Phang Nga, Thailand. April.
I have a giant, 3-feet tall, paper mache lantern in my hand. The diameter of the lantern probably stretched out to about a foot and a half. I was lightly gripping the paper-covered metal rims of the bottom ring of the lantern. I watched the wax ring in the center of the lantern slowly catch a flame and push the rest of the lantern straight up in the air.
My butt was sticking out, and my back arched, as I made unnecessary squeals and dog-like pants trying to convey my excitement through some kind of audible expression. But alas, I could not find a sufficient way of describing the true zeal that was bubbling over in the pit of my stomach as we did something people only do in fairy tales-literally. Have you ever seen Tangled?
The girls were on our own during the month of May; some of us working in prostitute ministry, some doing physical labor, and my team, working at a retreat center for local Asian pastors and ministers. We sent our guys packing out to goat land where they had the distinct honor of shoveling goat poop and harvesting tapioca fields all month.
The retreat center is in Phang Nga, Thailand, surrounded by the most beautiful mountains, waterfalls, and occasional elephants on the side of the road. It is called Eagles Rest Foundation, and they aim to provide rest and refreshment for local Asian nationals working in the ministry who can't afford to take a vacation. Our team of girls was partnered with another team of beautiful ladies, and with our forces combined, we were able to light that tiny town on fire with the love of Christ.
I was able to help with the ministries networking and marketing, while the rest of the girls did workshops for our contact's four children. We did everything from sewing, singing, culture days, art, crafts, cooking, sports, and all imaginable in between. It was a packed month and very much needed for my team coming off of China.
But what I want to chat with you about is the last night we spent with our contacts. It's a husband and wife team (Rommel and Janene Ala) and they have a special tradition that they do with every team, and it was on that very night that we got to participate in it.
It was a humid night, and we had just finished chowing down some delicious BBQ chicken when our contact Rommel brought out eight life size lanterns. They were huge and paper mache and legitimately just like any bride would dream of for her farewell send-off.
As we each held onto our own personal lanterns, Rommel explained to us the meaning of this ceremony is surrendering everything to God. Every hope, desire, burden, and dream into the hands of the all-knowing Father. So there I was, with my legs spread and body arched, watching the wax ring on the bottom ring smoke up to the top ring and eventually gaining enough force to lift the lantern way up into the dark, starry night. As I silently prayed and got a neck cramp from looking up at my lantern, I let go of my dreams. I let got of my desires to one day get married, to one day adopt, to one day financially support a missionary, to one day travel to Italy, to one day change the world. I surrendered my desires and gave them to Him. I've gripped onto them for a long time, and my knuckles have grown white from trying to orchestrate my own life and plans. And it was tough. Parts of me still try to take back what I willfully gave to God, (like it wasn't already his in the first place) but I am walking in the confidence that it is surrendered to Him, and I am excitedly awaiting the day when he gives it back to me, in abundance. That's what I've learned on this race. That his abundance is better that mine. His homemade chocolate fudge cake is better that my burnt chocolate-chip cookies. And that's what I let go. I like cake much better than cookies anyways.
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