Wounded in Battle

Leather strap between clenched teeth

Anguished cries are stifled

Anesthesia of ancient warrior

 

Tourniquet squeezes hard

A line drawn, living flesh

Excruciating wound seeping death

 

Suffering too great to bear

It must be torn away

Survival through a hideous cut

 

Battle weary, weakness comes

Bravery on display

Hot knife sears muscle, saw grating bone

 

Who would ever imagine

No end to agony?

For valiant battle to come to this

 

But screams of pain testify

Across the fields of death

That LIFE rages on

And faithful are the wounds of a Friend.

In the Shadows

Hiding under a bed or in the cool shadows of a small closet is where she feels most at home.  She seeks refuge in the silent corners of guestrooms hastily abandoned by starry-eyed tourists.   She slips quietly in after they hurry out to ride elephants, to Thai massages or to the endless collecting of trinkets in the colorful markets.  She hopes to remain unseen by the predators prowling, feeding on terror.  Tragically, her reprieve will only last as long as the sun remains high.  With the approach of darkness, so comes the demand.  He might be persuaded to spend as much as $100 to have a trembling 13 year old child fulfill his sinister sexual fantasies. 

She should be in school, laughing with friends over silly things boys do.  Instead she has learned exactly how to submit to a grown man with as little pain as possible.  Who had the right to school her in this fashion?  She should be innocent and naïve to the horrors that one person can inflict on another.  Instead, she will forever look at an outstretched hand through the lens of torturous abuse.  Who had the right to steal her innocence with violence?  She should be wrestling with the tumultuous changes of puberty, instead of wrestling to keep her screams silent.  Who had the right to imprison her voice?  She should dream of a future but instead she dwells day and night in a living nightmare.  Who had the right to trample the dream of a child?  Perhaps I should pray for these mens’ repentance, their forgiveness.  Perhaps, you will forgive me if I cry out for the wrath of God to crush them instead. 

Despair. It does not begin to describe the life of this woman-child.  This is where we found her, but it is not where God left her.

By God’s grace and in His sovereignty, he brought this child to my attention.  Her downcast eyes shouted out a story that her mouth would not convey.  Seeing the red flags of her surroundings and her behavior, I was immediately compelled to go to work.  Lunch easily forgone, an afternoon meeting delayed, I began to make the necessary calls.  It took 24 hours to coordinate all the necessary parties and activate an investigation. The guesthouse was located and the team began to try to confirm our worst suspicions.  It took 18 days for the men undercover to gain enough trust to verify that the child was indeed being sold for sex.  The next night doors were broken down and arrests made to set the captive free.  The child was taken to a local hospital for evaluation and then into a safe house.  She will be integrated into a home that specializes in caring for children RESCUED FROM THE SEX-SLAVE TRADE.  The home she is placed in will depend on whether or not she has contracted HIV/AIDS during her 2 years of captivity.  This is her fourth day of freedom.  She is now free to hide, free to be seen, free to laugh, to cry, to dream, even to scream if she wants.  The God who created her is in pursuit of her heart.  He can heal her, he will heal her. I know because once upon a time, I , too hid in the shadows.

The Cost of Waiting

Her tragedy crashed into my heart for the first time in late May.

She was put in children’s prison at the age of 14 when hunger conquered morals and she stole some food.  But in a fallen world, justice rarely reigns supreme and the punishment for her crime did not fit the offence. This girl spent the next three years in children’s prison where she was at the mercy of those who were set to guard her.  She conceived a child and gave birth to him while in prison and then the two together lived in captivity.

As the end of May approached so did the end of her sentence, but there was one critical piece of red-tape keeping her shackled in
abuse.  She is a hill-tribe girl, not a legal citizen of the country in which she was born and she is a minor.  These two facts, bound her body and heart until a foundation was willing to step in and accept custody of the girl-child and her baby.

I prayed.

And I W.A.I.T.E.D.

With my heart breaking I prayed and waited for a sign from God.  I WAITED for some show of God’s provision.  I WAITED for some others to come alongside.  I WAITED while she was still held captive.

Periodically I would hear a small beckoning in the voice of my assistant, Nitaya, “Can we take her?”
Again, I would feel that raw, aching tug at my heart while I waited.

Three weeks ago on a Saturday morning just like this, with quiet rain falling outside the window, in stolen quiet moments with Jesus…I was overwhelmed with a sense of urgency.  A painful push of pressure from within.

“Act NOW! Don’t wait any longer. MOVE. RIGHT. NOW.”

And so I did.  Within the hour, without having seen the grand signs for which I waited, I sent the emails and made the calls.  “Yes, we will take her.  Start the paperwork. We will take her today.”

And within the hour I received emails confirming a couple of large one-time donations to support the Compass 31 work.  Within one day I received word that the girl was “missing.”

As we have sought her for three weeks, with prayer and with passion, I have ever so slowly come to the gut-wrenching realization of what exactly what missing means in the world in which we are operating.  She is GONE.  Like gone-gone.  There is no record that she ever existed in the prison in which she was held for three years.  Had she been released to another NGO there would be records of that.  There would be forms and red-tape, documents, confirmations.

But the reality is, in a world where girls are a commodity and victimization is a way of life, “missing” means that she is either dead or sold.  GONE.  Either way, she is beyond my reach.  All that “legally”exists now of this girl now is the scar on my heart that will forever remind me of the cost of WAITING.

Pray for her.  Pray for me as I struggle to learn how to live a life of worthy of the calling I have received.

“Trained faith is a triumphant gladness in having nothing but God-no rest, no
foothold-nothing but Himself-A triumphant gladness in swinging out into that
great abyss, rejoicing in a very fresh emergency that is going to prove Him
true yet again.” Lilias Trotter

 

 

When crying is a luxury…

Laughter,  and noisy squeals of delight,

the sound of legs smacking cold tile as

Ring-Around-The-Rosies overtake tiny twirling girls.

First days at a new, SAFE job, first belly crawls across the floor, first words,

first counseling appointments and dentist visits,

first chocolate cake, first chicken and dumplings.

Learning to ride a bike, learning to drive a motorcycle.

There are moments like these and so many more that our house
is overflowing with JOY…simple joy, pure joy.
Joy for the sake of JOY.

All of this is true and yet behind that…

There remain the moments of climbing a jagged rock face of brutal emotion.

•  Of walking in to find 18 month old baby and 16 year old mother…BOTH wailing, inconsolable tears on opposite ends of their shared twin size bed.  Which do I comfort first…who needs to be held the most?
•  The burden of making decisions that are painful and then enduring
  the girls powerful resistance to them.  Like, “I know you don’t want to go to counseling, but this is NOT optional.”
• Of finding one mother hoarding food, but not feeding her own child.
• Of carrying around in my heart two MORE girls, one recently rescued…one yet to be freed, who need a safe place…YESTERDAY.
•  Of beginning the paperwork to bring the two, new girls home…surrendering more of my time, more of my space, more of my heart to their freedom and their care.
•  Of being confronted moment-by-moment by my own littleness and inadequacy.
•  Of being the “strong one,”whose heart refuses to bow to fear and yet never feeling quite strong enough.

It caught me off guard the other day to be laid flat by my own past when a miscellaneous Caucasian man sat down at the next table with his teenage son.

His presence, his shape, his sound brought an immediate and palpable reaction.

It has been a long time since I have felt that panic rising in my throat, the breathless, heart-racing suffocation as my body remembers before my mind.  Then come unbidden images flashing through the corridors of my mind like an old time slide show. 

The little red tennis shoes half hidden by matching crumpled overalls on the floor…the slow-motion spin of ceiling fan overhead, the cigarette dangling from unshaven lips.

And in a moment, I am transported from a littleThai restaurant with my husband to a cabin by the lake with a man I should have never known.

Half-a-world and a life-time away.

It is in these moments of climbing towards freedom, with bruised heart and bloody finger tips, trying valiantly to show our girls where the next fingerhold is, that I can feel the flood coming on, tears to cleanse, tears to release, tears to open, tears to break down strongholds. But up until now, tears IMPRISONED.

God has accomplished many things in the 6 weeks since the girls came to us.  We have been witness to many beautiful victories. But in the stillness of this morning I am made deeply aware a significant failure on my part.

I have not allowed myself the LUXURY of crying.

Crawling Forward

Sun beating down, baking pavement and skin I travel closely behind a shiny new motorcycle with an even NEWer driver.  Three days after earning her driver’s license Anna was ready, with fear and trembling, to risk life and limb to drive to school…

IF I would go with her.

What a privilege it was to drive beside and behind this tender one, reluctantly, excitedly spreading her wings.  We spent an hour going a distance that usually takes 25 minutes to navigate.

The trip was S.L.O.W. but it was right.

On our journey we only occasionally and ACCIDENTALLY reached a TOP speed of 30 MPH.  Despite this, there were no “Are we there, yets?”  no impatient rumblings of more important things to do.  Because, on that morning there was no better place to be…no more important thing than watching

HOPE DRIVE AWAY DEVASTATION.

The hour was spent celebrating with Jesus this small victory, this small step of freedom.   Upon arriving at school her radiant smile spoke volumes that my words cannot do justice.

On the very same day that Anna, our oldest girl, CRAWLED to school on her motorcycle, Teng-moo our youngest baby girl did her first army-guy-belly-crawl
across the floor.

A twenty-something and a 6 month old both struggling forward grasping for that glittering dream just beyond reach…and even in tiredness, littleness, cultural blunders I am reminded what a privilege crawling is.

 

 

A, B, C’s of Hope

A Beautiful Broken China-doll Child Dreams
Day by Day of Everlasting Freedom.

GOD of Hope Hears Her and He Heals,

Investing in her Jubilant Joy for Joy’s sake,

Kindling Laughter in desert
Lands of Loss.

Man will Never, No Not ever, Over Power the Quiet
Resilience of her Strong Savior.

Triumphant, TRUTH Unwavering and
Unconquerable.

Victory Won.

eXcellent, eXtreme Yearning satisfied
only in Yielding to the Zealous grasp of her Creator.

If you are interested in giving toward the care of the three girls we already have in our COMPASS 31 project and/or the ransom of the others waiting for rescue you can donate HERE.

and the little child will lead them

Hurry UP! The playground is this way!

Heart. Stopping.  Tears. Brimming.  Put to shame by my children…

When we considered taking in the three girls and littles into our home we sat Scarlet and Maverek down and had a real, grown-up talk.  We explained the difficulties and challenges that we expected to face.  Personal sacrifices that they, themselves would need to make.  One such sacrifice was that they would again share a bedroom.  My two early adolecents, one ALL boy nearly 12, one girly girl just turned 14, immediately gave their consent.  Scarlet said, “You’re asking but we don’t really have a choice.”  Kelly and I both confirmed that they did indeed have a choice.  We, as a family, did not HAVE to go down this road.  We did not HAVE to take the girls. Scarlet answered, “Yes, but the choice is either I have my own room, or those girls are going to be hurt again. What kind of choice is that?”  Two days later the girls moved in.

FAST FORWARD 34 days.

Today Kelly called Maverek into his office to give him his allowance/salary for the many, M.A.N.Y. hours that he selflessly serves the girls God has brought into our home.  When Kelly offered the money, Maverek said something shocking.

“Daddy, Scarlet and I have been talking about it.  We prayed about it and YOU DON’T HAVE to give us our allowance.  We can MOVE out of our room and sleep on mats in the family room so that the girl who is praying for rescue can have our room.

YOU CAN USE OUR ALLOWANCE TO TAKE CARE OF HER AND HER BABIES.”

Outrageous selflessness from a man-child who is already living way out of his comfort zone.  So far beyond what we would consider asking of them…beyond what we ourselves have offered.  The RADICAL servant hearts of “littles” wise beyond their years leaves us humbled.  Kelly tried to explain that their allowance was not enough to provide all this girl needs, and Maverek argued…

“But she would be SAFE tonight.”

In quiet awe, with child-like trust, we watch with our children and wait for the provision to be able to take her…and the other 2 waiting.

And the little child will lead them.

If you are interested in giving toward the care of those we already have and/or the ransom/rescue of those waiting you can give HERE.   ONE click, IF the Holy Spirit compels you to play a part, then obedience has never been simpler.

*ALL gifts are separate from our own personal support and go toward the care, well-being of the girls.

Small Steps

It has been ONE month to the day since God brought 6 beautiful Thai girls into our home and began integrating them into our family.  We are seeing His grace manifested moment-by-moment.  Here are a few of the small steps that He has provided for in the last 30 days.

• 16 hours of formal English instruction
• 4 hours of Bible study
• 3 cooking classes (biscuits, cookies and muffins)
• 2 trips to a waterfall (once got to interact with elephants)
• 3 trips to downtown market to buy sewing, knitting supplies
• 1 trip to a lake, all day swimming
• One girl completed her paperwork on scholarship and began sewing school.  She also has learned to drive.  She will take test for license on Thursday, July 21 . On Monday, July 18 we will purchase a motorcycle in her name and she will pay it back over the next year, so that we can always buy one for the next girl.
• 3 of 6 went to doctor; 1 went a 2^nd time
• Filled out appropriate paperwork to begin counseling; waiting for first appointments
• 1 “Failure to Thrive” underweight baby has had her condition reversed, gained 1 kilo+, is vocalizing, playing, dancing and laughing
• The whole household started taking daily vitamins and learning about proper nutrition.
• Church on Sundays
• One girl began Adult School to earn the equivalent of her GED
• 2 trips to the village to take the next steps in getting one girl’s national ID/citizenship
• 1 of 6 has been to the dentist
• Formed a strategic partnership with business-as-missions company who is interested in buying products we
  make and then marketing and selling them for us.
• 1 project day, developing, designing and sewing a cloth diaper pattern to market through partnership with above company.

Trusting a Savior and Waiting for Rescue

It is 2:17 p.m. in Chiang Mai, Thailand and right now there is a 21 year old girl on her knees begging for escape. She was sold to a brothel 5 years ago and in that time given birth to two babies. She surrendered to Christ as her Savior several months ago and has been faithfully discipled. Now she pleads with God and waits for her Savior to provide rescue.

The clock is ticking down…now it is 2:20 and in 40 minutes she will be forced to go back to work, serving as many as 10 predators a night in exchange for a place to sleep and food for her babies.

We got the call about her yesterday.

“Can you take her?” haunts me at every turn.

Two weeks ago we were asked to take a 13 year old girl rescued by the authorities from slavery. She is 5 months pregnant.

“Can you take her?” chases me through my dreams. 

Two weeks before that we were asked to ransom a 17 year old mother. She has not yet been rescued and is exploited nightly for her services.

“Can you take her?” leaves me feeling small and helpless.

We already have 3 mothers and their 3 babies living in our home. We have neither the space nor money to care for more. I have moved my furniture around in my head and shuffled budget every way I can imagine, but in my own strength and with my own resources I cannot help any of the other three. Those we have, we have committed to caring for out of our own financial resources. My husband has wisely drawn the line and said that until we have $10,000 committed the bigger project we cannot take anymore. He is right, it is more than reasonable.  Afterall, this isn’t MY idea…it is GOD’s.

So it is now 2:26 and she has 34 minutes left of freedom today.

The 17 year old has until nightfall.

The 13 year old is in a government home where she will be relatively safe until her baby is born. Then she must leave and sink or swim on her own in the world…

I want them all. I want them TODAY.

What does the God who created them want?

Not My Problem

Sitting in the hospital waiting room with a sleeping baby on my chest, the weight of her head and her circumstances crushes my heart and leaves me spinning, breathless.  A beautiful, chattering, feisty soul tangled in a teeny tiny body.  Her name is Moon and she reflects joy back to anyone who even carelessly shares it with her. I have been volunteering with Moon and her mom at their former residence, for the past two months and all that time, I thought she was just the cuddliest baby I had ever met.  As soon as she meets you, she reaches out, lays her head down and holds on. Happy to be held.  STILL…QUIET.

It was only today, 5 days after they moved into our home, that we saw a pediatrician and I came to understand that her “cuddliness” has far less to do with her personality than the fact that she is severely malnourished.

Anemic. Weak. Sick.

What do you do when you are falling in love and you know that the inevitable end of that love will be the breaking of your heart?  What if giving yourself to something will then cost you everything?

Gasping for breath, caught between LOVE and COMMON SENSE we have chosen to dive in…anyway.

Why?  Because, how can we not?  Sitting in the waiting room this morning with a sick baby sleeping in my arms, I fought hard the tears rising from my chest…but the tears fought back.  A few dangerous conspirators breached the walls and stood wavering in my eyes.  I looked outside and wondered…

How many more are there?

How can I make any difference at all in a world that says these babies and their mothers are only as valuable as the black market determines?

Bought and sold, everyone gets a cut, each slave trader getting first dibs.

RAPE as a fact of life.

But then there is this ONE, this baby Moon safely cradled in my embrace.  These SIX.
Beautiful girls, who have hopes and dreams, who are not going to be selling themselves or their babies on the streets tonight.

We didn’t have to take them.

We could have said, “It’s not my problem” and looked the other way.

COMMON SENSE shouts belligerently and demands such a rational response.

And this is why we are nailing Common Sense to the cross that Jesus asked us to carry.  Here’s the thing, the love Jesus expressed
for me cost him everything.  He left the glory and power RIGHTFULLY his in heaven to live among the broken…and out of
love surrendered all he had to give on the cross.  Jesus didn’t say, “if you want to be my disciple, choose the safe and comfortable road.”  No, he said, “Pick up your cross and follow me.”  A cross, really?  A CROSS. Yes.  And follow him where?

To the place of crushing…to the place of bruising…even to the place of death.

Some dear girlfriends of mine and I (you know who you are) once wrestled with this command and decided that we were all
willing to CARRY the cross…but please God just don’t nail us to it.  These days I feel the nail pressed to the flesh as wonder if I am big enough…strong enough to point these girls to the Creator who loves them.  It is in those moments that I realize that NO I am not big enough, I am not strong enough, but HE is.  And it is His love that compels us.  2 Corinthians 5:14

We are experiencing such little sacrifices compared to His.  Trivial, really.  Things like eating Thai food ALL the time; like sharing rooms and not having our own space; being watched…measured…weighed;  being unable to communicate with little more than smiles and charades.

Moon and her mom are 2 of the 6 new house guests we have.  Each of them has a story.  We are each a little broken and each in need of a little healing.  We have fielded so many questions in the last week and if you have made it this far I will just give you the shortest possible facts.

Muey* (age 15) with daughter Moon (16 mo); Pimm* (age 21) with daughter Tang-moo (4 mo); Anna* (age 27) with daughter Shompoo (age 4) all moved into our family’s home this past Monday, June 13.

Overnight our family expanded by 6.  We will be making disciples by living with the girls and hope and pray that we also will grow as disciples in the process.  We will need to raise funds to help get these 3 girls and littles safely on their feet and are praying about a bigger project.  That project, “Compass 31,” would provide education, health care, discipleship, life skill/parenting training, help attaining legal citizenship and in-depth Christian counseling.  The goal would be to encourage the girls to complete their education and begin a couple of small businesses that would be self sustainable within the Thai culture within 2-3 years.  Compass 31 would provide housing and discipleship for 10 rescued young women (and littles) at a time.

We need prayer and we need baby stuff!  If you’d like to be involved in the short term or the bigger long term vision shoot me an email.

Hey, if all of that wasn’t crazy enough, Kelly will be in Bangkok, June 22-29 teaching 14 friends from the country to the north at a Back to Jerusalem training center.

The kids, the girls and I will be on our own…

Here’s to falling in love.

*Names given are the girl’s nicknames, legal names are
withheld for their protection.