Emerging Women

By Kirsten Miller

While I was in Chang Mai a few things came easily, like eating Thai food. Greeting the lovely Thai with a bow. Working alongside a new homeowner spreading mortar between bricks.

One thing that did not come easily was prayer.

Perhaps one of the reasons was there was no time for it. We were going from the break of dawn until we collapsed into bed. I thought of Jesus. I missed him. I tried to feel Him in the air, in the mountains…in my body, but I couldn’t.

All the while, I watched my Muslim friends pray behind the storage shed every day.  They made the time. And the space.  As I watched them, envious of their ability to stop and pray in the middle of their work day–I began to notice that our practices–in time and space–to cultivate the presence of God–are crucial to the fueling of the soul.

My practices in Chang Mai were non-existent.

I noticed as the days passed I was feeling more dark, and more separated from my connection to God. I missed my piano, my chair, and my walks in the woods where I experience God’s presence.

I tried to pray here and there…to practice the presence of the Lord when I could, amidst the busy-ness… but to no avail.

By the end of our trip, I was sure God simply didn’t live in Chang Mai.

Until our last day.

As a final hurrah, my husband and I decided to go on a hike in the mountains. We traveled a trail that was very steep and treacherous at times complete with brambles and skinny ledges. We were guided by a small strong man named Bon, who wore flip flops. He blazed the trail like a gazelle while we panted and struggled to keep up. The hike lasted close to five hours. Towards the end of the journey, our legs were burning and jello-like.

As were coming back down the mountain, we passed another group that had been trekking for three days.  They had picked up a stray dog that had become a part of their group.

As we passed, they stopped us and asked us if we would look after the dog. They were heading toward a village that eats dogs.

But of course. Our guide agrees. This is the way we do things; trekking up and down mountains, passing dogs from one group to the next.

So the other group kept walking and left the dog with us. With no leash, of course. Our guide called the dog, Come! But it sat and lay down. We tried coaxing the dog with cookies. No go. The dog kept turning round to look for the old pack, oblivious to the danger that lay before him. After more pulling and prodding and more bribing, our guide stooped down and picked up the dog.

And he carried that dog down the mountain like a baby.

When I think about it, I smile.

I just couldn’t seem to get to Him during that trip.

Instead, he came to me, in the form of a small Thai mountain man.

Looking back now I can see how savior-like our little mountain guide was that day. Leading us on the narrow path.  Bringing us from the darkness of the jungle into the light of day…and rescuing that dog from danger.

And I thought God didn’t live in Chang Mai.

Kirsten is a writer, worship leader and psychotherapist in the Atlanta area. For Advent prayers and musings, follow her writings at sacredliving.info.

Tags: Advent, Chang Mai, Kirsten Miller