I'll start this out with what is weighing on my heart today and has been for the past few days. The story I did not tell in my earlier blog from Thailand is meeting an 11 year-old little boy that the Thailand field works with often. In addition to forming relationships with women in prostitution in Bangkok, the team also builds beautiful relationships with many of the Cambodian families that have moved to Bangkok in hopes for something better, but seem to have only found different troubles. I won't use the name of this child, just because I don't feel comfortable doing so, but do not let that defer you from praying for this kid and his family. God knows his name...no worries. My small glimpse into this child's life is that his family is from Cambodia. I say family, but I don't think a father is in the picture. He and his mom are from Cambodia. They sought Bangkok to find something better than their current situation, but Bangkok is void of the power to heal broken circumstances. Anytime we seek a location other than the feet of Christ and the throne of God to heal our wounds or better ourselves, we only cause more issues. I say this from experience, because I thought India would change me...I thought finding God would be a lot easier here. FYI...God is just as present here as he is in the states. The distance between my heart and God doesn't decrease when I fly half-way around the world. It's all a matter of how I seek him. Not my physical location. That's been a great thing to learn. But if India has shown me anything, it's how great the gap is between my worthiness and the holiness of Christ. I can see my own brokenness more clearly in the brokenness of these people. Strange. Anyways, back to the family, the kid. They wind up on the streets of Bangkok...making it somehow. On the night that we walked through the red-light districts, we also met this child. We didn't meet his mom. As soon as we walked up, he ran and latched on to the team member, giving her a great big hug. There was so much youth in his spirit at this moment. So much dependence. But as we began to speak to him, I quickly began to learn that this little boy doesn't know youth anymore. Innocence is a thing of the past. This 11 year-old has had a childhood stolen from him. Dependence on someone is not an option for him. Here he is on the street alone. It's 2 A.M. He told us that his mom had been picked up by the police and possibly deported back to Cambodia. The statement that blew my mind was "Don't worry, I'm sleeping here on the street. I'll probably just get myself get picked up by the police tomorrow so I can find her." Those are words and a plan that an 11 year-old shouldn't have to speak or formulate. I just can't fathom the strength in those words being said by such a young child. The team member spoke of days he still acted like a child, but she said that now days he is different. The streets are changing him. Life is hardening him. She told us that not long ago, he went missing for a weekend. His mom was worried because she couldn't find him. He came back; apparently, a man took him to a beach south of Bangkok for the weekend. A sick, sick, sick human being took this child and stole innocence, stole his youth. I hurt over this. I cry over this. The boy, I don't understand. I don't get why. Why the world is this sick. Why the world is this broken. And why the innocent have to also be the wounded. I don't know what happened after that night, after that conversation, but I know this child is still fighting for a day that he may not have to fight. I pray that he has that. I pray that his family has that. Do the same. Pray for them. Let the Lord hear these cries. Cries for hope, cries for change, cries for restoration. You don't have to know his name, God already does. And he's the one holding this child's hand...he's the one with the power.
On to better moments...
I've been blessed by the Lord lately to have many different moments in this city that are redeeming my broken views of this place. Restoring my broken perspectives. Peeling away assumption by assumption, and creating room for love. One of those happened the other day when I stopped at a dokan (Bangla for store, just fyi) on the side of the road home to get bread. As I walked up, so did another man who was looking to buy bread. We both had to ask for the smaller loaves and somehow that struck up a conversation between us. For the first time here, I allowed a conversation between me and a man to occur. The sweet thing in this is that I found no hint of creepiness in this man. I would have assumed otherwise. But until I tore that wall down and gave someone the benefit of the doubt, I wasn't able to see past the assumptions I've made and realize that not everyone is as I judge them...of course they aren't, because my judgements are purely based on my new-found dislike for the male gender of India. Since this I've actually said "good morning" back to a man that frequently says it to us on our morning walk to the metro. It's quite nice to feel as though I have that freedom. Also, made friends with a few of the neighboring families...at least "greeting" kind of friends. They are usually washing dishes or clothes outside their homes, and I've seen them so many times but never spoken to them. I usually walk on past, just because I...well I don't really know why. Probably because it's just the way I've done since I got here because I've never had a sensory overload like I've had here and just shut down to avoid that or in order to avoid something that might strike any negative emotions. But that's no excuse. Anyways...had a couple short Bangla conversations with them. They are so stinking kind. Tons of smiling faces...always excited to say hello. It's conversations and relationships like these that tie me to this city. It's reasons that will make leaving a very hard thing, among the sweetness of the ladies and precious, precious children at Mama T's.
And I just have to tell you about a sweet moment the other day. It was so great. After leaving our Wednesday disturbing movie/book discussion and Bangla lesson at our leaders house, we were hopping on the metro at rush hour. This does not set up for a pleasant experience, but it ended as one. Not only did we get the A/C train (which is such a blessing), but for the first time since I've been here I let myself go free and move a little to the music playing on my iPod. No, not my hips...couldn't be too risque...haha. Just had to do a little hand jive and head bobbing. Imagine that. Or maybe you shouldn't. Ha. It was contagious, and before we knew it, all three of us Americans on the Indian metro were grooving to our music. It was so freeing. I felt like I stripped the power out of the hands of the men there...by not letting them prevent me from a life-giving moment. Yes, dancing is life-giving. Especially in a city where I need to be as invisible as possible...which leads to me feeling very powerless and out of control of what I can choose and choose not to do. It was a grand moment. Restorative to our souls.
Oh man. My heart. Up, down, up, down, up, down.
Be praying for our Bangla studies. I get so excited when I get to have a small conversation with people, but it also shows me just how little I know how to speak and understand. I do have "bujhi na" down...it means "I don't understand." Haha.
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