Away I Go

mmaynor asked: I have been unable to read too much of your posts, until I spoke to your father at therapy the other day. He told me you had lost a student and while that is extremely sad, it is wonderful that you got to participate in the celebration of his life and at least, on some level, witness to him prior to him passing. I guess that is all we can do sometimes and the Lord takes it from there.
It was interesting that when I was receiving therapy, that I was speaking about my father, whom I lost about 16 months ago. My father's life was fascinating as he was a football coach, a decorated WWII veteran and the list could go on. But interestingly enough, your father said that he had met him and had given him therapy. For some reason that was comforting, as your father has been a godsend to me in helping me deal with the effects of chemotherapy treatments that I am receiving. And since this section says I am supposed to ask you something, I will ask this.
What things are you planning to show your parents when they come for a visit?

I just found these messages!  sorry I have responded sooner. On the inside internet is slow and I am unable to access this site.  Anyways, my parents are currently here and we are having a blast.  We visited the beaches in Southern Thailand and then headed to where I work.  They were able to see the graduation and all my students.  Then we had to head back down to Chiang Mai.  In Chiang Mai we have “stimulated the thai economy” (as my father likes to say) by shopping at the markets.

Though I am ready to come home and be with my friends and family and boyfriend of course… these people who I have worked so closely with have changed my life.  I have their faces engraved into heart and I will never be able to forget the lessons of survival and perseverance that these beautiful people have taught me.  They are able to smile and laugh even when tragedy surrounds them.  My prayer has constantly been that the lord will use me to show his love, to shine a light of eternal hope into their hearts.  as I left I was surrounded by my students, everyone had tears in their eyes (mine were running down my face) saying goodbye.  I am confident that God was present and it is by his grace he broke through the language barrier and spoke individually to each of their hearts.  I am blessed to have been used by him in this way.  

the next journey is when I come home and find my place back into the american society.  I have learned so much and I am excited to see where the Lord leads me next.  

We must go away from people so that we can be truly present when we are with people.  The fruit of solitude is increased sensitivity and compassion for others.

It is in deep solitude of heart that I find the gentleness with which I can truly love my brother.  The more solitary I am the more affection I have for them….Solitude and Silence teach me to love my brother for what they are, no for what they say.  Thomas Merton

I have said that I needed to get some time away from people to remember that I like people.  I am really going to be able to love people when I return.  

We had a student pass away last night. He has been sick for a while, the was in a thai hospital but they brought him back here to die, that was yesterday afternoon. He passed away later that evening. This morning class was cancelled and we all went to the clinic and helped prepare him for cremation. Everyone found their jobs. I roamed back in forth from the kitchen to the decoration making. The students both male and female carried wood twice as long and big as them up and over mountains. Their destination was a valley by the river in the middle of the jungle. Everyone was hard at work. A quick break for lunch, then the coffin making began. It quickly took form and then it was decorated. There was a small ceremony as they transferred him to the coffin. The monks arrive and off we went down the mountain. The walk down the side of the mountain was a caravan of people. The path had been made slick with the early morning showers. Bamboo leaves were our seats and also our umbrellas as the rain returned. There was chanting, a few prayers led by the monks, a military call and salute, a few words spoken by the teachers and then there was the cremation. No tears were shed; those are left for mothers and old people, but not for the young and the strong. No one here is a stranger to death and funerals. Today people would ask why I am being quiet, what is wrong? “Just thinking,” I reply…“Nothing is permanent,” I was told. “We all die, we just hope we are not so young. You can’t take anything with you, only your good and bad deeds follow you.” I continue to come back to this, only the good and bad things follow you—- with out Christ there is no good thing, there is no hope. Now only judgment awaits him. They burned his body and all of his possessions in the jungle today, but this burning will last for eternity. Where does my heart go from here? Lord, I know my heart is secure, but people who do not know the truth surround me. They live in darkness. I am the only one who has the truth, but who am I that they will listen to my words. I feel like Moses before he freed the Israelites. Surely there is someone else more qualified, wiser and older than me. Lord you use the foolish to shame the wise and the weak to lead the strong…OK my heart says then I am perfect. You are my everything; I have no one to trust but you. Use me Lord, I am yours.

My prayers the last month have gone a little bit like this….”I am yours, Lord. Foil the plans that I have made if they do not follow along with yours. I long to be in your will, direct my steps. Though my teaching is coming to an end, Lord, don’t let me wimp out. Let me be strong until the end. Give me opportunities to share your love with my students and my friends here. I trust you, thank you for being in control. Work in me, change me and teach me. I am yours!” God has listened to my prayers. My plans have indeed turned to mud. Yesterday all of my plans fell away and I was reminded where I lived. I saw as if for the first time, the lives of my students. Their lives are not just in the classroom full of learning and laughing, but they are of survival and obedience. This writing comes in a moment of surrender and trust. I have taken many moments alone to allow God soften my hard/independent/selfish heart. I have stood in the bathroom with my head resting against a wall, I have sat at my desk journaling, I have gone on walks, I have just stared up into the sky. Over and over I repeat, “I am yours Lord, I trust you. Forgive me for my unbelief help me believe!” During those moments alone, I realized this was my opportunity to choose to walk in faith. Lets back track… I have been inside for over a month. The plan was to leave for 5 days on the second, to rest and catch up with the outside world. We received the news yesterday morning that no one is allowed to come inside for 18 days. The bor— der is closed. So as of tomorrow I am the only foreigner up here for 2 weeks. Yes, I am able to leave if I choose, but then the students will have no one to teach them. As my friends here say—- do you want the easy way or the hard way? I am choosing the hard way. I have often said “I don’t want to be comfortable. I want to live constantly challenged and pushed to my limits. It is only then that I am able to truly rely and trust in the Lord.” So here I sit in my bed hearing these words and I know this is opportunity to put my words into action. Not only this but I have a chance to do real life with my students and new friends here. Real life here is hard. Villages are moved with days notice, people die often, plans don’t exist because things always change. I need everyone’s support. I know that each day will be filled with tears and pain. Please be praying for me and more importantly for the hearts of these people who I have grown to love. Pray that God will soften hearts and give me boldness to speak his truth.

I am home again, on the inside. This home is filled with spiders, moths, mosquitoes, flying coackroaches, crickets and many more. I sleep on the floor, I wash my clothes by hand, they never completely dry. I eat what ever is given me. I live, eat, study, sleep and work in a small clinic a top a mountain. I typically have only 1 or 2 other native English speakers with me. Yet this is home. To many people this sound miserable. I have been told that it takes a special person to work up here. Not only are the living conditions rough, but so are the people. These people are known for drinking heavily, involvement in the drug trade, and violence is their way of life. In my months here I have begun to see past these stereotypes. I have heard the stories of which has shaped these people. One of the men I have met told his story of running from his village in order to save his life. For over a month he hiked through the mountains hiding and sneaking through the bush, hoping for one day to reach safety. No extra clothes, barely any food and water, he kept on. After many months he reached camp. He is a survivor. He, along with many other people, have fought against all odds. They are not strangers to violence…many grew up seeing their homes and villages burned, mothers and sisters raped, friends blown up by land mines and fathers murdered. They search for revenge and justice, as I would do if I had experienced the same thing. I say these things because many people shy away from working up here. Right now we have a dedicated team of 3 foreigners. Often people come and go, staying for a week or 2 at a time, but these students need consistency, in order to develop trust and build relationships. A dear friend of mine, has been teaching English up here and has fallen in love with these people. She has been asked to stay but her resources are dry. She would stay until the course is complete in December if she was able to pay her bills back in the states. I am thankful that someone is able to look past the hardness of these people and see their hearts. She is overwhelmed by the needs around her. Her hesitations do not lie in the people, or in the living conditions or the food, but in money. She has lived on the border since May with many unexpected expenses. She has a servant’s heart and is constantly helping others, typically with no reimbursement. So on her behalf and with out her knowing I am asking for your support, hoping that we can support her as she has helped so many others. Please let me know if you are able to help. My email is erin.shelton1@ gmail.com www.Eleho.org/donation (this is the organization she works with in the states, and the money that they raise right now is going only to her. )

Mother Theresa said, “Calcuttas are everywhere, so go and find your calcutta?”

Often I think in another life I would love to do________(I fill this in with all sorts of things, random examples climb mt everest or be a mechanic.) Right now I am serving in No Mans Land and I am working with people who have never lived in a peaceful time.  Most have stories full of violence and danger and fear.  For now this is my Calcutta.  I went to Mae Sot this past weekend and spent time on the garbage dump.  I visited old friends from last year and these friends have built their homes out of other peoples trash.  (It puts a different spin on what is ones persons trash is another persons treasure or in this case… home.)  So in a different life I would love to live on the dump with these people.  That could have been my Calcutta. God has other plans, he calls me back to the states. I have asked why, no specific answer, but still I will return home?  Every time I go overseas I think this could be it, I could find where I belong and where I am to serve all my life.  I know that my friends and family wonder the same, “will Erin stay and never come back.” However, I should know that my life is not so simple and direct.  God will surely not call me to something that is typical, he will puts all sorts of twists and turns in my way. 

So in another life may be I would live in a hut with the sh people for the rest of my life, but now it is just a few months.  So where will my Calcutta be in the states.

I have often struggle with the question of where do you feel called to do mission work?  As a child I begged God to give me a place and a people that would take my heart captive.  But with every trip, I became more eager to see something new.  Conflict was warring inside of me…settle down find a place you belong one voice would whisper. While the other voice reminded me of the faces I have never met and the stories that were yet to be heard. 

This is what do I know…I know that there are people all around the world who have been forgotten.  They live in a war zone or on a garbage dump.  They are lost in a bottle of whiskey living on the streets.   They are the elderly and who have been stuck in a nursing facility waiting for eternity to take them.  They have been abandoned because of their disabilities and deformities.  They are everywhere, from America to Uganda to the Ukraine to Portugal to Burma.

The question is not where can I serve or who I can serve, but how can I serve.  I do not think I will ever have specific life long location in which God will call me to serve, but He has called me to serve the poor and the broken.  These people have captured my heart and I long to live side by side them  Lord, I open my eyes to the Calcuttas of this world.  Show me needs and ways to meet them.  Give me the boldness of Christ when he loved people.  Let not my desire for comfort be greater than my calling of service.  My life is your Lord, Do with it as you like.  

I wonder if one day I will wake up and feel like today I am a true adult.  People will respect me and trust me not just because I am qualified but because I look the part and most importantly act the part.  Today I was standing in class teaching and as I was looking around the class I caught eyes with one of the male students and usually I would immediately look away but he looks like he was going to vomit so being a nurse I stepped closer and kept the eye contact.  He quietly burped and realized that I was focusing on him.  A 30 year old soldier, started to giggle.  This tickled me so much that what should have been a 5 second distraction and interruption became a 5 minute laughing session.  So much so that I knelt down in front of my class and laid my head on the table and eventually just sat down on the floor.  Only he is aware of why I am laughing and he is chuckling every 15 seconds, probably wondering why his teacher thought this was so funny.  I however could not lock it up.  My translator is trying to find out what is so funny, but I cannot stop laughing long enough to explain  and honestly it is not that funny. However my tickle box was turned on and I could not turn it off.  

The question is will there ever be a day when I don’t have a tickle box.  I hope not.  Thankfully my mom and grandma still love to laugh and often times we 3 laugh uncontrollably together.  This time of laughter in my class was a high point for me this week, but it was just one out of a hundred.  No matter how difficult times are up here I am thankful that God gives me the gift of laughter.  Joy is a constant companion even in the midst of hardships and trials.  You cant take me joy devil…