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The Story so far

  In 1967 I became a Christian and was filled with the Holy Spirit. This experience of the reality of God changed my life for ever. In 1968 I read a National Geographic magazine which had in it an article about Burma. I found it fascinating. There were pictures of mountains and lakes and photographs of beautiful people of many different tribal origins. There was also a large centrefold map of the country. As I looked at it my heart was filled with love for these people and I felt that God was calling me to go there as a missionary. I had already started my teacher training so I thought that this would stand me in good stead as a missionary. I stuck the map onto the wall of my college room and every night I laid hands on it and prayed for this country. After I had qualified I discovered that the military government had deported all westerners and was implementing an isolationist policy. No foreigners allowed! It would be nice to say that my response to this discovery was that I continued to pray for Burma every day, but actually I came to the conclusion that I must have got carried away with enthusiasm and it wasn’t God’s word to me at all. Consequently, I put it to one side and got on with life. I married a husband, had four children and settled down to normal life as an English Christian. Then at Church one Sunday morning in 2005 a lady who I hadn’t seen before stood at the front and shared that she had just returned from Burma. My heart started racing and I turned to my husband and said, “Before I met you, God called me to go to Burma” He insisted that I talk to this lady, whom I shall call Ruth. A friendship and prayer partnership began with Ruth and in the Summer of 2005 my husband and I visited Burma for the first time with her. Many many things happened during that summer and on subsequent visits, but I shall limit myself to the one event that has become a major part of my life.

  In Yangon, (formerly Rangoon), there are large numbers of beggars. Many of them are children. The children frantically try and sell postcards to tourists and point at their mouths all the time, indicating their need for food. If you give to one, you are surrounded by many. They became a serious nuisance. I asked one of our interpreters what to say to the children to make them leave me alone and they said “say TWA” . This means “Get lost!” So the next time I was on the streets and the children came I shouted “TWA!” and they left. I continued doing this for several days. Then one night as I was praying God spoke to me and said, “Why are you saying ‘TWA’ to my children. I don’t say ‘TWA’ to them, I say ‘come to me’. You’re my ambassador and you are behaving like all the other tourists” Conviction rolled in like a mighty river and repentance followed . Then I asked God what I should do. Obviously, I couldn’t give all the children money; I didn’t have enough, and a meal one day still left them in need of a meal the following day. He said “love them.” So the next day I went out and started to make eye contact with the children. I smiled at them and reached out to hug them. I could say two phrases in Burmese. One was “Jesus loves you” and the other was “I love you” I walked round Yangon saying this to each child I met. After that I was surrounded by children; they carried my bags, hugged me and followed me everywhere. I found that I loved them. The time came for me to return home and I told the children I was leaving. Some of them cried, so did I. Then in their broken English with which they learn to exploit tourists they said “Come back Christmas”. All the way home I was asking God, “Do you want me to return? “ I concluded that He did and began praying that He would inspire me to do something for the children.

  I began to think that maybe I could somehow open a Centre for the children in Yangon, serving free rice and offering somewhere dry during the monsoon. I started praying towards that end.  The first thing I had to do was to find out who the children belonged to, if anyone. I wondered if they had parents or if they were run by a gang, - a bit like Fagan from Oliver Twist. Ruth was going to Burma before me, as I was working, until the middle of December. She set about collecting this information. She discovered that children were mostly with their mothers and that they were sleeping on the steps outside the cinema, on the pavements and in the railway station. I continued to pray about what to do and had a rethink. The children and their mothers needed shelter at night and if possible they needed removing from the town centre where there was so much danger of abuse. This was an impossible task for a westerner to perform in Burma. Maximum visa allowance is 3 months at a time and non-nationals are not allowed to purchase property. Ruth and I asked God to lead us to local Christians who would own this vision for the beggar families and do something about it. The week before I was due to return to England, we were invited to a small church in an outlying suburb. Ruth preached and I gave my testimony. In the course of giving testimony, I shared what God had said to me about the street children. The Pastor and his family were thrilled. I was describing to them the very vision that they already had. Through contact with Christians in England enough money was raised for the Pastor to buy two apartments in which to house the mothers and children.. Since then families have come and gone. Some of them actually prefer the life on the streets. The cyclone did not damage their buildings at all. Praise God!

Photos from the original visit

Me with the street children

Pastor "Charles" (above) and his wife (below) who together operate the shelter with money from this initiative.