Grammy’s Pan

Chink…chink…

We were celebrating the completion of a test in our language module by watching a couple shows from the Numb3rs TV series on our computer when we heard this unusual sound coming from the space in our apartment we call a kitchen.

Chink…chink…

It wasn’t much of a sound.  I just thought it was some dishes drying on the counter rearranging themselves.  Perhaps a gecko was entertaining himself on them disturbing their delicate balance.

Chink…chink…

We thought about ignoring the two sounds.  But Ingrid and I both share a sense of curiosity and wonder and desire to want to answer the question “Why?”.  (That’s one of the reasons why we like shows like Numb3rs and why we enjoy living in different cultures.)  So with a click of the pause button we’re off to the kitchen.

At first everything looked normal.  Then I noticed that the 9x9 inch glass baking pan that had been drying upside down on the counter was cracked into two pieces.  I don’t know why it decided to break at that moment—maybe it’s time had just come.

We have not used the pan much since we moved here as we do not have much of an oven, but Ingrid had made a recipe called “Yorky Beef Pie” that evening—a recipe we found in a free cookbook I had picked up in a Shaw’s grocery store in Portsmouth, New Hampshire about 30 years ago—probably close to the time I had acquired the pan.

The baking pan had belonged to my grandmother and I acquired it after she died in late fall, 1979.  I remember the day she died.  It was my last month at University and I was in my apartment when the phone rang.  For some reason I knew it was my dad calling (which would be unusual as typically my mom would initiate calls) and that he was calling to tell me my grandmother had died.  I don’t know why I knew this—she had not been particularly ill.  But so it was.

My grandfather had died several years earlier.  I did not know him all that well—I think perhaps that as a young child I was a bit too annoying to have around.  My Mom tells me that I am a lot like him in many ways, especially in my love of the outdoors and my curiosity about the natural world.
(Interestingly, I alone among my siblings carry the brown eyes from my mother’s side.)
 
My grandmother had a birthday a day apart from mine and we would sometimes celebrate together.  One of the few photos of my grandmother I have with me here in Thailand is one of the two of us with a birthday cake.  I usually tout this photo so as to show that I onece had hair.  Today I will show it to celebrate my grandmother and all the good things I have acquired through my parents and grandparents—whether through genes or through upbringing.



We will miss the pan—not so much for its intrinsic value but because it was a reminder of some precious people in my life as a child.

(And special thanks to my Mom who made the cake.)

Being Honored

Honor your father and mother. Then you will live a long, full life in the land the LORD your God is giving you. Exodus 20:12 (NLT)

It was Songkran (Thai New Year) celebration in Bang Saen—the last big day.  Pickup trucks carrying drums full of water had traffic paralyzed on the main roads.  Revelers in these trucks and on the street were throwing water at everyone possible—including themselves.  Even the driver of the van we rode from Bangkok had to take back roads just to arrive somewhere near the van station.

Traffic at a standstill in Bang Saen during Songkran celebrations.  Traffic in the right hand lanes is supposed tobe going the other way.

To stay dry and to keep our faces from being plastered with clay, we were walking the back way from where our van dropped us off to our guest house.  (We would have used public transportation, but it wasn’t running due to the traffic situation.)

Children preparing to throw water at us during Songkran celebrations.

One route we had hoped to take was pretty much clogged with partiers, so we decided to back-track half a mile to take a different route.  The hot afternoon sun beat down on us and we were getting weary.  Suddenly, a group of boys came running toward us bearing cups of water.

We were prepared to get doused.  But, instead, the boys had us hold out our hands while the gently poured water over them in a Songkran tradition of honoring elders.  (It is this tradition that has morphed into the present-day water-throwing festivities.)

The water was icy-cold.  Truth-be-told, I would have appreciated it if the boys had dumped this water on our head.  But amidst all the drunken revelry of the New Years celebration, we were honored as elders.  And indeed, we felt honored and blessed by the actions of these children.

Ingrid showing honor to an elder at Wattana church by pouring scented water over her hands.

In Thailand, many people feel that the old Songkran traditions are getting lost and replaced with wild parties and festivities—much like the traditional Christmas in the west has become lost in the hype and materialism of our present-day celebrations.

The Bible tells us to honor our parents.  This commandment seems like an odd one, stuck between the first four commandments about loving God and the last five about loving our neighbor.  Paul calls this the first “commandment with a promise” (Ephesians 6:2).  Clearly, honoring parents has high value to God.

We in America seem to have lost this concept of honoring our parents and elders a long time ago.  Age is seen as an enemy.  Youth and looking young are worshipped.  Old people are sent to homes where they are often forgotten.

This week, an older person, whom I respected very much, went to be with Jesus.  Harold was a gentle, humble man who loved the Lord.  His wife, Marianna, continues to faithfully serve and follow Jesus.  They had recently celebrated their 66th anniversary.  These are two people who deserve to be honored by having water poured over their hands.

Thank you Jesus, for sending people our way to remind us of something that is important to you.