by B. D. Riehl
He stared down at them, mouth set.
The girl next to her began to chatter frantically in Thai, her voice high and squeaky with fear, pulling her hand from Lydia’s. Lydia placed herself between the man and young woman, challenging him with her eyes. His gaze never left hers, and somehow she knew he was the one that had brought her food every few days. He had been the tool God used to sustain her. She softened her eyes for a moment, reached back to take the frightened girl’s hand again, and stood straight. He looked beyond her when a loud crack sounded deep in the bar. The fire had finally snaked its way to the front. He stood back, letting them pass, eyes glazed as smoke filled the room.
For the rest of her days, Lydia would never forget the feeling of God’s leading as she pulled her charge along behind her. He guided her in her spirit, led her past empty streets through a maze of tall buildings, away from the flames shooting through the building behind her. As scattered people ran toward the blaze, she and the young girl walked purposefully away from it. If not for the signs posted in Thai, she’d think she was in a busy metropolis in the States. Tall buildings rose around her, but she was confused by the emptiness.
Where were the rest of the people? Surely more than a dozen residents lived and worked there.
Within a few blocks, they were on the outskirts of the city and saw that it was nestled next to a great river, alight with dancing candles. For a minute, Lydia thought for sure she was dead. No people in the city, dancing lights on the water.
But as she walked closer, she saw crowds of people, all still and listening to someone speaking from a brightly lit dock on the river.
She narrowed her eyes.
Kiet!
Lydia’s heart leaped in adoration and excitement.
Lord, please get me to Kiet. Oh, please.
She carefully weaved through the crowd. When she recognized the shirts of the Deliverance staff, she choked on a sob and, pulling the girl behind her, Lydia rushed over to them.
Michelle and Luke stood together, arms around each other. It was obvious Michelle was crying as she listened intently to what Kiet was saying. Instead of going to her, Lydia stopped to listen as well.
***
Chanarong ripped the mic from Kiet, covered it and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Kiet’s face was a picture of calm and peace. “Proclaiming freedom for the captives, Chanarong.”
“The only captive you should be worried about is your little farang,” he mocked before shouting into the mic. “Enough! Let’s fight!”
Only a scant amount of cheers could be heard among the gathering. Instead, they whispered between themselves about the words Kiet had spoken. Something about his speech had stirred their hearts, not many wanted to watch a match, but most wanted to hear more from Kiet.
They booed and called for more of Kiet, but Chanarong had waited too long for this match. He wanted nothing more than to win his title once and for all. He had money to be made from his victory, and from his newly acquired American girl. He tossed the mic to the emcee and swung at Kiet, who easily dodged him.
Chanarong leapt in the air to kick, and, again, Kiet dodged him. Chanarong grunted, loud and long, as he twisted to slam into Kiet.
For months afterward, that moment would be played over and over again on sports channels, commentators dissecting every detail of the slow motion shot.
Chanarong charged. It was clear Kiet had no time or space to react, but somehow, when Chanarong attacked, he flew up and over Kiet right through the ropes of the ring and into the water.
No matter how slow the playback was, no matter how much it was examined, scrutinized, and discussed, no one could explain how Kiet had gotten such a hold on Chanarong as to toss him overboard, effectively ending the fight. No one could see his hands move at all.
It became a great debate among those that had cast lots for or against the men. No one could prove that Kiet had won, though it was clear Chanarong lost. At the time, Chanarong’s business partners and many gamblers and bar owners were pulled aside due to the fire in their district. The rest of the crowds stayed to watch the lanterns. Much like the mystery of the fight, the source of the fire was never determined.
Kiet knew the Lord had interceded on his behalf. He provided a way for the bets to be lost in arguments and speculation rather than paid.
Even more, Kiet made his way back to the Deliverance staff and volunteers, Kiet saw that the Lord God Himself had delivered Lydia.
He sorted through the crowds to where Michelle had her arms wrapped around her friend’s neck. Lydia’s smile beamed from ear to ear as she hugged her back. Lydia opened her eyes to find Kiet smiling down at her and stepped out of Michelle’s hug.
The group turned to Kiet, cheering over his words, and praising God for the opportunity afforded him to speak up for those without a voice. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Lydia’s as he stepped forward and brushed the matted hair back from her soot-covered face. He cupped her face in his hands, leaned his forehead against hers.
They stood that way while Paul called everyone close around them.
“Lord God, You are wonderful. We know this. You have shown us this. Today You showed up in a mighty way, and we thank You. Thank You for hearing our prayers; thank You for caring about us. Thank You for this display of Your glory. May we see Your hand at work even in the small things that seem insignificant. May You be glorified. May You be praised. And everyone said,” he paused for the group to chorus, “Amen!”
Kiet whispered “Amen” before he pressed a firm kiss to Lydia’s sweaty, wonderful forehead, and then reluctantly released her.
She smiled up at him, then rounded her eyes in surprise. “Oh! I brought someone to you!” she turned to find the girl, saw that Pim had already stepped forward and had her arm around her, soothing her and talking to her.
Lydia breathed in relief.… God is good.
An hour later, the festival prepared for the grand finale of the evening, the release of the paper lanterns. Paul pulled Lydia aside to call her mother. The sound of her mother’s voice brought the fear of the last few days hard upon her, and she sank to the ground, Paul keeping careful watch nearby.
What words could be exchanged between mother and daughter? Her mother was blubbering so hard, Lydia couldn’t understand her, and when her father took the phone, he was no better. At last, once they were assured it was indeed Lydia and that she was safe and would be home within days, she handed the phone back to Paul so that he could explain things better.
Lydia knew it would take a long time for her to understand everything herself.
Paul finished the call, and squeezed her shoulder in that fatherly way of his. “Would you like me to take you back to the campus or would you like to stay?” he asked.
She looked out on the crowd of delivered girls, her new friends, Kiet, and the Deliverance staff she had just met. “I want to stay…” Forever.
Paul walked her to the grassy hill, and she sat next to Michelle and Luke.
Kiet was busy speaking with reporters. All wanted to know how he defeated Chanarong so easily. All were frustrated that Kiet would only speak of the power of the Lord and His work with Deliverance.
Michelle leaned against Lydia. “I was so worried about you, my friend.”
Lydia leaned back. “Thank you. God was with me in such a big way, Michelle.”
Michelle nodded. “God has been on this trip in a big way the entire time,” she commented. “As excited as I am to finally go home in a couple of days, I don’t want to forget this place, or think of it as just a dream.” As she spoke, a tiny cylinder lantern rose from the crowd and drifted lazily toward the heavens. It was soon followed by another and another.
“We have to go back, Michelle. We have to go tell them,” she grunted in self-mockery. “Although I doubt the girls at school or church will listen to me.” Lydia didn’t yet know how much the church memebers had gathered together on her behalf, how God had been working to pre
pare the hearts of those in the valley to receive their report of the work He was doing through Deliverance for the sake of the lost and voiceless.
Yes, she thought. She would go home and tell them, tell Zanna and even Ethan if he would listen. Then Lydia could come back. But that was between her and the Lord for now.
Michelle nodded, and Luke mumbled his agreement from the other side of her. The three fell silent while more lanterns were released.
The sight of them, swirling and floating, the water reflecting their soft light, entranced Lydia. She watched a young girl with dark shining hair pulled into a pretty braid creep to the edge of the water holding a lantern and waiting for a staff member to light it.
Michelle followed Lydia’s gaze and elbowed her. “That sweet thing was cutting out paper elephants all day yesterday,” she whispered. “We joined them while they made their lanterns for a while. I was so discouraged and sad about you. I sat next to her, and she just held my hand. Such a sweet thing,” she said again.
They watched while Paul lit the lantern, its warm glow illuminating the girl’s face before it rose toward the sky.
Lydia smiled, her heart light, as the child watched her lantern rise, the light continuing to flicker on her small face. “Wow,” Lydia breathed, “she is lovely, like she’s lit from within.”
Kiet, finished speaking with the reporters, sat beside Lydia in the grass. “Agreed,” he said, again tucking a wayward strand of hair into Lydia’s hastily assembled braid. “She is lovely and full of light.”
Lydia leaned against him as they watched the sky fill with lanterns. Above and around and even beneath them, reflected on the water. Lydia had never seen anything so beautiful as the faces of the girls’; warm light dancing on their faces.
“Arise, shine; for your light has come,
And the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.
For behold, darkness will cover the earth
And deep darkness the peoples;
But the LORD will rise upon you.
Nations will come to your light,
And kings to the brightness of your rising.” Isaiah 60:1-3
Epilogue
Charlotte frowned as she scoured the kitchen sink. Seriously, what did I spill in here? She shrugged and moved on, humming to herself as she rinsed out the rag and cleaned the counter tops. She wiped down the fridge and used Windex to clear fingerprints off of the sliding glass door.
Lydia was bringing Zanna and a few others over for a Deliverance jewelry party that night. When Lydia left Thailand for home a month ago, she had arranged with Deliverance to take a supply home to sell to friends and to show to Zanna for her to sell in her shop. When she asked if they could meet at Charlotte’s home, the older sister had been surprised. “Why? You guys have a great place.”
“Well, mom and dad are having their weekly date night.” Both girls made immature hacking noises, both truly thrilled to see their parents’ relationship blossoming as it was. “And your home is so warm and inviting. Cozy.”
“You mean small,” Charlotte joked, glancing at her once loathed walls with silent affection. She had so much.
Lydia continued her list, “And you are the best baker I know. We need to sugar these gals up before we ask for their money.”
Charlotte had laughed long and loud at that.
Charlotte took the pan of brownie batter she’d prepared earlier that morning from its place in the fridge next to the mini cheesecake bites and lemon squares and slipped it into the oven. She set the timer and gave the kitchen a once over. Satisfied that all was in order, she ran back to her room to hop in the shower for a quick refresh.
Makeup in place, clean clothes, and wearing a necklace she had purchased earlier from the stash, Charlotte emerged from her room a new woman. The aroma of baked chocolate wafted through the house, inviting and warm. She tripped over a baby doll left in the hall. She smiled to herself as she reached for it, remembering that Leah had left it with her to give to Lydia. Sam had taken the girls to a special Daddy’s Night Out to give the women some peace and quiet for the party.
It had been weeks since Lydia had come home, but the trauma from the ordeal had left a scar on the girls. They left trinkets for Lydia all of the time and hung on her constantly when she came over. She placed the doll on the couch, true to her word to Leah that her Aunt Dee-Dee would get it first thing.
The doorbell rang.
***
“I think it went pretty well, don’t you?” Lydia handed Charlotte a stack of dishes then returned to the living room to gather discarded napkins. Charlotte rinsed the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher.
“It really did,” Charlotte answered. She and Lydia, living room clean and dishwasher churning, met at the kitchen table to sort through the leftover jewelry. “Zanna seemed to really be into it.”
“Yeah, she was. She wants to contact Deliverance about having them be her new jewelry supplier. She digs humanity stuff.” Lydia turned up the corners of her mouth.
“And how about the other girls, the ones from your school?”
Lydia sighed hard. “Well, I think they might take a little longer before they understand what this is all about.”
Charlotte nodded. Lydia had come home to a cheering crowd of prayer warriors at the airport and had been given numerous opportunities to share her testimony at churches and schools around the valley. She became frustrated with how few wanted to hear about her experience on a personal level. It seemed most girls her age were interested in the materialistic side of life, no matter how much they tried to put a spiritual spin on things.
They bought the jewelry, they decked out their Bibles in fancy covers, they had polished college applications for Bible College all filled out, but when it came down to it, they didn’t want to hear the darker side of the trip to Thailand. Didn’t want to face it. Whether it was from the horror of what happened to children, or that they were afraid that once they heard they would be required to do something about it; Lydia wasn’t sure.
The comfortable silence was broken by the ting of Charlotte’s cell. She scooted her chair back and commented, “Must be Sam on his way home. Get ready for some sugar-charged Aunt-Dee-Dee deprived girls.”
Lydia laughed.
The screen flashed the number that Megan used to call from Deliverance. She and Charlotte had grown close enough to exchange emails, and periodically she would call to share any news about Noah with Charlotte. She had contacts near his family’s village that checked in on him often. Charlotte tapped the screen to answer.
“Hey, there,” she smiled into the phone.
“Charlotte…” Megan’s voice was gruff, as if she’d been crying.
“What’s the matter?” Charlotte felt pricks of fear race up the back of her head, then down her neck.
Silence. Then… “My contacts went to check on Noah and Maly yesterday. They couldn’t find them, although the grandparents are still there.”
Charlotte sat down, hard, unable to respond.
“Charlotte, they think that Noah and Maly have been…well, they strongly believe that they’ve been sold.”
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading The Earth is Full. I hope you enjoyed the story. Even more, I pray you feel led to help girls like Suchin. She is fictional, but her pain and experience is devastatingly real for hundreds of thousands of children around the world.
For quite a while before I wrote this novel, I could very much relate to Charlotte. In days past I’ve looked around my home and wondered what on earth I was accomplishing for the Kingdom of God. I also became discontented and wanted to move. I spent my free time looking at homes for sale online and daydreaming about the day we could upgrade to a newer home in a different city.
One Sunday morning, I went to the early service at church to hear some women report on a mission trip they took to Thailand with an organization that rescues children from sex trafficking. I walked in late, stood in the back, and my life was forever changed. List
ening to their experience, watching pictures of children in desperate need flash on the large screen in our fellowship hall, I felt immediate shame at my own struggle with discontentment.
More than that, I felt called to action. But what could I, a nobody, with little ones at home, do to help these children? In that instant, God spoke to my heart in ways He never has before. This story was born, and I jotted the outline and character names on the sermon notes just thirty minutes later.
This novel is an answer to the longing of my heart to write, a solution to help those that have no voice to cry out for help from us who have so much. I currently sponsor a girl with Destiny Rescue and I ask you, if you are able, to do the same. This organization takes girls from the pit, offers them hope and life, freedom and prosperity. Most of all, they introduce them to the Lord, the Author of Hope and Love and all that is good and right. Will you help Destiny Rescue show these lost enslaved children that the earth is full of the loving-kindness of the Lord?
To Him be the Glory,
B.D. Riehl
Acknowledgments
This story has been influenced and helped along by so many others; my only hope is that I can give credit to them all.
First and foremost: my sweet, patient husband, Mr. Man. You have sent me away from the chaos of our lives to write when I needed to, have supported me, hugged me, loved me, and encouraged me. To my man that hates to read and married an author: Thank you so much for who you are.
My amazingly adorable girls: Little Miss, Fo, and Boo: Thank you for being patient with your mama. For making me laugh, for going on bike rides with me when I need to clear my head, for watching cartoons and eating dry cereal when I need to focus. For all that you are, my most precious girls, thank you.
Daddy: So many phone calls, emails, erased chapters, and early coffee dates; you endured much with me through this book. Thank you for your wisdom, insight, and encouragement.