I'm in a city that boasts over 1.5 million. I'm in a city that when I go to the market, I have to hold onto the arm of the one in front of me because it's that easy to lose one another. I'm in a city where all the vendors one after another are begging for my attention for me to buy their beautiful things.
Right now I'm in a city where I see the red flags of human trafficking right before my eyes just walking down the streets of this great city.
I'm in a city where 10 to 12 year old girls and boys who can barely play the violin or hoolahoop are paraded in the center of the streets and with their blank stares they play for us.
They look lonely to me. There are hundreds of people surrounding them. Some people stop for a moment to take a photo to get some likes on facebook. Most keep walking without even a glance.
It reminds me of what it's like to drown. When someone drowns, it isn't what we think of how Hollywood portrays it – with screaming, splashing and arms waving. It's a silent and lonely way to die.
I know I've talked about Martell Clark before, the man I watched drown last year in Lake Huron. It was the crowd that I'll never forget that day. There were hundreds of people on the beach and in the water, some within reach of Martell. But the response to his drowning once people knew it was happening was very upsetting. Nothing seemed to change. People continued to do what they were doing. I heard people casually say, "Someone's drowing." I even heard someone even tell me to stop looking for him and almost with a mocking tone that I was wasting my time because, "He's probably already dead."
When Martell could see all of those people and yet no one could hear his silent cries for help and then didn't want to help, I imagine it was a very lonely, scary place.
I read this article a while back when I had done some research to find the name of the man I dragged to shore last year after drowning in Lake Huron. It is about what drowning is really like.
The new captain jumped from the deck, fully dressed, and sprinted through the water. A former lifeguard, he kept his eyes on his victim as he headed straight for the couple swimming between their anchored sportfisher and the beach. "I think he thinks you’re drowning," the husband said to his wife. They had been splashing each other and she had screamed but now they were just standing, neck-deep on the sand bar. "We’re fine, what is he doing?" she asked, a little annoyed. "We’re fine!" the husband yelled, waving him off, but his captain kept swimming hard. "Move!" he barked as he sprinted between the stunned owners. Directly behind them, not ten feet away, their nine-year-old daughter was drowning. Safely above the surface in the arms of the captain, she burst into tears, "Daddy!"
How did this captain know – from fifty feet away – what the father couldn’t recognize from just ten? Drowning is not the violent, splashing, call for help that most people expect. The captain was trained to recognize drowning by experts and years of experience. The father, on the other hand, had learned what drowning looks like by watching television. If you spend time on or near the water (hint: that’s all of us) then you should make sure that you and your crew knows what to look for whenever people enter the water. Until she cried a tearful, "Daddy," she hadn’t made a sound. As a former Coast Guard rescue swimmer, I wasn’t surprised at all by this story. Drowning is almost always a deceptively quiet event. The waving, splashing, and yelling that dramatic conditioning (television) prepares us to look for, is rarely seen in real life.
Read the whole article here: http://mariovittone.com/2010/05/154/
This girl and boy I saw last night amongst several other children didn't have their hands up waving for help. They weren't kicking or screaming to be saved. There eyes were glassy and blank. There heads were low. They weren't kicking or screaming to let us know they were in trouble. Kind and loving familys were nowhere to be found. And like the crowd on the shore that day I experienced, they also didn't notice the children because they were shopping or they stared and took pictures.
When I arrived here in Thailand, I had been feeling very lonely. I am missing my connections of home and my very dear friends. I am missing the closeness that I long for with my sister. I am missing just laying my head on my mother's lap. I am missing seeing my dad love the Lord. I am missing the honesty I can share deeply with my friends, Laura and Lina. My heart longs for being with my community at my church, Bell Creek. I had made some very dear connections with the people in China and I think it masked the loss that I am feeling now starting over in a new country.
I'm feeling very lonely for the first time in several years and the funny thing is that I can't even find alone time here on this journey. It's impossible. I wake up to 6 other faces every morning. I can't leave without someone practically holding my hand. I feel so full at home being by all by myself sometimes. Yet, I'm desperately lonely here.
We were told in our training that sometimes personalities pick up other people's emotions in other countries and feel them intensely.
Now I do not claim to understand the children's loneliness.
but here is one truth
You can still be in a crowd and be desperately lonely.
Please pray for a rescue for those tied in human trafficking in Thailand. Specifically pray for Lighthouse in Action Ministries. Several of our teams are working here this month and will be building relationships with many people affected by human trafficking. Pray for loneliness to be broken and rescue for the thousands drowning right before our very eyes.
Please visit their website here: http://www.lighthouseinaction.org/
