The girls

I think about how humble these girls are and how hard it must have been for them to leave the street.  In doing so they acknowledge their inability to change by themselves.  They acknowledge their need for help.  They walk out in the face of the their peers who also had the same opportunity to leave but chose against it.  Admitting in the midst of all of their community that they are helpless against the evil that so easily besets them.  Humility.  That’s what they displayed.  Yet some would call it weakness.

As they entered the house they again faced their weakness.  Their inability to write or read.  Their lack of any education which sets them up for dependency at it’s fullest. 

But God “gives grace to the humble and resists the proud.”

When you call on me, you will find me when  you seek me with your whole heart.

For the last week I have seen them change.  Just in ten days.  From shying away and struggling against the desire to go BACK to now being content with where they are and excited about staying; about making this their home and about the future that awaits them back outside the walls around them.

And I remember how I am no different than them.  I too have sold myself short.  Not for money but for acceptance, for love, for companionship.

“Working with these girls will reflect things back to you about yourself so you have to be prepared for that”.  Wise words from Women at Risk counsellor, Wondesson.  That, without a doubt, is true.  Even from the first encounter I had with them in Nazaret, this truth reigned in my heart.  I really am no better than them.  I felt their shame, I know their regret.

We were given questions to talk through this first couple of weeks, questions to really get to know each 

other.  I learn how to say that- Iney kowukachuwegn… If you really knew me, you would know that my favourite colour is…etc.  But as the week progressed, the questions got deeper. 

My biggest dream is, my closest person is, my relationship with my family is, my most funniest moment was…

My greatest regret is..

Eek. 

I don’t even want to share mine yet they are being challenged to share theirs. 

I ask.  This one is hard isn’t it?

Right now I am planning a trip to the States with the Women at Risk staff for the ICAP (International Christian alliance on Prostitution)  Conference.  Preceding this, Dan Allaman, author of The Wounded Heart and member of ICAP is holding a workshop called “Your story becomes my story”.  It will help us who work with these women who have experienced great trauma to first deal with our own.

This past week we were sent our story writing assignment to do before we enter the preconference.  I cringe at the thought of bringing up the past.  A past that as I grew older I became to realize that it wasn’t all that bad.  But as my mum reminded me, in the eyes of a child, it was bad. 

I am sure, as are the facilitators, that this exercise will allow some past shames to resurface, some deeply hidden wounds will sting again and my fear of sharing them openly will be challenged. 

Yet these girls have stepped up to this challenge that soon I will face.  They will find healing in the midst of their trauma as they do so because they have found humility.  And they have hit rock bottom so they can only look up.

We on the other hand want to look like we have it all together, that we are completely restored yet our inner child needs tending to, our emotional outbursts reflect our wounded soul and our pride has orchestrated this facade that covers all our pain to all those who see only on the outside.

“But God looks on the heart.”

And He cares about the heart because out of IT flow the issues of life. 

Matthew 11:29

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. -Jesus

I love how when we humble ourselves, WE are the winners!! WE get grace.  WE get rest for our souls.  WE are finally able to overcome the stumbling blocks that pride puts up to stunt our growth, stunt our freedom.  Humility results in Rest for your souls.  

I am thankful for all the girls are teaching me and the humbling journey we are on together.

The House that Hope Built...

For six years it lay there empty, just waiting in HOPE for the right tenants to come along.  Meanwhile the Hibiscus blossomed heavenward and the flax trees grew; arching over the entrance like a bridal party were about to walk through or a Messiah was about to proceed through on a donkey.  The garden lay empty and the rooms lay bare all creating an atmosphere to be filled an enjoyed, loved and ploughed. 

“It’s PERFECT for your project” says the echoing chorus.  It is.  It is now working out the potential it held for so long.  With seeds that have been planted in the garden, children running around the space that surrounds the house that is now filled with furniture and laughter and love. It's been almost four weeks now. 

My brother in law once shared with me an example of two different styles of leadership.  It’s an example I have shared a few times here in Ethiopia because it’s one that’s relative (aka culturally contextual) to the agricultural society that exists here.  It compares leadership to shepherding a flock of sheep.  It can take on two strategies…

The first strategy is to keep the sheep locked in.  Build a large fence around, identifying boundaries and establishing “No-Go zones.”  Here the shepherd has safe guardianship over the flock and knows they will not be able to break away!  It’s likened to a leadership style based on lording, rules and control which lacks relationship and love.

The second strategy is to place all the sheep on a piece of land with no fence.  Instead, in the middle of the field, place a large trough of water, maybe even some food- where the sheep are drawn to quench their thirst and satisfy their hunger.  This in no way guarantees the shepherd dominion of their sheep but rather entices the sheep back to the fold through the needs that are being met there.  This is likened to leadership styles that are based on relationship and grace, trust and mutual understanding.  It’s hope and love that draws them there. 

I thought of this example yesterday as two of the girls went on their first visit back to their bar.  It was in the middle of a Sunday afternoon and we happened to be walking past to go to church.  On our way we were stopped by the two young ladies.  Now looking so much different to their once-were-peers.  They, smiling from ear to ear, grab me to come and meet their old boss.  She is also joining in their happiness and says to me that she is happy.  Happy for the three girls she let go out of her bar even at the expense of her income.  I wish her God’s blessings as she released girls into our care who are now such a special part of our lives.

Even though there are self-established boundaries for the girls, there is also freedom.  Though there are no chains on the gates or security bars on their doors, they still choose to stay.  They choose to come back.  THIS is the house that Hope built.

In faith we started and in line with what He has promised, God has met us at our faith.  He has provided furniture and food and resources and house rent, a big bag of meat that unexpectedly turned up at the house, seeds for the garden and instructors to teach us how to sow it…  Even in the last month, God has provided for my daughters and I to go to the States in May.  And I am overwhelmed by this GoD we serve and His Love for US And I return again to His feet.

My daughters sang this song recently at our English service:

I want to sit at your feet, drink from the cup in your hands, lay back against you and breathe, feel your heartbeat.  This love is so deep, its more than I can stand, I melt in your peace, it’s overwhelming…*Kari Jobe

Today one of the girls, now twenty five, went to visit with her ten year old daughter in Addis Ababa.  Her daughter called her because she was wanting help.  This particular lady lived in a rural area and after her father died was married off by her mother when she was eleven years old.  Never went to school.  Fell pregnant at fourteen at which point her husband left her to remarry.  Unable to support her baby, at four years old, she eventually gave her daughter back to her ex-husband and she went to work as a maid.  She started to work in a factory, but while she was working there her friend came to work in Addis and told her its better salary in Debre Zeit at 600 birr a month.  She came to work here in DZ and then found out that the work she was told about was in a bar. (Familiar story).  After two weeks of working, she found no hope so she started working in the back with the men.  .

Robbed of the potential she so obviously holds, she now hungers to read for this very simple reason…so she can read the Word of God.  His Love letter to her. And she gets to do it all in the house that HOPE built. 

So we continue to journey together.  We continue to write our story...