Grateful Tears.

This morning I woke up to an e-mail in my inbox from our friends Michael and Heather who we lived near and met in Thailand. They moved back to the States last December after some complications with insurance and an emergency back surgery for Heather for a herniated disk. Though they never met Olive, they often asked about her and sincerely cared about a season of life that we never even knew each other in.  They are currently living in Grand Rapids, MI, and when I opened my e-mail this morning and saw a photo of Olive's grave with these beautiful hydrangeas next to it the tears started pouring down my cheeks into my cereal bowl for the next 20 minutes.

It's been a while since I've cried Olive tears, so maybe that is why it felt hard to stop them from coming back on and off throughout the day.  Living so far away from her grave on a days like her birthday are hard because the first thing I want to do is go and sit with her body, clean her stone, put fresh flowers there and talk to her.

To know that two of our friends go their car and drove two hours on a wet dreary day to find her little graveyard in between the cornfields of northern Indiana meant so much.

I'm realizing that some of the tears I've cried today aren't just sad ones, but grateful tears for the friends and family I have in my life. For those who remembered her birthday this week and wrote or called me just to check in...for friends like Michael and Heather who drove to put flowers on her grave. For my Aunt Anna who also visited her grave with flowers.  For those of you who have followed her journey silently and with your prayers...

On Saturday friends and family gathered in Seattle to support "Team Colleen" (Rusty's mother) in the Brain Cancer Research Walk. In Michigan, Rusty's sister Stacia organized a walk for those in the area and the tears returned when I saw that our friends Brad, Jill, and Elizabeth were there to walk along with our cousin Sarah who drove hours to be there. As a family we have been once again overwhelmed by the love and commitment of friends and family to walk alongside us in another journey we never anticipated or wanted to take part in.

So today there were tears mixed with loss, but also gratefulness for friends and family who, even with an ocean in between us, still remind us how much they care. You too are irreplaceable, just like little Olive Hope.

Olive's 2nd Birthday.

Two years ago today you were born.
I wonder what you would be like if you were still with us. 
If your hair would be straight like your dad's or curly like mine.
If your eyes would have been blue or green. 
If your big toe was going to be disproportionately large like your father's.
I see my friend Sarah's daughter Rouen and my niece Aubrey who both have birthdays close to yours and wonder if you would be as chatty and silly as them at this stage. 
When you were still with us I wondered all these same things, thinking only time would tell. 
And now you're gone. 
And I'll never know the answers to my questions until I meet with death and find you again. 
Until then, know that you will never be forgotten or replaced, and that I will always carry you in my heart.

Reflections on the Crisis in the Horn of Africa

Reflections on the Crisis in the Horn of Africa

Fresh Pineapple and Porn.

I have been living in Bangkok now for the past few weeks. It is a different world than living at the Akha Youth Development Center in Chiang Rai surrounded by rice fields.

I am living in a small studio apartment in the middle of the city, surrounded by sky scrapers on all sides, poverty, wealth,  and cultural diversity like few other places in Thailand. In my apartment building there are tenants from Dubai, Burma, Ethiopia, Sudan, United Arab Emirates, Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, India, Europe, and the States. Elevator interactions are always interesting around here with so many cultures colliding in such a small space.

I also live in one of the two biggest areas of the city known for prostitution. Walk out of the door and you are offered porn, fresh pineapple, chicken schwarma, weed, hummus, fried bananas, sex toys, cheap movies, lady shows, gelato...well you are maybe starting to get the idea...a little more colorful around here. 

I think people have been trying to figure out where to place me in this little community. A pregnant, white young girl who is usually seen alone. I wonder sometimes if they assume that I'm a backpacker who got pregnant on her travels and is stranded here. A few curious vendors who sell me fruit have asked me what I'm doing here and after I tell them a bit about myself their strange stares have turned into warm smiles. More smiles too in the last few days after Rusty arrived back and they see us walking around together.

Last week I went to a local non-profit here that provides an aftercare program to girls who have chosen to leave the sex industry. While sitting with the director of the organization and hearing story after story of these women, and girls, my heart was mostly deeply saddened. Next week I will start teaching English in the mornings to the girls and am looking forward to connecting with them more individually.

It is estimated that just in this immediate area around me in Bangkok there are around 7,000 girls working as prostitutes. Customers come from all over the world to enjoy their vacation of pleasure. The stories I heard were the gut wrenching kind. The kind of stories that are impossible to forget. 

One story of a girl at the center started when her father left her family when she was five years old. Having three children to support, her mother started trying to sell small items on the street on a bamboo mat. The money was inconsistent and provided no guarantees that they would have enough to eat on a day to day basis. When a Japanese business man approached the mother and asked how much for her eldest daughter she took up his offer out of desperation to support her family.  Every few days the business man would pull up on the curb in his expensive car and take her daughter (6 years old at the time) into his car and have his way with her for the next few hours before depositing her on the curbside again with a chunk of money. This went on for months. One day out of fear, the little girl jumped out of the car and started running. Thankfully a police man saw this strange interaction her and actually decided to help. The Japanese business man was scolded and fined a whopping $400 dollars. The mother was taken to prison and her children taken from her care.

A few years down the road this girl was back working as a prostitute to support herself and younger siblings before she had someone reach out to her and she learned about an organization that would give her a safe place to live and provide her with food and job training. 

This was her start in life. 

Sex for her wasn't a choice. 

She did it out of selflessness for her family.

I heard heart-breaking story after story. Eighty percent of the girls living at this particular after-care facility were sexually molested as children by family members or sold into prostitution as children to provide for their families.  Many prostitutes here are without citizenship which leaves them in positions to be easily taken advantage of. Many are Akha girls coming to support their younger siblings to study. Many are Burmese, Cambodian, and Thai women from impoverished families. You may say they are choosing to be here, at least the ones who haven't been tricked or trafficked into these jobs. I'm not so sure I would call it a choice anymore. For most of them they don't see it as a choice--but being self-less, and giving up their lives so that their younger siblings and family have enough money to eat, or even a chance at education.

I went to this after-care center on one of the days that Colleen (Rusty's mother) still hadn't woken up from her brain surgery and we were walking around with heavy hearts full of worry. I left thinking about no matter what circumstances come our way and how hard they may be...that at least we live with hope. 

Not a hope that God will always intercede like we want him to and long for him too, but a hope that  there is more to life than everything we see around us here. That no matter how broken, heavy, or difficult things feel, that we have something more waiting for us on the other side. And then I started thinking about what life would be like without a hope like that...and I can't seem to shake that thought.