I have just found myself getting swept up into month 11 of The World Race. This is it. This is the last country I will go to on my World Race.

I don't even know how to wrap my mind around the fact that there are no more countries after this. My next travel day will take me back to US soil. My first few days here in the Philippines have been rest days - to relax, do laundry, get adjusted, and prepare for this month's ministry. I've discovered that at this point it would be all too easy to simply say I'm done and coast through this month, making it more of a vacation than a mission.

I signed up for 11 months though. Not 10 or 10 1/2. I want to continue this thing until the very last day.

"Now finish the work, so that your eager willingness to do it may be matched by your completion of it, according to your means." 2 Corinthians 8:10

I want to finish this with the same enthusiasm as I had when I started this, when I was excited to hoe a field in Moldova. I want to go home completely wiped out, but joyful of how I finished. I know that there's something that God has for me even, or especially, in this final month. I still have something to learn and something to give...and I don't want to miss out on that.

So don't cue the music yet - it's not over till the fat lady sings!

This past weekend I celebrated my 28th birthday. It was my golden birthday as some would call it. This was the first birthday I've spent out of the country. And the only birthday so far that I've spent exploring a wonder of the world. The five of us woke up at 4:30am to go watch the sunrise at Angkor Wat. I've always been interested in old, historical stuff, especially when I've got a camera in hand, so I was excited to enjoy 12th century temple ruins on my birthday. It was such a beautiful place. I can't imagine the time and effort that it took for something like that to be built. It was a fun morning of exploring.

After having our fill of Angkor Wat, my team had an afternoon of surprises for me. They know me way too well and had dessert planned for not just before dinner, but also after. First dessert was ice cream from Blue Pumpkin, a great little cafe we've been enjoying in Cambodia that has amazing ice cream. Then we headed off to our dinner reservations. I knew that dinner was in the plan, but I had no clue that we'd be cooking our own dinner. Upon arriving, we were given aprons and hats and put to work chopping, peeling, and sauteeing. We got to pick whatever we wanted to cook off the menu, all traditional Khmer food. I wanted to try something exotic, but not so over the top that I wouldn't like it. So I chose banana flower salad and Khmer chicken with coconut milk, palm sugar, garlic, ginger, lemongrass, peanuts, and bok choy. It was delicious! I enjoyed sampling what everyone else cooked too (I've got a team of great chefs!), like spring rolls, soup, stir fries, and grilled crocodile and ostrich. We ended up having to give food away because we had made so much!

It wouldn't be a birthday without cake, and my team went all out even with that. Although, this happened to be the first cake that couldn't fit the right amount of candles on it....I'm going to say it was the size of the cake and not my age, haha. They made me a sweet birthday video too, with pictures from the months we've spent together on the race.

My birthday was just another reminder of how blessed my life is. More blessed than I could have ever imagined it to be.













 

I will never take another breeze for granted. When you're living out in a village in Cambodia during their hot season that boasts 100 degree weather plus humidity, with no AC, sweating through your clothes over and over again throughout the day, a breeze is worth more than winning a $1000 shopping spree at Nordstrom. If I had a birthright, I'd probably be tempted to trade it in for a room with AC or a tall glass of iced tea with unlimited refills.

After posting my last blog about being hot and tired, I went into a new week feeling more tired than ever. And it started getting hotter here. My first reaction was a negative one of "oh great, this is getting worse" and I began feeling a little bit of sympathy for the Israelites. I wondered to myself how - how do I get this strength that God promises in my weakest moments? Because I wasn't feeling it. And I was desperately seeking it. Do I put on shiny red shoes and tap my heels three times? Or is there an "easy" button around that I can push to have God's strength come fill me up? But then I began feeling more breezes (or maybe it was that I started noticing those breezes). Those breezes began serving as reminders of the prayers that I have been receiving, and how God is answering those prayers.

I still wasn't getting a good night's rest. I was still feeling more weak, tired, and hot than I ever have before. I was feeling a difference though with the bursts of strength that would come over me, like a breeze passing through. I would wake up exhausted and with a headache, but when it came time to ride into the village to teach English, I got the energy I needed for it.

I'll admit, when asking God to become my strength in times of weakness, I imagined some sort of superhero thing happening where I became this unstoppable force. I didn't expect to still feel just as weak as ever. I was still grateful for what I had been given. Just enough to make it through each day and feel like I was offering something worthwhile.

This week I got blessed with more than just a breeze. We had a major rain storm that came through and cooled everything down. I was so excited for the rain that I went and stood in it and felt the cool rain hitting my face and soaking my clothes. It was a blessing to feel a chill and shiver. Just that one rain storm has made the past few nights cooler. I have slept soundly every night this week. I have felt refreshed and filled with new strength. I feel bursts of joy that I have been missing greatly. I'm so thankful that in my last week here, I have been able to enjoy all the goodness this month has offered.

I know without a doubt that it was because of all of your prayers and all of the encouraging words that I received on my blog and in emails. So thank you for continually fighting for me back home. I can feel those prayers and watch them get answered.

Despite being more tired (and hot) than I ever have in my entire life, I am happy to be here serving in Cambodia. My team is living in a small village about an hour by bike (or 30 minutes by tuk tuk) outside of Siem Reap. We have been blessed with great accomodations. My new standard of great includes a bed (my own bed) and a bathroom that has a toilet and a shower. There is a plethora of bugs and lizards that share a room with us, though. And Cambodia has been the hottest country thus far, I've never before experienced such intense heat and humidity. I wish I could say that it cools down at night, but it doesn't really, so it has been some hot living. One of the staff members is an amazing cook, so we are eating well.

We are serving at a school that teaches English and computer to school-aged children in the village. Most of the classes are taught on site. Each afternoon I have the pleasure of teaching Microsoft Word and English for beginners. I have had some memorable "first" moments of teaching while here. There are two dogs who live at the school and they enjoy laying by my feet as I teach computer class. We've nicknamed one of the dogs "Food Bag" because he gets really excited when he hears the crinkling of a grocery bag. The other day I had a giant spider run across the front of the classroom towards me and I lost all credibility as a sophisticated teacher as I shrieked and ran to the back of the classroom. And I get a serious kick when teaching the younger kids the alphabet and hearing them shout out "weeeeee!" when asked to repeat the letter "v".

In the mornings, we bike to a couple different places in the village to tell and act out stories from the Bible, play games, sing songs, and then wash and comb the children's hair and clip their fingernails. This is probably my favorite time because a. we get to bike through some beautiful scenery and b. the children are super sweet and fun.

I feel seriously blessed to be here. It has been a struggle to be active and engaged because I
am so exhausted. I want to give this month all that it deserves though. I want to be able to express and live out the joy that I'm feeling inside from being here.

I'm halfway into month 10 of The World Race. That's 9 1/2 months of living out of a backpack, having travel days each month that involve hours on a bus, train, or plane, and never knowing what your next living conditions or days will be. And the weight of it is hitting me. This month, I am living in a village an hour bike ride outside of Siem Reap, Cambodia. It is HOT. My new look entails constantly looking like I just stepped out of the shower - only I'm dripping with sweat instead of water. And the nights don't provide any relief. It has made sleep a challenge.

So yes, I've officially reached that place of being beyond exhausted, tired, and weak. My heart and my spirit are dying to finish this race strong, but my body and mind are running on empty. I feel like I'm running in track again, trying with all my might and strength to run faster, to keep enduring, but my body can't keep up and I fall further and further behind in the race. In all that I do, I end the day feeling like what I did wasn't enough.

In addition to feeling physically out of it, I am feeling emotionally and spiritually dry and weary too. I can see evidence of God's work and His presence in my life all around me. I don't feel it though, and that's a hard place to be in.

Isn't that where I'm supposed to be though? I didn't sign up for this trip to enjoy smooth, comfortable sailing where I'd be able to love and serve easily with a perma-smile on my face. I came to get my hands and feet dirty. I came to struggle and persevere through the smelly outhouses and giant bugs, to be challenged in my faith, to be tested and tried. To reach my limit and realize that wasn't really my limit as I go flying past it. I came on this trip to experience God's refining fire. It's a tough spot to be in though. And it's a frustrating time to be in such a place because this month's ministry is great. I am at a school that teaches English and computer classes to the village kids. The kids are always full of smiles and so willing to learn. The people running this school are wonderful people. They are spoiling us with nice beds, a bathroom with both a toilet and a shower, and delicious food. The surrounding area is beautiful and we have the freedom to bike around and enjoy such beauty. I want to give these people my very best, but instead I am only offering a portion of me, a tired and empty portion.

In my sweaty, sleepless nights, God has been reminding me that He is the same God no matter where I'm at. I may not feel Him, but He is still my shepherd. He has me and He won't let me go. He is watching over me.

That's really what this race is about. I came on this race with the idea that this would be my big oportunity to make a difference, to change lives. Yes, that has happened on this trip. But I've realized that this is just the beginning of that. This is just 11 months. It is just one small chunk of what God has in store for me. This has been a time of preparing me for the rest of my life. So where I'm at now, is all part of the process. And I can roll over and say I'm done, I'm too tired, I'm going to ride out the next month and a half until I can be back in my own bed. Or, I can continue taking steps of faith, trusting that God will carry me through this. That in my weakest moments, His power will be made perfect. I'm confident that by choosing to put up a fight and persevere, that it will only better equip me for what God has planned for me next - the immeasurably more than I could ever imagine.

I may be slowing down in this race, my legs may be reaching that point where they start to get wobbly and slow down, but I'm going to keep running. Even if I have to be that runner who's all over the place just trying not to wipe out. Or that runner who does actually wipe out and goes limping across the finish line (yeah, we've all watched it happen and it's always a bit awkward to watch).

And To be honest, I wouldn't want to be in any other place right now. I'm exactly where I want to be. I will keep fighting for this because it's worth it, and because I know that however hard I'm fighting, I've got a God who is fighting even harder. I know my labor in the Lord is not in vain.

Month 9 of The World Race brought me to a little island in Malaysia, called Penang. I knew from the start that I'd love this place filled with fun old buildings, relaxing beaches, cheap movie theaters, and delicious street food. What really made me fall in love with Penang was the people. Through our different ministries, we got to meet some amazing people.

We spent some of our time volunteering at a hospital, raising money and awareness for children needing heart surgery. The highlight for sure was getting to wear name badges and snazzy vests! We also had an amazing time helping out at a sports carnival for the blind. On Wednesday nights we went into the streets to hang out with the homeless, prostitutes, and anyone else we ran into along the way. My favorite ministry this month though was at a drop-in center called Kawan, which means "friends" in Malay. At this center, the homeless are able to come and have breakfast and lunch, shower and wash clothes, and take a nap somewhere other than a street sidewalk. The center also leads a Bible study for anyone who wants to join. This was a sweet ministry for me because I had the opportunity to work back in the kitchen, helping to prepare the meals and then serving them. It gave me a little taste for what I want to do when I get home.

Once I return to the states I will be going to culinary school. I have always had a passion for cooking. Food is how I love people. I'm happy when I'm in the kitchen pouring into a delicious meal that I can offer as a gift to someone else. It was back in India on a 42 hour train ride that God gave me a vision to love "the least of these" through food. And so I hope to someday open a restaurant that does exactly that. I want to be able to offer up filet mignon to a homeless person whose last meal was dug out of a dumpster.

And so this has been a sweet and fulfilling opportunity to use my love for cooking to help feed the homeless here in Malaysia. It has been so much fun just being in a kitchen chopping garlic. My first day in the kitchen, I learned how to make chicken feet. The cook told me that if you cook the chicken feet REALLY slowly in a broth, it comes out tender and delicious. I did have a taste of it and while it wasn't all that bad, I think I'll stick to a leg or a thigh over a foot :)

This month went by way too quickly for me. I wish I could have spent just a little more time in Penang. I'm thankful for the time that I did get to spend there. I felt more and more blessed with each new person that I met.

Whew. What an amazing month in Thailand. My prayers going into month 8 of The World Race were that I would be refilled with energy to finish this race strong; that I wouldn't slack off or coast through the last few months. I want to be able to go home knowing that I ended with everything I've got.

I'm thankful that God answered my prayers, because we were given a sweet ministry that led us into the redlight district of Chiang Mai.

My heart broke immediately as I walked down the streets in the heart of Chiang Mai, lined with bar after bar that offers more than just drinks. To see young women selling themselves out to men night after night. Whether the women have chosen this lifestyle or whether they have been forced into it, they are all victims. As I sit and talk with these women, my heart cries out to tell them that they are loved, that they are cherished, and they are worth far more than whatever men are paying for them. Especially when many of the women will tell you flat out that they don't like what they do. You can see in on their faces too - they look miserable as they dodge kisses from men old enough to be their fathers who are seeing her for just her body and what she can give him, rather than as the human being that she is. They don't look happy when a man buys them and hauls them off for the night.

I watched these girls hop on the back of a moto with a stranger. They are grabbed at all night. They are fondled. They are kissed. They are bought at a cheap price for services.

I didn't ever imagine that I would find myself on a mission trip, spending my nights in the bars of Thailand, sipping diet coke after diet coke, and playing pool with the local bar girls. I never would have guessed that these bar girls would become my friends and that I'd end up paying their bar fee so that I could hang out with them outside of the bar. That's exactly how this month went though. I spent 3 weeks in Chiang Mai, Thailand working with an organization called Love Acts. The name pretty much sums up what we did - acted in love toward the girls who sell themselves to the foreign men.

It took some getting used to changing environments. In Africa, it was all about following strict rules and dress codes to make myself known as a Christian, and sharing the gospel a lot with words. Here in Thailand, I was told I needed to go shopping ASAP because I look too much like a missionary and to avoid saying anything about God unless it was brought up in conversation by the girls.

It was an amazing experience to watch transformation take place in just the 3 short weeks I was in Thailand. My team of 11 girls spent each day praying over bars and the more we prayed over those bars, the emptier they got. We have spent our nights going into the bars and getting to know the people in them and we have been able to hear about the brokenness that has led them to where they're at and their desire for something more.

The times that I got to pay bar fees and go out on dates with the girls were so much fun. I got to enjoy overpriced ice cream at Haagen Dazs them and then pedicures afterwards. I went to lunch and shopping at the local Sunday market, where we got friendship bracelets. I got to know so much more about these girls outside of the bar. I got to hear about their families in far off villages...the families they're supporting by working in the sex industry. I got to hear about their future dreams. Jane wants to work at a bank so she can wear cute business skirts. Sue wants to have her own beauty shop. Jill wants to be a cop. I got to hear them laugh about someday meeting a man, something that's obviously not a possibility when working in the bars.

On my last night in Chiang Mai, a few of us paid bar fees for half the girls in a particular bar. Despite the fact that one of the girls loves to rub my belly and ask if I'm pregnant with twins and another loves to pat or pinch my butt when going in for a hug and they're all a bit on the wild side, I'm so glad I got to spend the evening with them. We went to a buffet where you grill all your own food. The girls had so much fun showing us how it was done and stuffing us with more and more food. The best part of it was, they acted just how young girls should act. They wore regular clothes, they giggled and laughed, and they didn't worry about trying to impress anyone. It was sweet.

These girls are something special. They have left an imprint on my heart. Something that I was told on my first day in Chiang Mai was how important it was when I met a girl to pray for her, because I may be the first person who's ever prayed for her. So as I sit on this train that takes me away from Thailand, away from these girls, I will continue to pray for them.

The girl who especially touched my heart, I never got to take out on a date. I never really got to have an in-depth conversation with her because she didn't speak much English. She quickly caught my attention because of how out-of-place she looked in the bar. She looked really young and wore baggy clothes. She had the sweetest smile. She had innocence written all over her. The second time I saw her she was wearing quite a bit of makeup. A little while later she was in the bathroom washing the makeup off. Her response was simply "it's not me". A week went by where I didn't see her in the bars. I grew hopeful that maybe she couldn't handle being there and got herself out. On my last night visiting the bars I decided to make one last stop at her bar just to confirm what I was hoping. I didn't recognize her at first. She had a new hairdo. She had makeup plastered on. She was wearing a tiny black dress and heels. And instead of hiding in the back of the bar as she did before, she was right out front. I had to fight back tears. There's so much I wish I could have told her, but she wouldn't have understood.

Chiang Mai is a beautiful city. It boasts delicious food, bustling markets, cute coffee shops, friendly people, a fun river walk, and plenty of parks to relax in. There's also a sad reality to this place though. To some people, this beautiful city is their prison.

I will fight for hope for them. I know I didn't leave Chiang Mai having gotten girls out of prostitution or defeating human trafficking or removing the selling of sex in these bars. But I was able to show these girls a love that doesn't require anything from them. I know I can pray for them. I know that I can look at what God did in my life - the restoration, the healing, the renewing that He did. The way He made something beautiful grow from a heap of trash. And what He continues to do in my life. I know it can happen for them too. That in their brokenness and their pain that something new can take place in their life. I hope that someday I can return to Chiang Mai and see these girls living a different, better life.

I didn't know there was an art to eating the variety of bugs I had just purchased at the Sunday market until a sweaty Muai Thai boxer who had just won a fight approached and said we were doing it all wrong.

I was hoping that him showing us the right way to eat bugs would somehow make the bugs taste delicious, because the silk worm and grasshopper and random beetle that lives on mango trees I had just consumed were absolutely revolting. First, the Muai Thai boxer showed us that on most the bugs, the heads should be ripped off. You would think that would make things less disgusting since that's one less part of the bug you have to eat, but tearing the head off only makes you more queasy. The legs have to come off too. And the wings? Yep, those come off too.

The giant beetle, measuring in at about 3 inches long, needed to be cracked apart completely to get to the innards. You'd think with how much I love cracking open king crab (which could basically be seen as a giant sea bug), that I wouldn't mind doing it to a beetle, but somehow I still viewed it as something completely different.

Once things have been pulled off and cracked open, you have to find a way to then get yourself to stick the bug in your mouth. I tried to imagine they were something different, like funky looking pieces of popcorn, as I popped one after another into my mouth. I tried to convince myself as I was chewing them that they had a decent flavor to them. It didn't do the trick though because I still found myself gagging, making all sorts of disgusted faces, and getting in an "ewwwwwwwwww" every 15 seconds or so. I have never been more thankful to have a diet coke by my side.

I don't know why I put eating bugs in Thailand on my World Race bucket list. Nine months ago I thought it was a good idea. I thought it would be a fun experience and that maybe the bugs would be surprisingly delicious. In reality, it was gross. An hour after consuming the bug buffet, I could still taste them and I was still finding little pieces of bug caught in my teeth. I'm so glad it's over with. From now on, I'll be happy to stick with the Pad Thai.

Having my life being in a constant state of change, I have been able to experience many different aspects of God. Some of them have been new to me and it's been good. In Moldova, God showed Himself as my healer, guiding me through hurt and anger. In India, He was my teacher, guiding me through the mistakes of learning something new. In Kenya, He was my proud Father who cheered me on as I stepped out in boldness and onto a platform to tell of His goodness to the multitudes.

This month I have been surrounded by such a messed up display of "love". It has stirred up so many different emotions of confusion, anger, disgust, sadness, lack of hope, and weariness. It has left me fighting for love. The real kind of love. I watch young girls wearing clothes that just seem pointless because they don't even cover what should be covered, calling out to men, trying to grab their attention. You can see in many of them that they are searching desperately for love. They want to be noticed, they want to have someone's attention fixed on them and them alone. And so they offer themselves to whoever will give that to them. I also see men. In the beginning, I had to fight the urge to punch these men, seeing what they were doing to the bar girls. Like seriously swing full force and watch my fist land on their jaw. Sometimes I still get the urge, but I understand a lot more now and that has given me compassion for them. The men are broken. They have been abandoned by wives. They have failed at careers. They have been rejected by their children. They too are searching for love. For someone to give them affirmation that they are worthy and desirable. They are so desperate that they are willing to pay for it. They answer to the calling of the women and they fall into the lie that these women will give them the love and attention they need. When I go out at night to do bar ministry, I find myself lost in a sea of brokenness. Broken people desperate for love...searching for it in all the wrong places. I ask myself how the definition of love has gotten so skewed. How it has become so distorted and messed up. Where is the love that God wrote?

I remember wondering this same thing after my husband left me. Where is this love that God created that is faithful, that conquers fear, that exists through hardship, mess, and mistakes? A love that is without conditions. Where is this love that is reckless, scandalous, without abandon, unexplainable, and sometimes dangerous? I remember God answered my questions in that time by showing me that love. It was a sweet time when I got to experience God wooing me and pursuing me. He showed Himself to me as a lover. Now, I know this could sound really creepy and disturbing to some people. Maybe you should stop reading because it's just going to make you uncomfortable. God whispered sweet nothings into my ear - that I was beautiful, captivating, exciting, prized, and precious. He told me how He loved me even before I was born. He has been showing this love to me my whole life - calling me His beloved in ways that are unique to just me. It was through all this that I fell head-over-heels in love with God.

I have realized that in my pursuit this month to cling to what I know as love, that I have somehow moved away from that sweet love relationship with God. Not that I don't feel His love daily, or feel love for Him daily. But it's not nearly as intimate as it once was. I have enjoyed experiencing God as my sustainer, my healer, my strength...as faithful, as teacher, as a pruner. I miss having that Song of Songs type of relationship though. A scandalous, passionate, ridiculous, make-you-blush type of love relationship.

So in my last couple weeks here in Thailand, I'm determined to get that back. I'm going to pursue my beloved and take time to delight in His presence. I will once again open my eyes to the ways that He is wooing me with His love daily. I don't want to settle for what love has become in this world - broken, selfish, short-lived, or paid for at a cheap price.

I want the love that God intended for us.

Taking my first steps into the tiny village of Rackoko in Northern Uganda, it appeared to be a typical African village. While very different from what I have ever seen or experienced, the people seemed to go about life as if all is well and normal. They have their tiny mud huts that are actually quite cozy on the inside. They tend to their daily chores of fetching water, shelling peanuts (or gnuts as they call them), sweeping their dirt floor, and working in the gardens. The children attend school and love to spend their free time playing football. The women selling fruits, vegetables, and dried fish at the market are always quick to greet you with a smile and an "afoyo!"

You would never guess that this tiny village, too remote to be found on google maps, is recovering from a 20 year war that wreaked havok on their lives. We made visits to some of the people's homes and heard their life stories, or rather their war stories. Stories that I know I've heard about in books and documentaries that I can't even fathom experiencing myself. It's much different though when you are sitting in a mud hut listening to the stories from someone who lived through it. You spend enough time talking with the people and you realize that everyone has a story from the war. And they are all still living in the aftermath of the war. AIDS. Poverty. Emotional scars. Physical scars. Displacement. Fear.

Where we were living was once an IDP camp that housed more than 10,000 people trying to seek safety from the LRA (Lord's Resistence Army). Emmanuel, a sweet 87 year old man missing an eye and all his front teeth, told his story of how there was so much running and hiding during the war. His home was not safe and so he had to leave it to go live in the IDP camp with his family. When the war left Northern Uganda, he tried to return to life before the war but found his home and plentiful crops to be completely gone. Before the war he lived a comfortable life...and now he is poor.

The LRA or rebel soldiers consistently raided the village, engaging in murder, rape, and torture. Several people we talked to told stories of how they were held up at gunpoint and narrowly escaped getting shot. We heard stories of people getting their ears and lips cut off with machetes. Sylvia, a woman unaware of her exact age and who is crippled but still filled with so much life, was raped by a rebel soldier and now has a 7 year old daughter to care for. Many women now suffer from HIV or have a child or both as a result of rape being such a common practice with the rebel soldiers.

School could only be held one day a week because it was too dangerous to have every day. Many children and youth were abducted to be trained as child soldiers, often being forced to kill their own family members to keep them from ever wanting to return home. One evening around a campfire we got to hear the stories of some of the youth and what it was like during the war for them. Many of their friends and school classmates were abducted and never returned home. They described how at night they had to go sleep in the bush because it was safer there. After a few chuckles they further explained that it wasn't so much sleeping as it was laying there with at least one eye open. When the rebel soldiers would show up in the village, they would ran as fast as they could into the bush to hide. We asked them how far they would have to run, and their response was until they could no longer hear the gunshots. These boys telling these stories grew up only knowing war.

There is still so much healing to be done in Rackoko, as well as the rest of Northern Uganda. Many are still gripped by fear and struggle with coping with the memories of war. But there are glimpses of hope that can be seen here and there - in the smiles and hospitality of the people and the way that they recognize that they can now enjoy things, like sitting out under the stars, that they once couldn't. My prayer will continue to be that the people I had the pleasure of meeting in Northern Uganda can grow into a life of freedom and joy and fresh beginnings, and that when they look to the past it isn't marked with pain, but rather with thanksgiving for how far they've come from it.