It’s hard to explain the culture in Thailand and on this mission. Quiet and serene yet joyful and friendly. So much loss, but the community and the children have hope.
Our team of 10 arrived to Wiang Pa Pao, Thailand, after a grueling 32 hours of travel and little sleep. Traveling from our home airports to Minneapolis to Seoul to Chiang Mai, our team was tired when we arrived. The excitement that started the trip remained but was overshadowed with exhaustion. Upon arrival at approximately 11:30 PM local time, we gathered our luggage (minus a few lost pieces) and began exiting the airport. We knew Faa (GROW’s Founder), Jeana (US Executive Director), and Donna (US volunteer) would be picking us up; however, the welcome we received was truly a surprise. Faa, Jeana, Donna and five kids/staff from GROW awaited us at the gate, cheering for us, showering us with gifts and smiles. Instantly, that exhaustion faded and the energy we started the trip with was reinvigorated. The GROW children/staff handed us beautifully woven flowers as well as bags made by women in their tribal villages. Their hospitality and joy instantly set the mood for the trip.
It was hard to see much of the landscape of the city between the ride from the airport to our hotel for the evening in the night air. However, the hotel grounds were a beautiful garden filled with various animals and birds, so in the morning we began to truly experience the sights and sounds of Thailand. The lush palms of the resort were surrounded by the rice fields with single workers planting or checking the crops.
After receiving a cultural orientation and before heading to GROW’s campus, a few of us drove downtown Chiang Mai to exchange money. To my surprise, we drove to a mall to get to the bank. As I peered out the window facing the city and began walking through the mall, I had an uneasy feeling. This felt like a first-world country. Weren’t we supposed to be going to a mission to serve? I had expected a third-world country. Did we not pick the right organization?
As we left Chiang Mai and headed toward Wiang Pa Pao, the city buildings faded and the Thai countryside presented itself in all of its beauty. Rice fields marked each side of the roadway and glistened when stroked with the sun. Behind them, blue mountains with various temples surrounded the landscape. Banks and restaurants were traded for mom & pop shops and roadside stands, one at which we stopped for a fresh coconut. But perhaps the most striking to me were the shrines to both Buddha and the Royal Family along and above the roadway, as those were not staples in America. As we entered Wiang Pa Pao and headed to our hotel, it still felt more developed than I anticipated but I could see a major difference from Chiang Mai. It was rural, calm and quiet here. The lives of the people were different. Life was slower. It was similar to a feeling I get when I leave my home in Columbus, Ohio, and head to the farm I grew up going to with my grandfather. Serene and quiet. Life was slower here.
A few minutes after arrival in Wiang Pa Pao, we made our first trip to GROW’s campus. Ahead of the trip, we had been prepared by the GROW staff that the kids would be more standoffish, quiet, and slow to share due to their severe trauma. We spent time discussing it as a team ahead of the trip and I took time preparing my heart for that reality. See, I’m a kid person. On my first international mission trip to El Salvador, I had kids hanging on me and sitting on my lap the entire trip. I knew this would be different and hard for me.
However, that expectation was not our reality. As soon as the trucks pulled through GROW’s main gate, the children came running up to the vehicles screaming, “Hello! Hi!” in English. Their joy was immense. We could barely get out of the trucks before they were flooding us with more gifts – flowers for the girls and hand-crafted name tags and cards for each of us welcoming us to their home and filled with beautiful drawings. Additionally, they had a large banner printed with our company logo and team pictures to greet us. What a welcome!
The first child I remember seeing on campus was Naiyana*. She was so eager to give me a card and ran up to me before I had even closed my car door. Every time she looked at me, she covered her mouth and giggled. Her innocence exuded greatly. She reminded me of a younger version of myself – joyful, quiet, and afraid to jump in on the fun but so happy to be a part of it. When I asked her age, it was a total surprise to learn she was 12. I thought surely she was only 9 or 10 due to her size. But she was 12, small and shy. This child reflected me and who I was as a child. I could see both my young self and Jesus in her. I was mesmerized by her beautiful innocence and joy, despite significant hardship, and it renewed my hope. The children here were happy. Hallelujah! Tears instantly filled my eyes.
A few minutes later, we were being pulled toward the bus – it was time for the night market for dinner, a special treat the children only received on Saturday evenings. They were given a small amount of money and the independence to explore and purchase their own food (GROW’s way of preparing them for life outside of their gates). The short bus ride to the night market was filled with squeals and laughter. Our team quickly learned that it was hard to communicate but, alas, the universal language with children arose: games. Rock-paper-scissors and thumb wars with our team began to break out throughout the bus. The children’s squeals said it all, and our squeals matched theirs.
At the night market, the kids immediately grabbed our hands and began taking us through the market, filled with exotic food and vendors. It’s strange to see such young children protective of adults, but they put out their hands when a car was coming and made sure we went to the best vendors. We purchased seafood, sushi, grub, mango smoothies, rice dishes and more. Before long, two girls grabbed my hand and whisked me away down a back alley. We cut through a small market off from the main street, where the smell of the meat and raw food made my stomach turn. I began realizing the true reality of life here. We arrived at a small convenience store, where the girls spent their money buying toothpaste and shampoo. I cannot dream of allowing children to roam the markets and stores unaccompanied here in America, let alone buying their basic necessities with their own money, but the confidence of these children and the felt safety of the town was clear. They looked out for one another here.
After taking our various findings back to campus and sharing grub (literally), our team piled into the truck and pulled out the gates of campus. As the warm air hit my face in the open truck bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful these children were. They had a light in their eyes that sparkled and cut to my soul. They were full of shy giggles but still willing to hold my hand. Their eyes held eagerness and hope. I knew what lay behind those eyes – abuse, sexual violence, abandonment, and more. Still, they were eager. Eager to provide gifts. To serve. To love. They weren’t afraid to love me, a total stranger. Instead of building up walls as I often do when I’m hurt, they let them down. When the children looked at me, it was as if they expected so much from me, with longing eyes like I could change their situation. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I couldn’t. That I couldn’t make their pain go away. That any joy I could bring them would be temporary. That I too have pain I haven’t processed. Nonetheless, they smile, laugh, wave. Their joy is unshakable. There is hope here.
*Throughout this narrative, all children’s names have been changed for their protection.
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