Honest.

It's been weeks. Excuses are excuses, but I have them. I'll spare you the gory details though... just know that the list of things to do grows longer by the day, and my time here grows shorter every morning when my alarm goes off. It's a frustrating experience, and this fighter, this over-comer, this "keep your head up" girl is tired. And sick now too. Stress and sleepless nights will do that.

I don't want someone to tell me to keep on going. I know to keep going. I know to not grow weary of doing good. I know to keep my eyes on Jesus. I know. I'm just tired. My heart is tired of feeling the pain of so many and having so little ability to ease it. My eyes are tired of seeing so many things as I fly around trying to accomplish while I don't have time to appreciate. My mind is tired of opinions and no right answers. My spirit is deprived of it's source of Life.

But what can I change?

I don't like deadlines.
I don't like lists.
I don't like orders.
I don't like my attitude.

But there is only one thing in that list I can change. Pray for me.

Thoughts on the worst feelings in the world

Tonight I discovered another of the worst feelings in the world—driving a girl back to the bar and leaving her there. I spent 6 hours tonight with one of my sweet friends from the bars. We had dinner together, went to the mall, saw a movie… it was a great evening with her, loving and enjoying and being genuinely interested in her as a human being made in the image of the living God.

I also discovered more of the apathy that runs deep in this culture; more of the love of money. It is heart-breaking.

It is heart-breaking.

You can’t understand until you’ve looked in their eyes and seen the hopelessness but the absolute lack of motivation for change. Fifteen years in the bars will do that to you, I guess. Imagine trying to convince someone that there is something better, when to them nothing now looks better than 20,000 baht in their pocket at the end of the month…

Ten o’clock came fast, and I knew I had to take her back to the bar, though I wanted nothing more than to drive as far away from the bar as I could… to put her somewhere safe and somehow convince her it was for her good. Not that she wanted to go back… and had she another home I would have taken her there….

But she lives at the bar.

And so I drove as slow as I could… and after 3 or 4 hugs goodbye, we parted ways… I sent her back to the bar, and I drove away to my safe home, where now I sit—brow furrowed, heart broken, but eyes dry—silently crying out to the only One capable of saving her.