
On Mothers Day, I was asked to take part in a church service that also celebrated and honored mothers in the village. During the service the mothers were called to sit up front to receive gifts. Naturally I was not expected to be ushered up front. As Nana (the head of the local clinic and senior BAR worker) began to pull my arm in the direction of the stage I said, "I'm not a mother." She quietly whispered to me, "You have many babies in Karen State." So, I sat up front, I said a few words and they gave me gifts, all the while feeling slightly out of place (which is not uncommon for me anyway in these situations).
I have had the privilege of working with the Karen and learning from them but this is not all. They have become my friends, my brothers and sisters. Their lives are not easy; full of uncertainty and physical insecurity. Most of them have already seen and experienced more pain and trauma than most of us will ever know of in our lifetime. Yet they remain joyful and happy to serve those around them.
They tell me we've given them so much and they've given us nothing. This is clearly not true. They have taught me about giving thanks in all circumstances, being content, and experiencing joy in the midst of trial and despair. Also, they have taught me about hospitality and service. I am completely amazed at their ability to love and to praise God in the most desperate situations. I will forever be changed by knowing and working with them. I will never forget the Karen and promise to pray for them continually.

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