I don't often get massages. I have had about three since we moved to Massage Town (aka Chiang Mai) but last night I was offered some free time, and I thought I was due for my 8 monthly massage. Normally, I feel quite self conscious, but I suppose because last night it was a rather last minute decision I didn't have time to work myself up.
As I laid there, being pummeled by elbows and possibly knees, and maybe even a mace (?) I thought perhaps it might be a good time for me to chat with God. I have mentioned in my previous posts, my struggles with the Ex-pat community here, and I have limited Thai relationships due to a language barrier. I have struggled desperately with my "role" in "our" ministry. I don't help victims of trafficking, I don't help street kids. Chad does. I don't counsel frustrated, fatigued, struggling missionaries. Chad does. I don't take beautiful pictures, and collect moving stories from all over Asia. Chad does. I simply try to make sure everyone gets something resembling food, daily. I try to juggle the kid's school life, and the littlies home life. I try to push myself to be social. And I sometimes even do a load of washing. My confidence and capabilities to do much for myself seem to have disappeared. I feel limited and tied down. Restricted. Trapped. And meaningless. With four dangling weights strapped to my legs...
So, these were the things I wanted to address with my Almighty Creator. While being mashed by a woman half my size.
I complained. God reminded me that this is all He wants from me. Just the kids. Just being their mum. Just being a wife, and support system. Just being satisfied in what He has for me. Just being. Not chasing cooler, sexier ministries.
When I was called forth from my reverie, I began to have a conversation with the masseur, just chit chat (limited Thai, remember?) I told her I have 4 children. She was quick to tell me she had no children. I asked her if she wanted them, because you can ask questions like that in Thailand. She answered in the affirmative. She had lost one baby at 4 months. She confessed she had cried and cried. She prayed to Buddha regularly for a baby. She said, "Oh, 4 children, you must be very happy!"
"Uh-huh" I answered... because, no, I wasn't... and I began feeling the Spirit of God descend and speak through this incredibly powerful, yet small, Buddhist.
When she finished her muscle mash up, I, sitting there mostly naked, asked to pray for her. I NEVER ever do that. Not with Christians, and certainly not with Buddhists... But I prayed for her in broken Thai, and then in English. Prayed for God to grant her a baby, because I KNEW God was asking me to. When I glanced up, she had tears in her eyes, and told me she had goose bumps.
It was a holy moment. And I hope one I can cling to, while slogging through poopy nappies, and endless requests for snacks, and conjuring up food from whatever is left in the fridge.
It was a holy moment, a holy muscle mash-up moment, where God spoke so clearly through this lovely woman. Reminding me to be content. Content in doing only what He has asked of me. And listening for His voice everywhere... because sometimes He speaks through strong, small, Buddhist women...