The Earth Is Full (Child of Deliverance Series Book 1)

by B. D. Riehl

  “But although evil prevails here, kindness and love thrive here as well. We have a few insiders with the government that help us when they can. Deliverance has focused primarily on the prevention of child slavery in this area. Children are very vulnerable to kidnappers. Unlike where you’re from, the parents often have no choice but to leave them to care for themselves while they find work. That’s where we step in. We help children catch up in school, we equip families to make a living in an honest, substantial way and provide daycare for them while they do so, all while sharing the love of Christ with each one of them and the hope of salvation only He can give.

  “While you’re here, we have a few projects around the facilities for you: we have some shrubs to clear out on the back property and an area to prep to be a soccer field. I think the teens can help with that, can’t you guys?” Paul winked at Lydia, Luke, and Michelle.

  Lydia resisted the urge to groan. Manual labor? Seriously? She just left a three-week sentence of that at home.

  “First, we will spend the day in the thick of it: Rubbish Mountain. It’s home to a lot of our families and I would like you to see where they stay when they’re not with us.” As he turned, a young man in his early twenties appeared in the doorway. Paul waved him over.

  “I want to introduce you all to my right-hand man, Kiet. He has been an invaluable translator for us for the last two years. We are usually in Thailand and will only be here with you for today. We only make it to Cambodia with the volunteers every once in a while. This group’s lucky, eh, mate?” Paul clapped the young man seated next to him on the shoulder and winked playfully, his Australian accent charming.

  Kiet nodded humbly and briefly locked eyes with Lydia, who could not stop staring at him. His jet-black hair was cropped short and accentuated his strong jaw and flat nose. His almond shaped eyes crinkled at her in a friendly smile. She felt heat spread across her cheeks before she glanced away. Charlotte caught the blush and winked at her younger sister, delighting in her embarrassment.

  Paul continued to give instructions from the front of the room. “Kiet will be around much more in Thailand to help translate for you. Anything you need, he and the rest of our staff are here to help.” Paul made purposeful eye contact with each of them. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are to have you here. I pray that you are as affected by these people as we are. I hope you are enchanted by this country God has created, and that you will go home different people. Okay,” he slapped his hands on his knees, “let’s dig right in, shall we?”

  They stepped outside into a downpour unlike anything Lydia had experienced before. The rain came down in sheets, instantly sending rivulets through the half-paved street in front of the campus. Kiet assured them the rain would pass, and Lydia noted how smooth and rich his voice was. When, just as Kiet promised, the rain let up just minutes later, the air was heavier, denser than before. Lydia’s shirt instantly clung to her as they walked through steam, now rising from the pools of water. Lydia imagined that in the wide country it would smell delicious and tropical after showers, but here in the city, the heavy air only emphasized the appalling pollution.

  The group traveled by tuk tuk, another open cart, this time pulled by a motorcycle. Two benches lined either side similar to the taxi from the night before. Charlotte and Lydia were across from Luke and Michelle. Michelle made small talk with an uncomfortable Lydia, who fiddled with a fold in her capris. Luke held tight to his guitar case as they bumped over the dirt road, splashed violently in and out of giant potholes, and swerved through heart-pounding traffic on their way to Rubbish Mountain. Charlotte held tight to the side of the tuk tuk and looked between all of them with open curiosity.

  The tuk tuk rounded a corner and the group was assaulted with a foul, gut-churning stench. Charlotte looked over her shoulder to the ground and saw rivulets of black foamy water swirling beneath them. The wheels splashed the sewage onto the sides of their open bus, and Lydia groaned deep in her throat. Charlotte nudged her lightly, a reminder that they were there to help, not crinkle their noses in disgust.

  The ride became increasingly dreadful as they hit deep ruts in the road. The group did their best to hold tight as they twisted right and slammed into each other, turned left and knocked hips. Embarrassed laughter and “excuse me's” halted as their destination came into view. A small building, Deliverance’s weekend “Snack Shack” and emergency rescue center was open on all sides with a thatched roof that stood at the end of the street. It was surrounded by children.

  “Oh,” Lydia’s voice was barely audible as little children, tattered, naked, and filthy, with faces split onto wide smiles of welcome, rushed at their stunned group.

  Charlotte’s heart wrenched inside. Oh Lord. Oh Lord.

  “Hello! Hello! Hello!” Their enthusiastic cries broke something deep inside Charlotte. She and Lydia reached for one another’s hands for the first time in years.

  Hours later, Lydia was more spent than she’d ever been in her life. The kids were busy tugging her from one place to the next, showing her their games. Once they had climbed down from the tuk tuk, the kids had grabbed onto her and didn’t let go. They were fascinated with her blond hair and blue-green eyes. Lydia was surprised by how quickly her heart was pierced with affection for them. She laughed as they stroked her creamy skin and grabbed her face to stare into her eyes. They were dirty, stinky children. She had no idea what to do with them, but they seemed satisfied playing with her hair. Their smiles were wide, bright—sincere. One young girl, Maly, stayed particularly close throughout the day.

  As she sat with Lydia, turning her blond braid over and over in her grubby hands, Michelle approached with a small wave. “Lydia, a group of us are going around the homes to invite families to the worship service later this week. Would you like to come?”

  Kiet walked behind her, and before Lydia could answer, he spoke animatedly to Maly in her language. The young girl jumped up in excitement and tugged Lydia up by the arm. The teen looked questioningly to Kiet. His eyes laughed when he told Lydia that Maly wanted her to come with them.

  Lydia gave him a look. Great.

  Maly led them through dirty streets lined with waste and rubbish, as well as houses made of tents and scraps of metal. Some were elevated on sticks to keep them out of the black foamy sewage that muddied the ground.

  Lydia was in shock. She had never seen such poverty. She was awash with shame, immediate and genuine shame, at how much she had—how lucky she was. She looked to the little girl that gripped her hand, skipping along in this place that was home to her. This street of filth, one of these houses made of scraps, both were hers, and she held more joy in her little smile than Lydia had ever experienced. Had she really been so selfish while these babies ran around in filth, most of them open prey for any predator that sought them out?

  Lydia’s throat closed and she scrunched her face to hide her emotions and leaned down to slap a bug away from her leg.

  Kiet noticed and shook his head. “Did you think you were here on vacation?”

  She looked to him in surprise.

  He grasped her elbow and held her back from the others to whisper in her ear. “I know this is probably a lot to take in. These people can’t help where they live. We are here to love on them, so try to keep your poker face on.”

  “I wasn’t—” she began to protest, but their little guide appeared at her side and tugged on her arm.

  Kiet’s face transformed as he smiled at the girl. He squeezed Lydia’s elbow lightly before he let go.

  Lydia had only five steps to waver between embarrassment and indignation before they were at her little friend’s house. She was the first to step into the shack, a tent-like dwelling draped with tarps and tattered pieces of cloth. A woman sat on the floor with a sleeping baby in her arms. She looked at the group with flat eyes.

  Lydia longed to run and never look back. How could this woman, this squat woman with dull eyes and a rumpled flower print dress that was two sizes too big, b
e related to the delightful girl that gripped Lydia’s hand? Maly’s sweet little voice spoke beside her.

  “My mother.” Kiet’s voice followed, sending chills up Lydia’s spine as he translated.

  The girl spoke softly again and rubbed the baby’s soft dark hair. “My younger.”

  The small group took turns in the house; there wasn’t enough room for more than two at a time. Lydia was glad to escape. The close room, the darkness, the empty eyes, all of it was unbearable. For the first time in years, she wanted her mother.

  Chapter Eight

  The man Nataya had gone with a few nights ago stared down at Suchin. She recognized his rusty hair, tall build and round stomach. He looked past her to the man who had bought her, still standing in the hall, nodded to him and indicated for Suchin to enter the room.

  She hesitated, heart pounding, limbs shaking.

  Unsure of the pained look of compassion on the stranger’s face, Suchin walked haltingly into the room, ready to flee if she must. But where could she go?

  A middle-aged woman with kind eyes and bobbed brown hair sat in a chair at a small table in the corner. The room was clean; the bed made. A large lamp glowed on the table.

  How long had it been since she’d seen such warm, yellow light? The only illumination in her world came from flashing neon signs, pulsating strobe lights, and dull motel bulbs.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the woman spoke to Suchin in heavily accented Thai before she pulled out the chair opposite of her. “I’m Moree.” She nodded to the older man, “This is Dugan. We’re here to offer you freedom. Your friend Nataya sent us for you.”

  She looked between them in disbelief, shaking, and listened for the next hour as they kept their distance from her, but stirred her soul with words of freedom.

  “Say yes,” was what they said. All she had to do was say yes and she would be free, they claimed.

  Suchin had heard of girls that were offered freedom, only to end up as a slave in another place. Hadn’t the men who brought her here in the first place offered freedom? She remembered how the men had looked at her as a prize while she served them dinner in her small home by the river, but there was a hardness to them that frightened her. They repeatedly told her mother how pretty she was. Suchin had only seen her reflection in the rippling waters of the river, but that was distorted, uneven.

  Her father, before he died, would tell her she looked like her mother had when she was young. “Your smooth skin and shiny hair, bright white teeth. All things I used to take pride that your mother had.” He would then look to her shrunken, world-weary mother with disdain.

  When he had died, Suchin had been both relieved and terrified. A hard, cruel man, she was happy her younger siblings would be free of his short temper and heavy hand. But things became tighter, her mother more withdrawn. Suchin would beg from neighbors for food, but they didn’t have much either. When travelers came through, they could only hope they were looking to buy drugs.

  The men that night did buy a little, but offered Suchin’s family much more for her to work for them. “We’ll send the money she earns back to you. She will be trained properly and given room and board.”

  Suchin remembered her mother flittering her hands nervously around her throat. Suchin fought the terrible urge to beg her mother to refuse, that they would find a way. Out of respect for her mother’s authority, she served in silence and retired to the woven mat she shared with her two younger brothers.

  She could see her mother’s face from her place in the corner. The moon shone through the open windows, casting her face in eerie blue shadow. Her mother sat silent, thinking, rocking, while they spun their promises of a future, of money, of hope for her family. Her mother looked to the corner where Suchin lay and locked eyes with her for a brief moment. Suchin had clenched her eyes shut as her mother, so desperate, whispered, “Yes.”

  And they had been full of deceit. Did her mother know what had become of her oldest daughter? Did they indeed send any money back to her? Suchin doubted it.

  She swallowed hard, looked to Moree then back to Dugan. “It’s better not to hope. It’s better to just accept that life is suffering. I know better what you offer; my mother was fooled into the promise of hope once. I won’t follow in her steps.”

  Moree remained where she was. Dugan cleared his throat; his voice strained, “Suchin, it will take time for us to win your trust. We will work for it. What we offer you is freedom. Life. A chance to learn how to make a living in an honorable way. We offer you more than hope.” Dugan clenched his hands at his sides and looked in her eyes. “Most importantly, we offer you the grace of a God that will never require your dignity of you, and He will always keep His promises to you.”

  He then did the unacceptable. He, a man of position and honor, oldest in the room, hands peaked as in prayer under his chin, waied to her, the lowest form of life—the youngest in the room—in great respect and honor.

  Chapter Nine

  That night in their room, Lydia and Charlotte tried to dissect and process what they had seen that day. Charlotte had felt the same wave of shame that Lydia had experienced.

  “We have so much,” Charlotte murmured. “Do you know I’ve been bugging Sam to find a way for us to move? I looked around those little shacks today and shuddered, completely disgusted by my behavior.”

  Lydia nodded. She could relate. “I’ve been so mad at Mom and Dad, so offended by how they reacted to that stupid joint. But, Char, they care, right? That’s why they freaked out so bad, isn’t it?”

  Charlotte made a noise in her throat and leaned into Lydia’s shoulder. “Of course it is! They love you so much!”

  Lydia sniffed, “Although I still think sending me to another country was pretty dramatic.”

  It was quiet between them for a moment, both lost in thought. Charlotte cleared her throat, “Lydia, Mom and Dad don’t always get everything right, but I think this trip is exactly what you needed—what I needed.” She gestured toward the small window in their room, toward the world beyond the Deliverance campus. “Life is so much bigger than what house we live in or car we drive. Not that it’s wrong to have things if God has blessed us with them, but we need to recognize what we do have and focus on being thankful for everything. Those kids, they are so full of joy. Did you notice?”

  Lydia nodded.

  “They kind of grab your heart and don’t let go; don’t they?” Charlotte asked softly.

  Lydia, distracted, stared at her hands. “Yeah,” her voiced cracked.

  Charlotte sensed that this was only the beginning of many doses of reality. Wasn’t this what she thought would be so good for her younger sister? Now she wondered if Lydia’s heart would soften only to be smashed to pieces.

  Charlotte was in culture shock herself and missed her children and Sam almost unbearably. She had been able to Skype with them earlier while they were getting ready for the day. Joanna— her sweet, sticky Joanna—had jelly on her cheek. Leah gave her mother a dutiful report of the happenings in the family. Daddy, it seemed, had put Joy’s diaper on backwards. Charlotte delighted in the mothering tone of her first born.

  They were so innocent. They couldn’t even imagine the world their mother was in right at that moment. She felt tremendous gratitude that they were safe and warm with family available all around them. Even more so, she felt tremendous guilt that she—and they—had been blessed with so much, while this side of the world had not—and that she had been so discontent. Could she go home from this place and remember this feeling? She hoped so. More than ever she recognized her shallow thoughts of late as selfish ambition. Vain conceit.

  Lord, forgive me, she thought, for wanting Lydia to see. My eyes and heart are just as closed as hers. How do You bear me at all?

  Lydia could tell Charlotte missed her family. She felt helpless to make it better, uncomfortable with the heaviness in the room.

  “Hey, I’m going to the kitchen to get some tea; want me to bring you some?”

 
Charlotte shook her head, spiral blond curls bouncing in reply. “No thanks, Sissy. I’m going to read for a bit and go to sleep.” She pulled her worn Bible onto her lap.

  Lydia quietly closed the door behind her before she walked the long hall to the kitchen. She rummaged in the dimly lit room for the tea bags that had been set out at breakfast. Soft footsteps from the hall made her turn around, for some reason afraid of being caught.

  Michelle stepped through the door. She giggled when she saw Lydia. “I’m not stalking you, I promise.”

  Lydia raised one shoulder in a half-shrug, unsure of how to respond to Michelle. They fell into uncomfortable silence. “I was just looking for tea; I couldn’t sleep,” Lydia offered.

  Unwittingly, Lydia thought back to a Sunday morning when both girls were twelve and were in Mrs. Hubbard’s Sunday school class…

  The class consisted of eight girls that had known each other most of their lives. Lydia was the only one that went to a different school. Her parents had left the church for a while and had only been back for a few months. The girls in the small class were a tight-knit group.

  They would talk to her sometimes, but mostly, she sat quietly at the table while Mrs. Hubbard taught and, at the end of the lesson, asked questions. Lydia almost always knew the answers, but she was too embarrassed to say anything. The other girls eventually gave cautious, questioning responses, and Lydia had been glad she’d stayed quiet. No one liked a know-it-all.

  One particular Sunday, Beth, the most boisterous one of all, chattered on gaily about her slumber party two nights before. The girls joined in with funny stories, and it soon became blatant that Lydia had been the only one not invited. And Beth wanted her to know it.

  Lydia remembered sitting through that class, listening to Mrs. Hubbard teach about David and Jonathan, putting her own spin on the loyalty between friends. Tears had stung her eyes and she remembered blinking furiously, forbidding even the tiniest bit of moisture to creep into view. She had a few friends at her public school, why did it matter if these girls like her? But it did.