Her Wrists

(please forgive me, i didnt proofread or spell check, dont have much time)

i wish i had time to go back and recap the first few days. the day at the halfway home with victims trying to escape their former lives, the day with the current prostitutes at the drop in center, the eerie day we walked through the brothels, but today is the day i can and will elaborate on only because i am so disappointed in myself...and hope that you will join me in prayer for a little girl.

i and three other people were walking through the slums (it was actually the very one from slumdog millionaire) and i saw a little girl, she was between 4 or 6 years old. her wrists were bound in rope.  not smooth nice rope but rough shredded rope, tied very tight.  she had three small scar slashes on her right cheek and she was crying while her "mother" (i dont know if she was or wasnt, it was some woman) hit her with a stick.  i was the last in my group.  i saw it, jaw dropped, and just walked by.  what do i do? what should i have done.  i talked about it with the contact later.  but it was sort of too late.

while we walked from point a to point b, i was too shocked to say or do anything.  i just walked by. and when we arrived at point b, i stood aside for a moment and just cried and cried by myself. 

i feel so lost.

we got to point c a few hours later. we keep being "honored" guests at church, getting the chairs while the people sit on the floor or outside. i looked out the window and saw a little girl caring for her little brother. i smiled and the little boy reached up for me. so i went outside right as service was starting. when i got outside, i saw that he had heat blisters. several.  one was bleeding profusely all over his face and shirt. my heart sank. the contact asked me to come back inside.

but i will never walk away from God's prompting again. i will forever be haunted by the little girl bound at the wrist.

i got my backpack and made my seat with with poor and wounded. i was able to use my first aid kit to clean off some of the children and put bandages on their wounds. gave them some peanut butter crackers. i cried a lot. as i touched each one, i felt God's prompting to pray.

"God, may it be your face, your beloved son's that they see instead of mine.  I will leave soon, who will love them?  But you father, you stay with us always.  you will stay with them. father please, please stay with them. love them father. love them. care for your children."

i cried more than i have ever cried, in a crowd of people who i couldnt even speak to. everyone else was inside.

"father, please wipe their hands and feet, their dirty wounded hands and feet, with your living water, your clean water".  cried, and cried.

"Father, come and rescue them, rescue them.  use me, use me, but please dont let it be my face they see".

"father fill me with your hope, i am broken, fill me with your hope".

please, please pray for the little girl with the bounds wrists. i am not sharing to appear like im some good person, there is no good in me that isnt God.  i am sharing because im so desperate for others to care, to please care. to go and love, love till it hurts.  please. Most importantly i am sharing so that you can join me in praying that God would rescue his children now.