walking alongside

the 4 of us enjoying chiang mai.

we had some amazing visitors come over break.  johnmark mangiameli is like a little brother to me and his wife jessica is just as amazing.  it’s one of those weird stories where i met her when i was 11 in america—years before i knew johnmark…but don’t remember meeting her.  she told me that my family’s visit inspired her to work overseas helping people.  j&j ended up at the same college years later, married and eventually moved here to thailand to work in bangkok with a group called the well.  they work with women in the red light district, offering support, job training and counseling.  we sat around our little dining table and talked, talked, talked.  i am so honoured to know them and do my tiny little bit to encourage their incredible work.  their hearts are so big and sincere and strong…though weary.  they’re doing hard work that’s oh so necessary.

i had so many fleeting moments of inadequacy as i listened to them.  they’re doing REAL work.  i just teach…  but something else happened as we talked.  i remembered.  memories came flooding back.  you see, there’s a story of how johnmark became my little brother.

the story takes place when i was a senior in high school.  due to many different factors, i moved schools/countries/lives in 12^th grade.  i moved to the philippines to go to a boarding school named faith academy.  within three weeks of starting school and being the new girl (yet again), i got really sick.  i had been a healthy person up to that point.  i had somehow managed to avoid all the crazy tropical diseases that everyone around me succumbed to at one point or another. 

the situation wasn’t handled as well as it could have been, maybe.  i wasn’t taken to a doctor as fast as i should have.  the doctor misdiagnosed.  i didn’t get true results until 6 weeks in.  finally it was shown: i had mono, but at that point it had gone on so long without proper treatment and rest that it turned into some extreme case with far-reaching consequences (really far!  i was sick in some form for the next 10 years…but that’s another story!).  for ultimate recovery, i was moved out of the dorm and in with the mangiameli (mangi) family. 

i remember arriving with my few earthly possessions at their house right before christmas.  they had a daughter my age and four younger boys (johnmark included).  they were the dorm administrators and had previously worked as dorm parents of boys only.  i showed up, threatening this precious history and balance of testosterone and estrogen.  i was treated as one of the family, but in the very beginning still regarded with some suspicion.  who was this other girl that just landed on the doorstep with no history and no knowledge of brothers?! 

but the mangis accepted me so quickly.  johnmark let me take needed naps without bothering me, josiah went with me to the mall to listen to music, i helped micah with homework and drew washable marker tattoos on clay.  caroline became a workout partner, fellow baker, and sister to me.  uncle joe fed me with his quiet wisdom.  and aunt deb celebrated who i was.

care&me in high school.

a visit in america a few years after high school.

they were there for me at such a crucial time.  i arrived so much more broken than i thought.  the physical was the thin layer on top covering the sickness within.  i was coming from pain and fear and confusion and anger and loneliness.  and they took me and loved me and accepted me and gave me hope.  they were real about life and failings, while giving wise counsel.  mostly, they let me be me, giving time to accept who that was.  there were so many days of crying (after years of denying myself that right) and aunt debi was right there, letting me. 

last night i was following the news story about the police hunt for a suspect in the boston marathon bombings.  his name is dzhokhar and he is 19.  i don’t know his story and i certainly don’t know the ending.  but the fact that someone this young is being hunted down is so sobering and sad.  i immediately wondered if his story would be different had he had support and positive influences.  maybe he did.  i don’t know.  but it made me think of my students.  they’re just starting out in this land of independence, discovery and hormones.  who knows what will happen between now and 19 years old?  when/what if they get to a place of such confusion and brokenness BUT they have someone come alongside to listen?  what then?  i’m not naïve enough to think that will automatically change everyone, but isn’t it a start?  it changed my life.

i had an incredible family who gave me a strong and loving legacy.  but i still had to leave and grow up and take all the things that come with that.  and i needed someone to stand with me when i felt like i stood alone.  that’s what the mangis did for me.  that’s what i hope to do for this next generation.  and that’s why i’m here.  to live alongside, to offer my bit of wisdom, to hold while the tears come, to accept.  it’s not a lot, but it could still change lives. 

meeting ray for the first time.