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The Snack Shack
Our kitchen has the coolest window. It slides open and it slides shut. On one side of the window, it is the kitchen and on the other side, it is the dining room. I came up with the coolest idea: what if I served snacks from the kitchen to people in the dining room?
From there, it became “The Snack Shack.” First my sister, Selah, bought a cash register. Then my dad put shelves in so that we could pass things out from there. Now I sell candy, and Oreos, and Beng Bengs (which are candy bars that are like rice krispies with chocolate on them). And now I am partnered in association with a business called “Keim Café.” Selah can tell you about that.
For a couple of days, during math time for school, mom and I figured out how much everything should cost. We took the total price for a box, counted how many things were in the box, and then divided up the price. In my head I could estimate how much each thing cost. We have 5 baht treats and 10 baht treats. That way people could pay for it with the money we get each week for snacks.
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Bloom where you are planted.
There is a tree growing in the empty lot next to the home we are renting, and I love it. It has more flowers than leaves, and the color is striking against the blue sky.
Trees like this one are growing all over our Muubaan (neighborhood), standing here and there to bless me each day on my morning “walkabout”. Last month, there were yellow trees in bloom. With the onset of rain and the appearance of blue skies, these orange ones now shine.
I have always been drawn to the simplistic beauty of the adage “Bloom where you are planted.” I like the idea of a master gardener placing each seedling right where He knows it will do best. I like that a tree’s job is simply to put down roots and keep reaching up. I like that the tree reaches for food, sunlight, and water but can do little more in the way of providing for itself.
When Rod and I bought our first home, one of the things I remember stood out to me about the older neighborhood we moved into (as opposed to the newer subdivisions we visited), was the trees: they stood tall above the homes and shaded the roadways.
When we moved to the ranch, I fell in love with the ancient tree in the yard…
…the one with the baby raccoons and the tire swing.
When we moved to town, there was an old tree to greet us there, too. This one blessing us with seed pod helicopters in lieu of the cotton that “snowed” each summer at the ranch. It sheltered a fairy garden and held the tree fort that became the water slide.
Each home gave us a tree, each tree, a blessing.
The trees around me now inspire me because of their resilient growth.
They bend, adjust: growing around power lines and avoiding snares. Always beautiful. Still blooming bright.
I love that these people bent their wall around the tree. And the tree, in turn, bends out from their home, leaning over the road to provide a canopy of welcome shade.
And then there is this one. While standing tall and strong, it still finds a way to lean toward the water: drawn to its refreshing stillness and abundant source of life.
In each place I have lived, I have worked to put down roots, reaching deep and holding tight. Torn up, replanted, pruned, I admit I feel lost some days. I have been busy reaching, growing, dreaming in one direction: but if that way is cut off, I too must grow in another direction. Like these trees, I am doing the slow work of bending. Like these trees, I lean into the still waters where I find refreshment for my soul. Always, forever, finding new ways to reach up.
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“IT COULD BE WORSE” IS NOT THE SAME AS BEING “GOOD”
It’s amazing to realize how fast I can adapt to new surroundings and at the same time fail to understand the impact of that ability. If you have been following us, you’ve likely seen us post about the air quality in Chiang Mai (like Alisha’s post from a few weeks ago: https://ourparadoxology.com/breathing-paradox/). From mid-January through late April or May, villagers in Northern Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar routinely burn the jungles, fields, ditches, and rice paddies. There’s debate as to the reason for this practice but the results are the same. Due to the mountainous terrain, lack of seasonal rainfall, and shortage of wind, the rising smoke has nowhere to go and subsequently hovers like a suffocating blanket over Chiang Mai.
Having lived on open prairies of North Central Nebraska, I never once thought about air quality. We were always breathing fresh air. “Bad air” was how we might have referred to seasonal pollen, but, even then, the pollen signified vibrant and healthy ecosystems all around us.
The Air Quality Index (AQI) has six color ranges: Green 1-50, Yellow 51-100, Orange 101-150, Red 151-200, Purple 201-300, and Maroon 301+. The air quality in Atkinson, NE, regularly hovers in single digit territory, or comfortably Green. When we stepped off the plane in Chiang Mai, the air quality was about 125 – orange. By mid-April, we had air quality readings in excess of 500. Just this week, it has dropped for the first time since we’ve lived here to below 100 – yellow. Comparatively, we now feel incredible, and yet, we are still a long way from the air quality we’re used to.
What I am learning through all of this is how easily I adjust to circumstances around me, regardless of if they are positive or negative. When adversity becomes normal, I adjust to the new normal without regard to the consequences. It is like the slow boiling frog analogy. I think It is easy to understand the metaphor of the water increasing temperature just like the air quality getting worse. Just like the proverbial frogs, I acclimate to the harsh environment around me. One might argue to be an enviable dexterity of personality. What I don’t as easily recognize is that when the environment starts to improve (the water temp drops or air quality cleans up), I become excited and thankful for the relief, but don’t even realize that the new present conditions are still worse than what I should expect or desire. A water temperature of 120 is far less than 212, but not remotely close to the temperature a frog would normally be expected to thrive in.
While it’s a skill and positive attribute having the ability to function amid turmoil, tribulation, adversity, or hardships, the danger is being content with the new normal, or adjusting to a dangerous situation that isn’t as bad as it was at its worst, but still worse than it was before the situation arose in the first place. To put it another way, a child may start off clean but when he finds an irresistible mud puddle and proceeds to cover himself head to toe, the first action is to hose him off. It’s true that he’s cleaner than he was when the mud was caked in his hair, but it’s not the same as being clean.
My spiritual journey is the same. I may not be as flagrantly bad as I once was, but that’s not the same as being as clean as I should be. My ability to adapt is not a strength when it comes to getting comfortable to the sin around me, even when I experience great relief from previous degrees of sinful bondage. I think Satan uses the skill of contentment as a weapon against improvement: I’m better than I once was, but that is not the same as being as good as I should be. It’s not an argument for effort. I can’t clean my sin away more than I can make it rain to clear the smoke. My ability to adjust easily to new situations can subsequently be a barrier preventing me from experiencing the necessary cleansing only Jesus’ blood can offer.
