Before you read this, make sure you read Part 1 and Part 2 of Mae’s story.
The next time we went to the bar to visit Mae, I knew I had to bring up the real reason why we were there. Other than telling her that we would pray for her, I had not mentioned God yet. I had also never hinted at the idea that I could offer her a way out of the sex trade, but this visit was going to be different.
We got to the bars, and I sat down with Mae to talk like usual. Except this time she was drunk. Someone had told her that red wine would improve her health, so she had resolved to drink at least two glasses per day, and she was well on her way to completing that goal for the night. So, I decided that any serious conversation would have to wait. Instead, I simply played pool with her, and at the end of the night I invited her to come to WonGen Cafe, the coffee shop where we work, the next day for lunch. She agreed, I wrote down the directions, and she promised to see me tomorrow.
The next day I sat, somewhat nervously, in the coffee shop waiting. For hours. I concluded that she must not be coming, ate lunch, and continued waiting just in case. Finally, just before I was going to give up, in she walked, sweaty and apologetic. “I get so lost. I no realize that this going to be nice, big coffee shop, and I walk right by without seeing it. I ask everyone I pass, and nobody know. Then, finally I ask somebody and they have a little paper that somebody give them advertising WonGen Coffee Shop, and they show me where it is, so I find you.” I smiled because what she didn’t know was that the rest of my team was out at the university across the street passing out little flyers advertising the coffee shop. God uses teamwork, and God used their seemingly unrelated ministry assignment to direct Mae to me.
We sat down, ordered some food, and began to try to make small talk, which isn’t really her thing or mine. Eventually she just picked up a magazine and began to leaf through it. I looked over at Brent and told him to start praying because things weren’t going quite how I had hoped. I decided the time for small talk and subtlety had passed, and I decided to take a risk. “Mae, are you happy working at the bar?” I asked her. She stopped turning the pages in the magazine, but kept looking down at it. Finally, she answered me. “No, I not happy there. I no like working there.” I asked her, “If you could work somewhere else and still make enough money to live on, would you want to?” She looked up at me and her eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”
I explained that this was more than a coffee shop, and I was more than a casual acquaintance. I told her that I had invited her here to offer her a way out if she wanted it, then I told her about Emmi, the woman who founded and runs LightHouse in Action. I told her that Emmi grew up in a village in northern Thailand until her father murdered her mother, went to jail, and she was sent to an orphanage. When she was eleven, her best friend was sold into sex trafficking, and Emmi didn’t see her again until they were adults. When she finally found her friend, she was dying of AIDS. Emmi stayed with her friend until her death and got to lead her to Christ. Watching her friend die inspired her to start a ministry to save other girls from a similar fate. As I told this story, Mae’s eyes filled with tears again. I finished and I asked her what she was thinking. She looked down at her lap again, and refused to meet my eyes. Finally, in a barely audible whisper, she said, “I have HIV. I am dying. Maybe she will understand and can help me.”
Suddenly I understood why she is so eager for help and a change. I understood why she holds my gaze until I promise her hope with my eyes. I understood why she found me that first night and opened up to me out of nowhere. She’s dying, and she wants a new life before she loses hers. “I not know how long I will live, but I want to do something good before I die. I want to help people. I have a good heart, and I know that there are so many people who need help. Before I die I want to help someone.”
We talked for a couple more hours. She cried more, and she told me more of her story. Before she left, I invited her to come back the next day to meet Emmi so we could see if Emmi could help her. “Will you come again?” I asked her. “Yes, I will be here.” She gave me a long hug and walked out the door.
To be continued…
