"Hit, Run, Score!"

When you play ball as a kid the world seems so dramatic. Years later you remember the surge of power you felt connect bat to ball, hearing the CLINK or CRACK as rubber and leather begin their journey into what's hopefully grass in the otter left field. You remember unwisely closing your eyes but still hearing the thud of the would-be game winning drive caught in your glove. There's great drama in these moments. Every strike out, every failed catch or throw in the wrong direction is life-altering. There's something almost spiritual about visiting a little league field some 15 or 20 years after you were playing there yourself. A bit of pride flows into your soul watching the game as just "a game" but knowing the little minds running around in matching knees socks think it as so much more. Maybe it is. There's comfort in the smells of little league. Baseball just doesn't smell like baseball no matter what level. Professional games smell very differently. Professionally there is a commonality of grass, sun, popcorn, beer, crowds and that sort of stadium/commercial aroma of plastic and aluminum. Little league though, is a distnctly different ascetic. Little boy sweat, outdoor grilled burgers and dogs, bubble gum, cheap grass, dust and the hope of childhood dreams. Yes, you can smell dreams... when they're strong enough anyway.

I sat and watched the smiles of kids glancing over at Mom and Dad for approval. The developing Babe Ruth would flash back a toothy grin and approach the mound, ready to take on the world. At the field-- the wins and loses are genuine. Encouragement is pivotal among teasing and rejection. Sitting quietly on a cold bleacher one can look around and see a parallel to the entire ecosphere of life. Helmets are too big for some, bats too short for others, but they're all playing on the same field. To say that they're playing under the same rules would be naive though because inevitably someone's the son or daughter of the umpire. There's injustice with bad calls and advocates as parents and coaches argue. It's the spirit that breaks me from my day dream and chronic attempts to complicate life. From the team huddle in from of the dugout to my right they're yelling, "Hit, Run, Score." Simple enough strategy. Clear, concise, realistic, measurable.

Maybe the reason professional fields lack the scent of dreams to me is because they're approach over complicated the world. Maybe the simple "Hit, Run, Score" approach to life is the onlythat allows room for the reality of dreams.

New Entry Coming Soon: "Hit! Run! Score!"

New blog entry coming soon... "Hit! Run! Score!" Distinct smells, sounds, old memories, new memories, realizations...

Two Hugs

Yesterday I got a real hug. Not one out of sexual desire, not one out of pity, not an obligatory hug, just a love hug. It was tight and innocent and followed by a sigh and a "I love you soooo much." I thought my heart was going to burst right there. As I reflected on this I thought back to my new friend Twee I wrote about earlier. I thought back to the hug I received from her after our dinner in Pattaya. There are differences, there are similarities-- both speak of childhood and both spoke to me. Both hugs were essentially from children, both hugs were pure and real. Both sought to be received honestly by me and were embraced with the faith that I could be trusted in an intimate moment. The differences were profound though.

You could feel Twee's story of heartbreak in that slight moment. Her one embrace reveled scars from each man who ever took advantage of her or let her down. It revealed every woman who scowled at her or cut her with words of hate. It revealed the want for hope and the need for simple love. Her ache was contagious, like a fire any sane person would want to smother out with more hugs and kind words.

The hug yesterday was much different in this sense. The little girl's arms shot out joy and excitement for life. It was almost as if she knew squeezing me so tight would indeed transfer the light from her body to mine. There was not just hope in that moment but contentment, knowledge of safety, dreams for future, and freedom. This girl is free to cry when she's sick and free to love who she wants to love. She's free to and encouraged to say no to evil.

I was struck with how easily these girls could have been in each other's place. I was struck with how I could have easily been in those places too. There are four hearts I feel through this. I feel the hearts in the two hugs, I feel my own, and I feel God's. God wants so much more for His daughters than what this world often provides. I'm convicted also to say that He wants more for my life than I allow.

I reclaim and receive my own childhood through these girls-- what could have been and what was. Still more, I live to reclaim the life God originally intended for me.

Reclaiming HER

Here it is, a little past 1:00 AM. I was exhausted hours ago but I'm wide awake again now... ahhh the joys of jet-lag. It feels silly though to complain about such a small thing. I'm sure most small things will to seem silly as I continue to reflect on the few days I just spent in Thailand. Thanks for allowing me to stray from my normal "Reclaiming Childhood" theme for this blog. Thanks for reading my scattered and un-proofread thoughts. What I realized though is that the fight for a childhood is exactly one of the aspects you fight for when you fight against sex trafficking.

In our last team debrief time I told the story of our group taking six women from the bar out to dinner. The "woman" who struck me the most was actually a girl, maybe 15 years old. Her name was Twee. I'm a horrible judge of age but Twee most certainly was young and most certainly was not 18. She was a girl missing her childhood. This thought struck me when a friend and I were explaining to the rest of the team how it felt to be hugged goodbye by Twee. She had been so quite and shy all throughout dinner and this attitude was reflected in the way she hugged at first. There was much space between our bodies. I can't at all blame her to be on guard. Then something changed, she let down her adult front. She stopped playing the act of "bar girl". She was no longer held a prostitute's title. Twee reverted back to CHILD. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be loved on. She wanted to be comforted. She needed it. Holding her head to my chest, nothing in me could bare to let her go. I swayed a little, ushering a few extra prayers over her, asking for her protection and that God would hold my emotions for just a few more moments. My gut wanted to scream, my eyes were ready to unload, breath had long escaped my lungs, but what was it like for her? What was it going to be like to have this encounter of hope that was so foreign (and not just because of our nationality)? How would she feel when she walked back in to that bar? Would she have to take a customer tonight? Would the next words said to her be out of love. What would HER next words say? What would her heart say?

I can work so hard at reclaiming my own childhood... but who's going to work to reclaim hers?

If you're in the Seattle area and are interested in learning more about the issue of sex trafficking please attend the following this Saturday:

OCC STOP HUMAN TRAFFICKING INITIATIVE NIGHT

Saturday, March 27
7 - 9 PM in the OCC Small Auditorium

Come hear reports from recently returned teams from Thailand
See the images and lives impacted who have been rescued
Learn about OCC's vision and partnership with others
Discover ways you can be involved locally and/or globally

There will be a time to connect with specific team leaders working towards specific initiatives around human trafficking:
Business Team - Developing and empowering alternative living for rescued victims
Women of Purpose - Join other women raising awareness and investing in key projects
Local Team - Opportunities to respond to needs locally
Potential Housing - A fact finding group exploring the requirements for responding to the dramatic need for victim housing in the greater Seattle area
Fair Trade - Educate and promotion of using our purchasing power to make a difference
Questions? Contact Servetheworld@occ.org.

Introductions

Tonight I had one of the sweetest dinners of my life. My basic
conclusion: I hate evil and God is love.

We walked up to a bar where two teammates were hoping to find some
girls they spoke to earlier this week. As we walked we wondered if we
would be able to spot the women in such a crowded bar. That was no
problem. As soon as we neared shouts were heard from the new Thai
friends. "Oh sexy ladies, you came back!". Our group was easily
remembered by them. The rest of the evening was followed by bar games
(we rarely won), invitations to dinner, laughter from language and
tears from universal communications of love. Personally I was able to
talk mostly with three girls. One 42 one under 18 and the third
somehwere in the middle. Each woman had their own story, their own
spirit, their own dreams and fears. Even finishing this post the next
morning I can still feel the physical brokeness of my heart.

As I shared a bit of my own life's story with the girls the dynamic of
our chatter changed. We moved from positions of "bar worker" and
"tourist" into a dialogue of women bonded by a desire for freedom and
joy. They began to share real moments of their life with me and I was
so very honored to hold those stories close.

The tight hug and slight tears from the shy, young girl was what
captured my heart the most. Jesus is alive and working in this place.
He just hasn't introduced himself by name too all who live here yet. I
can't wait for the day when He does. To God be all glory!

No longer deserted

We just came back from an HIV house where we were able to pray over
the sweet souls living there. One lady asked for us to pray for her
specifically because she wanted to become a Christian. (Praise God!)
Evil continues to loom but also loose! The HIV house will be moving
locations within the year and is currently fundraising for their new
building. Desperate needs here...

In just a little bit we will be heading back to a bar where a few of
our teammates started meaning conversations earlier this week. We hope
to reconnect with these women and allow them to share more of their
hearts with us. There are such great possibilities here! Please pray
that we respct their stories; that we will have dicernment as to what
to say and when. Also ask with us that the Lord brings relationships
and meetings together. May we be sensitive to where He's calling us
and how. To God be the glory.

I was again inspired by Isaiah 62. I'm praying these words over the
city if Pattaya... May this place be now called Hephzibah (my delight
is in her) instead of "Deserted"... "they will be called the Holy
People, the Redeemed of the Lord; and you will be called Sought After,
the City No Longer Deserted."

Not just numbers

Moving throughout this city it is hard not to shut off your emotions and just observe what's happening with solely your mind.  I think I'm doing a disservice if I do this and don't connect with my heart as well. We visited "Walking Street" last night. Under a fake cover of darkness and alcohol this strip exists for the sole purpose of sex.  Hundreds of girls in the bars and on the streets- hundreds of daughters and sisters waiting to be sold.  I saw a girl who appeared to be younger than 16 with a man who must have been 65. There was no smile in her eyes.  There was another girl who held a sign describing the services offered-- there were tears falling with each person who passed by. Another women worker was lying unconscious outside a popular bar...

I find myself asking if this problem is just all too large-- is it all too terrible and vast for a mere me to have an impact on?  But we can't get caught in that lie-- there is great work to be done; it has to be done; it will be done.

Many of us on this trip have said that we've heard the stories before but to actually see it with your own eyes- to smell it, her it, touch it, connect with it makes the statistical data come alive. These are souls, these are not numbers.

These are not numbers-- these are people.  Here's a theme I've noticed from trip prep time until now. It's a theme I can't dare forget.

Quick Thailand Update

I just wanted to write really quick from Thailand and let you know how
amazing our God is! There is so much evil walking these streets; it's
just hard to describe in a quick post. In all the darkness however-
our Lord is victorious! It's refreshing to see the few ministries here
working TOGETHER and thriving. There's sustainability and purpose. A
lot of work left to do and many holes to fill. Please pray for wisdom,
strength, energy, health and discernment as my teammates and I finish
up our time here.

Grace arriving

By no means does I stretch to say that I or this team is grace in the
flesh, ariving in Thailand. Instead, I see it as we arrive in the
Pattaya area; grace is arriving in flesh to us. There are thousands of
young women caught in the bondage of a sexual hell, but you can see
that from an easy search on the Internet. Of course now pictures and
videos accessed through Google will show smiling faces and painted
lips who appear wet with desire to go to bed with a man three times
their age for a little cash. I know the truth though. I know what's
wanted is freedom and what's expected and hoped for is sadly far less.
What you can't see so easily through a "www" porthole though are the
girls I get to meet this week-- girls thriving in redemption. They
are the flesh of grace walking into my life and I can't wait to meet
them. To God be the glory.

Almost there!

One more flight and a car ride and we will be at our destination.
Headed straight into church. Getting very excited to see what the Lord
has been up to. :)

Special Edition

In the next week I'll be adding some special edition posts to my blog.
I'm straying away from my Reclaiming Childhood drive and updating on
another kind of journey. In a few hours I'll be leaving for Pattaya,
Thailand to meet, talk with and pray over some precious people.
Pattaya is a huge hub for the sex trafficking industry-- an industry
that with all of my heart I want to fight to end. It would be my
pleasure for you to join me as I go...

Insert Your Plans Here

So Mad Libs has been around since the 50s and yet somehow I missed them completely. I'm sure there was some form of an "insert word here" story that I did in school but I don't ever remember having one of these little newspaper booklets to myself.

I sat down in a old brown chair, all comfy in my sweats with the sound of light rain in the background. Hours of contemplating the woes of the world for a class and the daily strain of life had left my minding wanting MUSH for dinner. A brain-break was certainly in order. Realizing this I had thought of the Mad Lib booklet a dear friend had gotten me for my birthday. "Perfect!" was what I assumed. Little did I know, I would realize a great spiritual insight that I'll thinly try to explain here...

Most of us American Christian, myself certainly included, live out our life as if we were filling in the blanks of a Mad Lib story. You see God does have a plan for our lives, just as the essence of the Mad Lib story has already been written before you read it. However, in our lives God has also given us the gift of free will (i.e. the blanks; following me here?) Granted this is a loose metaphor so bare with me...

What's interesting is that we fill in our blanks (literal or otherwise) with choices, desires, and options we think will work. We choose both options we think will be exciting and options we really don't care about any longer because it's the end of the story and we're simply "over it". Sometimes our blanks ask for nouns: material possessions we don't need and people who just don't make any sense. Other times we're asked for a noun: activities we shouldn't have done and actions that again, don't make any sense.

Even though we might not have total control over the whole story we can still direct it. If careful attention is made in each choice I could give a funny, scary, meaningful, crazy or bland theme to my Mad Lib. The beauty is, we make all of these decisions truly unaware of the structure to come and sometimes the result is a pleasant surprise. The twists up and down and corkscrews of life are exciting to say the least. I take comfort in joy in the fact that my story is not governed by Leonard Stern and Roger Price (Mad Lib inventors) but by the Creator of the Universe and my personal Maker.

Just something I've been ___(insert verb here)___ on... :)

Special Event: Movie & Expert Panel Discussion

FREE EVENT

MOVIE NIGHT AND PANEL DISCUSSION

Join us THIS SATURDAY for a showing of

"AT THE END OF SLAVERY"

Produced by International Justice Mission

SATURDAY, JANUARY 30TH

7 - 9 PM

Overlake Christian Church, Small Auditorium

Following will be a panel discussion by representatives from Seattle based organizations and coalitions, including

International Justice Mission

Seattle Against Slavery

Not for Sale

W.A.R.N.

Shared Hope International

Talk with speakers, learn about local efforts and hear about OCC's involvement in this initiative.

A lesson from Mattel

A lesson from Mattel... playing Barbies isn't that bad... the end. (Insert me now running away in shame here...)

Now, I know any of you reading who actually know me personally probably need CPR right now but I promise, hang in here with me! ;) In fact, what I've learned isn't a lesson from our tall, skinny, big-boobed and blond friend, but is instead a lesson from a child while playing dolls. (This seems to be a common theme lately for me.)

I did everything I could to avoid playing dolls when I was a kid. Something about being around "childhood-ness" is making me feel like I'm getting mine back. Further more, it's making me feel like it's OK to want and to have one...meaning, that it's OK to want a childhood that is.

So I recently moved and with that move came the new friendship of a precious 5 year old. It wasn't long into this friendship of our that I realized, "Uh oh... this little girl's about to change my entire world isn't she?..." In that moment I thought I was right and with each passing day it becomes clearer and clearer. All my inhibitions, all my pride that came with dulled-out adulthood seems to slyly slip away when in the presence of her innocence. The world is simple again. I wont go so far as to say it's pure again, but certainly simpler.

Now I can't say that I'm 100% in Barbie's favor. The fact that we imprint our daughters with the mental image that this figure is the standard of beauty irks me. Barbie is not only unrealistic but she is a poor representation of the multi-cultural world we live in. What I do appreciate about dolls in general however is it gives our children reason to use their imagination-- and more than that, it gives them a practical tool in which to dream.

Here I was sitting on the floor, watching my new friend plan out a pleasant afternoon with Barbie, a couple of her closest friends, a horse ride, a formal ball, and of course, a castle. It was a pleasure to watch her dream out loud. Whether she realizes it or not, which I suspect she doesn't, her play-time is reflecting the desires of her heart. I found myself so amused at my newly discovered depth to Mattel that I must have been giving the child a strange look. She begin to tap me on my shoulder, startling me from my thoughts. "Hey... I saaaaid, it's almost time for the ball." She smiles and continues, "And you have to tell me your prince's name."

Oh dear. My prince's name? Now isn't that a question I'd like to know the answer to... :)

New Post Coming Soon

New Blog Post Coming Soon: A Lesson from Mattel

Singing With Elmo

What is it about children that make us come out of our norms? I know it's un-American of me but I've never been a huge fan of Sesame Street. On another topic, I love to sing but it's a stretch and a mile to get me to sing in front of anyone else. Then enters Valentina...

Valentina had the ability to break down inhibitions with her big brown eyes and had me loudly singing the ABC's with Elmo, in public. Even in my striving to "reclaim my childhood" I still find myself often acting like a stuck-up adult, too cool for the simple pleasures of life. Is it though that I'm too cool or that I'm too uncomfortable? I went to order a happy meal the other day and chicken out. Really? Really? Who's going to judge me at that point? The drive through attendant? I am really worried about impressing someone I'll never see again? No. My hesitation in singing with Elmo and a child in the middle of a crowded coffee shop is not from the fear that I was be deducted popularity points. It's instead again that I'll be reminded of what I missed; what I could have had.

Even though Valentina's curls were endearing and her big smile would leave no other's face brightened but it wasn't truly this sweet child that got me singing. It was the realization of the woe-is-me attitude in that moment. I'm sure there's more too it but the thought was enough to tell myself, "Get over it you wimp! Enjoy a child's company and reclaim your own." Satan uses several lies in our lives and it's something I talk about often.

The lie in this moment was this: You didn't sing Elmo in public as a kid and so it'll be too painful to do it now.

How ridiculous is that?! It's amazing what dumb things we allow ourselves to easily believe! Pointing a finger back at myself I say, "Shame on me." I could have missed the opportunity to make that little girl and her family smile. (She's apparently normally shy.) I would have missed the opportunity to have her little self curl up and lay her head on my chest to sleep. I would have missed the love I felt in that moment all because I was being a wimp.

I'll never know why Valentina took to me so rapidly and strongly but I'll be thankful for the lessons she taught me. What a beautiful little girl. Thank You Lord for this little angel you sent me.

Coming Soon!

New blog entry coming soon: Singing With Elmo!

My First Christmas (Retro)

"Jingle, jingle jingle
You will hear my sleigh bells ring
I am old Kris Kringle
I'm the King of Jingling"

"Hannah, you are so weird." I mused, shaking my head.
"What?"
"You and your made up songs!"
She stared at blankly, trying to deduct if I was truly clueless or merely trying to give her a hard time. "It's not made up!" Laughing she continued, "it's from Rudolph."
"That's not the Rudolph song. That song I do know... 'had a very shinny nose'??"
"It's from the movie Rudolph. You know, the cartoon one they always play at Christmas."
It now was my turn to stare blankly. "There's a movie?"
"Oh dear." Hannah laughed and comic exasperation she declared my attendance to her house for Christmas cookies and movies. (Apparently I'd also missed seeing Elf as well and that was just completely unacceptable!)

I joined Hannah and her husband Nick for my first real family Christmas celebration. The cliche of the holiday was wonderful and I feel as if I'm writing a cheesy children's book as I describe it with laughter and scents of cinnamon. But that's how I remember it. A fairly tell dream of sugar plum fairies wouldn't have come any closer to my reality of that day. I know it wasn't a literal Utopia in all actuality but I don't care. I felt so spoiled and so overwhelmed.

Nick and I got into a dough fight while making "monkey bread." Hannah's mom wanted so badly to make these specific cookies for us and she was determined not to give up. I got a silly electronic Sudoku game in the gift exchange. It became my night time saving grace when I moved away a year later. The dog was playing with a toy that went flying through the air and into the kitchen making everyone fall to laughter... Oh, and I got my very own stocking. (You may take the liberty to add a childish grin to my face at this point.)

On the same hand, this was such a difficult day. I remember sneaking away several times just to steal a moment alone. My emotional senses were overloaded and I wasn't sure what to do. Sometimes I'd find an empty room and just sit a moment to breath deeply. Other times I'd let a few tears fall and have to talk myself from running straight out of the house. It was too perfect, too good, too happy and to me that meant the guarantee that something was about to go terribly wrong. The Lord talked me down each time however, almost as if to say, "This is my birthday party remember? Stay a little while longer. I love you and I want you here. Please stay. You can trust Me that it'll end well."

If you believe in Christmas miracles, this family was mine. It's amazing how you can feel so out of place and so at home at the same time. It was a good first Christmas. Clarice the Doe, the Island of Misfit Toys and the actions of a loving family all seem to make a little more sense to me now. Ahh, the lessons of life that can be sparked by a cartoon song...

Kid's Craft Corner

I actually did do my share of kid's crafts as a child. The difference here is that I did these projects out of pure enjoyment and didn't worry an ounce about how thy actually ended up looking. As a child I'd work as a perfectionist on any sort of art I was attempting. If it didn't meet my "high" standards it was likely that no one would see it at all. Creating isn't about the final product it's about the process and sometimes that's the most important part. It's what emotions are involved. Whether you're cooking, or photographing, or playing music, building a woodcraft, planting a flower or working out a relationship, what emotion goes into it?

Passion?

Wonder?

Feelings of self-worth?

Pain?

Fear?

Contentment?

Peace?

I picked up these silly kids projects at local craft store to force myself to look at the process and not the final product. Sometimes we need a catalyst to realize or express true emotion and I believe thats an OK place to be sometimes. So, I struggle with presenting to you my imperfect "art" without disclaimer but here it is any way... :)

NEW Reclaiming Childhood blog entry

NEW Reclaiming Childhood blog entry coming soon: Kid's Craft Corner