past summer in Thailand visiting my
friends and my Karen family over there. The time went by so fast! Thailand is
still in my heart and I know God has a good plan for me there sometime in the
future to do some good work! I just have to wait for his timing which is the
hardest part, and missing all my “adopted” children over there. I love my dear
little Bekah! I also got to spend some much needed, quality time with my boyfriend
Lukai, whom I have been dating for a couple of years now. We keep getting to
know each other better, and in a funny sort of way, get to improve our communication
skills as we have been apart most of the time and only get to talk. Its not always fun, nor easy when you
finally find your best friend! But, God has a sense of humor and a plan too. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Lukai is working on getting a visa and the money to
come visit the US and to meet my parents. Its been a slow process, and
continues to be sooooooo slow. Patience as never been my strength, and it seems
to be the thing God really wants to challenge!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQk9-wwWo8brQQAeDQ6BkiwbE5c-V4ISw7PO0OkT_uOR1xuaB-BEBS4U7Axiupv1G7p2DTuDj2_0dwdv_acLamd9l75IbzDhE_74gy0-6cNJSaRcIXFT7IJRXDfLENxrYdYmg6UZja28/s1600/IMG_0920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQk9-wwWo8brQQAeDQ6BkiwbE5c-V4ISw7PO0OkT_uOR1xuaB-BEBS4U7Axiupv1G7p2DTuDj2_0dwdv_acLamd9l75IbzDhE_74gy0-6cNJSaRcIXFT7IJRXDfLENxrYdYmg6UZja28/s1600/IMG_0920.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lukai and I at a beach in Thailand.</td></tr>
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What’s next for me? I don’t know. I’m hoping to find
something that I can invest in a little bit more this year in the work
department beyond making copies...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, I’m thankful for a job that is allowing me to pay my bills. I’m
keeping my eyes peeled, and trying to keep myself focused so I can jump at an opportunity when it comes my way, and then hopefully, the next thing will fall
into place. Whatever that is!</div>
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P.S. I still live with my parents. I tell myself its because
I would get too lonely otherwise... and that I’m still growing up. I think.</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtipNJnN3M3uOBhU_34xUpI2VKRdHQtV1YatX7S68jiNeoRw9Jiy5L54UcEef_N4sCudr_q11uLOGMCVBmD4wnDAiWN-cxQYXmz_Y2NHOu0gi6yta5qnHvt9oR0vAC-6oG9fcsAr73f6Y/s1600/10577046_832893803921_2046607071377380998_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtipNJnN3M3uOBhU_34xUpI2VKRdHQtV1YatX7S68jiNeoRw9Jiy5L54UcEef_N4sCudr_q11uLOGMCVBmD4wnDAiWN-cxQYXmz_Y2NHOu0gi6yta5qnHvt9oR0vAC-6oG9fcsAr73f6Y/s1600/10577046_832893803921_2046607071377380998_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Central Park, NY</td></tr>
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P.S.S. I also got to visit a friend in New York on my way to Thailand. That was a pretty cool experience as I had never been there, and there's no place quite like the Big Apple</div>
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Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-53534872197970363932014-07-28T06:22:00.002-07:002014-07-28T06:22:25.174-07:00Bilay: This Is My Story<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bilay with his two-year old daughter Smiley</td></tr>
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Bilay: This Is My Story</div>
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Written and transcribed by Amber Wunderlich</div>
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Bilay is a Karen man from Burma who has had limited use of his legs since a young child due to a Polio infection. He walks on his hands and knees. Currently he is in Thailand along the border in a village called Takkolang where he has built a boarding home for poor Karen students from Burma and from refugee camps. Some of these students come from broken homes. He is also a lay pastor for a small Adventist church, as well as a kind father and husband.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bilay working on building a house<br />for his family (I'm not even sure how he<br />got up there...)</td></tr>
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The first time I met Bilay I was twenty-one years old. I had just ventured to Thailand for the first time and was volunteering along the border. Contrary to my thoughts at the time, I knew nothing about what I was doing but I was blessed enough to meet some lovely people along the way who would help lead and guide my younger self, and Bilay happened to be one of those such lovely people. He is a bit of a surprise to meet for several reasons. The first being that he doesn’t walk like the vast majority of us as he walks on his hands and knees (but he doesn’t let that stop him from doing anything!), and another reason being that he has a different way of thinking and living. I have to say it’s been an honor and privilege knowing Bilay because of his trust in God and also because of his kind and compassionate spirit. If you do not get the chance to meet him and spend some time learning from him, then perhaps the best way to get to know him is to hear his story*. So here goes!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bilay with the students he houses</td></tr>
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I was born on the Burma side. Now I am forty years old. When I was five years old I have a memory, that I had pain in my body and I was crying every night. My mom and dad went to find the medicine for Polio. They saw a man, a jungle medicine man. They told him, our son is crying every day and every night. They asked him, “Can you help us?” He said, “I have medicine for your son. I go to make it.” So my dad came back home to bring me there to the medicine man. That night, I slept and in the morning I could not walk. Sure I tell you, I could not walk and I had a lot of pain. My legs were very, very painful and sensitive. I could not even let my mother touch them. To this day, we do not know what the jungle medicine man did. My legs hurt for a long time. So my mom and dad went to look for English medicine from a white man. He gave them Penicillin and injected it. After that, I had no more pain but still I could not walk anymore. My mom and dad tried to find more medicine but we stayed a long ways away in the jungle from anyplace. After that, I still grew and grew and grew, except my legs were a little different. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I was thinking to myself, I want to go to school, but my mom and dad were very, very poor. My mom and dad were doing the farming every year. I wanted to go to school, but I could not go. My mom and dad thought that in the rainy season it would be too difficult for me to walk to school and again, they were very poor. So, they didn’t take me to school. I did the farming with my mom and dad. I could crawl and do the grass, take out the weeds - like that kind of work. I did this every year.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Then, the Burma government and the Karen government were fighting. Fighting and fighting, and they were coming closer to my village. When they came to my village, my mom and dad ran. They could not carry me. So I ran one way and they ran the other way. My mom and dad ran to the jungle. They said to me, “Go with you friend. Go in the boat.” It was a small boat so they could not go with me. I was 25 years old. I ran. And I ran to towards the Thai border. I felt scared. Running was very painful for my body and my knees were so bloody. I was staying in the jungle hiding and a Karen leader said to me. He said to me, “Stay here and keep this gun since you cannot run. When you see the Burmese soldier coming, you kill one and then kill yourself.” I had three guns and many, many bullets with me. I stayed there for one day, and then a motorcyclist came by, and the person saw me and took me to the border. So God helped me. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Before in Burma, I knew a little bit about God, but I didn’t know much. My home was very far away from the church. Sometimes I would hear the pastor speaking and feel very afraid but then later forget about what I heard. I wanted to know more about God, but didn’t think about it much. Then, I came to Thailand and I stayed with a Thai person for three months. Then my sister came to see me, and asked me to go to a refugee camp with her. I was thinking, “I don’t want to go and stay inside there.” But my sister was crying because my family was separated as we had run to different places. I was staying in the refugee camp when I saw the people who had many, many things and food to eat. Like the Karen government people, and they were wearing the beautiful shirt and went to church. I never saw western clothes or had any before. So I went to church to see the people there in the western clothes. I was very confused. I asked my uncle, “Why do they have the nice and beautiful thing. I don’t understand.” He told me because they are teachers, or government leaders. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the camp, I began to learn more about the Bible and I wanted to go to Bible school. I had a friend and he taught me a little bit of the Bible every time I saw him. I had another friend who was working with a foreign woman helping her build a home for children. He took me by motorcycle there and this woman was really happy to see me. She told me, “I have a new student, Bilay!” I was going to school every night and learning English. I was so very happy! I never thought this would happen to me. The woman asked me to teach the Bible to the younger students there and gave me time to teach them and 1,000 baht for one month. I was so happy to teach and I never saw any money like 1,000 baht before. I was teaching them every night. Then, the woman told me to go to a Bible school in Chaing Mai. Ok, so I went and learned the Bible there for five months. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>At that time I was thinking, I just wanted to be a pastor and only take care of the church, because I had stayed at a children’s home before I knew it was so much work every day. After I left the children’s home, I came to Takkolang to build a church here. I built only a small bamboo house and then had the church meeting inside my house. Then one woman came to see me. She told me, “Please, I want to tell you about something. I said, “What do you want to tell me?” She told me, “I have two children I want to keep here.” I was thinking if they were boys it would be ok, no problem, because I did not want any girl to say in my house since I was not married yet. She told me, “I have one boy and one girl.” I don’t have a wife. I don’t want the girl to stay with me. But, I tell them they can come to stay with me because they need somewhere to stay. Another day, the woman came again saying, “I have another student.” Then another day, school is nearly starting, and the students who have nowhere to stay start to come. Another man and woman came and asked me if three students can come to stay with me. So, I have to build more on my house!</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Still I was thinking, “God, why do you do this? This is not what I was planning.” So I have to pray to God. Then God showed me, this is what I should be doing and gave me a heart to help the students. He showed me to think like this: I was looking at Thai people and they love their country and people very much, they help each other and work together and are loyal. I was thinking, why do the Karen people and government leader not care about the poor people? Why are they fighting, and not love each other. They don’t hold the people close to their heart. So I was thinking, if I stay here and help the new students it will be very good for them to learn about love. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I want the children to know about Jesus and God. I want them to have an education, and to learn to take care of the old people and their Karen people. I want them to learn like this, some Karen people do not care of each other, so I want the student to know how to take care of the poor people and each other. I want to teach the students, “don’t do like those other people are doing.” I also want them to learn how to go and do for themselves.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Then, one day I went to Chaing Mai again for training. I was praying about how to do everything for the students. My friend called me and told me a friend will come to visit Thailand and is looking for some places to visit, but I was far away from Takkolang. My friend called me to ask me to come visit the visitor, but I didn’t want to go because I could not speak English well. So my friend kept calling me until I decided I needed to go anyways, so I called another friend to help translate. I came and met the visitor and he looked around my area that day. He did not talk to me, he just talked to my friend and he didn’t know anything about me. He came back with me to my house to drop me off, and then the visitor saw me staying in my little bamboo house with all the children. He asked me, “Why do you have so many children in this little house?” So, my friend translated for me. “I love these students. They want to go to school and learn, but they have no place to stay so they came to stay with me and go to school.” So he told me, “I want to build one dormitory for the students.” I was so very happy and thankful, and he came back to help build it later.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Another problem that I had, was that I was not married yet. Sometimes the people would gossip about me and the girl students staying with me even though I never did anything wrong and always treated the girls respectfully. So I was thinking I needed a wife to help me, and then maybe no one would gossip about me then. So I prayed to God, “Please, find me a wife.” And he gave me one, and now I have a family already.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Another thing I worry about and think about is, how are we going to feed the students because we don’t have money, and more students were coming. But every time I just pray and trust in God, and God is helping me and doing for me. In the future I want to build a new dorm, one for the boys and one for the girls. I want to have very clever students and teach them English. I want to build classrooms here. I want to build big! So, this is my story.</div>
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One of the lessons I have learned from Bilay, is that God often chooses to use the least expected to carry out his work. By that I mean, some of us would think Bilay should be the one who is receiving help from others because of his limited mobility, but instead, he is actually serving others and carrying out God’s work. So remember, if you feel discouraged and oppressed, and are thinking you cannot do something, allow God to strengthen you and use you in-spite of your weaknesses. For God is good and faithful. </div>
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“Listen my dear brothers and sisters: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he has promised those who love him?”</div>
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James 2:5</div>
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*Due to Bilay’s limited English language skills some of the grammar has been corrected for easier reading, and in order to help the reader better understand the content.</div>
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Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-82768762504736698062014-06-26T23:40:00.000-07:002014-06-26T23:47:10.878-07:00Walking HomeI am back in Thailand again. I have been here for about a month and have spent time in Bangkok, on the coast, and at one children's home along the border, but I have finally ventured back up to my old home and village area also along the Thai-Burmese border. I wasn't sure what to think or expect as last time I left feeling disappointed and defeated. I had been working at a children's home there and had fallen in love with the kids, but after some issues there with management I knew I had to walk away. I felt like I was abandoning my children. I resolved to continue helping the Karen there and decided to teach English classes in a nearby village after being invited to work there. Again, after several months of not having the support necessary to build a good program there and having a visiting, alcoholic son return to stay in my host family home which ended up being very disruptive, I decided to leave again. I was very disappointed as I had really put my heart into trying to make a go of working with the Karen along the border. I was saddened and felt burned out after little more than spending a year there. At the same time, I had many lovely, happy memories and experiences there, but didn't know if I wanted to return as I felt like a failure. I may have failed in my endeaver to work at the children's home and in starting an English program there, but...<br />
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What I didn't realize was that I had succeeded in creating meaningful and encouraging relationships with people there, and had gained valuable life experiences. I lived with one of the world's poorest and oppressed people, and even if I couldn't offer them riches or unlimited resources or opportunities, I offered them a loving friendship. By going to live and work with them I gave them hope in the world and let them know that they are not alone nor forgotten in their troubles. I may have failed in one sense but succeeded in another.<br />
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So, as I found myself dropped off from the bus on the side of the road there along the border surrounded by jungle and fields, I was unexpectedly happy to be back and glad that I could still offer my friendship to some of the most beautiful, kind people I am blessed to know. I had my backpack and a handbag, a pair of flipflops on, and a happy heart as I walked down the road towards my old village and I felt like I was coming home again. I may never spend a lot of time here again in the future, but this place has been imprinted upon my heart and soul, and I will never be nor live the same again.<br />
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When one has gotten to live, to work, and to be with the world's poor and are truly open to learning, one will gain a quality, a sense of something that cannot be put into words nor easily conveyed. It just is what it is. So I encourage everyone no matter where you are at in life to take some time to unexpectedly spend with someone different from you, and find some kindness and love to share and you will infinitely gain more than you could ever give.Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-23243462776221328832014-01-27T22:49:00.001-08:002014-01-27T22:49:24.333-08:00Where's My Life Compass?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuhqMZGcfFW1qG50RJV9v3Hkcqm2KCGOnvWuJEaiI-8d215k909AWnddqLTD4mGZO8wUOaYMh5ROLIsUUfugcO6h0Fmr5cOqs_ghpWcRpBiYh9-yqDghKlTS5vh355C9OV8XHy082xG0/s1600/woods2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuhqMZGcfFW1qG50RJV9v3Hkcqm2KCGOnvWuJEaiI-8d215k909AWnddqLTD4mGZO8wUOaYMh5ROLIsUUfugcO6h0Fmr5cOqs_ghpWcRpBiYh9-yqDghKlTS5vh355C9OV8XHy082xG0/s1600/woods2.jpg" height="256" width="320" /></a>I imagine that getting lost in the woods or a jungle would bring on an overwhelming sense of fear and panic. I've never truly been lost, yet. Its kind of lucky considering how many hikes I've been on, and that I can't really read a map, and that I also don't have the greatest sense of direction. I've never experienced any gut wrenching panic and worry for being lost. It must be a natural tendency, when getting lost, to experience fear and panic. No one likes to be alone in some creepy woods, without supplies, and not knowing how to survive. As humans, we also like security. We like being with other people. We like having a cozy home. We do not like to be lost.</div>
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The fear of being lost translates so well into other aspects of our lives as humans. Currently, for about the past year I would say I have been lost. I think the initial panic set in when I first realized I was "lost". I had thoughts like these, <i>I have no idea what I am doing or what I want to do which translates as, I</i><b><i> have no idea where I am in life, or how to get to where I want to be, let alone know where I am supposed to be. </i></b>Where is my Life compass?<b><i> </i></b>I have a sneaky suspicion I am not alone in these thoughts, nor is it uncommon for other young folks these days to be lost. Its a crazy world out there. Full of so many paths and possibilities, with so many rapid changes going on, and so many different messages coming at us 24/7. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ddbo9LN8mTUzhzcKqbw_SCnNeAOwjSh-xMYkn_-oI-bnORoHgEQlESfcjAw-31v0d6nM4xmXCjxgmhZFUwtIgxagPq24M0XRaC2tUOYXmNxDHdQ7eklKpxxWVeewtRLKlERLJLuLpBM/s1600/compass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ddbo9LN8mTUzhzcKqbw_SCnNeAOwjSh-xMYkn_-oI-bnORoHgEQlESfcjAw-31v0d6nM4xmXCjxgmhZFUwtIgxagPq24M0XRaC2tUOYXmNxDHdQ7eklKpxxWVeewtRLKlERLJLuLpBM/s1600/compass.jpg" /></a>In the Christian world, its a little bit of a negative thing to be lost. No, I would say its considered a <b><i>horrible </i></b>thing. Let's not talk about it, or better yet, why don't those who are lost, just stop being lost. Like its a choice. <i>Nobody ever wants to be lost</i>. It also seems like that if a Christian is lost, then that person is no longer in communion with God, and lacks a purpose. Have you ever heard, "So and so is so lost right now. He just needs to find God. He just needs a purpose." The message seems to be, <i>You are lost, get un-lost. </i> First, being lost allows us as Christians <i>to let</i> God lead us somewhere. Secondly, it encourages us to trust God and to be brave enough to step out in life even when we don't know where we are or where we are going. Plus, it probably just helps us mature in general.</div>
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I would say, <i>embrace being lost.</i> Woe, what? Don't let panic and fear overrun our lives, our judgement, our perception, our contentment, our happiness, and our trust in God. Even in being lost, as Christians we can serve God with praise and worship. As humans, we can enjoy what we have been given even in times of <i>lostness</i>. We still have a purpose. </div>
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Being lost is a good time to just <b><i>be</i></b><i>.</i> Be alive. Be grateful. Be whatever. Trust. Don't worry about this world.</div>
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Being lost doesn't mean we lack direction. It just means we aren't where we want to be in life yet. It doesn't mean we can't get there. On the flip side, it could mean that we are lost because we aren't supposed to be where we <i>think</i> we want to be.</div>
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Being lost makes other people uncomfortable. I have no idea how many times I have tried explaining my life right now to someone else, and what I am doing or not doing, or where I am going or not going... People don't know how to respond to those experiencing <i>lostness</i>. They feel a little uncomfortable. They don't know what to talk about. They feel panicked and worried for us. They want to go out and do the job of finding us for ourselves. Now, there are a few who do understand, who have experienced it themselves and know how it can be life changing. <i>By the way, people don't like their lives changed either. </i></div>
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<i></i>I am blessed by those who recognize my <i>lostness</i> but let me continue my journey of <i>lostness</i>, because these people allow my life to be changed, and I feel pretty confident that is going to be changed in a better way. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLiZGKBw3EBhV2XRWrCYXbz62NzPTSXzvqYiopZvCjCQGV9rdbde0AD8eqxDmi6NiKbyDIt-v1W6rB7S1sLu7dB5s60Awq56jyGfca-r5kSERzeVuv36whZyP3gsGGcx4_QWwGl6xAZE/s1600/DSC07280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLiZGKBw3EBhV2XRWrCYXbz62NzPTSXzvqYiopZvCjCQGV9rdbde0AD8eqxDmi6NiKbyDIt-v1W6rB7S1sLu7dB5s60Awq56jyGfca-r5kSERzeVuv36whZyP3gsGGcx4_QWwGl6xAZE/s1600/DSC07280.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>So I may not find myself in the jungle currently, and I may find myself a bit lost in life. But that doesn't mean I'm not with God <i>or that God isn't with me</i>, or that I lack a purpose. My purpose is to let God lead me somewhere new, to give thanks, and to step out bravely in the dark as I stumble along. Although, I have another sneaky suspicion that I know exactly where I might end up one day. </div>
Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-89535436315466143692014-01-22T19:40:00.002-08:002014-01-22T19:40:37.175-08:00Happiness is... <br />
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Happiness is time spent with people we love, doing the things we love. </div>
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Happiness can be found in achieving something, but rarely in gaining materialistic things. </div>
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Happiness lies in forgiveness. </div>
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Happiness lies within an attitude.</div>
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Happiness can be found in spiritual peace. </div>
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Happiness is spending time in nature, protecting it and cultivating it, not using it up. </div>
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Happiness isn't found in mindless consumption, but in producing something. Although some consumption can be fun.</div>
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Happiness isn't elusive. </div>
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Its usually sitting in front of us waiting to be found by slowing down, prioritizing, and letting go of time wasters, and worldly goals and expectations for life. </div>
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Happiness often means being a "loser".</div>
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Those who don't have happiness, don't understand the easy secret to having it. </div>
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Happiness is thinking and living like a child. Innocently, full of joy and wonder at the beauty of the world. Getting excited by the most mundane of things and by the most amazing of things.</div>
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Love others. Live simply.</div>
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Its not difficult to find nor have. </div>
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Happiness isn't spending hours on Facebook, using smart phones, taking Instagram photos, tweeting what we are eating, or spending hours on the Internet. Although, some joy may be found in these things. It won't make us happy.</div>
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Happiness is listening to others speak and actually hearing what they are saying and then caring about it.</div>
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Happiness is having someone listen to us and then caring about it too.</div>
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Happiness is sharing food and eating together.</div>
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Happiness is singing together in joy, in celebration.</div>
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Happiness is sitting in the sun and playing with children.</div>
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Happiness cannot be found in having a clean house, although satisfaction may be found. </div>
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Being happy doesn't mean that we don't ever feel sadness or experience a blue day. It just means we can still smile in-spite of blue days sometimes.</div>
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Being perfect doesn't lead to happiness. </div>
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Realizing your flaws, but recognizing your strengths can build the road to happiness and contentment.</div>
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Happiness is having nothing and being poor, but still finding joy in the world and love to give. </div>
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Happiness is not having everything.</div>
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Happiness is not greed.</div>
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Happiness can be found in sharing with others. </div>
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Happiness is a surprise note.</div>
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Happiness is found in receiving support from family and friends.</div>
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Happiness is counter intuitive. </div>
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It is a surprise in its simplicity. </div>
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Happiness is greeting one another with love and care.</div>
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Happiness is rarely found in isolation. </div>
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Happiness is a warm hug.</div>
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Happiness is laughing with others.</div>
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Happiness is a warm relationship. </div>
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Happiness is intimacy. Feeling close with another.</div>
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Happiness is letting go. Letting go of the past, of mistakes, of hate, of hurt, of destructive relationships, and of disappointments.</div>
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Happiness is found in enjoying the moment. In enjoying the small things.</div>
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Be together. Live in a way respectful to others, to our selves, and to the earth that was given us. Give all the time, make time for each other, and happiness will follow.</div>
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Happiness is...</div>
Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-20169257061498282992013-12-28T22:15:00.003-08:002013-12-28T22:15:46.305-08:00Wise ManSitting across from me is an old friend. I've known this man for about 4 years now and he always has something new to say. For the most part I listen, and most times walk away having learned something. Really, we are the most unlikely of friends. See, he is a middle-aged, asian man from the jungles of Burma and Thailand, and I am a 20s something white girl from the most luxurious nations of all time, America.<br />
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His name is Saw Mu Lar, and first and foremost he is a father and husband. Secondly, he is a friend to most anyone. Thirdly, he is a leader in the sense of doing what little things he can to bring about good.<br />
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My name is Amber, and who I am is still in the making, but I would like to also think I am a friend to everyone (with some wise discretion to some characters, right?) and a leader in some aspects...<br />
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But, back to learning from my friend. He talks, I listen. Today, he is talking about how doing certain things leads to feeling not good, or to not being happy. Some of his thoughts are based on his culture which is very interdependent and social. Saw Mu is Karen, and typically the Karen love socializing and don't always understand the concept of spending time alone (as I have found to be the case from my own experiences). Anyways, my point is that for Saw Mu Lar, spending time isolated from others leads to being unhappy and is "not good" or not healthy. He is talking about how so many Americans, get up and go to work, come home, eat some food, play on the internet/watch tv, go to sleep, get up and repeat. I had to agree with him, cuz I find myself doing the same thing. For example, the past few weeks I have found myself feeling stressed out and tense. I have been wondering why that is, and I was just thinking this past week that its because I spend too much time goofing off on the internet. My time is being used unwisely and not spent interacting with others. Sure, it would make sense to start feeling stressed, tense, and not good by spending too much time on the internet or television, and not enough time spent with others.<br />
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Basically, Saw Mu Lar is pointing out that some of our daily American habits lead to being unhappy. I'm sitting here thinking, <i>how many doctors and people with expensive degrees doing research does it take to figure out what this man from the jungle learned from just observing the new culture he found himself in? </i>That's why I sit and listen to this man. Cuz he knows something from looking into my culture from the outside and he is not afraid to talk about it.<br />
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His remedy, he tells me, is to take time to sit down and eat together. If you're at work, call your friend and coworkers over to eat with you. Actually share your food with them, and ask them about their family. He said, "how many people actually know their coworkers' families? Know their names, and faces, and have met them". Also, take time to go visit other people in their homes.<br />
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He is telling me this while I sit on his living room floor on a mat eating with my hands the food he has shared with me. He always asks how my parents are doing, and if anything is new. If I talk about something, he listens. Sometimes he teases me and jokes, sometimes he is serious. In the end, we have always managed to share a few laughs and I leave smiling, and feeling happy inside.<br />
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Good ol'friends can beat out the internet any day in my book!<br />
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* Saw Mu Lar's village was attacked in Burma in the 90's. He fled with his wife and kids to a refugee camp in Thailand, where he helped build and lead a Christian church outside the camp in a small, remote Thai village where when he first approached it, they told him to leave and threatened him. He decided to give a Christmas/New Year celebration at the village bringing food and song, inviting everyone to come to the celebration. After that, village members where more open to Christianity. He now lives in the Twin Cities with his family. He came here so his children could have more education and better opportunities.<br />
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<br />Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-31289391815206532192013-08-10T13:24:00.002-07:002013-08-10T13:24:35.558-07:00GoingI haven't written anything for this blog in quite some time. I think its because I find myself bored. Thus, not inspired to write. Being in your home country, state, and city seems to lack a certain adventurousness. There doesn't seem to be that exciting, anticipatory state of being in the unknown. Instead, it just seems like the same ol' things happening over and over again. So for myself, the challenge has become to enjoy and anticipate the same ol' things that are happening in my life. Really, I'm just kind of lost not being in a jungle. That's the bare truth of it. Its not that I don't enjoy being with my family and in my home, its just that I'm discovering that maybe I'm meant to be somewhere else, however difficult that is to admit. Its a very scary thing, to be standing at the edge of adult hood, and not knowing how to handle the fact that I might not always be around for my family. For some, it might be very easy to run off on some grand adventure, or feel that its a relief to leave, thinking good riddance! Having been bound to a home and to parents that may not have cherished and invested in that person, or perhaps your personality is a little more free then mine. <br /><br />I have always felt a keen responsibility and love for my family, and for others as well. Got to admit that I have lived selfishly at times. Even now, I am a bit of a recluse anymore. Hiding myself off from the world, because if you put your heart into something, chances are you might lose something when you move on. We always feel more keenly the things we lose, than the things we gain. Thats the trick to life, learning how to feel and appreciate all the things we have gained over the years and to be thankful instead of wallowing in some slight or troubling time. <br /><br />Back in my university days (which wasn't so long ago), I had to write a Vocational Statement for a course I was taking. I thought I'd share my statement from that, "Oh, not so long ago time!" in order to better convey what I feel called to on a daily basis. <br /><br /><br />Personal Statement of Vocation<br /><br /> I have always known since I was a little girl that I wanted to go. But I never really knew what that meant until recently. I remember looking at National Geographic growing up and thinking, I want to go there. I want to meet those people, I want to climb that mountain, I want to see that ocean. As I grew older and started learning about hurt, hunger, and homelessness, I began to have a heart for those in suffering and a strong urge to help. Some call this compassion, I call this going. <br /> Going means seeing a need and assessing how to meet that need. It means setting goals, organizing, and leading others to accomplish those goals. It means never giving up when the going gets tough. It means finding the positive in everything and the good in everyone. It means helping those who aren't able to help themselves and standing up for those who can't.<br /> These are all parts of who I am and who I am becoming. I know though that a strong part of me, my values and my sense of purpose, reside in my spirituality. My belief in God and in Jesus has challenged me to live in awareness of others and to live for something beyond just me. One of Jesus' teachings that I have carried with me is, if your neighbor lacks a shirt then you should give him the shirt off your back. This idea of helping those in need is a huge part of going. <br /> Going also means teaching and leading. I try to encourage others and challenge them to become and achieve all that they can. Going means sometimes speaking up, not being afraid and being bold. To give advice that's unanticipated and maybe not wanted, but relevant. It means being calm and collected in extreme situations and in the unexpected. It means being respectful of others and being tolerant of differences. It also means vocation.<br /> Going will be my vocation and my occupation. I might end up as a teacher, a social worker, a globe trekker, or a sociologist. But wherever I end up or wherever I go, I know that I will always have something to do. Something that will fuel me and give me passion. Something that will make me happy and fulfill me because wherever I go there will always be someone that can use a little encouragement, a little help, and a friend. <br /><br /><br />The real challenge now, is figuring out how to make going a reality, and where that next place is, and whether its here, there, or somewhere else altogether.<br />Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-75778748513752191872013-04-15T10:22:00.000-07:002013-04-15T10:22:35.795-07:00She Called Me Teacher<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm not really sure, what kind of feeling or emotion one should experience when seeing a one-shoed woman walking down the road. I happened to look outside, and I saw this woman carrying a bundle of leaves, with her two young boys trailing after her. It was about midday and the sun was shining ferociously down upon her. She was so poor, she only had one shoe. But, I was strangely happy and pleasantly surprised. I knew this woman.<br />
<br />
I had met her over three years ago now. The first time I had journeyed to Thailand. She came to Bamboo School were I was working at the time, to ask if she could stay there for awhile. Her husband had just left her for another woman. She had a year and a half old boy, and a baby on the way. She came and worked hard. She was very pregnant but did her best to do odd jobs around, and to take care of her little boy. We began to build a relationship even though I couldn't speak Karen and she couldn't speak English. I allowed her to come to my beginner English class. She would sit on the floor surrounded by 5-10 year olds, her little boy beside her as she practiced writing. She learned how to say a few words. I was proud of her. She called me teacher. <br />
<br />
Then, I had to go home. When I had returned to Thailand again, she was gone. I didn't know what had happened to her, or how she was doing. Then one day, I saw her at the market. She looked so very thin, she had her two sons with her, and a very old woman. We couldn't say much to each other, but still she called me teacher. Her face broke out into a smile as we hugged each other. I still didn't know enough Karen to ask her where she was, or what she was doing. She managed to communicate that she was going to Burma. She gave me this little heart ring. It was dirty, but beautiful as she pressed in into my hand. <br />
<br />
I thought that was the last I would see of her. Then, I saw her walking down the road with only one shoe on. I felt overjoyed to see her. I called to her from my window. I told her to come over. I rushed out the door to bring the little troop in. My Karen teacher was there, giving them a funny look so I explained to her how I knew this woman. I knew a little more Karen this time, so I began to ask questions. Had you eaten yet? No. So, of course I had to dig up some food. She gave it to her little boys first, and then she ate. I asked what had happened to her shoes. Why did she only have one? Where was she living? How was she doing? Did she have a job?... <br />
<br />
She looked happy, but also like a very busy mother trying to provide for her family. Her oldest boy had managed to get into a local pre-school/kindergarten program three days a week. Then, she had gotten remarried. Was this man good to her? Did he take care of her and provide for her? Did he love her?... She said that they were trying to work, but it was tough because they were both from Burma and didn't speak Thai. But, they had a new plan, a dream to start a Beetle Nut Tree farm in Burma. In fact, they were going to be moving that week. She was getting tired, it was hot, and her little boys were cranky, so I took them back to their little bamboo house on my motorbike. I was pleased to see that it was neat, tidy, and in good condition. That's a good sign. She still only had one shoe, so I gave her a pair of mine. Perhaps, it would express the same thanks and appreciation for her, that her little heart ring had done for me. <br />
<br />
She tried to tell me in English, as I was leaving, that she was going back to Burma. She asked me to come visit her there. I told her that I too would be going back to my country, but that I hoped to return at the New Year. Perhaps, one day I will see her again. As I left, she called me Teacher. <br />
<br />
I never thought of myself as a teacher, but her belief in me has lead to me to see myself differently, and how I use my time differently. I may not ever be a famous leader, nor write books, or impact a lot of people, but I know that I impacted one woman's life half way around the world, and that she too has changed mine. There is a verse from the Bible that has profoundly impacted my life. Its very simple, and often overlooked. But, most often its the simple things that can change lives, like being called Teacher, and giving someone your own shoes.<br />
<br />
... Freely you have received; freely give. <br />
Matthew 10:8<br />
<br />Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-47075689559878658212013-01-09T03:24:00.000-08:002013-01-09T03:24:05.398-08:00Grandpa TeachersI'm not sure what kind of picture you conjure up when you think about pastors, I tend to imagine someone dressed in slacks with maybe a shirt tuck in, with a good, proper hair style. So, I was a little surpised (although I must say, pleasently surprised) when I met the pastor of the local church I am working with in Bongti, Thailand.<br />
<br />
First, I thought he was a short, little wizard man of some sort. His hair was white and poking untamed every which way. Even his eyebrows shut up stubbornly defying grafity. He had giant 80ish glasses on and a red stained mouth opened in a big smile. I have to say his eyes where a little bit like Santa Clause's like he new some great, happy secret he was just waiting to share with everyone. He was quite pleasent to meet.<br />
<br />
His name or title is Poo Thera Bee Bay, which in translation literally means, Grandpa Teacher. Isn't that a great title? He likes to wear sarangs, and to ride his bicycle (slightly wobbally) all over the town. He is a great chewy of beetle nut, and a just generally seems happy all the time. I believe he is around 85 yrs old and I keep telling myself I need to be like him.<br />
<br />
One day, I was hanging out with a large family gathering that was butchering a pig for a big celebration. We are all standing around the river, watching the pig get killed and cleaned near the water, when all of a sudden a laughing blur comes hurtling at me from behind and tries to push me into the little river. It was Poo Thera or Grandpa Teacher! He was laughing his head off and trying to push all the his little grandkids in too. He managed to get a few of the younger boys in, to their great surprise and accompanied with shouts of anger. It just tickled me pink to watch him being such a goose.<br />
<br />
Then, another favorite memory of mine, is when he painted all of his finger and toenails bright, sparkly hot pink. Why? I have no idea but I couldn't help but smile as he went up to preach, all manly in his sarong and pink finger nails. Oh, this is another great time too. It was Christmas day and the church was having a great, big celebration that included a reenactment of the Christmas Story and loud singing of songs by soloists. Well, Poo Thera went up there with his sarang, beetle nut chewing, Santa Clause twinking eyes, pink fingernails, and an electic guitar. He played and belted out in good fashion (and in English) Jingle Bells. Needless to say, he rocked that little church.<br />
<br />
But, my favorite memory of him is every sunday he gets up in front of the concregration and leads them in singing the same hymn every week, What a Friend We Have in Jesus. And suddently I realize where that happy, twinking, goofyness of his nature comes from, his hope in Jesus. And that's the greatest lesson I have taken from this crazy, white haired Grandpa Teacher.Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-52249774906085207682012-12-27T01:03:00.002-08:002012-12-27T01:03:24.959-08:00You've Been in The Jungle Too Long When...You've been in the jungle too long when...<br />
<br />
1) You start to stare at all the foreigners and think, "Wow, they are so white." Forgetting that you yourself are white, and/or that you just forgot you were white under all the jungle dust of the dry season<br />
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2) You get the urge to run after said foreigners just to have a little "chat" with them that somehow turns into a three hour long discourse of your life because you are so lonely<br />
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3) Eating with your hands, and large amounts of ants and other bugs that make their way into your food and it seems normal<br />
<br />
4) You have eaten monkey poo. According to locals its clean cuz monkeys only eat leaves...<br />
<br />
5) You no longer use toilet paper<br />
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6) You can chop up anything with a machete including filleting that fish you caught in the river, and am about to cook for dinner<br />
<br />
7) You can sleep anywhere, including concrete floors and hammocks, and withstand the harshest mosquito attacks<br />
<br />
8) When you start to have more odd illnesses then you can count, such as tropical ulcers, dengue fever, heat rash, a rash just for the sake of having a rash, worms, more fever, diarrhea, and things that don't even have English names<br />
<br />
9) When you start to love it... Everyday's an adventure!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-46545644410042672192012-11-24T23:35:00.000-08:002012-11-24T23:35:32.078-08:00Do You Have A Father?Well folksies, I had this great little story wrote up but then realized I forgot to save it, and when I restarted my computer I lost it. It was actually a somewhat difficult story to write and to tell because it involved death, and those stories are always so vivid and delicate. Anyways, I will try to reconstruct what I remember writing although it was a while ago already.<br /><br /> Sometimes, life has a way of just throwing everything you think you know in your face. Right now, my seemingly simple English lesson was staring me in the face flaunting its naivety. I was trying to teach my students family words like, mother, father, brother, sister... I thought it was a good idea to use questions to help them remember their new vocabulary. So, in bright blue ink across the whiteboard was written, "Do you have a father?. Yes, I have a father. No, I do not have a father.".<br /> "No, I do not have a father. He was killed by the Burmese soldiers. I was only two at the time. The soldiers came to my village and everyone ran into the jungle. The soldiers threw me into the river. I could not swim. Someone found me. My father stayed behind to face to the soldiers because he was a Karen leader. Later my mother went back to the village to find him. She found him dead. They had cut off his hands, and arms..."<br /> The Burmese soldiers, well, literally cut off anything that could be cut off. His ears, his nose... even his heart had been cut out and then stuffed into his mouth. This person's father had been mutilated in death. Its a gross story really, and very demoralizing. Sometimes, I meet someone and he/she tries to convince me that people are basically good but, then I hear a story like this and I am not convinced that as humans we are somehow just good. No, we only live in a good way when we consciously choose to do so. In the same way, the soldiers that committed this atrocity knowingly carried out their dirty deed. It was a choice for them. They didn't have to do that. Just as his father didn't have to be brave, but he made a choose to face the soldiers even though he most likely knew how it would end.<br /> My student's only memory of his father is of his death. He remembers his death all too well. He speaks to me in frustration and anger, and with a vindictive attitude. "I am not afraid of death. I will become a soldier in the KNLA (KAren National Liberation Army) I want to fight them." But, what about his own son? Because this student of mine is married already and has a little boy. What will his own child remember about him? <br /> I ask him, "Will you feel better after you kill someone?". But, my translator refuses to translate that. She wants him to be a soldier and fight too. What the Karen don't realize is that the game has already changed in Burma. That the country is opening up, so that soon the Karen won't need to fight anymore but, they keep living in their memories of the past and the wrongs they have experienced. <br /> The past is gone and the present has come, so I want to say to them, let go of the past and be a part of the change now. Even if the country is opening up mostly for economic development and profit. It might not be what the people of Burma have been dreaming of. A free Burma, independent and with a democracy, but if the ruling elite finally decides to open up the country and let some of its power go, take that opportunity and run with it because it might be the only chance you get.<br /> The change that is coming to Burma, in my opinion, is like a flooding river. It cannot be stopped. The waters of change have been accumulating and growing over a long period of time added to slowly by drop after drop. Once the flood waters of change starts to flow over the banks of society and people, it spreads over the low ground first slowly filling up all the spaces and then rising even more. For Burma, lets hope its a good change and work towards that. Its up to the Karen, and all the others in Burma who have been killed, attacked, and oppressed to stand up now and say that they won't allow that to happen again. Ideally, the elite, its propaganda, and those who supported the ruling military junta in the past, also need to acknowledge the wrongs of its past and the atrocities it committed. But, eventually, no one will remember what happened there anyways. It will only be a past recorded and found in history books, and not a living reality anymore. Perhaps, thats how it should be because if we live in the past, in our memories, and in the wrongs we have experienced, we won't truly be living now, in the present. We will be a prisoner of the past. In order to be a true survivor we must be living in the present. The same goes for all those who have suffered wrongs and oppression around the world. Let go of it, and live the life you have right now. Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-19418147707618698292012-10-11T22:47:00.001-07:002012-10-11T22:47:58.367-07:00Motorbike Time!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhHXXLeJbJGtBJ8tAdGF5ozvcvk9yqBWD66GQYXmlf5IL2Q0aQZJPahweNUboPSyyi1SpRW8-ylirkEuypUnIXSro_Ctnaq8RFzD0BlW-km9QI7aIi4Y7R3FZLqGEd9_3DsCuBxAvipA/s1600/DSC07089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhHXXLeJbJGtBJ8tAdGF5ozvcvk9yqBWD66GQYXmlf5IL2Q0aQZJPahweNUboPSyyi1SpRW8-ylirkEuypUnIXSro_Ctnaq8RFzD0BlW-km9QI7aIi4Y7R3FZLqGEd9_3DsCuBxAvipA/s1600/DSC07089.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Well, my first attempt at driving a
motorbike at night, and in the rain was pretty mortifying. My vain self was put
to shame. I remembered as I wobbled and hobbled all over the road that I had
confidently declared just the day before that I could drive a motorbike. All of
my new local "family" members and friends, looked at this little
white girl and didn't believe a word I said. It is now apparent to me that they
believed correctly. No, I did not crash into a tree or lay the bike down, but I
performed miserably as the rain ran into my eyes, my headlight seemed so dim
and weak in the dark, and my earlier confidence melted as the bike seemed to
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I did drive off the road... only a little
bit. I was pulling out of my drive onto the main road and swung a little wide.
Granted, my rain jacked hood was covering my eyes, but I'm not sure if anybody
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off the road through a patch of lemon grass.<span>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Then, I made my way to the little shop
where the fat, cat lover woman resides and one of my students bravely said she
would ride with me the little way to the classroom. My take off was jerky, and
extremely precarious. Somehow, we made it to class in the rain and up a muddy
slope. I pulled to the top and started sliding down. How awkward. What do you
do with a motorbike on a muddy slope when in starts rolling back down?
Light-bulb!<span> </span>Apply the break.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Anyways, I had a hard time focusing on
teaching my English class as I kept picturing my self driving through that
patch of lemon grass with a hood over my eyes. I was embarrassed and amused at
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Next time, I wont declare so loudly and
confidently that I can do something until I have at least tried to do it a time
or two in the rainy dark. </span></div>
Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-60986819397321838382012-09-25T21:36:00.002-07:002012-09-25T21:36:34.273-07:00Back In Thailand<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Well, I'm back in Thailand but I have
moved positions.<span> </span>Previously, I was
working and living at a children's home called Bamboo School.<span> </span>Now I am living about fifteen minutes down
the road with some local Karen. Even though I have moved places some of my work
is still similar.<span> </span>I am still teaching
English classes, but to a new set of students.<span>
</span>I teach five evenings a week.<span> </span>The
first day of class was quite a surprise. Word had evidently spread that there
was a new, white English teacher in the area and I think everyone who could,
came.<span> </span>It was a full house of new
students bent over their notebooks, excitingly but shyly copying the ABC's down
and learning new words. Boy, they were everywhere I tell ya.<span> </span>Spread out over the concrete floor, sitting
on the few plastic chairs, and standing around. Mothers came, grandfathers
came, children came... It was such fun and learning all of their names in one night, impossible!<span> </span>I am very excited to see so many eager students,
but it makes me more aware of my lack of training and ability to teach
well.<span> </span>But, every time I look at their
eager faces I just have to give it my best shot for them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Another experience I have had recently
was attending the local Baptist Church here. They asked me to teach an English
verse to one of the Sunday School classes. I went and taught my verse, which was the
only thing said in English, and three hours later class was finally finished.
Man, I had no idea a Sunday School class could be so long and boring. : ) I
really did try, but couldn't follow along very well.<span> </span>Then, it was time for the actual service to
begin which I sat through and understood maybe a total of 3 words. : ) The
woman who arranged/invited me to come to stay in this village brought me in front of the
congregation, and said a whole lot of something that I couldn't understand as
it was in Karen, and then asked me to say something.<span> </span>I had no idea what to say.<span> </span>So I just told them, "Thank you for
welcoming me to your home. I am very young and sometimes do not know what I am
doing. But I came because I believe God told me to come here anyways. I will do
my best to teach English and help you, but sometimes you might have to help me
too." They<span> </span>seemed to like that...
or something I said at least, because they all laughed, so I considered my
little speech successful.<span> </span>Sweet
oblivion?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">There is a little shop just beside my new
home. Its matron is a funny, fat<span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Karen woman who loves cats.<span> </span>You can find her poking out her window making
cat noises, and leaving little plates of scrap food around to feed her precious
animals. Sometimes, she walks around with a little kitten perched on her
shoulders. Another thing you will find her doing is making sure everyone is
well fed. She is very proud of her fat stomach and seems to think everyone
would like to have one just as nice as hers, as she rubs her tummy and smiles, proudly
showing me her well earned bulge as she offers me even more food. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>I
was told when I arrived that a girl named Susanna will come to live with
me.<span> </span>This girl turned out to be 42 year
old, Karen woman from near Rangoon. Don't you just love cross-cultural/language
communication? My new friend is always chewing beetle nut and drinking hot
"Myanmar Tea".<span> </span>She is a
teacher and a paster at the church here. She has gone to Bible school in Burma,
and is very thoughtful.<span> </span>She loves to
make condescending faces as she speaks to emphasis her points.<span> </span>I am very thankful for my new companion whom I
can have thoughtful, intellectual conversations with, although we don't always understand
each other.<span> </span>When she wants me to go with
her she asks, "Will you follow me?" Instead of, "Do you want to
go with me?"<span> </span>Or she says, "Can
you carry for me? What will you carry?" which means, "Can you help me?"
So, its taking some time. Or, "How many spelling?" equals "How
do you spell that word?"</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Fun times! Really, the only truly
frustrating thing so far has been not being able to leave the house where I am
staying. The individuals who invited me to come teach here are very worried and
concerned about my safety. Since I have previously lived in the area, I have
met many people and I know lay of the land well.<span> </span>I am not concerned and want to go visit my
old friends. They think I will practically get kidnapped if I step out the
door. They are very distrustful of the local Thais and police. Rightly so for minority Karen at times, but not for a white foreigner. I am trying to be very
respectful and considerate of their concerns, but I have a strong, fearless<span> </span>independent streak in me that rebels against
such oppression.<span> </span>: )</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I think that's all I got for now. I will
try to get some new pictures up for you all. I don't have regular internet
access right now so that puts real damper on things. Take care!</span></div>
Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-82157369496490046672012-04-14T06:28:00.001-07:002012-04-14T07:05:54.032-07:00Goats and Trucks<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeQ4ORJJ8EUXT6oqBKl2QH54IHAoNFA10Pl5m4kcvyqoDBBgQLwvF2bD76gTD7KGaYct3DUJODt1iDfkWkHX3Q61shTqfHGhP_KQOBZns1utYPWBhidWxybp3xnHDyqS2gkL-B0PhdzU/s1600/goat11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeQ4ORJJ8EUXT6oqBKl2QH54IHAoNFA10Pl5m4kcvyqoDBBgQLwvF2bD76gTD7KGaYct3DUJODt1iDfkWkHX3Q61shTqfHGhP_KQOBZns1utYPWBhidWxybp3xnHDyqS2gkL-B0PhdzU/s400/goat11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goats!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyzTyU_FVo4R_bW9sOPH4OEqpu-Rat33W3S3vxJrnXPHGNi8ZbKMVI7HdQnfng2DCcu-ubOeY_RfrN7d4e4zjLZe5BlPGdiLEImfd6p7zwNI0-t_j2vRVjGakLZCEBRRAZzbjPQV0DCI/s1600/DSC03032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyzTyU_FVo4R_bW9sOPH4OEqpu-Rat33W3S3vxJrnXPHGNi8ZbKMVI7HdQnfng2DCcu-ubOeY_RfrN7d4e4zjLZe5BlPGdiLEImfd6p7zwNI0-t_j2vRVjGakLZCEBRRAZzbjPQV0DCI/s320/DSC03032.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Old Green Truck"</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Back to the goat, it really couldn't avoid being hit. Luckily, I was not driving too fast when it ran into the road. The poor thing had been tied to a tree and tempted by the greener grass on the other side of the road all day. It was finally making a break for it when I happened to drive by. It had no idea that it was going to be hit by an old green truck. I squinted my eyes tightly, slammed on my breaks, and took a deep breath of anguish as I saw what was coming but couldn’t avoid it. It made a great good sound as it ran into the truck but amazingly, it drunkenly kept staggering on into the jungle bush before laying down. The owner ran out of his little house as I pulled over to the side of the road and picked up his now hurt and shaken goat. I had no idea what to do. What do you do in Thailand when you drive into a goat? I was alone, I had never hit a goat before, and I had no one to translate for me or help me navigate this new experience. The goat ran off again. I’m surprised he didn’t give up running after such a traumatic experience, but then again, some of us never learn. The owner looked a little confused and said some things in Thai. I don’t think he knew what to do either. Its not every day that a little white girl comes out of nowhere and hits your goat with a truck. Anyways, a young man was standing by and watched the whole thing. Great, witnesses. I just shrugged, lifted my hands in a "I don't know" kind of gesture towards the owner and the witness and got back in the truck. As I drove off the young witness was laughing at me from my rear view mirror. Then this morning, when I went to the local market my laughing witness spotted me, shrugged, and lifted his hands in a "I don't know" kind of gesture. It all seemed pretty worth it then, getting to connect with a stranger over a goat and an old green truck.</div>Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-25696973328566537152012-02-04T01:05:00.001-08:002012-04-14T06:55:45.767-07:00What It Really Means To Serve<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I know I promised to write something about goats and green trucks last time I posted but it will just have to wait until next time. I would like to share with you some other things</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Being in Thailand is hard sometimes. No, I am not referring to the 80-90 degree weather in the middle of January and the bright sunny skies. I am talking about being away from family and friends. I can take the cold baths and washing my clothes by hand. I can eat rice and vegetables three times a day. I can handle getting covered in poo when diarrhea overcomes the little girl I am holding. No problem! What’s difficult is not getting to sit down at the kitchen table and have a good ol’chat with my mom. Its difficult not getting to visit my brother as he roasts coffee at Dunn Brothers and do crossword puzzles with him. I miss eating Sunday dinner with my family and friends. I miss working in the garage with my dad in the freezing cold of December. Its difficult. I miss getting to watch my little nephew grow up and learn to say things like my name. I don’t get to go out for coffee with my besty friends or stay up late talking with them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> So its difficult sometimes and I miss a lot of things. So why am I here in Thailand serving at Bamboo School? I don’t have to be here. I could be home. I could be building a career or something like that. But God didn’t call me to take the easy road. (Luke 14:25-33) Being a Christian means doing the hard things and taking the bumpy roads for the sake of sharing the gospel (2 Corinthians 6:4-10 and Matthew 28:18-20)). It means being true to what one believes and the salvation that we have received through Christ. No hypocrisy or halfhearted living. We have a race to run! (1 Corinthians 9:26-27) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I recently traveled to Vientiane, Laos to get a new visa and then spent some time in Bangkok. I noticed a lot of young travelers out on a gap year after high school or traveling around the world after finishing university. All of them were very excited to be out and about, seeing new things and going exotic places, but they were all traveling with friends, staying in guesthouses, eating at restaurants and visiting touristy places. It hit me that they were all excited to be in Laos or Thailand but were not actually connecting with these places. They just hopped from one business that serves foreigners to another. They weren’t doing anything for the places or the people they visited except provide a little income</span>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It would be easy to live one’s life without caring about the rest of the world, or anyone else or those that are less fortunate than us. That’s the easy road, not caring or doing anything about the things that bother us. As a young, 23 year old, most of my peers are out there doing nothing with their lives. A few of them are pursuing careers or are starting to build their own families but most of them are out there “living it up”. Going out and being free by drinking their guts out and doing the partying scene. They think that they are being rebellious against society and anarchist by getting wasted. “Take that world! I am free enough to give control of of myself over to whatever I want! You’ll never own me!” This is the lie they believe and fall for.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> It would be pretty easy to forget the cries of hurting people not hear them with loud, mixed, techno music thumping in your ear dancing on on a dark floor - unless you happened to come face to face with those hurting people. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> I went out with some new Thai friends for dinner in Bangkok. They took me to a club after wards. As I was sitting there, I kept trying to decide why in the world was I there. There was no appeal in this place to me at all. Everyone around me was laughing, drinking, and dancing together. Singing out loudly together to the music. It seemed like a very merry time, but all I could remember or think about were the kids I left behind at Bamboo School. For this? I remembered their voices singing in worship together in the early morning hours. I thought about all of their stories. For example, the little seven year old boy who walked across the Burmese border after his parents had been killed the Burmese military. He had had nowhere to go. That's how he end at Bamboo School. I thought of little Dokmai whose mother left her abandoned at the hospital or the pregnant mother whose husband left her for another. She had no money to take care of her son and the baby that was on its way and no home.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> So that's where the danger lies. It lies in connecting with people and children face to face, living where they live and living how they live because it forces us to make a choice between taking the easy road or actually doing something. Dangerous! Satan has done a pretty good job of distracting my peers by filling them up with myths that drinking and partying means that they are free. That traveling places means that they are doing something with their lives. If half my peers that are traveling around the world actually took time to do something for the people that they pay to visit and/or fill up their glasses than this world would already be a lot different. Hopefully, it would be for God's glory. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div>Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-48521228662141512732011-12-29T07:20:00.000-08:002011-12-29T07:20:21.171-08:00A Sight To SeeThis morning I went to the local Thai market with a new volunteer. It was one of those mornings. To begin with, I had a seven year old boy with cerebral palsy, who is also deaf and blind, on my back piggy back style. He is very small so not heavy but he cannot hold on too well given the cerebral palsy. He also likes to decide to hit himself in the head when irritated as a way to communicate and if that doesn't work then he likes to bite his hand or pinch himself. The two of us made made quite a site. Little ol' blonde me walking through the market with a little brown boy who keeps hitting and biting himself precariously perched on back. <br />
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Next, add the new volunteer who is taking care of two year old Bekah. The volunteer arrived about a week ago. On Monday I learned that she had never changed a diaper before. I also learned that she planned to be working at Bamboo School (a home for children) for the next year. I immediately thought she was crazy. Who commits to working at a children's home without ever having changed a diaper before? Apparently, she does. So its been a learning experience for her so far, and for me who has become her guide to all things children, Bamboo School, and Thailand. As you can imagine, she was a bit lost and overwhelmed as to what to do at an open air market. It wasn't Walmart. That's for sure. There were live eels in buckets, whole dead frogs for the taking, fish paste and chili, machetes for chopping bamboo, sarongs for bathing in a river, and rice to eat.<br />
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So the two whities (me and the new volunteer) and the two little ones tried to make our way through the crowded market, while carrying all our new goodies, and then look for even more good stuff like clothes hangers, food storage bins, and mirrors. Absolute necessities! Plus, limes and peanuts are a must for adding a little flavor and protein. I was trying to complete a transaction for said clothes hangers etc... with a local vendor (with the little boy on my back and bags slinging from my arm) when I notice everyone looking at us. This was not new. I get a lot of looks when I am about, but I noticed something was different. I looked around, and down, and then realized that not only had little Bekah peed her pants, but had also proceeded to pooh in front of everyone in the market. She left a nice little something on the ground and on her pants, on her shoes, and on her feet. The new volunteer was appalled. I thought it was funny and inconvenient given the circumstances. <br />
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Bless the new volunteer though as she had toilet paper in her bag. It came in handy for cleaning up the little girl who poohed in the middle of the market and for picking up the finished (ah hum) byproduct. So, that was the icing on the cake and the sight to see at the market today. The two whities, the little boy who hits himself, and the little girl who poohs in the market. <br />
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Coming soon is a brief dissertation on the highly attractive qualities that exist between Thai goats and old green trucks.Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-76241627174281060222011-11-27T19:55:00.000-08:002011-11-27T19:55:11.514-08:00Life In Thailand So FarSo... what can I tell you about being in Thailand and at Bamboo School so far? One of my most favorite moments so far is of a little boy appropriately named Moremorechore, who proudly holding up his finger with a big, gross booger on it yelled, "Teacher! Look!". I promptly made him go wash his hands. His proud fat booger reassuring me that yes, this is really where I should be. On my first day back at Bamboo School, Moremorechore also started a fire, on purpose, in the bushes right next to a bamboo dorm. The smoke from the fire gave him away, as well as, the lighter in his hand. I gave him a good spank on the rear and made him carry the water to put it out the fire. He really wasn't that sorry for it, seeing as he was grinning from ear to ear in-spite of the spanking and water carrying. I do think he likes to just make more and more chores for us volunteers. <br />
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I have also been doing a lot of grunt work clearing out overgrowth in order to develop a new garden. It is very difficult to hoe and turn over the ground here because the soil is very very rocky. I can only carry a half bucket of dirt because it is so dense and heavy. I have also been cutting back a lot of grass with machetes. I like to imagine myself bravely hacking through the jungle looking for missing Bamboo School children as I hack away. Chances are, it will happen too. Its quite prickly work though. There are great big thorny plants that grow amongst the grass so you have to wear thick clothing from top to bottom in order to avoid getting stickers and thorns stuck everywhere. In between the fingers is the worst! <br />
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Another lovely memory is swimming at the lake with the little girls. The lake is nestled amongst the jungly mountains and towards 4:30 or 5:00 pm the sun begins to tuck in behind the mountains and there is a very hazy, sun setting glow mixed with the sounds of little girls playing in the water. It is a very calming and beautiful time. Although, I have to suppress the fear of snakes every time I go swimming. I can just picture a snake making itself cozy with my ankles under the water. <br />
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I also get to make new friends with the other volunteers here. Ryan and Jesse, a young married couple around their 30's, introduced me to Tim Tam Slams. Tim Tams are a type of chocolate cookie from New Zealand and Australia. So a Tim Tam slam is biting the ends off the rectangular cookie and sucking hot chocolate through the cookie until the chocolate in the cookie melts and you have to slam the melting cookie into your mouth so you don't lose it into your hot chocolate. Very yummy and messy!<br />
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Well, thats all for know. There is so much more that I can write about but it will have to wait until another day.Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-32770479598679605402011-10-02T22:10:00.000-07:002011-10-02T22:10:32.277-07:00My First Pad ThaiMy first encounter with Pad Thai was not in a restaurant nor was it served familiarly on a plate. It came suspiciously wrapped in paper...<br />
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It might not seem like a big deal to eat Pad Thai or Pad Thai that is wrapped in paper but it was very meaningful to me. First, I was in Thailand. That means it was actually really good Pad Thai. Secondly, I was tired, frustrated, alone and hungry. It had been a really long day. I had woken up at 5:30 am to get the kids up in time so they could get ready for school, eat breakfast, and do their morning jobs before classes started. It then took two trips to get all the kids to school. Then, I made sure the children too young for school were fed, bathed, played with and loved. Plus, plan the daily English lesson and take the two trips back to pick up the kids. <br />
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So, come 10:30 pm that night, sitting in a cold, not white anymore Thai hospital ward was a little bit disconcerting. I would have been much happier under my mosquito net tucked in cozily for the night. Instead, I was still awake sitting on the edge of a hospital bed with bright florescent lights shining down on me. Cat, the woman who founded Bamboo School, had called me after I had managed to get the last kids home from school, asking if I could go stay at the hospital to take care of baby Bekah (10 months old) who was sick and staying there. Sure! How difficult could that be? I was a bit unprepared for the response I received upon walking into the hospital ward where Bekah was staying. I swear every mother, grandmother and woman converged on me. Clucking and firing rapid Thai at me. I practically had to fend them off as I held Bekah in my arms. It was overwhelming as I didn't know enough Thai to communicate with them. All the women seemed to think that they knew best how to take care of Bekah, and that this little, young white girl surely did not know what to do. <br />
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I couldn't tell them how to leave me alone. I didn't know how. I couldn't tell them that I had been taking care of babies since I was fourteen and that Bekah needed special care because of her sickness.<br />
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I was hungry. I hadn't eaten anything since early that morning. I couldn't tell them that. I didn't know how to ask where to buy food. <br />
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I just wanted a hug from my comforting mom. I wanted to be asleep in a bed that I knew. I wanted to talk to someone. I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't know anyone there.<br />
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So, there I was. Sitting on the bed with sweet baby Bekah asleep next to me, cold, tired, frustrated and hungry. In the next bed over, an older woman who was a burn victim was just as uncomfortable as I had been feeling with her bundled and bandaged hands and feet. She must have understood and she must have had a mother's intuition. Even though she was obviously in pain and she couldn't even get the pills to her mouth, she could still offer me my first Pad Thai. I hungrily devoured it out of its street paper wrapper with my bare fingers as I had no fork. And then I realized, as I was eating, that I didn't feel quite so alone.<br />
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As I later learned, her daughter had broughten her the Pad Thai for dinner not realizing she had already eaten the hospital food. The older woman and I never really got to say much to each other in the way of words, but we shared a bond of understanding of what it means to be uncomfortable and to feel out of place. I got to repay her over the next few days at the hospital as I helped her take her medicine and helped her eat seeing as how she couldn't use her bandaged hands.<br />
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I did eventually learn how to say, "I am hungry." in Thai. <br />
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Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-82883926866020993762011-09-13T19:45:00.000-07:002011-09-13T19:45:50.205-07:00A Little Advice for YaHonestly, when it comes to experience I don't have a whole lot of it. Sometimes I'm a little bit short when it comes to brains and common sense too. I like to blame it on my hair color, but that's probably a sorry excuse. I can give you some advice though. <br />
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1) Never assume that people outside the U.S. know how to drive. This is not intended as a jab at their driving skills. Its just that some people don't know how to drive a vehicle, period. I guess I didn't understand that considering that in the U.S. the car to human ratio is 1:2. Most of us Americans get a chance to learn how to drive as we grow up, take Driver's Ed, and own a vehicle. Some people in other countries have never even ridden in a car let alone driven one. <br />
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2) Whenever teenage boys ask to drive always say no. No matter how many times they ask. I'm assuming this applies to everywhere in the world. In my case, Thailand especially. <br />
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3) Never attempt to teach someone how to drive when you can't speak the same language. Don't even let them get behind the wheel until you can explain the concepts of fast and slow, clutches, gears, and most importantly brakes. <br />
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4) When the inevitable happens, like a car crash. You just got to suck it up, put off that overwhelming feeling of shame and embarrassment, and call someone who can help you. Hopefully, you are not in this alone. <br />
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At this point, you should be sensing that there is story behind all this. Luckily, I do know enough not to embarrass myself too much by putting it out there for all to see on the great big world of web. Lets just say it involved the old green truck. . .Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-61239227649455169352011-08-11T21:29:00.000-07:002011-08-11T21:29:50.684-07:00The Old Green TruckAnyone who has ventured far knows that driving and riding vehicles outside the United States is always an adventure. An adventure in the sense of being dangerous, haphazard and unpredictable. Now, picture little ol' blond me behind the wheel in a truck that has got to be as old as I am and pointed down the left side of the road, the opposite side than I was used to driving on. Throw in a truck bed full of kids on the Burmese-Thai border...and that completes the picture.<br />
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It always starts out so innocently enough. What's the harm in driving a truck-full of kids to school? Did I mention the truck was a manual and I was driving on dirt "roads"? Going downhill? Anyways, as I was driving down the Bamboo School* driveway I took a left onto the main village road and felt a good sized bump. I didn't think anything about it because the road literally has two-foot ruts in it until I hear a loud chorus of "Teacher! Teacher!" I slow down and turn around to see what they are yelling about when I see a great big geyser of water shooting up behind me. Little ol' blonde me had just ran over the village's main water supply line that had been so conveniently placed near the road. It was quite easy to run it over there, but now the hard part was figuring out what in the world was a person suppose to do after running over a water line, in Thailand.<br />
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Fortunately, one of the locals hopped on his motorbike and rode down to the local municipal office to get help while I doggedly drove the kids to school, a little wetter than when we had started and with a new town fixture spewing in the background. (Didn't you think a water fountain was just what the village needed?) A little while later, the kids safely studying at school, I am trudging very red-faced down the now muddy, rutty drive. It had to be a site the whole village enjoyed as I handed out ice cold water to the burly, muddy Thai repairmen.<br />
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Unfortunately, the adventures of the Old Green Truck do not stop there. More adventures to come soon. <br />
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<a href="http://www.bambooschool.org/">Bamboo School</a> Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8334800285262438476.post-21513920692151242722011-07-05T22:51:00.000-07:002011-07-05T22:51:56.166-07:00Mayonaise & Hot DogsWe were sitting on the one piece of furniture in the whole house. It was an old, dilapidated couch and looked to have been home to cats and an all male college dormitory before being left on the curb for pick-up. It was a treasure and a rare find considering its location upon the Mexico-U.S. border. (People are poor here. In case you didn't know.) I can remember sinking into its spring-less depths and feeling the cool tile beneath my feet in the empty house. It was a beautiful thing -that couch- after sitting on concrete floors, standing and squatting in the dusty climate just south of San Luis, Arizona. My fellow travelers and I had just spent the day playing with street kids which meant playing soccer which meant we got our butts handed to us. Our high school education served us poorly as we attempted to communicate via Spanish. We must have looked like aliens, we were so white, waving our hands and making odd sounds but we were cool. All the kids wanted to give us hugs, take pictures with us, and show us their American things. <br />
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As a way to express appreciation for the time we spent in their little town, some of the local women made us an American dinner. These lovely women thought that we would love some American food after eating burritos, rice, beans and potatoes for a week. <br />
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This is where the couch comes in. As I am sitting in its depths, I am holding a delicious looking hot dog that even came with a hot dog bun. How awesome was that? I took a big hungry bite and suddenly I wanted to gag. Along with my hot dog was a whole lot of warm mayonnaise that my hostesses had so nicely prepared for me. (Apparently, hot dogs with mayonnaise must be American.) Never in my life have I ever seen a hot dog served with mayonnaise. Do I need to stress this point more? I wanted to spit it out right then and there. Hot mayonnaise and hot dogs do not mix well with hot, dusty days spent playing soccer with street kids on the border. I ended up eating the whole thing. I am proud of this moment. Did I mention that I was surrounded by six white American girls who gagged, complained and did not eat their carefully and thoughtfully prepared hot dogs with mayonnaise? I learned something that day about myself, about white girls, and about earnest hostesses. <br />
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(This was my first international experience. I was fifteen at the time. I went with a group of high schoolers from a local church. We stayed in Mezquital, Mexico.) Amber Wunderlichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01218158905926747892noreply@blogger.com0