She communicated well… she wanted help. she’s tired.
What do you do when she’s young, has a child, addicted to drugs, and being severely trafficked.
What do you do when she chose today – your one day off – for lunch, but you know she really won’t be there?
You show up. Just in case.
She didn’t show up. It’s ok.
Not one person says they want to grow up to be a prostitute, or a drug addict, or live in utter abuse until they perform all that’s required of them to please fetishes and line pockets.
That life doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor. A king’s daughter, a preacher’s daughter, or the clerk’s daughter, or a pauper.
They don’t care if you score a big trick worth hundreds or if you sleep with hundreds just to get a hit.
Eventually, and quickly, neither do you.
I remember sleeping with 12 people a day just to get high. I had to stay high in order to endure the last 11 tricks to get to the 12th … to get high… the repetition of 7-8-9 days in a row.
Cry. Sleep. Repeat.
And to please a pimp.
Not my boyfriend.
I don’t want that for her. Even though I knew she probably wouldn’t be there, I wanted to honor her life and God by being there.
It’s all spiritual, and sometimes how you fight the battle is simply by suiting up and showing up.
I drove in the rain, sat alone for a solid two hours, ate an appetizer and had 3 glasses of tea… and prayed.
I hated pulling away. A piece of me sinks every single time. It’s hard carrying other people’s burdens, but trust the seeds that were planted; moreover, I trust the God whose image she is created in.
She’s worthy.
It is not her fault.
I pray one day she understands this.
