A Moto Accident: Because Sometimes You Need To Be Thrown Off A Moving Vehicle To Remember How Much God Loves You.

Two nights ago, Ashley and I went on our weekly date to the mall to enjoy 

good food, some AC and each other's company. 

All was normal as we hopped on her motorbike to head home at around 8:30pm. 

We frequently talk about how dangerous the roads are here because people are just careless when it comes to driving, and when you are on a moto, well… there's just no protection at all.

The first time I ever rode with Ash, we watched a teenager fall off the back of a moto

that was not going very fast, but he was still badly hurt. 

Heck, I've even seen people just fall over on their motos and be injured. 

There are just so many risks when it comes to driving here. 

As we neared the bridge that would take us over the thin stretch of water 

that divides Phuket from Koh Sirey, I felt an urgency to pray. 

Now, I just want to preface this with the fact that I trust Ashley's driving capabilities completely. 

I wasn't feeling afraid of the way she was driving, nor was I fearful about what could potentially happen. 

I just knew I needed to pray, so I did.

I just kept repeating the words,

"Jesus, keep us safe. Get us home safe. Keep us and the bike safe."

I felt the rush of wind against my face on the open stretch of road, and repeated my prayer. 

I was in the middle of repeating it a third time when I heard Ashley yell, and felt her pull on the brake harder than usual. 

It all happened so fast. 

In a matter of seconds, our bodies were on the pavement on the opposite side of the road,

scraping against the rough tar underneath the momentum of the bike that was now on top of us.

Ashley stood up first, and it was then that I realized I couldn't move my right leg 

as it was trapped under the exhaust pipe, which should have been scorching hot considering we had just been driving for half hour. 

The man who was driving the car that unexpectedly pulled out in front of us without looking 

came running over, and he was the one who lifted the bike off of me. 

When I stood up, I immediately reached for my forearm expecting to find blood, 

but instead found only pebbles from the road imprinted into my skin.

I looked at Ashley completely dumbfounded at what had just happened and asked if she was okay. 

The man kept saying "so sorry! so sorry!" 

and in my shocked state, all I could do was look at him and shake my head. 

He started the bike again to make sure it was still working and then he adjusted the mirror, 

the only thing that was out of place on the entire bike. 

He kept apologizing profusely and Ashley told him in Thai to drive slowly and that this was not good. 

He apologized again before he got in his car and sped away. 

Ashley and I asked each other about ten more times if we were okay and then hopped back on the bike. 

During the two minute drive home from the site of the accident, 

I couldn't stop marvelling at the fact that we were almost completely unharmed. 

It doesn't make any sense. 

We should have been seriously injured. 

I remember feeling my arm scrape against pavement, yet there is only a bruise and a few scratches to show for it. 

Not to mention the fact that we were laying on the opposite side of the road and there was absolutely NO TRAFFIC coming, which is completely unheard of here. 

It's nothing short of a miracle.

There is no doubt in my mind that Jesus kept us alive. 

And as I laid in my bed praising Him for the fact that I was alive and could feel pain in my bruised elbow, God began to speak to me about where my heart has been the past couple months.

He reminded me of all the promises He spoke to me.

He reminded me that my heart for Thailand is His heart for Thailand.

He reminded me that I am loved, and that I am heard, and that

He is deeply honoured when I choose to worship Him in the midst of all the chaos and the unknown. 

And I guess when you're so caught up in what's going on and aren't listening, 

Jesus will throw you off a motorbike to remind you of how much He really does love you. 

Hot Mess.

I've tried to post this blog about ten times, 

and it seems that the wifi disagrees with my desire to share my heart with the world. 

Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise, seeing as it's given me the opportunity to re-evaluate where my heart is actually at. 

The last two months (sorry!) have been difficult to say the very least.

But they have also been filled with more beauty than my heart can often handle. 

I've learned a lot about where I'm really at with God and that I'm in a season of healing. 

 I've learned that I have some of the most amazing people living with me/putting up with me every day. 

I've learned that sometimes things are really hard, and that's okay.

In an effort to be vulnerable, I want to share where I've been, 

but sometimes it seems I'll never truly find words that could 

ever be big enough to encompass everything that my heart

has been sifting through the last couple of months. 

My incredible friend Ashley has written about the most recent development in our 

situation and sometimes borrowed words are better. 

To read what she has written, click here. 

And as for me personally,

I feel like I have been nothing short of a hot mess. 

I don't know how to accurately describe the heartbreak I witness and experience every night I am in Patong. I don't know how to tell everyone what's been going on in my heart without sounding like I've been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. 

But I said I would be vulnerable… 

So here I go I guess. 

Thailand is amazing. 

The love I have for this place is unparalleled. 

I feel more at home than I have in a very long time. 

That being said, 

Thailand is also very hard. 

The spiritual atmosphere is constantly changing, 

making it hard to figure out if I'm being attacked, or if I really am just going crazy.

The highs and lows are constantly changing, 

sometimes showing up in equal parts during one night of ministry. 

I haven't been sleeping very well because of the shifting atmosphere, 

making it damn near impossible for me to have any pain tolerance to deal with the migraines that have plagued me for as long as I can remember. 

My body is not okay.

My heart is not okay. 

My spirit is not okay. 

And I guess I've just come to place where I am literally at the end of myself. 

As a fellow writer and someone I greatly look up to so eloquently put it, 

"I stand up, only to collapse in on myself again, praying to hold together long enough to make it through the days."

I feel like lately I've been holding onto literally the last bit of faith within me. 

I keep saying "I trust God, I trust God, I trust God." 

Even if at this point, it's more to convince myself than anything else. 

I have to trust Him, because I've got literally nothing left. 

Right now, the thought of putting that on the internet and telling the whole world that I'm just not okay

is scary for me because I'm a missionary. I'm "supposed" to have everything figured out, right?

Well, I've decided I'm throwing out those words. 

No longer is "supposed to" going to be a part of my vocabulary. 

So I guess I am a hot mess. 

And I guess that's okay. 

Even if I feel as though I am sometimes burdening others with my mess. 

But as my amazing, wise, and beautiful friend told me, 

I need to just offer up what I have to Jesus. 

And what I have right now is frustration and brokenness and hopelessness.

But Jesus is in the business of redemption.

Thank goodness for that.  

Even now, here's my heart, God. 

My Whole Heart

I've been wandering around a road map of emotions and thoughts for weeks,

 trying to figure out how to put what I feel into words.

I'm finding myself increasingly frustrated with my blatant inability to accurately express my heart, 

but I haven't written in over a month, so the time is now. 

I once heard someone say that writing is more than inspiration. 

It's sitting yourself down and forcing yourself to "go there", whether it comes out polished or not. 

So that's where I'm at. 

I have amazing stories of this past month, but somehow I can't figure out how to tell them. 

I want my words to move people. 

I want my photos to impact people's lives. 

I want the songs I write to change people. 

And to do that I need to be vulnerable. 

The words "my whole heart" have been floating around my brain since I arrived in Thailand and I had no idea what that meant. 

I kept praying into it, trying to figure out what God was trying to say. 

I realized a couple days ago that I really want to give my whole heart to something. 

I want to pour myself out completely until there is nothing left. 

I want to write songs that come straight from my journal without inhibition. 

I want to tell the stories of how Jesus rescued me from a sordid past, and how much hope I have because of the redemption He's given me, that He will do the same for every person who steps onto Bangla Road. 

I want to be real.

I want to be raw, and messy and real.

Because I think that all of us appreciate that much more than something that is completely polished anyway. 

But I'm afraid.

 And I don't want to be anymore. 

I don't want fear to hold me back from going deep into my creative well. 

I don't want fear to be the reason I never share that song, or that piece of my heart. 

But this is my declaration that from now on, 

I am going to "go there". 

I am going to bleed vulnerability if I have to. 

Because that may be the very thing that will give me the freedom that I need. 

So I want to apologize for not writing for so long, 

and to ask for grace as I try to figure this thing out and what it practically looks like.