Who would think you could find a Mexican restaurant in Yangon? Definitely not I. However, our great tour leaders being fellow Texans know all the hot spots. Sai’s Tacos located near the area of the U.S. Embassy is Muy Bueno. Yes, after this incredible day of “upliftedness,” we get to eat burritos, quesadillas, tacos, guac, beans, chips and salsa. Ole!!! None of it exactly tasted like traditional Tex-Mex, but it was extremely good and trust me we were happy Mexican Myanmar Travelers after that meal.
The leader of our group Kathy knew Barb (another groupie) as a kid growing up and they were involved in camp together. Later Barb and her husband Greg ran the same Washington State camp in their adult years. So every night we have campfire (without the actual wood burning and s’mores), a synopsis of the day’s activities. It is always a refreshing time, because you hear about others experiences that you may not have been a part of during the day. Today was such a day, with all of us going to house churches that were completely different from one another and many miles in every direction. As I posted on Facebook, “Forever changed after today” and I meant it.
Five of us are squished in a small taxi--the driver, the pastor of where we are going to worship along with Mark and Richard from the group and moi. On our way, windows rolled down, the breeze blowing as we cross the large bridge spanning the Yangon River. Most of my days have been spent around the central part of the city and now we are heading out to a more rural area where the roads consist of rocks and cratering holes. The dust once again surrounds me, but the pockets of trash strewn everywhere and piled high is more overwhelming than the dirt. The further we travel, the more chickens and cows we encounter as opposed to vehicles. My eyes must have been as wide as saucers taking in all these unfamiliar sights as Mark asks me if this is my first time seeing such things. He then proceeds to tell me that this is URBAN compared to the places of the world he travels to. URBAN, Whoa Nelly! Thankfully, I have had the opportunity to see many corners of the world and not all have been luxurious for sure. This has another feeling to me that I cannot quite yet grasp.
Climbing out of the vehicle and stepping on to precariously placed slats of wood that lay stretched across a luminescent green bubbly water ditch, we are welcomed to the two story woven bamboo and brick house by the pastor’s immaculately dressed petit wife. She is standing near their well. Only later would the significance of the well hit me as I would find that Truly Living Water was flowing inside this place. Our hosts offered us water as we waited downstairs for services to begin. In a short while, we climbed the rickety handmade ladder to the second floor where beaming faces like rays of sunshine appeared. Mostly children, youth, women, and no men to speak of (about 30 in all) sat quietly on the rattan floor. The three of us were seated together along the wall in chairs. A small table held a pitcher of water with glasses and a bouquet of flowers for our pleasure.
The service began with the song How Great Thou Art. The Burmese voices rang out strongly as I sang the words in English and pondered the depth. {O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands have made. When through the woods and forest glades I wander and hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees. When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur and hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze} Right now, in this place, I’m considering all the worlds Thy hands have made. This World before my very eyes that I have never known. I have wandered numerous lovely forests and heard the birds sing sweetly in the trees and looked down from many a lofty mountain grandeur, but have anyone of These? Yet, as I watched each visage, from the youngest to the oldest there was fervency and reverence, and a magnitude of Spirit I have missed in U.S. houses of worship. It is God centered. Every time the refrain was sung {Then sings my soul, How Great Thou Art, How Great Thou Art} the joy and love of God poured out of their beings. Even if they didn’t know or perceive any of the natural beauty they were singing about, it did not matter. They knew their God. Needless to say, by the first song, I was already in tears.
The singing continued with groups of children and youth in adoration of Adonai. My eyes focused on every face and the bamboo wall backdrop with the few cut outs for windows letting in little air. My mind wandered to summertime and thinking of how hot it must be in this space, as I was toasty now in winter. (Spoiled Girl am I) One by one, the three of us gave introductions and greetings along with any inspirational thoughts. I had brought mustard seeds and passed them out to every extended little palm. You would have thought I placed a priceless treasure in each hand, as they held it tenderly as I talked about faith the size of a mustard seed being enough to create the world and move mountains. Trust me, those in this room have enough faith to move several mountain ranges.
Many of the ladies stood and gave a greeting or testimony. In listening, you found out that most had taken in children from the street who had been abandoned. One woman had brought in 10 kids to her home. The pastor and his wife had three of their own children and took in seven more. This would be incredible in any situation, but we are talking about poor people who don’t know where the next rice bowl is coming from. It is truly something our western minds have a hard time wrapping around. Mark told me that when he leaves on trips to the uttermost parts, people will say, “Go and see how the other half lives”. It is really how the other 90 percent of the world lives; we just don’t have a clue. So this Sunday morning was a trip to reality, not just in the drive nor in the things that tend to shock us such as no bathrooms, no running water and the like. But in the “REAL” reality of joy unspeakable regardless of circumstance, love that knows no measure and pureness of heart. That reality for the most part unfortunately has left the building in the country where I reside. So glad there are still many places in the world that I can get reacquainted with the simple foundation that sustains life.
A sweet baby eating a cry baby
At the close of the service, every adult and child shook each of our hands like they were shaking three of the most important persons ever. Yet actually the reverse was true. I hoped that the abundance of everything I witnessed stowed and flowing out of their small statured frames would seep through their fingertips on to mine, strengthening me. I actually believe it did.
Like I said, FOREVER CHANGED AFTER TODAY.