August 8th, 2008 was a monumental day for the people of Burma and for me. They were remembering the pro-democracy uprising of 8-8-88. They are still waiting for their freedom as a brutal military dictatorship continues to squash hope. And for me, I was choosing to give up some of my freedoms in hope of gaining an understanding of the mess. This day was just the beginning of realizing this “mess” was woven in human fabric created in the image of God.

The new hotel was out of place in this border town with Burma – Mae Sot, Thailand. The town hosted more folks from the Burma side than locals. Under the covered balcony, I tried to pray. Tried to breathe. Tried to convince myself I’d made the right choice. The reality was soaking in just as the warm rain permeated the soil. Gripping the freshly painted cinderblock half-wall, I stuck my face out. Pointing my closed eyes up, the lids caught the beads of moisture to cry tears that I could not.

Just a few short months prior, I sat on my apartment floor devoid of any of my belongings except two suitcases and several small backpacks. The rest had been crammed into boxes and shoved into storage. It’s amazing what we can live without. I would not be returning to tutor refugee kids in the school district. A regular paycheck would no longer grace the bank account. Health insurance would be discontinued and replaced with if-you-die-overseas travel insurance. But God called. How could I not answer?

This morning I allowed the humidity to warm me; allowed God to soothe the fears of the unknown. Through wet lashes, my eyes tried to focus on the moving specks atop a parallel wall. This place was alive at every angle. The dots of deep red had legs marching with a purpose. Ants.

The sentence was there quicker than the blink that flicked water on the inside of my glasses – “Walk as if it is made for you.” For me? Are you sure, Lord? He couldn’t have been surer. These eight words sustained me for a year just as instinct prompts ants to do the work they are made for. This was the purpose I was to march to. And this 8th day of August was the first step.

We walked with wet shoes across the Friendship Bridge that spans the Moei River between Thailand and Burma. When I stepped onto the other side, fear was not with me. This season was made for me because the Creator said so. My eyes shone a smile at the Burmese guard. The gun on his side was not what caused the goose bumps. It was the realization of the reality of the intervention of the divine. The seven days of creation and rest were over. The 8th day had come. It was time to get to work. And so began my year-long walk.