Several years ago, an amazing family from our church uprooted and moved to Thailand where they began a ministry. Their ministry is now thriving and a group of us traveled to serve with them in Pattaya.
Last week, my team shared about our mission trip with our church.
Well, they shared. I'm less of a talker, more of a writer. #introvertsunite
So instead, I wore my bright orange t-shirt with Chinese characters on it in solidarity, and I listened. I listened again to the stories and powerful encounters that we experienced together, halfway around the world. It stirred up all those emotions and memories again, and the Lord told me it was time to finish this draft I began when we first got home. A significant experience like this deserves to be remembered and shared.
This city (and nation) of so much heartache and yet so much potential is on my mind daily. I'm not just saying that...it all haunts me. If you've ever been on a mission trip outside the US, you know how strange it is to assimilate back into American culture. Like for example, I can now flush toilet paper instead of putting in the trash can (gross), and I also don't have to pay to use a public restroom. Now, I come home to my (average by American standards) house and without even realizing it, I'm counting how many children from the slums would have a bed to sleep on here instead of the floor. Seeing exorbitant waste of money and resources around me makes me feel upset and physically ill. I think about these sweet, precious people DAILY.
I can't unsee what I've seen. It's going to be with me forever.
I can't unsee the terrible living conditions and filth of the slums. The 200 empty-eyed prostitutes lined up on one street (not exaggerating)? I can't erase that memory. I'll never forget about the precious Chinese students who have risked e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. by coming to faith in Christ. Nor can I leave behind the pure joy on the kids' faces when we gave them something as basic as a new pair of flip flops. That's the kind of stuff that sticks with you.
