The last month of life has felt like a current, gently rushing me along, to what ever is next. Most of the time, I’m enjoying the comforts and blessings of the U.S., good coffee every morning, a bed to sleep in, my own room, soft things to sit on, and time with family and friends.
(Photo by: Ryan Stewart ryanstewart.theworldrace.org)
Then there are the moments when everything hits, when the images in my head begin to flash like a crazy, psychotic, music video. I close my eyes and see the young girls in Thailand being groped by sick, perverted men. I see Thulane, struggling under the weight of his little brother, waiving his small, black hand as our van drove off that last day in Swaziland. I see the articles of clothing and human bones scattered all over the Killing Fields of Cambodia. I wish I could say that the barrage of thoughts leads me to pray, but most of the time I turn to the drug of TV or internet and attempt to dull the crazy images in my head with the flashing screen.
In the last month, I’ve also experienced moments of clarity, where little pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place. I get to speak at NightLight parties and encourage others to be involved and make a difference for the women trapped in the sex industry. God brings about meetings with influential people who are passionate about what’s going on in the world and determined to make a difference. I drive along in my car, singing to Jesus at the top of my lungs and catch that divine moment where the sun is swallowed by the deep blue ocean.
(Photo by: Ryan Stewart ryanstewart.theworldrace.org)
I had this foolish idea that now, a month after my trip I would be all done processing, but that’s not the case. I guess grief doesn’t listen to my perfectly planned out time schedule. I continue to take life day by day, and cling to the fact that God is working out everything for good, even when I don’t understand how.
