The day before I found out about Kikim’s story, I had decided to buy him a book, mostly because Jodi and Emily were buying their students books.
Up until that point my heart really wasn’t that into it. I had nothing left to give. I had no energy left, I missed Gracie, and spending time at the prison and this one 17 year old kid, along with the kids at the children’s home we were living in, seemed so overwhelming.
So when we arrived at the bookstore two hours away from Malaybalay, where we were living, I walked up and down the aisles not knowing what to get Kikim.
He was a little more advanced than the other inmates were, so the alphabet books weren’t going to cut it. Plus, Kikim wanted to learn about the bible.
I looked through the small religious section, hoping that maybe I’d find a simple devotional. Then I saw it. The title was, “This is my story.”
I knew when I picked it up that it was a God thing. He was simply saying, “OK Marissa, you don’t know what to do, so what you should do is share your passion.”
The book had 31 stories of 31 Filipinos who’d lived seemingly hopeless lives. But each person had made complete turnarounds because they’d each decided to surrender to God’s will. And now they were missionaries, pastors and people full of hope. When I saw it, I thought it was the least I could do. Share some cool stories with him of how God changes people and pray that he’d be inspired.
I didn’t know that I’d hear his story the very next day.
So when I heard his story of depression, anger and hurt, I knew I had to give him the book right away–not on the last day as I had originally planned. So the following day he took the book and I assigned him the first chapter to read and told him to write down any words that were difficult.
When we talked the next day, I asked him if he’d read the first chapter. I was surprised to hear that he’d read the first three or four chapters. But I was even more surprised to hear what he had to say next.
On the very first page of the first chapter he started telling me, “I did that.” I had to ask him twice if he knew what it meant. The first story talked about a man who at a very young age started stealing and selling himself to men.
“You did that? When?” I asked.
“When I was 12 years old. My mother was in an accident. We had no money.”
“So you had sex with older men for money?”
He nodded yes.
“How did it make you feel?”
“I…” then he made the motion of vomiting.
“You only did it once?
“No, no. Many times. But only first time (vomit.) After that, my mind…blank.”
He turned the pages to the second story and started to tell me about it. This time the man was the leader of a street gang in the Philippines. Kikim pointed to the name of the gang and said, “I was a leader of that gang, too! I was the second leader,” he told me matter-of-factly. At this point, I was pretty surprised at how God had orchestrated this entire thing.
Then he turned the pages again, to the third story. It was the story of a woman. When I’d picked the book up, I thought maybe he could relate to a detail or two of the men’s stories. I thought he’d skip over the women’s stories, but he didn’t.
“This woman. Her mother have many husbands. She feel no love from her mother. Like me. My mother no love me. My mother have three husbands.”
It was at that moment that I knew that his would absolutely be the 32nd story because even though I had nothing left to give, God was letting his plan for Kikim unfold before my eyes.
