I met her playing pool. Then, one day, she saw me braiding a Squad mate’s hair. In excitable Spanish she asked me to braid her hair. Picking up on the context clues, I agreed and produced a suitable product. Actually, more than suitable, she was elated. Wrapping me up in a big hug she hurried off to catch her bus but promised she’d be back tomorrow!
That was the beginning of what is rapidly becoming a hilarious friendship. Cynthia speaks no English and my Spanish is pitiful. But that won’t stop us. We go round and round. She does what I have done to so many, she gets closer and talks louder thinking maybe, just maybe, I’ll be given the gift of tongues and suddenly understand the phrase she has already said four and five times.
Inviting me to church with her the other night I was flattered. I was even more flattered when she invited me up front to dance our hearts out to the worship music but it was when she grabbed my hand and said, “You are my best friend” during the sermon that I became beyond floored, “all this, as a result of a simple braid?”
Naively, I think I may have thought the same innocence would follow us into our first full day of ministry. On the contrary, I departed ministry having one objective, “I need to talk to Tony about my role in that fist fight.”
The government run center houses girls who are living in compromising situations and need an alternative. Our plan was to break the forty or so teen-age girls into groups to participate in crafts, games, fitness and dance routines, and a salon.
I volunteered for the salon team since that had seemed to go well enough for me thus far in this country. I focused my efforts on braiding and twisting the young girls hair this way and that to hopefully meet with their approval. I went on to challenge myself to learn each of their names, a little about their lives, and pray accordingly.
I think I was trying to figure out how to say I had one older brother to Daniella (pictured above) when the scene unfolded. A group of girls charged into the room, shoved one girl to the floor and started beating her. Not hitting her but beating her. That was memory number one.
Memory number two was me thinking, “this is not right” and then finding myself pulling at arms and limbs to try and remove her perpetrators while seeking to hold others a bay. In the chaos I, and many others, saw that one girl had the victim by the French braid in her hair, hands dug in and not letting go, a braid anyone of us could have just created with the intent of blessing.
An infuriating twist of fate.
The appropriate parties eventually surfaced and a group of six young teen girls were escorted away from the center by the police about the same time we departed. The ring leader shouted threats that she’d settle the score with one of our team who also worked to intercept and redirect her anger.
Tangled.
We are now more then just momentarily tangled up in these girls hair. We are, for as long as the Lord allows, tangled up in their lives. Not in deep yet but hoping to become so. Thankful that we have at least 3 more visits scheduled at the center. I say thankfully because while it was heartbreaking for all of us to witness, it raises such a sincere urgency in me to be a light in a dark place.
From what I can tell, that is the Lord heart for these young girls too. After the altercation, we continued with our program. One from our group shared her powerful testimony that includes rape, alcohol and drug abuse, cutting and redemption. Redemption like that extended to the women caught in adultery. Redemption that we all can experience in the hands of a loving and adoring Savior whose name is Jesus.
During the final moments of our time in the center worship commenced and three or four girls came forward to have us pray with them. Not all for salvation but more for intercession. They know they need hope. They know they need an alternative. It is our honor to guide them gently into the embrace of their and our Creator.
He’s ready. Waiting to become more than tangled but rather to bind up the wounds of their broken hearts.
