Written on February 15, 2016
As I begin to write this, tears fill my eyes. Partly because I just pulled away from one of my favorite places on earth – Sending Hope International, a girls home in Wiang Pa Pao, Thailand. But also because my words will never be able to portray just how incredible the last month of my life was.
The first night we arrived, we were greeted by forty little girls waving their hands through the chilly breeze. We walked into our home for the month and before we could even get back outside to get our packs from the taxi, they were walking inside with them.
We went to worship and were welcomed with bouquets of roses – one for each of us – presented to us by the six babies of the family. Little did I know those six girls would become the vessels Jesus used to show me I’m loved and adored.
I remember when we took our first off days of the month. My team went to Chiang Mai to partner with another ministry to understand the sex trafficking industry better. We enjoyed our time there but all six of us were ready to go home, as we had already begun calling it. I knew then I couldn’t take another overnight trip again. My heart ached because I wanted to see my sisters and knew I was missing out on spending time with them.
Throughout the month, I was showered with an immeasurable amount of notes, kisses on the cheek, big huge hugs and “I love you’s.” All the love they poured into me was straight from the heart of Jesus – it went deep into my veins and gave purpose to the beating inside my chest.
Every morning, I woke up joyful because I knew what each day had in store. After I spent time with Jesus, I walked with my precious sisters to drop them off at school. I’d put their hands in mine and rub them together to ignite some warmth in their little fingers. Sometimes, they’d ride piggy back and other times on my hip, but they never passed up a chance to be carried. My arms got tired and weak but I couldn’t let it show – I believe it made them feel like royalty to have their feet off the ground. We’d watch the sunrise over the open field we passed on the way and stop to take pictures of the foggy mountain view. They’d sing “Let’s go, let’s go, L-E-T-S-G-O, let’s go” and laugh when they forgot the letters. They’d play with the puppies that ran alongside us and scream when they barked. They’d latch onto me when we arrived and after ten hugs and see-ya-laters they’d let go and cross the little bridge that separated us for the next seven hours.
This morning was the last day I’d walk them. It was no different than all the others until we reached the bridge. Tears filled our eyes and I crossed the bridge with them. This time I couldn’t let go. Leaving them was harder than leaving home eight months ago. I couldn’t just set them down and say see-ya-later because the truth is, I might not. But regardless if I said see-ya-later or goodbye, it was the most difficult of the whole World Race.
Some people don’t understand how it could be because I barely speak more than five words of Thai and they are just beginning to learn the English alphabet, but the bonds created with my little sisters are different than all others I’ve experienced any other time throughout life.
Last night, they held a ceremony in our honor. It began like our usual bonfire nights – they performed skits and we followed. But then they asked us each to sit, separated into six lines, sung beautifully and walked towards us. I looked down as Jintana picked up my foot and was consumed by the Father’s love. Seven of my sisters and all six of the staff washed my feet, one by one. I couldn’t have tried to hold back the tears.
They love relentlessly and deep out of their selfless hearts. Through them, God showed me just how strong His love and adoration for me really is. Though there’s no way I can fully comprehend it here on earth, He painted a picture in front of my eyes that overwhelmed me. There’s hasn’t been another day in my life that can compare.
