Hi & welcome back to the blog!
Today I stay hydrated with good ol water, let’s refresh & reminisce!
Dec 13th-15th 2024
Upon arrival in Thailand our dearest host invited us to take part in a Christmas weekend to a rural village in mid December, we agreed happily and before we knew it the weekend arrived. All 8 of my teammates and I packed up, unsure of exactly what to expect but eagerly loading up into the back of a pickup truck installed with benches and a roof. Our legroom limited by daypacks, pillows, and brown bags filled with 711 snacks, our phones loaded with music and movies for the 7 hours ahead of us, & finally our hearts, hopefully for the hills that would soon hold Christmas cheer! What seemed like an easy drive was soon filled with at least 5 pit stops remembering all the odds and ends, and then about one million and one curves and turns as we ascended the northern Thai mountains. Between the knees and arms of teammates, hands and heads were held as tightly as possible, so when the truck flung itself in and out of every curve our bodies didn’t flatten another. The truck only seemed to slow for wildly sharp hairpins every now and again but with only one teammate brought to nausea we trekked on to the oncoming hills. When the sunset rays starting to peak pack the trees we found our feet and then our phones as we leaped to stable ground, chasing the smell of street vendors snacks but then quickly distracted by the sunset crested mountains ahead of our eyes. We’d be sharing wood fire sweet corn and smiles for the remainder of the sunset before continuing the last winding leg of our journey.
When nothing else but the moon and stars lite our path we rolled off the paved road in to the depth of a valley, covered in dust and mud we managed to find our way between huts and houses to the small village of Pang Mapha. What awaited us was something so new but somehow a bit familiar, rice dinners, green mountains, sleeping on the floor, and pure joy from children dancing and laughing along the street. Waking was painful as each and every chicken screeched its own terrible voice at the 4 o’clock hour, waking the village dogs and pigs to join in. Some sort of chaotic choir by nature that neither lolled you to sleep nor kept you awake, just in some constant state of “make it stop”. Beginning our day pulling on a new dusty blue Fountain of Hope t-shirt to show our team’s origin, and then quietly gathering around a messy fire with 3 blackened tea kettles. Sitting on old tree stumps, cradling mix matched mugs filled with hot water and a nestle cafe coffee packs, we engaged in fellowship, meeting elders and the sweetest old man who spoke near perfect english. He was so eager to speak to us, hearing our stories and sharing his own, guided by knowledge and perspective.
Our day soon began, gathering to the main stage, pretending to understand the endless instruction and banter in Thai. We soon found ourselves watching field games, dance competitions, relay races and giveaways! Each face, young and old was filled with excitement and joy as they found a place to participate, everyone winning something as simple as a new toothbrush or bag of snacks. As my team and I were watching these events take place we found ourselves asking other local volunteers to translate and eventually I found my hand being guided to the middle of the square, joining a line for the next activity. Amidst the moments lost in translation I found myself beaming and cheering on this new experience, my eyes were lit with a childlike joy, a joy unmatched by words but found in shared experiences! The chaos of games continued for a few more hours, snacks being passed around, trying so many new and bewildering textures and flavors – not all I am in favor of.
We gathered for lunch and fellowship before being led through a maze of huts and dirt paths to a home with beautifully glossy tile, our names were taken and then a team was made. Within the teams we wandered among yet more wooden homes, seeking to find those who were in need, whether physical, mental or spiritual. Being pointed in the direction of one home, my team slid off our shoes and quietly walked up soft wood planks to a porch style home scattered with kittens and an older man with soft features who lay upon the wooden floors. He only spoke the local village language so a three-way translation began, starting in English with my teammate and I, which was heard by a Thai woman who spoke to one of our hosts’ children who then was able to relay the message to the man. Within mear minutes we learned of his sight and knee pain, we learned of an empty and hurt feeling within him chest. In response we prayed for him, over him, and with him. Through my teammate and translation he was guided in inner healing and physical peace, choosing to accept Jesus into his heart. So sitting on the soft wooden planks of a porch style hut, somewhere in the rural mountains of Thailand we began to sing in worship, lifting our voices high. Though the darkest of pain was great, the healing was bright & holy. As a team we then peacefully left the house, discussing our perspectives, asking and answering questions alike.
The rest of the afternoon carried on in small events and house visits before we returned to the house, napping and refreshing before dinner and a long night of Christmas performances. As the sunset behind our boarding mountains, and the shadows quickly turned to dusk and then dark, the stage was lit, the speakers turned on, and the festive outfits prepared. For hours we listened cluelessly to testimonies, messages, stories, and skits in Thai, then the show began. A constant mix and rotation of skits, dances, singing, and raffles filled the night. I sat on the ground amongst the local children, using google translate and hand motions to create conversation and share life stories. As familiar Christmas songs filled the cool night air my beautiful friends and teammates stood to take part in dancing, what started as a silly circle laughing breathlessly to Last Christmas quickly turned to a live version of just dance for the following few hours until the night closed. Walking back to a house slightly muddy, wearing a stolen santa hat, but most of all a mind bursting with memories and smiles to last a lifetime. To the girls who joined me in a chaos of Christmas cheer, thank you, pure effortless love filled my heart and smiled that night.
Waking once again to nature’s chaos choir, we began our day fueled by more Nestle’s coffee, ice cream and rice! We joined more fellowship, sang a two shaky songs on the stage for the morning service, packed the pick up truck and visited a few more wooden plank homes. These wooden plank huts and homes may be simple creations in the mud, but they lay within my mind as a shelter of God’s love and mercy for the humans which they housed. The people who rest within these homes, often immobile, disabled and suffering, offer the purest, kindest, most forgiving smiles and eyes I have yet to see. Their hearts and hands open to receive whatever we had to offer, whether prayer or blankets. They looked upon us with eyes so precious and hearts so full you couldn’t decide whether to break or heal from pure love and joy.
Below the face of mountains, when the rolling of the hills smoothed, in a small village with new languages and broken hearts, soul ties and dark nights, I saw pure light in the eyes of those somehow so unfortunate. I saw the power of prayer, the comfort of a roof, and joy of giving freely. I felt so at peace in a place filled with so much hate, those wood planks so soft with water but yet just enough to keep someone safe. This is where I felt a new kind of Christmas spirit, not one of green and red, not one of greed, nor one of Santa Claus, but a spirit that shone from within, a spirit of pure love. For though this place is a battleground, faith is strong & love shall rule above all.
So when the time came to turn the key, starting the engine of that white pick up truck, pilling in to embrace those seven winding hours across the Thai mountain ranges, I wasn’t filled with sorrow but hope and peace this place was safe, these wood huts and dirt paths would soak up the love and faith that had found itself filling this small village. For those seven winding hours I found my eyes gazing upon the trees, my hair free in the wind, my hands reaching for the sky, my smile brightening my face, and my soul at peace. For God promises us three things, faith, love and hope, but above all love. And now I have gained knowledge of pure love, while upon those wooden plank floors and beneath those looming mountain walls.
With many adventures & much love
Aliya Koziol <3
