The Joys of Missionary Life

There are many "ingredients" that make up a missionary. Total commitment to the Lord and His purposes and a unity with His heart in His love for the people He has sent you to, are major ones, of course. But another very important ingredient is a sense of humour. It is this ingredient that helps take you through the difficult times you often face.

Adjusting to a New Way of Life

When we arrived in Thailand in 1963, Bangkok was, as yet, untainted by Western influence. The Vietnam War had not yet had its effect on the development of this ancient city. Within the next few years, with the American and Australian troops using her as one of its major R & R centres, Bangkok would learn to cater for Western taste and trade. Luxury hotels, department stores and supermarkets with expensive imported food, would soon spring up everywhere. Later still, tourism would become a major industry. But right now, with the exception of the congestion and pollution of the modern-day automobile, Bangkok was as it had been for generations. Western food was virtually unknown and the food parcels sent from church groups were always opened excitedly to find familiar treats such as a can of peaches and a packet of peas. I remember how excited I was one day on my way back from the market when, looking into a small Chinese shop, I discovered a packet of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes. What luxury! I hurried home with the packet to show Paul. The next morning I served it up for breakfast with great joy only to find it was full of weevils! Who knows how long that rare commodity had been sitting on that shop’s shelf?

Our appearance and culture was, of course, as different and as fascinating to the Thai and theirs was to us. We were constantly referred to as “ferungs” (foreigners). David particularly drew much attention. Not only were they fascinated by the blond-haired “ferung” baby, but his mode of transport caused much interest and mirth. In those days they had never seen a pram before. Crowds would cross the street to touch the baby and I always had a line of children following after me, skipping, laughing and giggling, as I walked down the street pushing David in his pram. I fell in love with the people from the start...so friendly and always smiling. This was our new “world”.

Our first year in Bangkok was a year of getting acquainted with the language and culture. It was a year full of new sights, sounds, smells and experiences. We had found a little house to rent. It was in a back street in the centre of the busy city of Bangkok and was typical of Thailand’s exotic architecture. Dark brown teak, shutters in place of glass for the windows, stilts to protect it from Bangkok’s constant floods, high peaked roof with low overhanging eaves which ended in ornately carved upturned corners to “keep the spirits from entering the house when they slid down the roof”. A miniature “spirit house” stood in a corner of the yard where previous tenants had offered fruit and flowers to “keep the spirits happy”. Everything was so new and exciting to us. Bangkok’s unique sounds fascinated us. We would wake each morning to the wooden wheels of the occasional vendor’s cart rumbled down the side street, beating a bass harmony to the shrill calls of awakening birds...the tinkling bells around the necks of a herd of little black goats chiming an uneven melody as they trotted gaily in front of the house, herded by a father and his small boy...the clank of washtubs on the concrete in neighboring backyards synthesizing with the lively greetings and chatter of the Thai women, squatting in their sarongs to begin the regular morning wash.

Having no screens at the windows of our rented house, the mosquitoes were rampant and, although we slept under a mosquito net, I would kill dozens of mosquitoes under the net each night. Because of the high humidity I would also wake up during the night feeling very thirsty so I began to keep a glass of water next to the bed. I was to learn very early to always make sure the glass was well covered. I woke up one night needing a drink and, fumbling in the dark, found the glass and started to drink. Instead of feeling the coolness of water I felt the wiggle of tiny legs on my lips. Holding back a screech so as not to wake Paul, I jumped out of bed, turned on the light, and to my horror saw a huge cockroach struggling in the water.

Our first experience of the rainy season was unforgettable. Never had I heard thunder like it! And the lightning seemed to dash in our open windows through the house! Like an ostrich illogically burying its head against danger I would pull the top bedsheet over my head and hide.

Another unforgettable reality of our new surroundings was the wild dogs. As a Buddhist country it was against the law in Thailand to kill animals (believing in reincarnation as they do they think the animals are previous ancestors). From the moment we moved into our little house a pack of dogs would come every night. The barking and yelping and fighting was deafening...all under our bedroom window. This went on for weeks. Every night Paul would go down and throw empty Coke bottles and anything else he could find at them but nothing deterred them. Finally, wearied from lack of sleep, Paul said “Let’s pray and ask the Lord to take the dogs away.” As we lay on our bed we simply prayed “Lord, please make the dogs go away”.

Paul would say many times after, “Why didn’t we think of that before!?”. The next night we lay there “bathing” in the quietness. Way off in the distance we could hear the dogs and guessed, with much sympathy for the people concerned, that they were barking under someone else’s window. We were soon fast asleep and we slept well every night after. The pack never returned.

Chiangmai

When we moved up to Chiangmai I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. It is a fascinating city...full of history, natural beauty and colourful Thai and tribal culture. When we arrived in 1963, though the second largest city of Thailand, it was still like an enlarged village. The main mode of transport then was the foot bicycle. Rice paddies still interspersed the houses and farmers still drove their bullock carts down the street. I remember one day, during the year we spent there, watching with David the elephants work as they cleared the ground next door to where we were living. One day, one of the Thai Christians arrived with a special gift for David. It was a baby monkey. We named him “Gooky” (copying the sound he made) and he and David became best friends. It was so cute to watch the little pet sit on David’s shoulder and part his hair, just as he would with another monkey. They even quarrelled at times. Gooky would squeal at him and then run to sulk in a corner. I would have to make David go and say sorry...holding out his hand to the pet...and it was lovely to see Gooky’s response as he accepted the apology and they would be best friends again. We had the monkey on a very long lead that was attached to a tree next to the house. Many were the times Paul had to climb the tree, sometimes in the midst of pouring rain, to untangle the little pet.

A Forced Fast

Ten days after we got Rebecca home from the hospital (see our post "Experiencing a Wonderful Miracle") my mother arrived in Chiangmai. We borrowed a friend’s jeep to meet her at the airport and it was so wonderful to see her get off the plane. For the three weeks she was there she took the baby each night so I could have some rest. I would wake immediately at the sound of the baby’s cry, but could then go back to sleep peacefully knowing she was in the good care of my mother.

My mother’s visit was such a blessing, not only just having her there but her sharing the care of the baby helped me recover quickly from the birth and the trauma of the previous months. It also proved to be a time of much fun. The usual funds that would come in from people who were supporting our ministry in Thailand had not arrived. The food finally was all gone. We had nothing in the cupboard except some flour. My mother was a real “trooper”.

“I’ve been through this before” she said, referring to the difficult years in England during the Second World War. “We’ll manage.”

I had a little portable oven so she mixed the flour with water and baked some “scones”. As she took them out of the oven one fell to the ground. It hit the floor like a rock. Her “scones” were so hard they proved inedible. The hard sound of it hitting the floor set us into peels of laughter. For four days we had nothing to eat but, instead of being worried or fearful, it had the opposite effect on us. We laughed and laughed through it all. Finally, after four days, a cheque arrived in the mail. We found out later the problem had not been a lack of provision (the Lord is faithful). Funds had been sent for us to our representatives in New Zealand. They, however, had kept it accumulating in the office there and not sent it for three months.

Through it all it was wonderful to see the faithfulness of the Lord in the provision for the children. During those four days numbers of food parcels arrived. We had excitedly opened them at the time thinking there would be cans and packets of food for us in them, but each parcel had been filled with baby food. We were all so thrilled to see this and we laughed. We knew it was a time of testing for us but the children never went without. Not once, during that whole time, or any time before or after, did the children ever go without.

The Boiling of Water

When Rebecca was first out the hospital, a Thai lady, Sowcum, would come each day to help me in the house. I had been told by one of the missionary doctors to make sure that we boiled the water for at least 20 minutes to kill any "bugs" that may be in it. Sowcum would do this each day for me but I was not sure if she was really bringing the water to boil. As I was giving the children breakfast one morning I saw her putting on the large kettle to boil the water before putting it into the water urn to cool. Sure enough she took it off the stove before it had boiled and poured it into the urn.

"Sowcum" I said, "I don't think the water had come to the boil. We foreigners have such weak stomachs we must boil it for 20 minutes."

"Sorry, ma'am" she said, and proceeded to pour the water back into the kettle again. I noticed, however, she only poured out half the water.

"I think there's more water still in the urn" I said.

"That's okay, ma'am" she said. "The first lot of water I put in the urn I did boil for 20 minutes."

Back to Bangkok

After our year in Chiangmai we returned to Bangkok. Paul found a little two-bedroom, two storey, house for us to rent. It was again in typical Thai style, built in strong Teak with the wooden shutters at the windows and the long overhanging roof turning up at the edges. It was right next to a small “clong” (canal) which was to prove quite an experience in the rainy season. One particular time, after heavy rain, the lower level of the house was totally flooded and as we waded through to the kitchen I had to help the children dodge many scorpions floating on the water!

Right from the start we included the children with us in the ministry. In their thinking, they, too, were missionaries. David’s heart to tell everyone about Jesus was demonstrated from an early age. After arriving back in Bangkok from Chiangmai, I would, on occasion, like many of the Westerners in the city, take the children to Swimming Club to swim in the pool . One of David’s school friends would go there regularly with his father who was a doctor. David’s little friend told him that his Dad didn’t believe in God. From that moment David would tell the man about the Lord every time he saw him. One day when we arrived at the pool, David saw the father and immediately headed for him. It was amusing to watch the doctor. The minute he saw five-year-old David heading for him, he dived into the pool and swam to the other side to get away from the little evangelist.

When Paul was away on his missionary trips the children would climb into bed with me at night and we would pray for him. Our bed was an old wooden doublebed the owners had left in the house. Each night as we got into bed I would hear a strange scuffling noise. I took the mattress off. The bed was too heavy to move but I searched all around it and under it but could find nothing. Night after night the scuffling noise continued and I searched and searched to no avail. One day, when I returned from the market with the children, as I went through the screen door into the kitchen, something fell from the top of the door to the ground, just missing my head. I gave a gasp when I saw what it was. It was a baby rat! As the children came in, another one fell down, then another. I looked up and there, on the ledge of the wall, the mother rat was carrying another baby in her mouth. I called out to a missionary friend, who, with his wife, was visiting with us at the time. He removed the invaders and, at last, the mystery of the “scuffling” was solved. The kitchen was situated right beneath our bedroom. The heavy wooden bedhead of our bed had been the nest of a family of rats! I didn’t smile then but I have to smile as I think of it now...just one of the “joys” of missionary life!