Even if I go through the deepest darkness, I will not be afraid, Lord, for you are with me. Your shepherd’s rod and staff protect me. Psalm 23:4
She stood before me, eyes downcast, heartbroken. Every time I looked at her, she turned her eyes away from me discreetly. I couldn’t help but wonder what stories she was hiding behind those windows to her soul.
When she learned I could understand her Spanish, her eyes lit up just a little bit. If I hadn’t been paying such close attention to her face I wouldn’t have noticed. Each time we interacted throughout the month her eyes brightened ever so slightly.
Her 2 daughters were beautiful, younger versions of herself. The older one held thousands of sparkling dreams in the palms of her hands and she was more than eager to let me see them. The younger one stood far away so that no one could see the hurt and bitterness coursing through her veins.
I asked the mother if she would let me hear and write her story. She gladly sat across from me and waited for my questions. With a unique strength, she sat up in her chair and looked at me more directly than she ever had before.
As she spoke, I imagined what it would’ve been like if I were her. I took each word as an invitation to step farther into the doorway of her heart.
There she was, a young woman born and raised in the home of a radio pastor. Her head knew all there was to know about Christianity but did her heart know?
I saw her sitting behind a table with an array of aprons of ever shape, size and color. There’s a sign in front that says “$10” in thick, black sharpie.
She runs pink lace and black fabric through her sewing machine with the focus and precision of a well-trained surgeon. She’s proud of her work and every dollar she earns.
During her lunch break she convenes with the other seamstresses and tailors that line up their stands along her street. There are whispers of the latest gang-related threats and how to lay low. They lived every day on the tips of their toes wondering who’s next. The streets of the city had never been kind to even the most innocent of its citizens.
There was one man she talked to more often than anyone else. She loved him but wanted nothing to do with marriage, though she had borne one of his children with another on the way. Her baby bump could hardly be seen beneath her baggy t-shirt and dark-colored apron.
Today, he tells her he needs to run. A gang has threatened to kill him if he doesn’t join them and either option sounds like death to him. Silent rivers flow from her eyes but she nods in submission because she knows this is what’s best.
2 weeks later she receives word that he’s drowned in a river on the way to Mexico. He’s gone. She looks down at her swollen belly and her eye’s rivers run once again.
Her life went on as normal for the next 12 years. She raised her 2 daughters on her own and every penny she earned went to support them. The fearful whispers continued like the howling of the wind. She grew numb to the terror after so many years.
A knock at the door was all it took to awaken the fright she had suppressed.
“Give me your oldest daughter!” He demanded pointing a pistol at her face. There were at least 5 other gang members behind him. “All the pretty girls belong to us. Give her to me by the end of the week or you’re a dead woman walking.”
Her jaw was set. She stood firm. “Never,” She growled through her teeth.
“Like I said, you’re a dead woman walking.” He threatened as he walked away.
She stood in the doorway in shock, hardly noticing that her daughters had come to stand behind her. In that moment, she knew she had to leave and so did her daughters.
All three of them packed up what they could and headed for the border.
By the grace of God, the three of them ended up at the house I stayed in during my time in Guatemala. They arrived at about the same time my team and I did.
Unexpectedly, I had the honor to serve them while I was there. I had the privilege of translating all the information, encouragement and blessings the English speakers in the house spoke over them.
I got to hear their story. I got to hold their dreams. I got to tell them that they are equal in the eyes of God. I got to them that they are not inferior because of their circumstances. I even got to put them in contact with a pastor I know who lives in the place where they are moving next. I got to be a safe place.
The sovereignty of God’s timing never ceases to amaze me. His willingness to use me endlessly brings me to my knees.
I challenge you to trust where God has placed you because He is always faithful to put you in the right place at the right time every time. Trust that God will use what He has given you to help you be someone’s safe place too.
If I hadn’t been in Guatemala in May, God still would’ve found a way to get them where they’re going now, but I wouldn’t have had the honor of knowing them for myself. I will always go where He sends me.
