Christmas Bliss and Fighting For My Dreams.

It's Christmas Eve. 

I'm sitting alone in the living room of my parents house, 

drinking white wine and watching the Christmas lights glisten on the tree. 

My family is in the kitchen, sitting around the table laughing. 

I'm about to join them, but I linger, only for a moment, 

to savour the sweet sound of their voices in this exact moment. 

Bliss. 

------------------------------------------------------

13 days until departure,

 and I feel the familiar feeling of anxiousness creeping up on me. 

The feeling of "what if…"

What if I don't raise the $4,200 I need by January 7th? 

What if I end up getting so close to my dream, only to watch it crumble before my eyes?

What if.. What if I can't go to Thailand because of money? 

"I'm so forgetful, but you always remind me:

You're the only one who brings me peace."

These song lyrics have been running through my head all day today.

I've been meditating on them, speaking them over myself, praying them into existence. 

The truth is, I need help getting to Thailand. 

I only  have 13 days to raise $4,200 or I will not be able to go. 

I've been praying over the last few days about how I am to go about all this. 

How do I ask, yet again, for MORE money? 

Am I even supposed to go, Jesus? 

And if not, what am I supposed to be doing? 

How do I make people see? 

How do I make them hear?

The only answer I've received is "Trust."

Okay, God. You got it. 

I'll trust You. 

I'll trust You with everything I have.

I'm also going to fight for my dream of being a long term missionary in Thailand.

I'm going to fight for my dream to tell the untold stories of women trapped in the sex trade. 

I'm going to fight for my dream to go there and fight for them. 

So, 

I am asking you, begging you, to please consider donating to my dream. 

To God's dream of bringing hope and life to these women. 

I'm asking you to join me in the fight against human trafficking. 

I'm asking you to dream with me… 

If you feel led to donate, please do so by clicking here. 

If you cannot donate, please PLEASE pray that all the money will come in by January 7th. 

Share this blog with everyone you know. 

Once again, a thousand thank you's would never be enough to all who have already donated. 

I pray you will be blessed 100 fold for the blessing you have been to me. 

An Excerpt.

The snow-filled wind blows all around me and I can't help but think of cruel irony.
As the ground becomes cool and hard in the frigid air, my heart is beginning to thaw.
The icicles form, the flakes drift to their predestined places,
and I find myself beginning to spark on the inside.

The last 6 months of my life have been the hardest.
They have been the coolest, the loneliest, the weakest.
I would sit inside on a beautiful summer day, the kind that my soul used to rejoice in.
I would lay in my bed and cry, shaking with the stifling of sobs and the swallowing of lies.
My heart broke.
My hope scattered.
My soul despaired.
My entire being was overcome by the aching in my spirit.
I closed my eyes and succumbed to the blackness.

I sat in a pit of lies and numbness for months.
I let myself.
I let myself stay there because I knew I couldn't get out on my own and no one would help me climb.
I was afraid to feel the breaking again.
I didn't want to feel if it means I would only feel pain...


"Jesus… Jesus…"


 I called for You.
I called out as many times as I could muster.
And I will call for all the rest of my days.
For I am weak.
I am tired.
I am selfish.
I am unequipped.
I am sinful.
I am afraid.
I am bitter.
I am broken….

But You.
You love me.
You've called me.
You've redeemed me.
You call me Holy.
You call me Daughter…


Though I'm not out of the pit yet,
though I am slow at climbing from the ocean of bitterness,
the frozen walls around my heart are beginning to thaw,
just as the fresh winds of winter settle in.

30 days.

Today is December 8th.

Exactly 30 days until I get on a plane and my life changes forever. 

It's a strange feeling, stepping into your dreams. 

It's this intense rollercoaster of every emotion in the book. 

Nervousness. Excitement. Sadness. Expectation. Fear. Joy. 

As hard as this year has been, 

there still seems to be this underlying bittersweet feeling to every situation. 

Given how much snow we've had recently, I am more than ready to play in the crystalline waters of Thailand. 

But every day I seem to want to just stare at the Rocky Mountains in the distance. 

I am cherishing cozy sweaters and even that horrible feeling of your nostril hairs freezing instantly. 

I am definitely ready to go, but I'm finding it harder than usual to say goodbye to some of the things and people I have grown to love this year. 

I even started packing today. 

Which is absolutely insane. 

I can't believe how fast this year has gone, despite how slow it may have felt at times. 

I told myself I wasn't allowed to really start getting things together until a month before. 

And now it's here. 

Crazy. 

God is so faithful. 

There were a lot of moments this year when I doubted He would come through for me. 

I wondered over and over if I had jumped into this without really thinking it through, 

but He reassured me over and over that I am on the right path, 

that He has indeed called me to this. 

And because He has called me to this, 

I know He will provide for it. 

As it stands right now, 

I have about $2,000 raised, which is a significant jump from the $-161 I had last month. 

But I am still in need of $5,000 in the next 23 days, 

and I would love for you to be a part of getting me there. 

In order to be fully funded for my first year of ministry by January 1st, 

I need to raise a minimum of $217 a day. 

That may seem unrealistic, but it's totally possible if everyone who reads this helps out. 

If 22 people gave $10 a day, I would be fully funded. 

Or if 50 people gave one time donations of $100, I would make my deadline. 

If you are looking for some way to give back this Christmas, 

I pray that you will consider giving the gift of hope to the women trapped in the sex industry in Phuket.

You can give by clicking here and clicking the donate button.

Or you can give by looking to the right hand side of this page and clicking the DONATE button. 

No donation is too small. 

Literally every single dollar counts. 

If you are unable to give but still want to be involved, 

please PLEASE pray that all the finances will come in by January 1st. 

A thousand thank you's would never be enough for those of you that have already sown into this. 

You and I are going to change the world. 

Reality Check.

59 days till departure.

Almost everything is done. 

My flight is booked, my Thai visa came in the mail, 

I have purged my closets and drawers of almost all of my winter clothing, leaving me the only option of layering summer clothing right now.

I've envisioned how I am going to pack everything. 

I've planned out every detail I can think of. 

But I am struggling to remain peaceful. 

People are starting to ask me if I'm excited. 

And undoubtedly I am. Very. 

But as winter's chill has begun to freeze the yellow leaves and the cool wind has brought trillions of crystalline flakes to settle on the ground,

 I can't help but start to panic a little.

Reality Check:

I leave one week after New Years. 

Christmas is just around the corner.

And I have $-161.00 towards the funds that I need to make Thailand a reality.  

I have a deadline of raising everything I needed for the first year of ministry ($7,004) by January 1st. 

It's still possible, but it's going to take a miracle. 

And sometimes it's incredibly hard for me to believe that it will happen at all. 

I've seen God provide insane amounts of money in no time. 

And I'm trying to trust and believe that it will happen again. 

Most days I am not worried or anxious. 

But there are a few days in between those hopeful ones that kick my faith right out the backdoor. 

The reality is, 

I need an immense amount of help. 

I have a dream of bringing hope and light to those who are trapped in the sex industry. 

I know many of you do as well. 

I have a dream of telling the untold stories. 

The ones that will impact the world and inspire people to action. 

I have a dream of pouring my heart into the orphans and widows. 

The least of these. 

I know that many people reading this have hearts to do good. 

I know that many of you desire to see Heaven on earth and the day when every orphan is wrapped up in momma's arms. 

And none of these things are possible without you. 

If you desire to sow into the nation of Thailand, 

if you desire freedom for the women forced to sell their bodies every night, 

if the thought of the young children being sold and traded like cattle makes you sick… 

Please, PLEASE partner with me in this. 

There are 3 ways you can be involved in what God is doing in Phuket. 

1. PRAY. I cannot stress enough how much prayer is needed. I will be living in one of the darkest cities I've ever been in, and I need as much prayer and intercession as I can get.

2. SPREAD THE WORD. The more people know about what is going on around the world, the more we realize we have a responsibility to do something about it. Share this blog, or share the video on the support page. Acknowledgement is the first step to advocacy. 

3. GIVE. Though I will be considered staff at SHE, I will not be paid to be there. I need to pay for my own housing, food, transportation and ministry costs. By supporting me, you are allowing me to thrive in a nation that is starving for the hope of Jesus. 

I need a total of $600 a month to cover all ministry costs, food, accommodations, transport, and other expenses. 

You can give one-time donations as well as become a monthly supporter. 

If you feel led to give, please CLICK HERE.

Together, we can bring hope and life to Thailand like never before. 

The Boy Who Changed Everything.

Once upon a time, 

a girl named Allison went on a trek around the world. 

She joined up with 49 other people as they made their way through 4 continents,

loving and serving the locals and one another.

As they made their way through southern Africa, 

her heart rejoiced. 

There's something about Africa that just makes you come alive...

 But as they began the eighth month of the journey in the tiny nation of Swaziland, 

she was weary. 

Allison could feel the hopelessness of the whole country and it weighed heavily on her heart. 

But then one day, 

she met a boy. 

A teeny tiny baby boy named Michael, who changed everything for her.

For as long as I can remember, 

 I've wanted to be a mother. 

As I child I had many dolls and all of the accessories for each of them. 

My mom has a picture of me when I was about 2 or 3,

walking around with a baby doll stuck under my shirt pretending to be pregnant. 

I've never known a time when I didn't love babies. 

But this baby was very, very different. 

The moment I looked into his deep brown eyes, my heart was sealed to his. 

I didn't just love this child. 

I wanted to give the sun and the moon to him. 

I wanted to bring him home with me and have him with me forever. 

I very seriously considered dropping out of my journey and staying in Swazi with him. 

I talked to the staff to see if it were possible to adopt him. 

It wasn't. It's not. 

Since the day I left him, 

I've thought of him constantly. 

I pray for him, I sometimes pretend he's here with me. 

I think about maybe someday going back to that orphanage on the mountain and staying there with him, just so I can officially call him mine...

Today I stumbled across a recent picture of him and I couldn't stop the tears. 

My sweet baby is now a charming little toddler. 

I seriously couldn't love him more. 

Once upon a time, 

there was a little boy named Michael. 

His momma left him swaddled in blankets at an orphanage on top of a mountain. 

He needed someone to love him and snuggle him. 

Then one day, 

a girl came to the orphanage. 

A girl who was broken and sad and tired. 

She needed someone to love her, too.

She picked up the bundle of blankets and she saw him smiling back at her. 

Michael became the ray of light she needed. 

He was the only thing that gave her hope. 

He was the boy who changed everything...

Rest In Peace

I don't ever tell anyone when I'm going there. 

Some seem to think it's strange. 

But today, I needed peace. 

I needed stillness and beauty and above all, peace. 

The most peaceful place I know is on the outskirts of the city, located right in the middle of a cemetery. 

The sun was out and the sky was a crisp, satin blue today. 

There were many people around, placing perfectly arranged flowers over the names of their loved ones. 

I sat in the grass, breathing deeply for the first time in what felt like a year. 

All around me there is an eeriness. 

Like a foreboding sadness lurking on the edges of my conscious thought.

I don't give in though. 

It's hard to be sad when you look around and realize things could be much worse... 

I feel like I've been wandering around in a shell shocked stupor since the wheels hit the tarmac 10 months ago. 

I've let so many opportunities pass me by. 

I've said no, when I know God wanted me to say yes. 

I've let people down, and I've lived under unrelenting shame for it. 

I've wallowed in sadness, trying to bring back the season I wasn't ready to say goodbye to.

But not today. 

Today I breathed deep, and I let it all go. 

It's funny how sitting in the grass knowing there are a bunch of dead bodies underneath you changes your perspective. 

My problems, my worries, my anxious thoughts, my doubts. 

They all just don't seem to matter when I think about the big picture. 

When I'm 90, will I even remember why I cried for a week, thinking God didn't care or didn't see me?  

On my deathbed, will I remember feeling like a ridiculous, hot mess all of the time? 

This season has been really hard. 

I'm barely breathing most days. 

And sometimes I just need to know that this struggle will end. 

That this too shall pass. 

I'm learning what it really means to rest in the peace of my Saviour. 

I'm learning that it's not always going to something that comes naturally. 

Sometimes it's a choice. 

I've been anxious about raising money for Thailand, knowing that there's no grace to fail this time. 

I've been wondering if I'm even called at all, or if I am being selfish for leaving my family again. 

I've been sitting in this place of fear, thinking that I will get there and realize I made a mistake, 

that I didn't really hear His voice promising me more time in Thailand. 

I've been wrong so many times before... 

But as I sat under the blue sky and watched the yellow leaves dance, 

I decided to just live in the moment, 

and remember that He is God. 

And if I made a mistake, 

there's grace. 

If I don't raise enough money, 

there is something better for me. 

If I can never get my shit together and I'm a hot mess the rest of my life,

so be it. 

I'll be His hot mess. 

I have to trust that He's big enough to make my mess into beauty again. 

A New Season.

I know this update is long overdue. 

I wish I could explain my apparent disappearance from social media, but I cannot. 

I needed to take a moment to breathe and figure some stuff out before I came back to lay my heart on the table once again. 

Due to circumstances out of my own control, I am not able to go to Georgia in October. 

And I am heartbroken. 

But it is for the best I suppose, seeing as yesterday marked 100 days left in Calgary before I depart to Thailand and a new season of my life. 

To all of you who donated, I am forever grateful. 

I was able to raise $434.56 toward my plane ticket. 

Though I am no longer going, your faithful giving is not in vain. 

Every last penny will go to the funds I need to raise for Thailand. 

So THANK YOU. 

You all know who you are, 

and you have blessed me in an indescribable way. 

Today also marks my 23rd year of life. 

I was thinking back on all the incredible experiences I've been able to have in my short life. 

I thought back on all of the laughter and all of the tears. 

What a life I have been given the privilege to live. 

At age 23, I can say that I have traveled the world. 

31 countries to be exact. 

I have set foot on six out of the seven continents

I've swam with sharks and cliff jumped in Thailand. 

I've ate mountains of pasta and gelato in Italy.

I've pet a llama in Ecuador, and danced under the stars in Kenya. 

I've fallen in love with orphans in Swaziland and nearly sweat to death in the unrelenting heat of Cambodia.

I've already lived more than some people get the chance to. 

And I am so grateful. 

So as I watch the wind blow and the orange leaves flutter around me, 

I remember that change isn't always so bad. 

That a new season can bring with it blustering winds and cold nights. 

but the sun still shines above my cloud-filled vision. 

The sun is always there just waiting for an opportunity to burst through the storm. 

And that's where I choose to put my trust as I walk head first into this new year of life and this new season ahead of me. 

URGENT: Sanity Needed.

I've officially reached the hard part of all of this. 

The part that I have to consciously choose every single day to trust that God understands my needs,  and He desires to fulfill them. 

I've wondered so many times in the last few weeks if God really will provide all that I need to make life in Thailand a reality. 

There are still so many things that need to come through and so many things that I need to pay for. 

My visa application is a particularly big part of this. 

With no visa, I can't be in Thailand at all. 

And honestly, 

 right now it looks as though I won't have enough finances to actually go. 

But, I am trusting that I heard His call correctly. 

I am trusting that there are people somewhere out there that will want to come alongside me and fight with me for the freedom of those in sexual slavery. 

I am trusting with all my heart that I didn't make a giant mistake signing the next two years of my life away to His purpose. 

I don't mean to say that God has not been providing. 

He has already been providing in incredible ways. 

Like when my camera died a month before I'm supposed to be taking a photography class, and having no funds to buy a new camera. 

How do you take a photography class and then move to Thailand to do photography when you have no camera? 

But literally, within a few weeks, I had over $1,000 to buy one that is a massive upgrade from what I had. 

He is so faithful. 

But, I say all of that to actually direct your attention to something other than Thailand.

I say that I've reached the hard part of all of this, 

but honestly, this whole season at home has been really hard. 

And I feel like I've been nothing short of a hot-mess the whole time. 

I've been praying for a while for an opportunity to go to Georgia and visit many people from my beloved W squad. 

I desire nothing more than to hug them and worship with them and just BE with them once more before I move to Thailand and I most likely won't have the chance to see any of them for a long while. 

I feel like I need to be with the people who understand my heart more than anyone else, 

the people who became my best friends as we traveled the world together. 

I feel a little embarrassed about it, 

but yesterday morning, I literally woke up sobbing because I had a dream that my former team/squad leader had come to see me. 

I woke up with an ache in my heart and I went throughout the day with a constant lump in throat. 

I kept saying "I just miss him so much" 

And I do. 

I miss everyone so much. 

And I feel like it is essential to my preparation process and to my sanity that I go to them if possible. 

So. 

I have the opportunity to go and to be on the serve team for a World Race training camp that is coming up on October 11-19. 

Not only will I be reunited with my squadmates,

but also with a powerful woman I had the pleasure of leading in Kenya. 

I will also have the incredible opportunity to pour into and serve the next generation of World Racers. 

In order to make this happen, I need to book my flight ASAP. 

The general cost of a flight to Georgia is $700.  

And that is where you come in. 

I fully believe that God can and WILL provide,

and I believe that this is something that I need to do before I leave for Thailand, therefore it is part of what I am fundraising for. 

I am pulling on my faith and believing with all that's in me, that He is faithful. 

I need to tell AIM if I am coming by Monday, September 23rd. 

Which also means I need to have a flight booked by Monday. 

If you would seriously consider donating, I will be forever grateful. 

NO AMOUNT IS TOO SMALL. 

You can donate by clicking here,

Or if you have internet banking, by email transfer : allisonpriz@gmail.com

If you can't give even $5 (no shame, some people actually can't),

please, PLEASE be in prayer over this. 

Intercede for all the funds to come in by Monday. 

Once again, a thousand times over, THANK YOU to all who have given so far. 

Because you were faithful, the world will be changed for good. 

Homeward Bound.

I have officially booked my flight. 

I am officially moving to Phuket, Thailand on January 7th, 2014. 

It feels completely surreal to see my name on an e-ticket to Phuket. 

Mostly because for months, there has been a little voice inside my head telling me I'm not meant to do this. 

That I am not meant to travel the world and tell stories. 

I am not meant to introduce people to the great, uncontainable love of Jesus. 

That I should just suck it up and stay here because I'm turning 23 and it's time to start actually working and saving for retirement... or something like that. 

I guess my whole internal conflict comes from hearing people talk about how hard missions are,

and how they had to literally give up everything to go. 

And in my heart, I know that's true most of the time. 

But the dream I have for my life, the deepest desire of my heart is to do missions. 

It honestly feels like I had to give up everything to come home... 

I would silently wonder if something was wrong with me because I WANT to be uncomfortable, and sweaty, and stared at constantly for my white skin. 

I thrive eating mystery meat and dancing for 3 hours in church. 

I live for the moments when I get to worship under more stars than I've ever seen,

and I am much more comfortable sleeping on the floor than a bed now... 

So I've been struggling with this idea.

Shouldn't I want to stay here like everyone else God? 

Shouldn't I be comfortable here?

Shouldn't I love being close to my family and friends?

I guess the answer is no. 

Because the fact that I am so assured in my spirit that this was the life I was always created to live, it makes me actually shake with joy knowing that I am stepping into my destiny.

I'm tired of thinking that my dreams aren't allowed to line up with God's dreams. 

And honestly, if it weren't for God's plans, I wouldn't be here in the first place. 

I am not saying that I didn't have to give up things when I chose this life.

I've had to give up a lot in the past, and will have to give up a lot when I get on my plane on January 7th.

I am leaving the best roommates I will probably ever have. 

Meeting guys is almost impossible overseas (not that I'm looking to meet guys, but I do want to get married eventually...) 

I'm trusting God that my family will be alright without me. 

I'm trusting God that my friends here won't forget about me. 

I'm giving up security and choosing faith instead. 

which we all know is never easy. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is I have never been more excited to do anything in my life. 

My dreams are coming true. 

It has been one heck of journey leading up to this, but it will pale in comparison to the journey I am stepping into. 

I am still looking for monthly supporters as well as one time donations. 

If you feel led to donate, please look at the support page for instructions on how to do so. 

Michael

This is for little Jacob. 

Because he lived, and he died.

And it mattered. 

Swaziland. 

A country plagued by HIV/AIDS. 

A country nestled in the arms of South Africa.

A country with beautiful, rolling landscapes and strong mountains. 

We arrived in Swaziland after a very long, sticky, bus ride. 

We had met at one of our teams locations in Mozambique and all 50 of us piled onto two bus-like vans. 

As we headed out, there was the usual excitement in the air. 

Starting new. 

New month.

New country. 

New ministry. 

As minutes turned to hours, I put my headphones in and stared blankly at the African countryside.

We reached the border, and it started raining. 

Our driver didn't have a passport. 

T.I.A. 

Nothing surprises me anymore, I thought.

We all laughed, because we had already gone through customs and exited Mozambique so we couldn't go back in. 

But we weren't allowed to continue into Swaziland because our driver couldn't legally drive us. 

So we were stuck in no-mans-land. 

Hours passed. 

Darkness fell and a smooth, lurking fog crept in. 

We sat on the pavement and prayed. 

The border was closing at 8pm, and none of us really wanted to spend the night at an unprotected border crossing in the middle of Africa. 

At 7:48pm, the other driver we had called for came barrelling around the bend and we all cheered and praised God for His unrelenting faithfulness. 

On we went. 

I stared out the window into the blackness and rain that surrounded our vehicle and dreamed of what this next month could look like. 

God had spoken to me about Swaziland many times throughout my preparation for the race and I knew there was something big waiting for me here. 

This would be a month of transformation, I was sure of it. 

God had big plans for me and Swaziland, I just didn't know what they were. 

We dropped one team off at their ministry location and after being blessed with a dry place to sit and some fanta to drink from their contact, we were on our way. 

It was 11pm.

I was tired. 

Rikki needed a pillow so I gave her mine. 

I don't know how long it took for us to get to the mountain. 

I lost all sense of time. 

Our contact had sent her son in a truck to the base of the mountain so that we could find the nearly hidden road leading up into the rain. 

As we headed up, we could tell the driver was struggling. 

The jerking and grinding of the transmission was only one indicator. 

We had been driving for about ten minutes when all of a sudden, the engine roared to an angry stop. 

Literally sitting at a 45 degree angle.

It took me a moment to acknowledge that we had stopped. 

I didn't really understand the gravity of the fact that we were stuck on a random mountain in Swaziland in my sleep deprived stupor. 

I looked at my iPod, my eyes protesting at the sudden flash of light to my retinas. 

2:37am. 

Our men decided it would be best if we all got out of the bus and they tried to push it to get it started. 

After what seemed like an hour, the bus came roaring past us as we hiked up the mountain. 

Our contacts came with an SUV and picked up some of our squadmates that had gotten sick from the bumpy, winding roads. 

Once we knew the bus was running for good, we piled back in and marvelled at how the mountain just kept going up. 

I thanked God over and over that we didn't have to hike this in the cool darkness. 

Another hour went by as the poor bus chugged away, transmission screaming in protest the whole way. 

We reached the top of the mountain and tried to decide who was going to sleep where.

Our contacts had prepared dinner for us at 6pm and they wanted us to eat, so we did. 

At 4:43am I climbed into a broken bed with Rikki beside me. 

We woke up at 10:30 to go to church.

I remember being woken up to screams of delight and my teammates claiming that they had never seen something so beautiful. 

Climbing out of my cocoon of a sleeping bag, I stumbled expectantly to the window. 

Breathtaking was an understatement. 

It seemed impossible not to fall on your face and worship for God's incredible creation.

This was our home for the next 4 weeks. 

 I wandered through the days and weeks waiting for my "big thing" to show up. 

I felt swallowed whole by the lies of the enemy. 

I would sit out on the rock every day and watch the sunset, or cry under the stars, not knowing where I fit. Not knowing how to be okay. Not knowing how to push through. 

I was broken.

I was beat up. 

I was squashed under the weight of the atmosphere of the whole country.

I could feel the hearts crying out for truth, but I couldn't get up off the floor to give it them. 

Did I even know what the truth was? 

Because I couldn't find here.

Not when there are hungry bellies and hopelessness hanging on every human I encounter. 

Two weeks in, everything changed. 

A woman showed up at the orphanage. 

She didn't tell anyone her name. 

She looked frail, like the wind could blow her right off the mountain. 

In her arms she held tightly to a massive bundle of blankets.

As the staff approached her, she held out the blankets. 

The way she carefully transferred them to the Auntie's arms gave me the impression that these were not just blankets. 

The Auntie looked into the blankets and smiled. 

That's when I realized there was a baby inside the bundle of cloth. 

A baby? 

This small woman was bringing her baby here? For what?

They talked, and exchanged knowing glances. 

And then the Auntie brought the bundle of blankets into the baby house and the woman turned and began her journey back down the mountain. 

I found out later that the woman had tried to get money for her baby. 

In that moment, I wondered how on earth someone could be so desperate that they would feel the need to sell their own child? 

How is life ever that bad?

But then I thought of her. 

And how the tears ran down her cheeks as she handed her sweet baby over to a stranger. 

I thought of how her hands trembled as she wrung them nervously. 

And how she put her head down and walked away, probably knowing she would never see her child again. 

And my heart broke for her. 

For her child. 

How Jesus? 

How is this even real?

How is someone so bound by poverty and illness that they have to give their children away?

How do I tell these kids that they are loved and wanted when many of them have stories similar to this?

Is this country even redeemable?

The moment I first looked into that bundle of blankets, I knew that it had to be. 

If only for this one little boy. 

This little baby boy who, with one glance, stole my heart completely. 

When I looked into that bundle of blankets, I saw two big, brown, knowing eyes staring back at me.

Eyes that seemed too big for his face. 

His little mouth opened as he wheezed for air. 

The skin on his cheeks was rough and dry. 

His scalp was peeling badly due to malnutrition. 

They said he was three months old, but he was much too small to be three months. 

He looked like a newborn. 

Frail and scaly. 

But I looked at him and I loved him. 

He became my safe place. 

We needed each other. 

I would go every single day to the baby house just to hold him.

I would look into his tiny face and everything would melt away into the sounds of his cooing.

Or the excruciatingly cute way he would snore when he fell asleep in my arms. 

The Auntie's who ran the baby house would laugh as they saw me coming.

"Here is YOUR baby!" they would laugh as they handed him over time and time again. 

And he was my baby. 

In my heart, I knew that my days in Swaziland were quickly coming to a close, but I couldn't think about leaving him. Not yet. 

He didn't have a name.

I decided I would name him Cedric, which means "loved". 

And oh, was he loved by me and everyone around me.

It was only a few days before I left that they decided to name him Michael. 

I would sit on the wooden playground outside of the baby house with him in my arms everyday. 

I would watch him smile at me over and over.

He would coo and gurgle noises at me constantly, like he was telling me stories. 

Like he was telling me how much he loved me too.

He would look right into my eyes and he would tell me.  

I would lay in bed at night and have visions of him running around as a toddler in my living room at home. 

I imagined him laughing and giving me that charming smile from the backseat of my car. 

I imagined him snuggling up with me in my bed, while I sang him to sleep.

I inquired if it were even possible for someone to adopt internationally from Swaziland. 

The answer was made sense to me, but didn't lessen the blow at all. 

Because of the AIDS epidemic overtaking the country and the theory that it Swazi people will be extinct by the year 2050, 

the King of Swaziland wants to keep all the children in the country. 

I very seriously considered dropping out of the race and staying in Swaziland. 

I very seriously considered adopting Michael. 

I didn't care what my team thought.

I didn't care that I was unmarried and only 21. 

I prayed and prayed for him to be mine legally. 

But I felt like God was saying to trust Him with my baby. 

The day came to begin our travel to Thailand, and I wasn't ready. 

I kept telling myself that I needed to walk up to the baby house and say goodbye to Michael because I might never see him again. 

But I couldn't do it. 

I couldn't look into his big, brown eyes and tell him that I wouldn't be coming back.

I couldn't hold his tiny body and feel his tiny heartbeat knowing that I wouldn't feel it again. 

I couldn't. 

I just couldn't. 

Because if I didn't say goodbye, maybe he would know that I was going to come back for him one day. 

I sat near the back of the bus. 

I stared out the window as the acacia trees flew by and we made our way down the mountain for the last time. 

I was leaving my heart behind, swaddled in blankets, and it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. 

Yesterday, 

I was shown a recent picture of Michael by one of my teammates who had friends who went to the very same orphanage we worked at. 

I couldn't hold back the tears as I looked into the tiny face of a boy who still has my heart completely. 

I couldn't seem to look away. 

I studied every part of his face, memorizing it again. 

I've missed so much of his little life, and that kills me. 

But I think the hardest part about it all is knowing he will never remember me. 

He will never remember the countless hours he spent wrapped up in my arms.

He will never know how desperately I loved him. 

How desperately I still love him. 

How my arms ache to hold him.

How my heart yearns to know what his little laugh sounds like. 

I don't know if I will ever get to hold him again.

I don't know if I'll ever see his charming smile again. 

But I do know that I gave him everything I had to give. 

I loved him unlike any other. 

And even though he won't remember it, I will. 

I will remember him the rest of my life. 

Baby Michael changed everything for me.

He rescued me from the pit of lies I was in. 

He shifted my perspective.

And somewhere in the middle of nowhere Swaziland, 

there is a little boy who will have my heart forever. 

1:08 AM

I've been trying to write for days. 

I've spent countless hours in Starbucks, in my bed, in my secret place, trying to form my thoughts and mould my heartbeats into cohesive words. To no avail. 

I've been less inspired than usual, lately. I suppose that's alright sometimes though. I don't always have to have everything tied together with a pretty bow. I don't need everything I do to scream with creativity. 

Lately, I've felt dried up. Nothing left to give. Tired. So very tired. 

Yet here I am, at 1:08am knowing that I have a very full day of chasing 12 two year olds ahead of me, writing. Feeling the need to somehow pour my soul into something. 

What happened to the love of writing that I used to possess? I used to find joy in forming perfectly crafted sentences, intentionally placing words and then replacing them. I used to love writing. Now it seems such a burden to make my thoughts sounds even remotely comprehensive. 

I have a burden to tell the story. My story. Their stories. 

At night, I dream of their faces. One by one, they flash by my mind's eye like a movie replaying over and over. It's a good thing. I don't want to forget them. But how do I find words that mean enough? How I put together sentences and paragraphs that could ever mean enough? They are not just stories. They are people. Humans. That I loved. Babies that I gave every part of my heart to. Old women who I laughed with. Prostitutes I cried for. 

They are so much more than just stories to me. 

I want more than anything to do them justice. If I am called to write their stories, then I want to do it with excellence. I want them to be more than stories to everyone else. 

And I just can't seem to find the words. But I guess that's alright sometimes too.

I'm learning what it means to rest. I'm learning that it's okay to be a little selfish sometimes. I learning that boundaries are necessary. I'm learning that I need vulnerability to function. 

So I'm just going to rest. And see where this thing goes. Maybe in doing so, I'll find my heart again.