This month, I slipped on a pair of shoes that were uncomfortable and carried me far outside my comfort zone. These shoes belong to Marita, our smiling contact here in The Philippines, who has been praying for ten long years for missionaries to come along side her to lighten her load and share in her vision. 
Walking alongside Marita, the first people I meet are Dhanny and Tony. Dhanny is our bodyguard whose girlfriend Gina was murdered last year by a paying customer. Tony is a pastor who is constantly making me laugh with his funny comments, his high voice, and the joy he holds close. He painted his fingernails gold one morning when we were bored during debrief and I laughed the entire day. Pastor Tony made the sacrifice to move away from his family to pursue ministry. He has a sick son at home and is praying for the money to provide medicine. Already these shoes are growing painful and we haven’t even turned the corner yet. I see f
amilies crammed into small “homes” built of concrete slabs, cardboard and blankets
I hold the newborn baby of a streetwalker. I sit in stunned disbelief when the mother’s pimp walks up to me and says, “if you sell that baby, I will kill you.”
I see girls in doorways and on the street who are selling their body night after sleepless night. I see their black eyes and the bruises. I meet their eyes which are void of emotion and without a remnant of hope. I hold them as they cry.
I take two little girls by the hand and lead them into the safety of the home of my contact where they stay with us for a couple nights. I watch the older girl pick lice from the little ones hair. I hold them and observe their fervent desire to feel loved, to feel protected and to bask in the opportunity they have offered, even for just a couple days, to simply be kids. When I sit Rose Marie down and explain she has to return home, she clings to me while shaking her head stubbornly while she wails that she doesn’t want to go home because her momma doesn’t love her.
The shoes I wore this month were too tight. They carried me to places I didn’t want to go. They left blisters that I didn’t know how to guard myself against and may remain for the rest of my life. They brought me into a deeper place of trust with God as I asked Him “why” and searched the scriptures for any explanation I could find. I cling tightly to the verses God has shown me that reveal His love and His justice for the hurting. I pray powerful prayers, I boldly speak of the love of Jesus, and I am confident that I can trust Him with the lives of His children who I am leaving behind.
