I Was Wrong

It's the end of another crazy week!

This week has definitely been my favorite by far. With the renewed outlook of being grateful for this opportunity and not worrying about what it may bring to my future, I have been excited to encounter the Lord this week. And boy, did He do some crazy things.

I spent Wednesday and Thursday of this week at the safe house. I met a new woman this week, and we instantly bonded. 

Her story is extreme, and she trusts absolutely no one, but she chose to trust me. I sat in on her psychosocial evaluation and prayed that she would trust our social worker enough to tell her the whole story. My heart broke as she revealed that everything started when she was fifteen. 
Her emotional and mental maturity is that of a fifteen year old. She is ten years older than me and looks up to me.
When I got up to leave, she panicked. I assured her I would see her again the next day. And that's when the attack began.
Everything was thrown in my path to insure that I couldn't be true to my word. The devil doesn't want my sweet friend to trust anyone. I prayed that she would have sweet sleep. She shared with me that nightmares had attacked her sleep for nights and nights.
I laid my head down to sleep, but I couldn't. Nightmares came one after the other. I prayed that I could sleep so I would be healthy enough to drive to see her. I reached out to my prayer team, and got a few hours of sleep.
I got to the house to a bright-eyed face the next morning. "You came!" she exclaimed. She laughed for the first time when she told me she slept all the way through the night. 
If God allowed me to carry those nightmares for her even for one night, the lack of sleep was worth it. 
It was a joy to go with her on her first Starbucks outing in her whole life. We talked and talked, about everything. She told me her fears, she told me that her captors pretended to be Christians just so they could trick her into trafficking again. I assured her that no one knows where she is, that she is safe, and that she can rest now. I assured her that we would make sure she is safe. That is our job.
She hugged me tightly before I left.

Yes, she may be 30. She may be called a prostitute or a stripper. 
"This is so much different than child sex trafficking," you might say.
But you're wrong.
I was wrong.
She was trafficked as a young girl. She's been brainwashed. She's been used.
She's a victim.

Before this week, I longed for the days when I was in Cambodia with little six year olds. I am ashamed to say I looked at some of the women here in Atlanta and judged. 
They're older. They should know better.
But the Spirit whispered to my heart this week.
"This is what she grows up to be if she doesn't get help."
This is what my little girls in Cambodia would look like if they aren't rescued. 
It makes me look at the "prostitutes" on the street a lot differently. Not as disgusting women who just want to make a living, but as women who need Jesus, and women who need to be rescued.

In a dark world, it may seem like no one is making a difference, but
"To succumb to the enormity of the problem is to fail the one."
At least I can say that through the strength of God, I'm not failing the one.