taxi, train, rickshaw...bird poop on the foot. um and something far worse that i will spare you from. :o)
today is our last full day in India. we got full access to computers at the headquarters while there are some interviews being conducted.
While i am still here, here is my attempt to recap images and thoughts from the last few days:
I went to a brothel room on one particular day. The entry is just as it is described in books and documentaries: dark. I almost even tripped going up the stairs. The room was very clean though and airy. There were 6 women in the room, and myself, a translator, and a local church member. Everything felt so normalized. Some of the girls were just laying in their beds, others were on the floor or on their cell. Weird, not what i expected.
It was a little awkward at first. Some small talk.
Then God.
I felt him telling me to share my testimony.And its so weird how i thought my testimony and their lives were so unrelated. How could i even attempt to imagine what they must be going through. But somehow we connected. By God's divination we connected. The church lady asked me to pray for them afterwards individually so i did. I prayed for them one by one.
I always found it strange when people would tell me that the Holy Spirit would take over their mouths. I dont know if that has ever really truly happened to me before. As i prayed, i felt so much hurt and from what the translator said, they each cried as i prayed. I wouldnt know. I kept my eyes shut. I had a hard time looking up at them. I didnt feel worthy. I honestly feel so in awe of them. They have become tough and i never, ever hear them complain. They have suffered in ways i will never know, they are not prostitutes to me, they are a word i dont even know.
One of the men in our group told me that he has a hard time understanding emotional or "feely" people.What is so hard for me to understand is that while i was home just reading and seeing the stories of victims, i feel so overwhelmed. so hopeless and so lost. i sob often, asking God that He would come NOW.
My dear friend Arliana, linked me up with a series of messages on Habakkuk, she doesnt know how this message from God is what has carried me these days in india. More than carried me, carried others. When i shared a shortened version of it at the slum church, a young man came up to me and told me that the message meant very much to him and that he really needed to hear that. he asked for prayer and i was just in awe. But im gettting sidetracked. All that to say, "I am doing a thing in your days you would not understand if told". Thank you arliana. Thank you God.
So now, i am crying, not because i am overwhelmed with hopelessness but because God loves them so much, and i am so little, i cant even get it out how much He loves them. God how he loves them. He loves them so much more than their past, than their sin, than their shame. God loves you, he loves you.
Michael, the translator, told me so many of these girls are now free, like the ones i talked to, but they stay because of money. And when i look around india, the children with the blackened eyes, hungry bodies, the mothers with the babies sprawled on their legs appear so lifeless, the men asleep at the foot of dogs while rats run over and around them, its no wonder its so hard to leave the industry that keeps them dead on the inside. Michael said the only answer is God. I agree.
He really spoke to me. After i shared with the girls from the brothel, one of the girls came up to me and wiped my tears and told me not to cry for her. She was so sweet. God, i pray she gets you.
We went into another room, i didnt share but instead we just made small talk. There was a huge mirror that covered one entire wall. Michael said the girls in the room were private dancers. There was an older woman siting in the corner. She was the mother of two of the girls (one of them looked over 18, the other most definitely did not).. There was a 6 year boy and a 5 year old girl too. There were mats stacked up in the corner. There was no bed to hide the kids. So where are they when their mothers are performing? Th e only answer, they had to be in the room with their backs to it all.
I asked michael, how about if a man came in for a private dance and service, and they liked the little boy or the little girl? And they offered money. Do the women protect them? There was no answer for the question. God this hurts. How can a mother bring in her children and her children's children. Father, why dont they know you? Father, multiply your children to spread like fire your hope and how you can change lives.
The day before yesterday we went to the boys home with AIDS, i dont have anymore time to elaborate, but please pray for Ram. He is a 17 year boy. Very kind, very quiet. He cared very much after the younger boys. But he was very tired almost the entire time. He isnt responding well to the medication, Please pray that hey would have hope in the midst of his fate. My heart was so burdened by him, but he didnt open up much. I love him, so much. Right now as i sit in my chair, in front of a computer with internet access, i am so overwhelmed with how much he needs love.
i have to hurry and go now. i wish i could share about the 16 year from last night. just know to pray for the Tithi. Henna artist.
today is our last full day in India. we got full access to computers at the headquarters while there are some interviews being conducted.
While i am still here, here is my attempt to recap images and thoughts from the last few days:
I went to a brothel room on one particular day. The entry is just as it is described in books and documentaries: dark. I almost even tripped going up the stairs. The room was very clean though and airy. There were 6 women in the room, and myself, a translator, and a local church member. Everything felt so normalized. Some of the girls were just laying in their beds, others were on the floor or on their cell. Weird, not what i expected.
It was a little awkward at first. Some small talk.
Then God.
I felt him telling me to share my testimony.And its so weird how i thought my testimony and their lives were so unrelated. How could i even attempt to imagine what they must be going through. But somehow we connected. By God's divination we connected. The church lady asked me to pray for them afterwards individually so i did. I prayed for them one by one.
I always found it strange when people would tell me that the Holy Spirit would take over their mouths. I dont know if that has ever really truly happened to me before. As i prayed, i felt so much hurt and from what the translator said, they each cried as i prayed. I wouldnt know. I kept my eyes shut. I had a hard time looking up at them. I didnt feel worthy. I honestly feel so in awe of them. They have become tough and i never, ever hear them complain. They have suffered in ways i will never know, they are not prostitutes to me, they are a word i dont even know.
One of the men in our group told me that he has a hard time understanding emotional or "feely" people.What is so hard for me to understand is that while i was home just reading and seeing the stories of victims, i feel so overwhelmed. so hopeless and so lost. i sob often, asking God that He would come NOW.
My dear friend Arliana, linked me up with a series of messages on Habakkuk, she doesnt know how this message from God is what has carried me these days in india. More than carried me, carried others. When i shared a shortened version of it at the slum church, a young man came up to me and told me that the message meant very much to him and that he really needed to hear that. he asked for prayer and i was just in awe. But im gettting sidetracked. All that to say, "I am doing a thing in your days you would not understand if told". Thank you arliana. Thank you God.
So now, i am crying, not because i am overwhelmed with hopelessness but because God loves them so much, and i am so little, i cant even get it out how much He loves them. God how he loves them. He loves them so much more than their past, than their sin, than their shame. God loves you, he loves you.
Michael, the translator, told me so many of these girls are now free, like the ones i talked to, but they stay because of money. And when i look around india, the children with the blackened eyes, hungry bodies, the mothers with the babies sprawled on their legs appear so lifeless, the men asleep at the foot of dogs while rats run over and around them, its no wonder its so hard to leave the industry that keeps them dead on the inside. Michael said the only answer is God. I agree.
He really spoke to me. After i shared with the girls from the brothel, one of the girls came up to me and wiped my tears and told me not to cry for her. She was so sweet. God, i pray she gets you.
We went into another room, i didnt share but instead we just made small talk. There was a huge mirror that covered one entire wall. Michael said the girls in the room were private dancers. There was an older woman siting in the corner. She was the mother of two of the girls (one of them looked over 18, the other most definitely did not).. There was a 6 year boy and a 5 year old girl too. There were mats stacked up in the corner. There was no bed to hide the kids. So where are they when their mothers are performing? Th e only answer, they had to be in the room with their backs to it all.
I asked michael, how about if a man came in for a private dance and service, and they liked the little boy or the little girl? And they offered money. Do the women protect them? There was no answer for the question. God this hurts. How can a mother bring in her children and her children's children. Father, why dont they know you? Father, multiply your children to spread like fire your hope and how you can change lives.
The day before yesterday we went to the boys home with AIDS, i dont have anymore time to elaborate, but please pray for Ram. He is a 17 year boy. Very kind, very quiet. He cared very much after the younger boys. But he was very tired almost the entire time. He isnt responding well to the medication, Please pray that hey would have hope in the midst of his fate. My heart was so burdened by him, but he didnt open up much. I love him, so much. Right now as i sit in my chair, in front of a computer with internet access, i am so overwhelmed with how much he needs love.
i have to hurry and go now. i wish i could share about the 16 year from last night. just know to pray for the Tithi. Henna artist.
