True story of a Thai Muslim woman converted into
written in Thai in 2002 and translated into English in 2005
English version is edited by Chuanpit Kowae.)
“Is that you Plai? Sorry, wrong number! I
thought it’s Plai.” Then the caller hung up immediately!
How many times had my father made such a mistake, I wondered? It
might have been a hundred times already since I had moved to Bangkok.
“Sorry, wrong number!” seemed to be an excuse he had
automatically made every time he called my younger brother and heard
my voice answering the phone instead!
Father know that I had cried every time I answered the call and heard
that same old phrase? Did it ever dawn on him that every time I
heard him hang up the phone instantly he realized he had made the
wrong call, I felt bitter? The sound of hung-up phone was for me
like the sound of a burning bar of steel being pressed onto my heart.
It was very painful. My same old wound was hurt over and over
was raised up in a very religious Muslim family. My father is a
various kinds of business. He was then a well-known and most
respected person in a province in Southern Thailand. I have one
sister, Ton who is older and one brother, Plai.
name is Klang, which means “middle” in Thai. It might be true
what people say, that the middle child or Wednesday’s child is the
problem one. I agree so because I’m a problem person. I have felt
lonely since my young days. I felt unloved. It seemed nobody cared
about me. It seemed Mother loved and cared for my sister only and
Father was concerned about my brother. I was grounded inside the
house, being prohibited to associate with other children who were
mostly Buddhists and Thai Chinese. I had hardly made any friends.
The few friends I had were permitted to come and play and do their
home work at my place. Going out was impossible. Even going to the
movies, Father had to accompany us. I was utterly deprived of a
merry and joyful childhood.
the chance for entry into a Catholic school in a Southern province
was a miracle. Every morning, Mother had reminded me with the
warning never to communicate either with the priests or nuns, not to
observe or be involved with any Catholic ritual or ceremony. You
know, for us children, forbidding means inviting. I often snooped
around the church with curiosity. My behavior drew the attention of
a priest. One day he called me into the church and I boldly and
fearlessly stepped inside it. I then saw for the first time, a
molded statue of Jesus being crucified on the cross. The statute was
life-size with red blood stains from his head down onto his hands and
feet. Out of curiosity as a child, my many questions were thus shot
at the priest: Who was this guy? Why was he so terribly injured?
Was he hurting? The priest then talked to me about Jesus Christ.
usual, my family sent a car to pick me up after school. While
waiting for the car, I again felt the loneliness, with all my friends
having gone home. The place where I stood waiting was in front of
the school and near the church. Having the story about Jesus very
clear in my mind, I took those opportunities to peep inside the
church and unknowingly questioned the man on the cross whether he was
hurting. I felt pitifully for him, thinking he must be very painful
having been crucified with nails on him. It was not until only a
year ago that I had come to understand that Jesus had always been
with me since those lonely times, while waiting for the family car to
take me home from school.
That bitter hurt being pressed inside of me, for all of my life had
again popped up. It
happened every time I received my father’s call. Why? This time
it was hurting more than before? I could handle it before by
throwing it off and pretending to be very happy. I tried to comfort
myself by reasoning that I had a responsible husband and an adorable
son. I had a perfect life. I had everything. That was enough to
compensate all my lacks in the past, enough to fill in the wounded
“hole” in my heart. I asked myself, “Klang! What else do you
What else did I want? I had
everything. What more do I need? But deep down, my conscience told
me that I was lonely…that I needed love! All riches including my
husband and son could not fill in or cover up the “hole or vacuum”
in my heart.
As I thought on this, my suppressed
feelings in the depth of my mind suddenly broke out with my bitter
tears leaking out like a destroyed dam. I cried so much that I
thought my tearpit was drying up. I sobbed so hard that I was
grasping for breath. I felt tired…very tired. I moaned inside,
“Help me! Anybody, please help me!” And that instant, my
thoughts turned to Jesus…
whom Wanida and Thip and other Christians talked about time after
time and it was always in at one ear and out, the other. That Jesus
on the cross in that Catholic church, when I was young. The one whom
I had often peeped and questioned whether he was hurting. The Jesus
that people say was love…was everything. Jesus who could fill the
“hole” in my weightless and lonely heart. Yes, yes, I needed
I felt a cool and refreshing breeze, fanning me lightly. The light
breeze caused my artificial plant and leaves to move. I was very
frightened. That was impossible! All my windows and doors were
closed because I didn’t want my neighbors to hear my sobs of
bitterness. I was the only one at home, sitting with my knees up and
being resigned to my fate at the kitchen’s back. I asked myself,
“What happened?” Then I felt like my body being covered and
wrapped up by a piece of soft and thin silk. This made me feel cool
and comfortable and at the same time strangely warm inside. I was
scared as well as pleased! I’d never felt like this before.
However, I made the decision to run upstairs. While climbing the
steps, I heard a voice inside my heart saying, “Don’t be afraid.
I am God!”
upstairs, I kept on asking myself what had happened. What’s the
matter with me?
night I had the best asleep in the past several months probably due
to my exhaustion from doing the whole day’s house chores. By about
4 or 5 am I was in a dreamy state, still half-asleep. I saw a man
knocking on the house door. I remembered vaguely that he looked
familiar. Though I denied having known him before but deep inside my
heart I felt intimately acquainted with him. I finally opened the
door and let him in. I showed him around my kitchen and upstairs
bedrooms. Then together we sat at my eating table. I also showed
him the picture of Jesus having the last meal with his disciples
(which I had obtained, somehow!). I was the one who talked while he
kept quiet and yet, it seemed like I could hear his responses deep
down inside my heart. He had a smiling face which reflected his
gentle nature. He was the kind of person people would enjoy being
with. I felt indescribably peaceful in my heart. I had never felt
like this before. At daybreak, he prepared to leave. I asked him
why he was in such a hurry. Immediately, in my half-sleep state, I
saw him standing on the cliff. I saw his head covering with
shoulder-long, brown hair. His face was gentle looking. He was
wearing a white gown with a golden, brown rope girdled around his
waist. I remembered that I liked his woven shoes. He stood there
joining his hands under his waist. He smiled. There was brightness
behind him. It was golden light like the rising sun. The light
dimmed my eyes so that I could not see his face. I begged to see him
again. I asked him to come and see me often. However, there was no
answer. He smiled again. My inner feeling told me that we would
meet again. I was overwhelmed with gladness.
waking up, I felt that day was the most cheerful and joyful day in my
I had not yet opened my heart for Jesus Christ to be my Saviour
because my idea about “God” was framed in the Islamic concept.
How could the Almighty God, the Sovereign One die on the cross for
human beings? He had created us from dust. Was it possible that the
most fearful God would care for the feelings of a small and
unimportant person like me?
the reasons above plus my childish perspective, I started to test
God’s love and power. At that time my TV set was out of order. I
then challenged God that if He were existent, He could send me a
colored TV set. One day, there was a phone call for my husband to go
pick up a colored TV set as a reward (from a lucky draw)! I was very
nervous. That could not be possible! I treated it as coincidence.
kept on trying and testing God. I asked Him to move my husband back
to Thailand (at that time he was working overseas), in order to live
together as a family and he was moved back to Thailand! Still my
doubt about God was not completely gone. Again, I insisted that it
I was insistently not ready to open my heart to God. How could the
Sovereign God care about these small and unimportant matters? I
again tested this God by asking Him to do the seemingly impossible
thing and that was for our bank account to increase to a considerably
bigger amount of money with no deposit made, neither from me nor my
husband. One day my husband came home from work with the news that a
big amount of money was deposited into our bank account. I was
shocked! My husband was also perplexed. He then sent an email
message to check with his boss about the increased amount. His boss
replied, “I felt like giving it to you!” I was speechless. It
was no joke anymore. How could this be? Still, I could not open my
heart to this God.
I quarreled with my husband about the plants growing around our
house. He loved orchids. He had various kinds of orchid and other
plants. But I didn’t have a green thumb. No matter how hard I
tried to take good care of those plants, they never budded. They
finally wilted and withered. My husband accused me of neglecting his
orchids. I then told God that I didn’t want to have anymore
quarrels about this with my husband. I told God, “If You do exist,
please make all the plants in my house bud.” Ten days after that
prayer, a miracle happened! Every plant was budding and flowering
profusely, including the rare kinds which normally bud only once a
year or not at all! Besides, the wilted and withered ones became
alive and produced flowers. This time I was so excited that I
couldn’t help calling my Christian friends to witness the scene. I
told them that God had caused that miracle and that with Him nothing
couldn’t say “no” to this God anymore. I wanted to quickly
invite the Lord Jesus Christ to come into my life. I wanted to
receive the Holy Spirit and be baptized. I confessed that Jesus was
God, that He died on the cross to save us, and that on the third day
He rose again.
is indeed the living God. He is a God of love and mercy. Though we
Him with our eyes but we can feel and experience Him with our hearts.
He stands by us, takes care of us, and blesses us. The Bible says
He counts every hair on our head and
cares for every sparrow.
then, I have realized that I’m no longer a “Wednesday’s child”
or problem child. God has accepted me into His family through Jesus
Christ. I have confidence that I am a firstborn child and the most
beloved one, both now and forevermore.