My Constant Reminders

It's happened three times this week. 

I've been walking down the road on my way home, or on my way out of the house, or just heading to the 7/11 down the street when I see it. Every single time it makes my stomach turn. I want to look away, but it's like witnessing a car crash, you can't help but watch even when it devastates you. 

All around our neighbourhood they sit, waiting on street corners for someone to take interest. There is a brothel right across the street from my house and so they are usually always close by. I always want to sit down beside them and just hear about who they are, but it's different here than it is in Phuket. In Phuket, you go to a certain area of town at night, you walk into a bar and have a conversation. In Phuket (at lease on Bangla Road), it's all tourist who are ogling them as they twirl on a pole on top of the bar. 

 Here, in this neighbourhood, it's local Thai men who are here for their business. The women are out sitting on the street corners at all hours of the day, instead of just at night. The conversations I try to have with them are often one sided. They are short and filled with shame, or anger, or simple disinterest. They see me walk by them every day, I smile and say hello most times, but they never actually talk to me because they could miss a customer and they certainly don't make enough money to have me as a distraction. 

So I just walk by, and I pray. 

But then, on certain occasions, I watch as a man pulls up on a moto and barters for her body. I watch as she steels herself, and hops on the back of the moto. I watch, completely helpless as they drive to the brothel right beside my building and go inside. And then I pray more. Because what else can I do? The first time I ever saw a transaction actually take place, I had to stop myself from running after them and telling her to just come home with me. To sit on my bed and cry on my shoulder. And now that I know more of the language, it's even harder to listen to the price negotiations that take place. Men telling these women, these beautiful worthy-of-love women that she is not worth the price she offers. 

Sometimes I think it's easy to get excited about the prospect of fighting human trafficking and brothel raids with images of Liam Neeson flying around my brain. It's really easy to look at it and think "yeah, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm just going to march onto Bangla Road and shut it down. I'm gonna rescue all these girls and it's going to be amazing". 

But the truth is, this thing is really, REALLY big. And I don't think it will ever be just a quick fix. There are no right answers. There are no easy ways out of the sex industry. 

So I pray. I will continue to lift up this country in prayer for all of the men and women involved in this. And in the moments I forget why I am here, or get too caught up in the struggles of daily life overseas, I just have to leave my house and there they are, my constant reminders. My reminders of why I gave up my life in Canada, why I gave up watching my precious niece grow up, why I gave up money and security and comfort. To tell them that they are worth it. And that to see even one woman set free is enough.

** I am still in need of another $150 in the next FOUR days so that I can renew my visa and stay in Thailand. If you would prayerfully consider giving, you would be allowing me to stay in Thailand and continue to learn the language and to eventually start a program that will be a long-term solution for these women to leave the sex industry and rebuild their lives.

You can give through the donate link to the right or through interac e-transfer at allisonpriz@gmail.com **

You Make Me Brave (Again)

I haven't written a blog for a while now, mainly because my thoughts have mostly been streams of consciousness without any real conclusions. I often find myself struggling to put together sentences that could even begin to describe what I actually feel my heart wants to say. I write, and then I delete. I have about 40 blogs on this website that I just never posted because they were either never finished, or they just felt too raw. But the thought that I haven't posted a blog in over a month has been badgering me for weeks, and I finally have the time to just sit and let my heart breathe for a moment.

This past month and a half has been such a whirlwind of ups and downs. 

I started and finished Module 4, most call it the hardest module at school, and I am currently in my last week of Module 5. To say that learning another language is challenging is the biggest understatement of the century. I think learning a new language is one of the hardest things I've ever done, and for some reason it's hard for me to admit that. While I actually really enjoy school, and feel like I have been blessed with such amazing teachers, I never expected it to be the emotional rollercoaster that it has turned out to be, and frankly, I've been feeling a bit exhausted with it all lately. I seemed to hit a wall as I finished Module 4, and I haven't quite been able to push past it yet. 

The funny thing about learning a new language is it forces you to be vulnerable in the strangest sense. In order for my speaking to get better, I have to actually speak to people in Thai. I have to be willing to make mistakes. I have to be willing to accidentally say a swear word and not realize it until the gracious people in my life tell me that what I said was very, VERY wrong. I have to be able to be okay with relying on other people. And for reasons that I am still uncovering, I am so deeply terrified of that. 

Since coming back to Thailand, I've been on a journey of rediscovering who I am, and who God is.

I wish I could say that every single day I am full to the brim with joy to be here, but I can't 

(that doesn't mean I don't absolutely love being here. 

It means that sometimes I have days that I don't necessarily love.. if that makes sense, ha).

I get homesick. Sometimes I wonder what the crap I'm doing here. 

I cry, I forget the things God promised, I cry some more. 

But then I take a deep breath, 

get up off of the floor, and remind myself that my feelings don't always speak the truth. 

These last two years have been the most challenging of my entire life, and I'm still working through some of it.

But I have peace. 

I have peace in knowing that God's timing is the perfect timing. 

I have peace in knowing that I am human, and sometimes humans feel things that don't reflect the truths their hearts know. 

I have peace knowing that God did this, all of this. 

He was the one who brought me here and He is the one who will sustain me. 

And I have peace that even in the midst of everything I don't understand, I can be confident that I will see His goodness.

So I am learning to put my fear to rest. 

And I'm finding that fear is something that doesn't go down without a fight. 

Some days I succeed and others I don't. 

But what I'm realizing is that even though being a missionary is proving to be harder than my 18 year old self initially dreamed it being, this is a sweet season of undoing. A season of being pressed up close to Jesus' side and breathing Him in like a healing balm. A season where I get to look Him right in the eyes and remember what it feels like to be brave again. 

"So, do you get paid for that?"

Many people can't make sense out of why someone would ever want move to another country and do "volunteer work". I don't think the numerical system reaches high enough to count how many times I've been asked "So you get paid to do that, right?" And of course my answer is always no. I don't get paid to do what makes my heart come alive. But as I like to look at it, it's part of the adventure. A really inconvenient part of the adventure... But truly, I think it opens the door for people who would love to be involved in missions, but have just had a baby, or can't get any time off from work, or a hundred other myriad of reasons. If you cannot go physically, you can be involved prayerfully or financially, which are equally, if not more important than me actually moving my life to Thailand. Because I couldn't be here without people fighting for me in prayer or without financial supporters.  And that is why I'm here, writing this blog.  

I am in desperate need of financial supporters.

More specifically, I am in need of people who feel led to come alongside me in regular monthly support so that I can focus solely on school and pouring into the community here in Bangkok. 

I got on a plane 4 months ago in faith that God would provide everything I needed to not be homeless or starving, and He has truly done that. I've recently come to the end of the money He initially provided and though I've not stopped believing that He will provide again, I've felt a nudge to let people in to where I am financially and so they know exactly what they are donating to. 

So, this is my average monthly budget:

Rent - $200

Language School - $280-$290 depending on text books

Food - Roughly $180

Transportation - $25

Internet - $13
Visas to stay in the country - Roughly $80 
Other (as in shampoo, toilet paper, and drinking water) $20

Which puts me at a total of $810 per month that I need coming in. 

As it stands right now I only have about $30 for food and water for the rest of the month, which is why I am need of people to donate, not only for school which is opening incredible doors for me to share the gospel, but also so that I can feed myself and have shampoo to wash my sweaty hair with.

If you feel led to donate, you can do so one of three ways.

1. You can click the donate button to the right -->

2. If you live in Canada or have a Canadian bank account, you can send an Interac e-tranfser to allisonpriz@gmail.com

3.  If you prefer to write cheques (or checks if you're American, haha) you can do so and send them to an address in Calgary, AB (please contact me for the mailing address)

Also, I am always, and will always be in need of people to support me prayerfully as well. If you feel led to commit to praying for me, please send me a message so that I can thank you personally!

Abiding

so take it all away

if it isn't meant for me,

I don't want the easy way

I just want you.

they can give me everything

but at the end of the day, 

the only words i'll say

is I just want you...

Sometimes I feel as though I'm stuck in a body that isn't mine. 

A constant clashing of spirit and flesh, a walking war zone. The spirit in me finds immense joy in my daily life, and my flesh screams at me to find something safe and comfortable and familiar. The spirit in me tells my heart to rest in Him. My flesh tells me to prepare to go back to Calgary because the number in my bank account only ever gets smaller. My spirit tells me I am home already. My flesh tells me I'm only kidding myself.  

The war is never ceasing. In every moment of every day, I find myself on a teeter-totter of belief and unbelief. Of trust and mistrust. Of pursuing the heart of God and running away from Him. In the end I always settle into no-mans-land and ask God to speak. 

I am in control. 

I see you.

I know you.  

I understand you.

I love you. 

I know what you need. 

I know what you need. 

I know what you need. 

Over and over I let Him say it. 

Over and over, over and over, until I believe it, even if only for a moment. 

He knows what I need. 

He knows what I need. 

He knows that I have rent to pay. 

He knows that I don't have the money to pay for my language school next month. 

He knows that I worry about how to pay for my next visa to stay in the country. 

He knows that I get lonely sometimes. 

He knows that while I'm afraid to be seen, I long to be known. 

He knows. 

He knows. 

He knows. 

So I settle in, and I rest a while, and I will wake to fight again tomorrow. 

But right now, the only thing He's asked me to do is abide.  

**I have an immediate need for people to partner with me in prayer and in financial support. If you feel led to be a part of what God is doing here in Thailand, and what He is doing in my heart, please click the SUPPORT tab at the top of the page.**

Su Su.

It's a phrase I've heard a hundred times. 

A phrase that means so little, yet so much. 

It all started a few weeks ago, as I sat in my room feeling more alone than ever in the throws of a particularly nasty anxiety attack.

I laid on the floor of my bedroom gasping for air between sobs, feeling like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. 

I begged God to let me go home. 

I begged God to lift me out of my despair, out my never-ending shortcomings. 

Still, as the attack wound down and I lay exhausted on the floor in the dark, 

I cried out to God telling him he was wrong. 

That I wasn't ready to be here. 

It was too hard, there was too much pain involved. 

And all he whispered was this one simple phrase.

"Su su."

A phrase that is so simple, and yet means so much to my daily life here. 

A sort of "you can do it!" Thai phrase, when directly translated actually means "fighting fighting."

Su su.

Whispered under my breath in moments where I think I may collapse under the fear of walking outside of my house. 

Spoken out loud through tears in a small bathroom stall after a particularly hard day of language learning. 

Thinking it over and over and over and over and over to myself when I can't seem to find the courage to speak up. 

It has been my continued mantra most days here. 

Not because life here is bad, or even that scary. 

But because sometimes life is hard. 

And transition is hard. 

And not seeing the big picture can make life seem hard. 

Moving to another continent doesn't change the fact that I still deal with anxiety. 

And while I may be embarrassed to admit that life here in Bangkok has been challenging for me, 

I am trying to make myself rely on trusting God more than anything I may feel or think in the moment. 

Speaking out this little encouragement to myself has made my days here less challenging and I've been able to give myself enough grace to just feel what I need to feel and then move on with my day. 

So I continue on. 

I will keep fighting for the dream God has placed on my heart for Thailand. 

I will keep fighting for the women in this country who have no hope of a life outside of the bars. 

I will keep fighting through everything that the enemy throws my way because I know that God has a bigger plan for me and for my life than I had ever thought. 

And because He is good, 

I will continue on. 

Su su. 

Bitter into Sweet

You turn the bitter into sweet, 

the bitter into sweet. 

You turn the winter into spring, 

the winter into spring.

I have been meaning to blog for days, but my first week back in Thailand has been so full that I've rarely had a chance to sit down and pull together my thoughts, let alone write them out.

I landed in Bangkok and was quickly reunited with Ashley and Erin, 

I got the chance to scope out the school I will be attending in March, 

and then Ashley, Erin and I headed down to Phuket to meet up with some of our friends who were with us at SHE and do our Annual Valentines Day outreach to the women in the bars on Bangla. 

The outreach was an incredible night of spreading the love of Jesus to everyone on Bangla road. There were so many amazing things that happened and so many tangible ways that God showed up. A bunch of other people volunteered to help us hand out flowers and it was incredible to witness other people fall in love with a place that I love so dearly. 

One of the highlights of my night was walking down the street and seeing some of my friends recognize me, and then run right to me with their arms wide open for an embrace. It brought my heart unspeakable joy to realize that the relationships I built two years ago are still alive and well. 

We also got to baptize one of the Thai women at the end of the night and it was just another reminder of how faithful God truly is. 

I knew that while I was in Phuket, I needed to make my way to the other side of the island, the place where the SHE property is and where I used to call home. 

I was nervous to say the very least, but I knew for closures sake, I needed go. 

As I pulled into my old neighbourhood on Koh Sirey, I could feel my emotions bubbling just under the surface. 

Anticipation in seeing the Thailand that is familiar to me. 

Nervousness in how I would react to seeing the land.

Excitement to see what the ASIA foundation has done with the land. 

Sadness in knowing that it won't be the home I left. 

I pulled up to the gate, got off my moto, and I just stared at this place that has always been dear to me in so many juxtaposing ways. 

It was the place that I witnessed and experienced more pain, more chaos, more confusion than anywhere else. It was also a place that I got to experience a community unlike any other. It was a place where I fought for the people around me and they fought for me. A place where I realized I was going to have to fight for Thailand in a very real way, and that it was going to be one of the hardest things I will ever have to endure. 

It was a place I called home. 

And a place I couldn't wait to say goodbye to. 

A place I cherished and fought for. 

And a place I had to let go of when God brought it to the ground. 

To stand there now, looking out at the buildings that look exactly the same,

seeing the trees move exactly the same as they always have, 

to hear the near constant chorus of cicadas sing as they always did, 

it was like I was feeling it all again. 

The hurt, 

the confusion, 

the chaos, 

it all came rushing back. 

But there was also peace. 

So much peace as I realized that the land was always meant to be what it is now. 

I wandered around, stopping to run my hands along the wall where someone had cut a hole to reach through and open the locked office door when we were having all the break-ins. 

I stopped to look at a painting that I used to see every day, now stuffed inside a storage room.

I noticed the stove outside of our house that was broken is now fixed and being used. 

Then I saw Missy and Beethoven, two of the dogs that Mark and Sharon loved and took care of, 

and that's when it hit me. 

They are really gone. 

SHE is really over. 

The season that was so full of pain is finally over. 

And I can walk away and move on. 

In that moment I ended up on the ground with both dogs bawling my eyes out, 

But I could feel something shift in my spirit.

As I mourned the end of SHE one final time, 

I knew that it was finally okay to just let it all go and walk into the Thailand that God had always intended for me. And as hard as everything was at SHE, I will forever be grateful for it. 

Because if SHE had never existed, I would have never come back to Thailand. 

I would have never met most of the people that are now so dear to me. 

I would not be here now, learning Thai in Bangkok so that I can go back into the bars in Bangla and minister in a more affective way. 

As hard as it was, I will always be thankful. 

But now, 

now it's time to lift my eyes up and walk into the sweet season ahead. 

My Psalm 116: Resurrection Psalm

Psalm 116 :5-9

The Lord is gracious and righteous, 

our God is full of compassion.

The Lord protects the simple-hearted.

When I was in great need, He saved me.

Be at rest once more, oh my soul, 

for the Lord has been good to you.

For You, O Lord have delivered my soul from death;

my eyes from tears,

my feet from stumbling,

that I may walk before the Lord in the land of the living. 

Hi. It's been a while.
Almost six months to be exact...
And to be honest, I hadn't meant to take so much time to figure out how to say what I needed to, but as the weeks turned into months, I realized that I needed to find some answers for myself, and for even just a little while, they needed to be all mine.
But I'm here now, and if you're reading this, so are you.
And I am so thankful.
I am ever grateful for all the people who have called me, messaged me, texted me just so I would know that I was not alone. I will never be able to encompass all the gratitude I feel for your patience and understanding as I figured out how to put myself back together. 

Because this year nearly killed me.

God brought me to the end of myself. He brought me to the end of everything I knew and seemingly tossed me into the abyss of the unknown. I lost all of my joy and my hope in an ocean of sorrow that I seemed to sink deeper and deeper into, and by the time I realized it, I was too weak and fragile to find my way to the surface.
I struggled under the weight of crippling anxiety.
I started to believe that I would never be able to return to Thailand because I was so broken, so incredibly heartbroken.
I didn't know who I was anymore, because I couldn't be who I was before the abuse happened, but I also couldn't be this mess of a person, this shell of a woman who would burst into tears over the smallest thing.


But slowly, so very slowly I began to remember.
I began to remember the promises of God.
I began to remember how incredibly faithful He is.
I began to remember how deep His love is.
And that even in my dark and lonely pit of depression, He would find me.
He would rescue me, and He would restore me.
And I would be a new creation again.
If only I could find the strength to look up...


I thought this year would kill me.
But it didn't. And I can say I am that much stronger for it, even if I sometimes feel so fragile still. I was so tempted to give up on God, to give up on Thailand and the plans He has for me there. I was so tempted to give up because I was tired of having to wrestle with myself, with my family, with God, with my friends, with my thoughts, with every lie spoken by the enemy. I was so very tired.
I could see January looming before me and realized there was no way I could get to Thailand. I started to feel comfortable here in Calgary with a good job, the most precious niece in the world, and the few friends who stood by my side in my darkest night. I always knew I would get there eventually, but I came to accept the fact that it might not be anytime soon.
I released myself of my own expectations and I decided to stay in Calgary for a while.


But God asked me if I would trust Him again,
and I said I would.

He asked me if I was ready to go back,
and I said I was...n't, but if He said I was I would believe Him.

He asked me if I believed He would provide,
and I said maybe...

He asked me if I would book a flight,
and I said yes, but I have no money...

So He gave me some money.
And today, with trembling fingers,
 I booked a flight.



On February 8th, 2016 I will be on a one way flight to Bangkok.
I don't have any plans,
I don't have any money,
I don't have anything figured out.
But I do know without any doubt in my heart that it is time.
It's time to remember what it's like to feel alive again.
It's time to remember how to be free again.
It's time for my heart to get some closure.
It's time for me to go home.



I hope that you will join me in prayer for my time there and for what God has in store for me.
Pray for my heart as I prepare to leave Calgary, because even though I know it's time, I am scared to walk forward into another season of so many unknowns.
Pray for my family as they have to say goodbye to me once again, and don't understand why I am going when I don't have anything figured out.
Pray for finances, and provision, and open doors, and favor.
But most of all, pray for peace that surpasses all understanding.

Becoming Caleb

"With the wind at our backs, and in the strength of the Lord,

We will rise on the wings of the dawn. 

We're gonna take back all the enemy has stolen."

Emotional abuse. 

One definition of such is this:

"Any act including confinement, isolation, verbal assault, humiliation, intimidation, infantilization, or any other treatment which many diminish the sense of identity, dignity, and self worth."

For the last year I've looked up that definition more times than I could count. I didn't even need to look it up now to recite it, I had it memorized so that I could speak it out loud every time I questioned whether or not that is what really happened to me. 

One year ago today, exactly at this moment, I was suspended high above the Pacific ocean flying from Seoul, South Korea to Vancouver, BC where I would make a connecting flight to Calgary. 

The tidal waves of sorrow seemed to keep coming the farther I flew from my home in Phuket, Thailand. The end of an incredibly difficult season, and the beginning of one that would turn out even more difficult.  

The end of the dreams I had thought were coming true.

The end of myself as I knew it.

The fact that it has been a year since I left my home in Thailand seems absolutely ludicrous. 

How on earth does life move so incredibly fast? 

When I think back on all I've walked through this year, 

there are so many details lost in the fog of this season. 

I was so numb to everything around me. 

I don't even remember getting off the plane in Calgary.

What I do remember though, 

are moments of the deepest sorrow my heart has known, 

and moments where I felt a fear unlike anything I've ever experienced. 

And I remember joy. 

Joy finding it's way through the cracks like a stubborn, sunny dandelion poking it's way through the cement of my heartbreak. 

A joy that refused to let me go even when I was ready to give up on Jesus. 

I remember sitting on a porch in BC watching the sun disappear behind strong mountains with tears in my eyes. 

I remember trying to tell my mother why I needed time and space away from Calgary, and instead, finding myself erupting into uncontrollable sobs and her holding me, crying with me.

I remember hands running through carpet as I swore into the 4am darkness, so angry at God for not protecting me. 

I remember raindrops on my windshield, countless sleepless hours, and I remember hysterical laughter with my best friend while we were supposed to be listening to a sermon at church. 

And in-between all of those moments are the grey areas. 

The moments where I was face down in my own sadness, to exhausted to look up. 

I stayed comatose. 

Numb, not feeling joy or pain.

Not letting myself remember, not letting myself even think of Thailand for fear of the crashing waves of grief. 

Face down on the ground, I only thought about breathing in and out. 

Keeping myself alive. 

Surviving. 

When I finally decided to look up, 8 months had passed and I hadn't moved from the place I fell the moment I touched down in Calgary. 

I realized I would have to get up and move myself if I were ever going to move on from that place of brokenness. 

The thing is, 

abuse changes everything. 

It changes how you think about yourself and everyone around you. 

It changes your perspective on situations and it changes how you react to those situations. 

It changes you. 

And that's where I want to land with this blog. 

The change that I've undergone and who I am going forward. 

I was so mad at God for so long.

But what I didn't realize as I stewed in my anger was that God was orchestrating something bigger than I ever imagined for myself. 

In the bible, Joshua is known as one of the heroes of the Old Testament. 

As the assistant of Moses, he would go with him to be with the Lord in the tent of meeting. 

The bible says that after Moses finished speaking with God, Joshua would remain in the Presence of the Lord. 

From his youth he was primed to take over the leadership of the Israelites. 

When the Israelites came to the borders of the Promised Land, it really was a no-brainer that Moses included Joshua in the 12 he sent to spy out the land and the people who lived there. 

However, quite often we skip over Joshua's right hand man, Caleb.

There are few verses about him in the bible, but what is said greatly defines his character. 

25 After exploring the land for forty days, the men returned 26 to Moses, Aaron, and the whole community of Israel at Kadesh in the wilderness of Paran. They reported to the whole community what they had seen and showed them the fruit they had taken from the land. 27 This was their report to Moses: “We entered the land you sent us to explore, and it is indeed a bountiful country—a land flowing with milk and honey. Here is the kind of fruit it produces. 28 But the people living there are powerful, and their towns are large and fortified. We even saw giants there, the descendants of Anak! 29 The Amalekites live in the Negev, and the Hittites, Jebusites, and Amorites live in the hill country. The Canaanites live along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea and along the Jordan Valley.” 30 But Caleb tried to quiet the people as they stood before Moses. “Let’s go at once to take the land,” he said. “We can certainly conquer it!”

Numbers 13:25-30

20 Then the Lord said, “I will pardon them as you have requested. 21 But as surely as I live, and as surely as the earth is filled with the Lord’s glory, 22 not one of these people will ever enter that land. They have all seen my glorious presence and the miraculous signs I performed both in Egypt and in the wilderness, but again and again they have tested me by refusing to listen to my voice. 23 They will never even see the land I swore to give their ancestors. None of those who have treated me with contempt will ever see it. 24 But my servant Caleb has a different attitude than the others have. He has remained loyal to me, so I will bring him into the land he explored. His descendants will possess their full share of that land. 25 Now turn around, and don’t go on toward the land where the Amalekites and Canaanites live. Tomorrow you must set out for the wilderness in the direction of the Red Sea.”

Numbers 14:20-25

Caleb was a man of truth. 

He was a man who stood up for what he believed in, and he was a man who trusted God. 

He trusted God enough to go against what everyone else was saying and risk his life for the promise laid before him. 

He was a bold man. 

A man who had seen God show up and knew without a doubt, He would do it again. 

Caleb was a man who believed God is who He says He is. 

My friend Ashley, who did the World Race with me and also lived with me at SHE, returned to Thailand back in September. She spent some time traveling around before she started language learning in Bangkok. 

During her travels, she went to Pattaya to visit the Tamar Centre. 

The leaders and some of the staff were praying for her and told her that they saw her as Joshua. 

Someone fierce enough to lead people into the promise laid before them, and someone with faith enough to march around Jericho as many times as needed. 

But she couldn't do it alone. 

She needed to be praying for someone to come alongside her and be her Caleb. 

She told me this during a Skype call about a month ago, after I told her how much I felt called to Thailand 

and that I didn't know why, but I felt an extremely large part of that calling was to just come and be by her side and support her. 

Jesus is so faithful. 

So. 

I am going back to Thailand. 

I will be leaving in January with the intent to be there until Jesus says otherwise.

I had a friend who told me when I first got back that at the end of all this, 

on the other side of this season, 

my faith would be deeper, my joy would be deeper, my intimacy with God would be deeper, 

and that I would be able go deeper with God than I ever had before. 

And I can say without a doubt that that is what God has been building in me this last year.

I always said I wanted to be someone who believed God no matter what the circumstances were,

 and I've been in situations where God had to be my cloud by day and my fire by night. 

Though I have been wandering through this wilderness for the past year, 

God was with me. 

He never left me, even when I doubted. 

And I see now the perseverance He was building. 

I had a choice to make when I got home.

I could decide to give up on Thailand and move on to something else, 

like school or pray into missions elsewhere. 

Or.

I could choose to pick myself up off the floor and with a new fire, and a new passion, press on toward what I know is my calling. 

Thailand is my home. 

And I've come to the realization that the best things are always worth fighting for. 

So that's what I'm going to do. 

I am going to fight for my dream of seeing Bangla road shut down permanently. 

I'm going to pursue my dream of seeing Thailand be the first nation completely set free. 

I'm going to fight for freedom until my last breath. 

And just like Caleb, 

I'm going to believe that God is who He says He is. 

Out of Hiding.

"And oh, as you run, what hindered love will only become part of the story."

I used to be a story teller. I used to believe in telling my story. I used to think that that was my calling. I think somewhere deep down I really still believe those things. But I've been paralyzed by fear.

It's snowing tonight. The kind of snow that floats to the ground in big sticky clumps and melts on the pavement. It seems to dance as it falls, tricking even those whose hearts are set on abhorring winter into thinking it's beautiful. And here I am, trying to figure out how to push myself into the most uncomfortable territory. Writing for me used to be therapeutic. It used to heal wounds I didn't know I had until I sat down and wrote them out of my soul. But now, now writing is so full of fear.

Because I've been hiding. I've been intentionally hiding from intimacy, from community, from my whole life and everything that used to make my heart pound with joy or excitement. And for a time that's what I needed. For a time, I needed to hide my heart away so that no one could touch it, not even those closest to me. I needed to be in a space all my own where I could make my own decisions and my own plans, and have not a single person give me input or their opinion. Not because I don't care about those people or think they don't give sound advice, but because I couldn't be told what to do or how to be or how to heal. After prolonged verbal, emotional, and spiritual abuse, I couldn't have anyone speak into my life because I suddenly didn't know how to trust anyone around me. Survival mode. Fight or flight. And I was so very tired of fighting.

The thought of using this space as a place to process my season or to write my heart out in words seems absolutely terrifying. But I've been feeling a call to come out of hiding lately. Although it is paralyzing and full of fear, I know that this is just another layer, another part of finding who I am again.

I am still devastated by what happened in Thailand. I am still so heartsick that even the mention of Thailand from an unknowing person sends a sharp knife of grief through my heart. And most days I still fight to remember who my Father is, and who I am in His Kingdom. There are so many days that I feel swallowed by my humanity and just want to (and often do) swear at God for not keeping me safe, for not protecting me from those who set out to crush my heart. But sometimes, the clouds part and I laugh in spite of it all.

I am finding snippets of joy in the midst of the immense heartbreak. I am also finding the snippets of joy that I stumble upon are not always found where I think they ought to be, and that they are much deeper caverns than I could have imagined. Joy doesn't always look like happiness, or laughter. Joy sometimes looks like ugly crying on the floor of my shower until I hear the One voice that can drown out the rest, and just knowing that He loves me. That He knows what He's doing. That He's still in control and that maybe He doesn't need me to understand my whole situation right now. Sometimes joy looks like me worshipping and singing songs of His faithfulness when I don't believe that He truly is faithful. Sometimes joy looks like me struggling to be content with not knowing any of the answers, and choosing to believe that He sees my tears and hears my heartbreak.

Sometimes joy is found in scraping up the tiniest bit of courage and sitting down to write after months of being in self assigned solitary confinement.

I know I've been distant. I've been unavailable, and closed off. I've been on lockdown. And I am sorry if that has left you wondering if I care. I do. I am all too aware of my intense need for community and to figure out how to trust those in my life again. I am asking you, giving you permission to pursue me. Text me a thousand times until I reply. Call me, harass me, make me respond to your friendship. Because I so value you. I SO value your friendship. And I want to be there. Now is the time. I am going to try to push myself into being more vulnerable. And I will try my very best to come out of hiding and meet you in the daylight.

One Year

One year.

365 days. 

Oh, how much can change in so little time. 

I didn't sleep much the night before. 

I was so hopeful, so ready to step into my dreams. 

I remember lying awake, staring at the ceiling that lay beyond the dark of the room, 

a perma-smile on my face just thinking about how close I was. 

Flight after flight, hour after hour, 

and as the plane descended into Phuket International Airport, 

I wept with joy. 

There were some miscommunications and so there was no one there to pick me up at the airport, 

but nothing could touch my joy. 

I was home. 

Finally. 

The hours turned to days, and the days into months

and I fell more in love with the nation beneath my feet. 

But as my heart grew to love more, 

there was a darkness that pushed back hard. 

It didn't take long for me to recognize the signs...

Not three months before I arrived in Thailand, I had ended an abusive relationship

and I knew the darkness creeping in all too well. 

They knew how to throw words like knives. 

They knew how to manipulate my heart. 

I could see it all happening, but I felt powerless to stop it. 

I decided to forgive. 

I decided to have grace and patience and love for them. 

I could see the pain they were going through. 

I could see how hard it was for them.

So I took bullet after bullet until I found myself all alone one night, 

weeping on the cement floor of my shared house.

I let the full realization of the situation wash over me. 

I sank into my heartbreak and I prayed what I hadn't dared to pray. 

I asked God to get me out. 

I begged Him to rescue me. 

I cried and I cried. 

I couldn't believe what I had gotten myself into. 

Didn't I know better?

Did I not just rip myself from a relationship just like this?

Shame on me.

Shame on me for believing them, for trusting them.

I didn't know how to separate the lies from the truth anymore. 

I forgot who I was because I let them define me.

And even at the end, 

I prayed for ways to honour them. 

I prayed God would give me an open door, but that it would truly honour them. 

Even at the end I wanted to do the most loving thing for them. 

And I will never, ever regret that. 

When I first got home, 

I didn't eat.

I didn't sleep.

I didn't feel.  

I was comatose. 

And every moment since then has been a struggle as I try to remember who I am and what makes me good. 

I have tried to block out their words about me, about God, about life, 

but when someone who was supposed to protect you and cover you decides to abuse you instead, 

it's hard to come back from.

And that's scary for me to put out there because I've purposely kept rather quiet about what really happened in Thailand, and even more silent about how I'm dealing with it.  

I'm better than I was...

I see with more clarity than I did.

But I feel like I've only just begun the long road to emotional and spiritual healing... 

Now, one year later, this is where I'm at.

One year from the day I stepped into what would become the hardest season of my Christian life.

Instead of being on a beach celebrating the first anniversary of my move to Thailand,

I am sitting on a hard Starbucks chair watching a blizzard rage around me.

Sometimes I regret leaving.

I couldn't ever truly express how it broke me to get on a plane and leave a place that holds so much of my heart.

Sometimes I feel like I bailed too soon. 

Like maybe if I had just stuck it out one more week, one more month... 

But the reality of that would have killed me. 

I was already barely alive as I stumbled through airports and into my bed that I had left just six short months before. 

As I was watching the snow fall today,

I couldn't help but think of how clean everything around me looked. 

How present the silence is when you walk out your door and into the snow. 

It deafens the chaos. 

It is heavy, and causes you to move a lot slower, 

but in the end, 

it makes way for new life. 

And I suppose that's what I'm waiting for... 

To remember what it feels like to be alive again. 

Those moments that take your breath away, 

the moments where you have to stop and take a mental note of everything and everyone around you so you never forget that feeling. 

The moments where you truly feel alive....

One year from the day that I left for Thailand, 

I can barely remember who that woman was. 

The woman that was so full of hope and promise and joy. 

And most days I'm not sure where to go from here. 

But I know that eventually, 

even if it feels a million years away at this point, 

I will be okay.

If nothing else, 

I have to believe that this too shall pass. 

And that everything - even a hot mess like me - will be okay again... 

The Other Side of the Same Ocean.

There is something so magical about being in a new place. 

Exploring and discovering new parts of a new city. 

With each step discovering and creating a new side of myself. 

Thailand feels like a dream, 

though I think of it often. 

I've now forgotten the harsh words that were spoken, 

the situations that seemed to have no solution. 

I've left behind the hopelessness of it all and I've stepped into this new season of rest. 

Taking with me only everything that was good and perfect about my Thailand life. 

I miss it every day. 

Some days I smile, fondly thinking back on how silly my sweet Thai friends are.

Other days I lay in my bed sobbing because my heart so longs to be where I am most home. 

But I'm learning to be thankful when I should be angry. 

I'm learning to be okay when I want to hide from everyone. 

I'm learning that this is my life, here and now, 

and that resting is not a waste of time. 

So here I am, standing on the other side of the same ocean 

and I can't help but be thankful for that season, as hard as it was. 

I hated and loved every moment of it. 

But now there is only hope as I look forward into the unknown. 

Now there is only peace as I stand on the west coast of my home country

and become someone new.