Airport Musings, or, What I Write When I'm Tired and Sentimental

Sitting here in the airport, I just got my first chance to finally open a card I was given a few hours ago. Today was both my last day of classes at Santisuk and my last day in Thailand, and as such, it has been an awfully busy day, filled with packing and grading and good-byes. I only got about five-and-a-half hours last night, after grading the last batch of essays and doing a little packing at a much later hour than I have seen in a long time. Looking back at today, I can't believe I did as much as I did, while at the same time I know there was so much more I would have liked to do.

The card was from a good friend that I have taken to calling my sister. She is just over a year older than me, but one of my greatest delights in Thailand has been teasing her about her antiquity. (She usually responds by telling me that I look like I'm 15.) She is a relatively new Christian, but is excited about studying the Bible--she told me the other day that she read it for five hours the day before, and when I asked her why, she responded simply: "I want to know as much as I can about God!" I was not in much of a position today to dwell on goodbyes, so I received her goodbye card via her friend, one of my students. But that was right before class, so I stashed it in my bag for a later time.

Pulling it out just now, waiting for our flight to board, I was greeted by a picture of the two of us at some ancient Thai ruins, next to a short note and a quote from Ephesians: "I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers." With it was a small collage photos of us and the others that came with on the trip. It was, I imagine, a more time-consuming project than it appeared at first glance, and the sweetness and sincerity of the note touched me.

It hasn't been difficult to make me more than a little sentimental today, and I've been more emotional than I expected. It has, after all, barely been four weeks since I was last in this airport, and I found myself in a place where I didn't speak the language and any communication was at the mercy and generosity of those willing to converse in their second language. But the people I worked and played with quickly became my family. I know it's cliché to say things like that, and that those sentiments are overused and tired, but the truth of it resonates in my chest, and I can't help but feel like, in some way, I'm leaving brothers and sisters. It is an inexplicable thing--but one I am finding surprisingly common--to find yourself drawn to someone as if you have always known them, even when you can barely communicate with each other. Many of my best friends from the past several months live across an ocean. That I can attribute to nothing other than the incredible spirit of unity in the body of Christ. Somehow, and it is still in some ways a mystery to me, I have less in common with my school friends than I do with these Thai brothers and sisters that I have known for less than a month.

Looking back on the last four weeks, there is much more to write about than the sappy emotions currently manifesting themselves in this blog. I have to tell you all about the good news of the Thai church, of telling my testimony, of my student that came--after much prayer!--to accept Christ. (And I have to finish that post about my birthday abroad!) But that will have to come later. For now, praise God that this unity is so real, that his truth really does bind us together, and that his love is made perfect here on earth!

To my Thai brothers and sisters: I miss you already, and I hope to come again soon! Goodbye, Bangkok!