Jina’s Last Day

It’s odd how happy and sad can collide and kind of meld together. That’s how it felt on Jina’s last day with us.

Jina is a young woman of singular sweetness of disposition, and a member of our early afternoon Level I class. She is now, as I write this, flying over the Pacific on her way to Boston, Massachusetts. Jina is going to be an au pair for a young family there, and we all feel anxious and hopeful for her in equal measure. Will she know enough English to navigate her first month or so there? Will the children take advantage of her kindness and start a reign of tyranny? Is this a loving and patient family, or might they treat her unfairly?

Well, we don’t know. But we do know she has brightened our lives considerably.

The two older couples in the class seem to have adopted Jina as a daughter. Jhim makes soup and special dishes for her, and cooked an entire feast for the class last week as a way of honoring Jina. Nid and Ton give her hugs, pat her hand, and hover over her like mother hens. 

So her last day with us was something special. I walked to Bangkapi Mall that morning to pick out the best cupcakes I could find. I’m happy to say that the bakeries at the mall are definitely up to scratch:

I ordered one of each.

We gathered an hour before class to chat in the Santisuk lounge and to practice our English, as we usually do. Everyone was happy and sad at the same time. But in Thailand we always smile no matter how we feel.

In class, it was difficult to focus on grammar and pronunciation, knowing that we were going to cut out a half-hour early and troop over to our apartment for a going-away party. But Phil and I did our best to hold their attention.

Note the elephant pants. We’re quite the fashion couple.

Later we all crowded into our apartment for cupcakes, watermelon, and pineapple. I’m surprised everyone ate a whole cupcake—they were loaded with frosting and candies and way too sweet for Thai tastes. But it was a special occasion. 

At the end, I asked if we could pray for Jina, and everyone nodded fervently and closed their eyes. I asked God for protection, confidence, and the kindness of strangers as Jina would navigate her new life far from anything she’d every known. And then we said good-bye. And cried a little.

I think that’s a taste of what it’s going to be like in another month, when we leave for home. These people knit themselves into your hearts, and there’s always pain at the pulling away, the parting. But I wouldn’t miss the sweetness of our friendship for all the tea in China.

God bless and keep you, Jina.