There is a precious little girl in a slum of Mumbai who completely stole my heart.

Let's call her Maemi. I know very few facts of her life. And what I do know is far from the frilly dresses and whimsy of the average American childhood. I have yet to hear her really speak a word, and if she had said anything it probably would have been in a language I could not decipher.

But this is what I know: she had me wrapped around her tiny little fingers.

All she had to do was point to a steaming hot plate of rice and dahl, and I was more than happy to take minuscule handfuls of her lunch and place it into her mouth. Every morning when her head began to nod, and she began to drift off to sleep, I almost dreaded having to lay her on a mat so she didn't also drag my legs into a nap. Because it was super cute when she fell asleep on my lap.

I cried for this young girl much more than I would have ever predicted. She is living a life she does not deserve. And the difficult part is, so I am. I just seem to be on the opposite end of the spectrum.

I think I also cried because I hope for her. Against the odds and against her circumstances, I have hope that she will know a life outside of the brothel she was born into. I hope that she will be loved and will know Love.

I hope for her, because she does not yet hope for herself.  

Just to make sure everyone is up-to-date on at least the basics of my life at present, I am going to begin this apology blog with a brief recap of my current situation.

I lived (and thrived) for a month in Cambodia, a month in Thailand, and a month in India).

I am back in America and have been back for just about 2 weeks.

We are in Atlanta, but all the foreign rules apply, ie no phone and limited internet access.

Our squad is still busy doing full time ministry.

Most days, this still feels like a foreign country.

It is strange to be in place so familiar but to still feel far from home.

For those of you who are faithfully following my blog, I am sorry for the infrequency of my posts of late. India was always touch and go on the internet front. Thus far, Atlanta has provided me with the least amount of time to prepare and post.

Please know that I am well, ministry has been incredible but challenging, and that I intend to update you all on India even though I am no longer there!

For those of you who have kept a relatively close eye on my blog, you might remember my thoughts right about the time I took off in the airplane from Atlanta.

They were something along the lines of “what have I gotten myself into?” And may also have included a few thoughts of “am I insane?” coupled with “oh, I don't know that I am ready for this.” Well, I am about a month and a half in, and some days I am not sure I have resolved any of those questions.

Daily I wake up to the sun shining in, the breeze blowing through and this marvelous view directly before my eyes:

The landscape of Phuket, Thailand is beautiful. Every day we see people who have flooded onto this island to soak up the sun and take in the beauty.

It is sometimes difficult to reconcile the tourist culture with the bars and nightlife of Phuket. For a frame of reference, think Bourbon Street, New Orleans. Except Bangla Road is more densely populated with bars, bars and more bars. And the bars employ more prostitutes than I think I could previously imagine. For some, it is the family business. Generation after generation have grown up to inherit their positions in the bars. For others, it is their easiest and most obvious answer to meet a financial need in their home province. Still others seem to have no options. They are here because of someone else's desires, plans and schemes for financial prosperity.

As an outsider in Thailand and a relative outsider to the general bar scene, I was nervous to come in and work with SHE for a month. The whole concept seemed out of my element. And it is difficult. We are in bars a few nights a week and praying for the women on the nights we are not. It can be physically, spiritually and emotionally exhausting.

But last week, My teammate Laura and I sat at a bar and played the most killer game of Jenga you have ever seen.

And I cannot wait to go back and hang out with those ladies again. For them, maybe it was a glimpse of a different kind of life. Or maybe it was just a relaxed evening with friends. I'm not sure. But it was good.  

A week ago today we wrapped up our time in Phnom Penh by doing as much as we could in the city and telling everyone we found that we hoped to one day see them again.

Our time at Daughters was a blessing. Over the month I baked, knitted, made some beads, and spent some time hanging out with the women of Daughters and men of Sons.

That last day was fabulously exhausting. I woke up feeling like I still had a million things to accomplish and only a 2 hour span to cover it all. I walked into our last day at Daughters with a bit of trepidation. Esther and I had been knitting for weeks, and I had taught her everything I knew, plus a little I learned along the way. But I did not want to finish our lessons, say goodbye and leave her to feel as though something was left incomplete.

As I walked in to the knitting/crocheting room for the last time, I stumbled upon the most wonderful thing. A volunteer from Australia had just flown in for the week. Beside her was a HUGE bag of knitting needles and supplies and laid out on the table was book after book of patterns and ideas. I sat down in awe as I watched Esther and her busy knitting.

We talked and then we said our goodbyes. And I was left wholly aware of this: God had called me to Daughters for more than knitting, and He has a plan for long after my departure. When I was unsure of my abilities, He had already planned for what would happen next... and it was not about me. 

Of all the ways I could have said goodbye to Esther and Daughters, I do not think I could have imagined it better.  

My time in Cambodia is rapidly drawing to a close. It is crazy to talk about boarding a plane and leaving. As I think back over this month, and all that I have seen and experienced I cannot help but regret telling you so little about it.

Over the next few days, I am going to try to make up for lost time.

Today's focus is: comforts of home.

I'm betting you would be surprised by the number of coffee shops and cafes inside the city limits of Phnom Penh. And they all have delicious desserts, comfy chairs, and mostly fantastic names like Jars of Clay, Jacob's Well, Sugar 'n Spice, etc... (Brown is kind of a weird name, but they have cheesecake, so I can let that one slide).

But I stumbled upon a jewel of a thing in an unexpected place.

v

KFC. Chickaroni. That's not even a made up name. Doesn't even matter that the cheese was in sauce form. Still delicious. Ask for it at a KFC near you, see what happens.

But I can still one up that one.

THERE IS FROZEN YOGURT!

All of these places scattered about the city have given me little glimpses of Georgia. But they have only been a portion of what has made the city truly feel like home. Laura, our marvelous squad leader said we will learn that home is where our pack is. As I prepare to leave, I am beginning to understand the thought.