Thailand Mother’s Day weekend & all of our Mercy Centre kids/kindergarten kids  dressed up - fancy party ‘prancing/dancing beautiful’ - you know…second hand best high class rags. 

Our fabulous ‘of an age’ sewing lady sews up the rips & patches, (we washed all the donated stuff twice: you know, the donated throw-aways) and some of the used stuff - washed, pressed & ironed are pretty good look’n rags) for our dance/music kids party this morning.  

But even the best used clothes, patched & cleaned, ‘can’t stand in’- take the place of a missing mom. Even a wildflower picked by a slum pathway - borrowed from a shrine - and placed wherever your momma dumped you that horrible day. Where she left you standing alone, telling you “I’ll be right back.  You wait right here.”  In front of an abandoned building. Along the railway tracks - wherever…   

But horror of horrors, over half - almost fifty kids - came alone to our party; no mom in sight anywhere. In fact, no mom on the planet.  Really.  None at all.

My eyes filled with tears - so many of our kids; kindergarten sized - especially at that age really hurt without a mom to hug, give a blossom to - a wild weed really, but pretty, also like an orphan - growing alone, along the slum pathway.  

But you make do with what you can. Like our nearly six-year-old Miss Kao Fang (Brown Rice) not the prettiest name on the chart, but who cares. She is natures’ beauty; untouched - never heard of cosmetics, no perfume, no powder, no none at all, but beautiful Thai-Lao complexion.  Total wardrobe:  one set of clothing (that which she is wearing) pretty, like you would want her to be. Named after a single solitary rice stalk - sturdy - in a field alone. 
 

Blessings on a Monday morning – it’s not that often I get to write and tell you about our Heroes. Of course, every Mercy kid is a Hero. “Daughters and Sons” as goes the Irish song. Mercy orphans, who fought off the “bad guys” and still do… that’s why they are with us here at Mercy. Still, I don’t get to show you even some of little stuff, actual pictures very often – so “here we go”.

My most beloved St. Mary’s Catholic Church in the small town of Athol, where I said my first Mass 58 years ago – a wooden church, seated 40 people.  Built by my Irish ancestors. Now gone, as the farming town of Athol is now almost deserted, down to about 30 people and they recently closed the post office. Small farming is no longer profitable. The railroads are long ago built. 

I’m also sending a picture of me, a few years later, joyful, after my Redemptorist congregation had assigned me here to Thailand.  A picture of my first “home” here in the slums of Klong Toey, part of the slaughter house. We were literally avoided by “proper” society, outcast Catholics, because they lived with and butchered the pigs.

This is where we lived and where we began our first Catholic kindergarten in an un-used pig pen.  Me, living with the Catholic population.  Outcasts to all, but to speak of that in a moment. Mosquito nets and dirt floors and a portion of rice nightly near the door to keep the rats happy. And nasty feral cats – the dogs ran from the cats.

We had Holy Mass in a “make-shift” chapel under the railway bridge.  That’s why I went there; the Catholics had no church, no sacraments, no priests, no schools.  The children of the slaughter house had no opportunity to go to school.

        It’s been more than yesterday & I am ashamed/ ‘not keeping in touch’ …. As the expression goes….
        So a note to you good folks this Monday.  A couple days ago (really) the GYPSY KING TYSON FUREY (World heavy weight boxing Champion         Of the entire world stopped by – to say ‘hello’ as great boxers do.  

      

Hi everybody.  It’s back to school.  Fabulous for our kids. More food than you get at home & two helpings if you want, plus more friends to play with. Every kid you know in the slum goes to school.  It’s the cool thing to do.

So that very morning, rough & tumble beautiful 14 year old Ga Yeek kissed her mom goodbye –jumped on the four hour taxi fast boat to Ranong city. 
To Ranong City, hoping against hope she would find her old teacher.  She had a total of twenty Baht, just like she did when her dad left her so many years before.  Standing there on the wharf, not exactly  knowing what to do, she over-heard a workman there speaking her native sea gypsy Moken.  He told her “The Moken Boat (Taxi) would arrive in a few minutes, back from daily teaching some the kindergarten children.   

Waiting for her old teacher – second mom really, who had saved her when she was a little girl.  Her dad had wanted a second wife.  Mom had given birth to only girls, no boys.  Always the woman’s fault. Use her mom as a servant.  And no chance for daughter 3 year old Ga Yeek to attend school. 
 Mom had run away to another Moken island, escaped with Ga Yeek. Dad found them. Made mom a slave really. Ignored daughter Ga Yeek. Didn’t care if she lived or died,   Mom protected her: learn to read and write. Dream. Teach  Moken children.