The Value of Family

Written by Julie Ann Walton

Ashlee and I recently got to visit our team in Thailand for the first time since January 2020, along with a dear friend from Austin.  You’ll know her well over the coming months as she took thousands (literally) of stunning pictures of our team and the families we get to serve. 

One afternoon, the three of us loaded into Daniel’s truck for the drive to one of the communities we serve.  I wasn’t sure what to envision, but I was surprised when we pulled up.  Truth be told, it looked more like a parking lot than a community.  As we unloaded out of the car, back into the sweltering sunlight, we were immediately greeted by a very enthusiastic little girl clearly dressed in her finest for the occasion.  She swirled, danced and giggled like every other three year old I’ve encountered in my life and loved all of my ridiculous attempts to make her laugh even harder.  While she was very interested in her new friends, all of this exploration was done within close proximity to her primary safe space: her mom.  

Her mom.  What a beauty.  She had the only grin I saw that day that had the potential to eclipse the brilliant smile of her sweet toddler.  I am sadly very behind in my language skills in Thailand, so while I couldn’t have told you exactly what she said, I know she was telling us how proud she was to welcome us to her home.  She tucked her tiny arm around my waist and pulled me towards her house as her little one continued to prance and giggle along with us.  

As we walked up, she graciously mimed for me to enter her home.  At this point, I shyly looked at Daniel and asked an embarrassing question: are we sure this home can hold us?  

While he laughed at me, I feel the need to make sure you understand what I was looking at. 

Here in the middle of this parking lot stood her home.  A bamboo loft set up on pylons to keep the house dry from any heavy rains.  A small ladder served as the grand entrance to the home with bamboo floors and a steel roof.  Various banners and fabrics blew in the wind even as they stood in the place of its walls. 

I was incredibly grateful to have been invited to this home while simultaneously terribly afraid that all of my American-ness might just break the floor. 

Daniel laughingly assured me that bamboo floors are very strong, so up the stairs I climbed. 

As I emerged into the small common room, I was greeted by five smiling faces of our GCA staff.  They were huddled over various gas-burners and open fires cooking our lunch.  To the right of me sat another little girl with short, cropped bangs and a fistful of tissues.  She shyly greeted us and tucked herself into the far corner.  Our team quickly explained that she was fighting a cold and she seemed to nod at their explanation as she settled in for a rest. 

To my left emerged another woman also dressed in her finest for this occasion.  She greeted us with big hugs and our team told us she is the grandmother of the home.  As our lunch was cooking, our party was filled in by one more single mom in the community and her seemingly shy daughter (more on that later).

We prayed for our lunch and ate together.  As I listened to the hum of cheerful, Burmese-language chatter, I grinned with tears at the corners of my eyes.  Underneath the steady bamboo floors, I could see the family’s chickens and the neighborhood dog passing underneath us as we ate.  Later, I watched as Ashlee entertained our newest little friend with her hair band and wristwatch.  We asked these two strong mamas how we could pray and they told us how they wanted to raise their girls well.  

Later on, the grandmother asked if she could show us one of the traditional dances from her tribe in Myanmar.  As it turns out, we are not the only admirers of her skills as she is apparently quite the Tik-Tok star around those parts.  

As we cheered and clapped and lunch came to a close, I sat there stunned and sweltering.  Let’s be honest…tin roofs are not designed with climate comfort in mind.

And I thought to myself: this is the ballgame.  

I was admittedly a little lost in my own thoughts.  I felt overwhelmed again at the privilege of serving such beautiful people even while I was deeply enjoying the giggles from our newest little friends.  

Then our resident Tik-Tok star came over to show me more of her dancing videos.  And by some, I clearly mean approximately sixty-seven of them.  I smiled and cheered with her as she sat right close to me until something caught my eye.  

It was her granddaughter, the one with the sniffly nose, watching us from across the room.  She smiled and swelled with pride as I praised her grandmother.  A few minutes later, her grandmother pulled up a video of this granddaughter dancing as well and she puffed up with pride just like any little girl would at being praised by her grandmother. 

It made me think of the performances I used to stage at my own grandmother’s house as a child.  How she’d let me rifle through her long closet for my costumes.  How she treated every single thing that came out of my mouth like it was the most brilliant thing that had ever been said ever. 

And while this is a nice story, and a sweet memory for me…it’s actually far more than that. 

You see, this family is living in significant poverty.  As much as Daniel assured me of the safety of their house, it is actually quite precarious.  It’s a temporary structure built upon rented land.  And it looks like a parking lot because it is, in fact, a parking lot - owned by a landlord that could change his mind at any moment and this sweet family would have precious little time to gather their home and belongings before needing to find another place. 

And should such a scenario happen, they have little legal recourse.  They are, after all, illegal migrant families living in a foreign land.  All the dads in this scenario are noticeably and tangibly absent. 

And yet. These women are holding it together.  Fearfully, sure.  But they are doing it.  

And these little girls are quite literally much safer in this temporary, fragile-looking-floored house than they would be in a far more luxurious environment, if separated from their families.  

The communities we serve in Mae Sot are largely migrant families fleeing the economic conditions and political violence in their home country of Myanmar.  It is difficult to get legal papers or dignified work, so they live in constant threat of upheaval. Because of their vulnerability, there are always those waiting to exploit weakness at every turn. Often families struggle to know who is who, who is safe, which can make children more vulnerable.

At times, the precarious nature of their existence can lead even good hearted people to offer help by taking the children to a nearby children’s home where they can be properly fed, housed and educated. 

On a really good day, these folks might be able to provide a really good house, nutritious food and a proper education. 

But want to know what they can never do?  

Show a little girl where her inner pull towards dancing comes from.  She’ll only know that by living in proximity to her family.

As fragile as this home may be, it is the safest place for these little girls.  That’s why we offer to help by coming alongside the entire family.  If there was a serious risk or evidence of abuse, we’d intervene quickly, but poverty is not abuse.  Poverty is not even neglect.  

These are moms that are holding on for dear life with tremendous endurance.  Their children do not need anything materially more than they need their own mother (and grandmother). 

I was so proud of our team that day.  They stood in the shadows and corners of each of these interactions.  They quietly prepared our meal and cleaned up the dishes (despite our protests to help).  As the dancing and silliness commenced, they joined in our joy, but always on the sidelines.  

It strikes me that this is the heart of our success at GCA.  This is how our team functions every day.  They don’t ride into a community with a herald of trumpets announcing the hero’s return.  Instead they slip in quietly, almost undetectable as they find one weary mom and dad at a time.  Watch closely, and you’ll see them crouch down and pray.  Listen closely, and you’ll hear their quiet reassurances as they cheer on the real heroes on the scene.  

I really cannot begin to tell you what an honor it is to serve alongside this team.  Beyond that, the privilege of standing with these families is one I’ll never understand.  

I want you to know that what you are helping us to do is enormously significant.  These little girls we’ve described here are being raised to follow in their moms’ brave footsteps.  They’re less likely to be trafficked or exploited, they’re being raised to love and trust our favorite King Jesus, and some day, some day, we’ll visit them and their strong families too.  

I know it for sure. Why? 

Because an investment in a child never returns void.  

Stick around with us.  You’ll see. 

Or better yet, come with us to Thailand someday.  I promise the bamboo floors have space and strength for you too.