I didn't exactly know what to expect from training camp when I arrived just three days ago. Self-defense class? Name games? Trust exercises? Cultural debriefings? I was coming in completely blind. But I rested in the fact that none of us really knew, so we’d be figuring it out together.
Saturday afternoon, our camp leader gathered us together to give us instructions for the rest of the day. With great anticipation, he took the microphone and told us that we would be camping that night. For someone who’s never been camping before, it sounded fun. I wondered what kind of tent they would give us to use. Then he smiled and said, “So your leaders will lead you out to a field around the bend and there will be supplies there. Pick a spot and build your shelter.”
Um, what.
For someone who’s never been camping before, it sounded insane. Still, we all went along with it. There are 22 of us, after all. Surely we could figure something out.
Down at the field, there were stacks of tarp and rope. For a group our size, we used four tarps and eight ropes. After some deliberating, we were able to construct a tarp teepee shelter that was wide enough to fit most of us. I was so proud of our teamwork. 
When night fell, however, none of us anticipated it to be as cold as it was. Considering that our site for the summer will be blazing hot for the duration of our stay, none of us really brought clothes for cold weather. And while a few girls had sleeping bags, most of us only had light sheets and pillows to accommodate the hot weather in Thailand. So as one can imagine, we were cold. Shivering cold. Even as close together as many of us were, it still felt freezing.
That said, I only slept for about two hours. It came to the point that I was shivering so hard for so long that I physically could not remember what it was like not to shiver. Which, of course, is entirely ridiculous, considering that the overwhelming majority of these past 20 years of my life I didn’t spend shivering. But as I lay there I couldn’t help but feel like I would be shivering for the rest of my life. Again, ridiculous, I know. But sometimes when you’re caught in difficult cycles it’s hard to understand any other way to exist.
So as the hours passed, I did the only thing I could do. I laid there and waited for morning to come.
The moment first light broke, God brought to mind a part of Psalms 30:5, that “joy comes with the morning.” And let me tell you, it definitely did.
Morning meant we could dismantle our shelter and return to the dorms. Morning meant I’d feel my feet again. Morning meant a hot shower, fresh clothes, and combed hair.
Morning meant a better day.
I pray that as I enter this new season of my life, that I wouldn’t forget this. Even though the shadows of night have their hold on the dark city streets of Bangla Road right now, morning is coming. I know that God desires to bring his justice and mercy and love and grace to the women and men of Thailand because they are his daughters and sons just as much as we are. They are his beloveds.
Even though many have been caught in the painful cycles of abuse and addiction for so long and it might feel like they can’t remember any other way to live, hope says differently. Morning is coming. And with the morning comes a joy that will take away the shivering like nothing else can.
