The aftermath of the trip: processing being home

As I reflect on this trip, it’s easy to feel like I didn’t do enough. Like I made bonds with these kids who are desperate for love, then abandoned them again. Left them heartbroken and missing us. Was that really worth it? Did we really do good here? Then, I remember that GROW was not going to build the new girls home for another year if Shook didn’t initiate this trip. Why is that important?

On our first day during cultural orientation, Faa got a call from the government. They wanted her to take in three girls. Why? Their grandmother couldn’t provide for them or feed them. Their brother killed their father with a hoe. Grandma couldn’t feed them or have the means to provide, so she was going to give them all a poison to kill them and herself. She was going to take them out of this world because there would be less struggle that way. As I try to wrap my head around her reality, I shudder. The desperation to get there is haunting. To think of innocent children drinking poison to kill themselves because no one could take care of them or loved them enough to fight harder is sickening. Yet, this is a common occurrence in Thailand and wasn’t the only story we heard like this. How deep the pain of this country. How misvalued. But to our heartbreak, Faa had to say no to accepting these children. They did not have any more room for girls. They were already over capacity per government standards and would be at risk of being shut down if they took in any additional children. How I hope they found another loving orphanage to take in these children and show them love. How I wish our building could be done sooner to rescue more children.

Jeana told us before we left that the contractor, Nuum, had been behind on the building. His friend, who had a higher status than him, requested to borrow some guys from his crew to work on a personal project. In Thai culture, it would be very frowned upon for Nuum not to fill this request, so he obliged, putting his own project and obligation to GROW behind. By our team coming, it caught up the project to where it needed to be or even a little ahead. Without our help, he and his workers would have lost wages for over a week. When the salary in Thailand is $10 USD/day and the family’s only income, that could have been detrimental. He was grateful for our help, and we were grateful to work alongside him and learn from his team.

Logically, I know I can’t play the, “Did I do enough?” game. I did that with fostering after my little girl left and it nearly destroyed me. I have encouraged our team to not let their minds go there. Yet, I feel it too. I feel like I could have done more. Like it wasn’t finished. Like I loved on these kids and then devastated them by saying goodbye. How I wish they weren’t 30 hours of travel away from me. How I wish I could show them my home and what it looks like to have stable, loving parents. How I wish I could make a day trip to go see and play with them. How I wish we weren’t a world apart.

Today, my heart longs to be back in Thailand. To make a greater difference in the world. Our world at home is slightly nauseating. To watch the excess and selfishness in our culture sickens me. To hear what we complain about is so distasteful while halfway around the world children are being offered ammonia poisons to end it because of lack of means to survive. I know what our team accomplished this trip was good, and I don’t want to diminish it, yet I can’t help but feel it will never be enough. I will never be able to make it right for those kids, and that’s a hard reality to face. No matter how much I am able to contribute, it will never be enough to stop the suffering. I will never be able to change the view of everyone in America to stop such frivolous waste and help those around the world. It’s hard to even convince my family and friends. Until you see it, you don’t know.

I’ve now seen it twice, in Thailand and El Salvador. I’ve felt this pain twice. Yet, when I got back home from El Salvador, I adjusted for a month or so and then went right back to my American ways. Now, I question myself. Will I really be able to change this time? Am I actually going to do something about the injustices of this world? Or will I be uncomfortable for the next month and then jump right back into life? I’d like to believe I can change. I’d like to believe God has a greater purpose for me and will use me to help others. Yet, where I am called remains unknown.

My heart remains in the villages in the mountains of Thailand, in the inner-city streets and homes in El Salvador. Two places far apart and vastly different, yet ultimately the same. There is lack and need, but there is warmth and love. There is grit. There is faith, even if far from my own. Somehow, I see hope there. They cling to it with these organizations and hope to find help. Here at home, I’ve lost a lot of hope in our society and culture. We’ve made blessings a problem, extravagance a game. If you could only see the graciousness of Kiet and how his face lit up to receive shoes that fit his feet. How he immediately tried to share them with the other boys, even though they were vastly too big. If you saw the joy on the kids’ faces to receive their first gift, or to make s’mores for the first time, or to play thumb wars. If you saw all that and continued living your life in the same manner, it would be a damn shame. So how do I move forward? What’s next?

Lord, I pray you continue to reveal your plan for my life and help me find a path forward to do your will. My mind goes back to James 1:27, the verse that convicted me to become a foster parent and go deeper in service: “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to care for the orphans and the widows in their affliction and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”

I remember when reading the book Kisses from Katie she explained how she had such a strong desire to go back to Uganda after coming home because her faith was put to work. She clung to God there and had to fully trust he would provide, as opposed to when she was in the U.S. and had more extravagance. Here, her faith suffered. She didn’t need God in the way she did in Uganda and missed longing for Him and clinging to Him. I understand that sentiment. On all four mission trips I’ve been on, I’ve clung to God more – to help me understand their situations, to give me strength through tiredness, for emotional strength, and for healing of the people. At home, I don’t talk to Him as much. I don’t have to cling to Him in the same way. Most of my wants and needs are provided for here, and it is not the same. I miss the way I clung to Him on those trips. As I now settle in back home, I pray I find a way to draw nearer to Him daily and that He may use me to inspire change. I pray for the courage to share my experiences to open the eyes of someone else in the way he opened mine.

Jesus, help me cling to you at home in the same way I’ve clung to you in the more desperate situations. Help me draw nearer to you through suffering and joy alike. Help me to prioritize you first every single day and help me to share your love and mercy in every encounter. As I begin to share about the trip with others, help me to use that opportunity to share about you. May you fill me with your joy, so I can spread it to everyone I encounter. Amen.