A Christmas letter.  The cart – or one like it –pulled by their donkey –(not shown)   that carried Pregnant Mary with St Joseph walking alongside  from Nazareth to Bethlehem, those nine days,  where Jesus was born – protected by the Angels/ witnessed by the Magi & the Shepherds    
 

During the last 55 years that I have been ‘stumbling, walking un-surely along rickety half mended wooden walkways in the slums of Bangkok’, I’ve never seen or heard of it being named a national emergency crisis – that means: no education of 3 to 6 year old slum orphans and daily slippery slope of being abandoned - those ‘dumped along the path, losing their moms & dads’. Welcome to the savage world of abandonment - no education - a slum orphan. 

The Klong Toey slaughterhouse - all of Klong Toey - was and is a savage place – we have tried to drench that savageness in the mercy of love and education and prayer for 55 years.

The kids – whose moms washed the pig guts each night in the slaughterhouse also asked to learn to read and write, so they could teach their kids for a brighter tomorrow. Maybe their kids could do better but there wasn’t much interest from the ‘higher ups’. Clean pig guts were urgent - education was not.

Then it changed.  A thrown away old book pretty much destroyed by wind & rain (been there forever) on the side of the road.

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.