The girl she pointed to was her best friend. They started working at the bar at the same time, and because they were the fresh meat, they clung together. There she was – in the middle of a group of girls, swaying back and forth to the beat of some horrible club-mix while men were shouting and throwing money at them. When the money would fly, the place went up in a roar.
Through the crowd, I repeatedly shouted the girl’s name from my balcony seat and made eye contact with her. I motioned for her to come up to my table, and with a big, beautiful, masking smile, she made her way over.
We started things off the same way. I introduced myself, purchased an apple cider for her, and we toasted to the endless possibilities that the night would have in store for us.
Holy Spirit began to give me words specifically for this woman. I was seeing things that I wouldn’t otherwise have seen, and I was saying things that I wouldn’t otherwise have said. She was really responsive to everything I was saying, and without me asking, she told me that she trusted me. She started talking about what it was like to work in the bars, about the customers, and even about her religious beliefs.
The next hour and a half flew by.
We danced in our seats.
We played jokes on each other.
We encouraged each other.
That’s when I realized who this girl was.
She’s my sister.
She’s just like my sisters back home.
She’s just like the girls I work with.
She’s just like the girls I used to chase around on the playground during recess.
No different.
I couldn’t look at her body, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. With Holy Spirit’s lead, I began to tell her story after story about the women in my life. How we do life together. What they mean to me. How they’ve been hurt. How they’ve been abused. I told her how much my heart broke for them, and how my heart was breaking for her. I told her that I couldn’t stand to see her do this, and that I wanted to help her get out. Forever.
What happened next, I will never forget.
She nudged my chin up, so that my eyes met hers, and like a sister, called me a “softie”.
