(I've been posting some of my thoughts on the Facebook page Coffee & Grace; the following is the most recent. Blog posts are coming, for those interested in what God is doing here in Thailand!)
There was the plastic bottle of Log Cabin syrup, on the top shelf, sandwiched between Libby's canned pumpkin and cherry pie filling. The price tag was in Thai baht, the equivalent of about 9 USD. We looked at each other, my team mate Merrilee and I. "Well, we COULD buy real American syrup," she began. "Yes, that's true," I acknowledged. "We could."
Later, we were discussing our sorry lack of exercise, via text messaging. We only live 5 minutes apart, but both her husband and mine had our respective cars that day. And with temperatures topping 100* neither of us felt inclined to walk anywhere. We did think we it would probably be healthy to fit exercise into our lives. "We both have lots of stairs," I began. "We COULD run up and down the steps and get free exercise without leaving the house or needing a babysitter." "Oh yes, we could do that," Merrilee texted back.
We found ourselves having similar conversations while window-shopping at the mall, browsing the iTunes Store, or planning meals. "We COULD......" one of us would say, and the other would nod sagely.
I don't intend to buy $9 imported syrup, but I could arrange the grocery budget for a splurge. If I wanted to exercise, I could; I have no physical limitations that would prevent me (unless you count simply being out-of-shape). The same thought applies to other things and activities, such as pretty purses and sweet cherries. (Oh, and emergency plane tickets, should we ever require them!)
Making choices. Pondering possibilities. Those are luxuries I have come to appreciate. Millions of people live without either. I've read the stories of quarry slaves in India, the slum dwellers in Brazil, and the AIDS -afflicted in Africa. I've seen the faces of the desperate here. Desperate for money...food...love...hope. People who have simply run out of options....pursued every puny possibility until there are no more.
How do I reconcile chains and choices? prisons of impossibilities and the wide-open-skies of dreams? The answers are not easy to come by. Books and blogs and seminars continue to tackle the topic, but it refuses to be pinned down to a fail-proof formula. It's too late to claim ignorance, so I pray as I go, sometimes getting it right and sometimes not.
But as I make choices, I remember those who have none. The "I COULD....." moments become a pause for gratefulness, and a prayer that God will do what only He can do.
There was the plastic bottle of Log Cabin syrup, on the top shelf, sandwiched between Libby's canned pumpkin and cherry pie filling. The price tag was in Thai baht, the equivalent of about 9 USD. We looked at each other, my team mate Merrilee and I. "Well, we COULD buy real American syrup," she began. "Yes, that's true," I acknowledged. "We could."
Later, we were discussing our sorry lack of exercise, via text messaging. We only live 5 minutes apart, but both her husband and mine had our respective cars that day. And with temperatures topping 100* neither of us felt inclined to walk anywhere. We did think we it would probably be healthy to fit exercise into our lives. "We both have lots of stairs," I began. "We COULD run up and down the steps and get free exercise without leaving the house or needing a babysitter." "Oh yes, we could do that," Merrilee texted back.
We found ourselves having similar conversations while window-shopping at the mall, browsing the iTunes Store, or planning meals. "We COULD......" one of us would say, and the other would nod sagely.
I don't intend to buy $9 imported syrup, but I could arrange the grocery budget for a splurge. If I wanted to exercise, I could; I have no physical limitations that would prevent me (unless you count simply being out-of-shape). The same thought applies to other things and activities, such as pretty purses and sweet cherries. (Oh, and emergency plane tickets, should we ever require them!)
Making choices. Pondering possibilities. Those are luxuries I have come to appreciate. Millions of people live without either. I've read the stories of quarry slaves in India, the slum dwellers in Brazil, and the AIDS -afflicted in Africa. I've seen the faces of the desperate here. Desperate for money...food...love...hope. People who have simply run out of options....pursued every puny possibility until there are no more.
How do I reconcile chains and choices? prisons of impossibilities and the wide-open-skies of dreams? The answers are not easy to come by. Books and blogs and seminars continue to tackle the topic, but it refuses to be pinned down to a fail-proof formula. It's too late to claim ignorance, so I pray as I go, sometimes getting it right and sometimes not.
But as I make choices, I remember those who have none. The "I COULD....." moments become a pause for gratefulness, and a prayer that God will do what only He can do.
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