Mother's Day

A few months ago, I received an e-mail update from Shawn's Aunt Debbie about the ministry work they have been doing here in Ecuador. It is something she does on a regular basis and I enjoy reading about all the things they experience. In it, she mentioned that they are interested in starting a ministry for girls that is similar to the work they have been doing at Casa G over the last 8 years. When I read it, something in my heart felt immediately drawn to finding out more. It definitely sounded like something that would be right up my alley, but we were in Bahrain at the time, so I didn't give the tugging of my heartstrings much further thought.

Fast-forward to now. The same heartstring tugging happened when I started spending time with the Casa G boys, but I initially chalked it up to being a bit of the emotional persuasion. It wasn't long, though, before I started wondering why exactly God brought us to Ecuador. A few days ago, I became pretty convinced that the possibility of staying here and taking part in some of the work that is going on here was something I was very interested in. Also strong in my mind has been the memory of what Aunt Debbie wrote in her update about the girls' ministry they are trying to get started.

At present, there is a girls' house that is run by another (secular) organization which rescues and houses girls who have been rescued from prostitution and sex trafficking. Phil and Debbie (and some other people who work with them) have been wanting to start up a Casa G with some of the girls who seem most interested in turning their lives around. They have been allowed to visit the girls to talk with them about God and to spend time getting to know them.

Yesterday, Mother's Day, was one of the days they were allowed to visit. They invited me along and I was very interested to go. As we drove out there, we talked about what we would do and say while we were there. They asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the girls. I am not the particularly outgoing spiritual type. I am usually pretty private about matters related to my spirituality, so I wasn't sure what I would have to offer. But a verse popped into my head. A verse which was very important to me during the most difficult time in my life. The verse is: Jeremiah 29:11, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you HOPE and a FUTURE." I knew that this was something the girls needed to hear.

When we arrived, the girls were not around, so the administrator on duty showed us to a room where we would be meeting with the girls. We set up chairs and waited for the girls to arrive. A little while later, the girls showed up came in one by one. I have to admit that I KNEW intellectually that they were girls, but when they actually arrived, it was hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I was truly seeing GIRLS, not women. Some of them looked so very young and it was hard for me to realize that these girls had been rescued from prostitution and sex trafficking. Four of the girls had babies in tow. A few others were pregnant. Though they all greeted me with the traditional Ecuadorian kiss on the cheek, I could see that most of them seemed very uninterested in what we might have to offer.

We played a game to learn names, then the girls introduced themselves and said their ages. I think that was the hardest moment for me. Each of the 26 girls stated their names and their ages and with each one I had to try to hold back tears as they said, "I'm 13," or "I'm 14." One of the girls with a baby was 15 years old. It truly hit me at this point that these girls were ultimately children, despite the very adult world they had been forced into.

After the getting to know you part, Juan Miguel sang a worship song and played on the acoustic guitar. The girls seemed to be warming up some, but still a little reserved. Miguel Angel then took us outside to play a game.

He put the ball in the middle of an outdoor basketball court and divided all of us into two lines. Each person was given a number and when our number was called, we had to run and meet the other teams' correspondingly numbered teammate where the ball was. If we got the ball, we had to run with it before the other team's player could tag us. The girls simply came alive. They were shouting and rooting on their teammates, running as fast as they could when their turns came up. They seemed to be having a blast. I enjoyed it, too, and ran (and fell down) to get points for our team.

As we were playing, I noticed that the very pregnant girl next to me was deaf. Though she got into the game considerably, I wondered how difficult it must be for her to be without the real ability to communicate with those around her. I took a deep breath as I looked up at the beautiful Ecuadorian mountains rising up above us and the clear, blue sky. More than two dozen girls, all shouting and playing as teenage girls are supposed to. Smiling and laughing in this gorgeous natural setting. Then it dawned on me that these girls are former prostitutes who have had their innocence and their childhoods stripped from them. How do they even begin to start a new and normal life after this?

After the game wrapped up, we went back into the day room where we had been before. By this time, the girls were much more animated and seemed like a room full of teenage girls, not girls who had to be protected by towering walls, locked gates and a security guard who is constantly on duty. Not girls who had to be protected from angry pimps who wanted their "property" back.

Aunt Debbie read a Bible story and Uncle Phil translated in Spanish. Miguel Angel talked a little bit to the girls about how he felt we could apply it to our lives in a practical sense. Then one of the girls, curious about me, asked if I could understand Spanish. When Uncle Phil responded that I only spoke a little, the girl commented on how patient I must be that I would sit and listen to the group talking without understanding anything. It was very ironic, considering that patience is definitely not one of my strongest points.

After the girl's comment, it opened up the opportunity for Phil to ask me if I wanted to say something. I decided to take the leap. As I mentioned before, I can be very private when it comes to matters of the heart and spirituality, so I wasn't sure how to go about this. I have never given my "testimony" as some would call it. But I did know a thing or two about how hopeless it feels to be pregnant and feel alone in many ways. So I felt very compelled to speak.

I told the girls (and Phil translated) that I didn't know anything about how hard their lives had been, but that I could only talk about what I'd been through. I told them a little about some of the things I've encountered in my life, especially about the time I faced when I was pregnant with Kai and was really starting to cling to God in a way that I had never done before. I told them that I knew without a doubt that God cared for each one of them and that He would be there for them during this dark and difficult time. I then quoted the verse in Jeremiah that had meant so much to me during my own difficult time.

Afterwards, the girls asked a few questions about my story. Juan Miguel played one more song and the girls all sang along very loudly, which suprised me. I couldn't understand all of the Spanish words, since I am just beginning to learn, but found out later that the words were:

You saw me when no one else saw me/ You loved me when no one else loved me/ You gave me Your name/ I am your child, the apple of your eye/ I love you more than life.

In hindsight, I am glad I couldn't understand the words. If I had known what the girls were singing at the top of their lungs, I'm sure I would have totally lost it emotionally.

When we finished the song, one of the girls was looking up a verse in the Bible that Debbie had brought. She asked if she could keep it, but several of the other girls protested, saying that they also needed a Bible. Phil asked who wanted a Bible and 18 hands shot up. Some of the other girls took Phil and Debbie aside and asked if they could take them for visits with them outside of their compound. The room seemed transformed from when we first arrived.

The girls joked, "The doors are open. They are open for you to come, but not open for you to leave." Several thanked us for coming on Mother's Day to be with them. In Ecuador, Mother's Day is an even bigger deal than it is in the States, so I can't imagine how hard it must have been for them to be separated from any sense of family on a day like that. Eventually, we kissed all the girls goodbye and left.

On the way home, we all talked about how impacted we had been by spending the afternoon with the girls. It wasn't until I got home and recounted the story to Shawn that I totally lost it emotionally and finally let it out. I can't fully express how much I wanted to just reach out to these girls and give them that promise of hope. To show them love--real love. I hope in the future, I get the chance.