Songs I love:
Monday I went back to Oasis. I'm learning so much about not having expectations because there is never ever going to be a repeat day here. Each day is so different. There is no norm--always extremes. So this time, when we walked into Oasis, we were there literally five minutes, split up, and went right out into the brothels. I went with another girl on my team, Lauren Davis, and we went with a woman who worked with Oasis that spoke hardly any English.
We walked through the curtin door into the busy alley. My stomach turned a little bit in my stomach when we arrived at the brothel just ten steps later; it was literally right across the alley from the Oasis office. I was shocked and appalled by my initial response as we walked into the brothel--"nice," I thought to myself. The rooms were bigger than the one I walked through last time. They had doors, the floors were clean, etc. We went into this big common room and the women were sitting around watching TV and eating their breakfast/lunch since many had just woken up at 2:00PM. They were bigger women--some were over weight, in fact. I remember at one point wondering if a couple of the women were pregnant. I could tell that this was a more expensive brothel, and I didn't witness any pimps or madams while I was there. Lauren jumped right in with her name, introducing herself to the women and telling them they were beautiful, which was so wonderful. But I felt a little bit paralyzed, not really knowing what would be overwhelming to the women, so I was just myself. My shirt starting floating up because of the fans, and I screamed, grabbed it, and started cracking up. The women laughed with me, which was life-giving. Could I have laughed if I lived the life that they lived?
Julie was wearing black and she was the only one wearing capris--all the rest were wearing long, printed night gowns. She had earrings on with three black beads stacked on top of one another, and her hair was in a ponytail. We started talking a little bit nonverbally, and I told her I thought she had wonderful eyes. I finally asked if we could pray together, and she said, "No English." I quickly responded with--"That's okay!" She agreed and we reached for one another's hands. As soon as I got a hold of her hands--hands that I had no idea where they had been; hands meant to meet one another in prayer; hands meant to hold sweetly to that of another's; hands meant to hold a pen to write; hands made to turn the pages of the living Word of God; hands made to be spared from crucifixion. At the moment that my hands touched hers, a buzzer rang, and all of the women left the common room with the exception of four. I saw Julie take down her hair. She reached across me for her keys, and held up her finger as if to say, "one minute." They walked out. About three minutes later, they all camb back, but Julie didn't. I think I knew what that meant deep down, but didn't want to believe that it had happened. So I asked out loud--"Where's Julie?" The women responded in unison, "customer, customer..." Not wanting to believe it still, I heard but didn't really hear. After taking with the other women for a few minutes, I asked about Julie again. In harmony, they answered, "customer!" again. Our translator looked at me and said, "Business, no?" Like, "where do you think we are little American?" "Okay," I said quickly scanning my eyes frantically to they eyes of each women in the room, and then shooting them to the ground as the reality of what it meant to be a prostitute began to sink in.
The image of Julie taking down her hair as she left is burned in my brain--wavy, long, black hair covering her bare shoulders. I wonder if she tried to win the customer. I wonder if she batted her eyes at him or played with her hair. I wonder if it was a competition between her and the other women. Or I wonder if she stared at him like she stared at me, longing for love. Or I wonder if she stood with the other women with her eyes at his feet. I wonder if she took down her hair to cover her shoulders. I wonder if he came regularly. I wonder if he paid more to have her during the day. I wonder how long he stayed. I wanted so badly to wait for her. I didn't want to leave until she came out and I could look her in the eyes while holding her arms gently telling her that she is loved by the only One that can truly romance and satisfy her heart. I wanted to kiss her forehead and pray for her. I don't think I've ever grieved not being able to pray with someone as much as I grieved not being able to pray with Julie.
So as we left, we hugged the women and smiled at them. I walked out of the common room, and said goodbye to three other women in the hall. I walked back into the common room and said to one of the women, "Julie--tell her I said goodbye." "Okay," she said moving her head in agreeance. I wonder if Julie knew that even after knowing her for just ten minutes that I loved her. I wonder if she would remember my name. I wonder if she would remember how insistent I was about praying for her. I wonder if she knows she is valued. I wonder if she knows what true love could look like. I wonder if she's deceived into believing that this is her only option, or worse, if she believes that she's satisfied there.
After we got back to Oasis, I didn't know what should be my response because it was so very different from my first experience in the brothels. As I talked with the other members of my group, truth came spilling from my lips, which was such grace from God.
One of the things that God has been teaching me about and driving home to me is that I am radically defined by His unchanging, undeniable, perfect love for me. His love that is true and constant. And at the moment that I sat in Oasis beginning to unpack my experience with Julie, Jesus spoke to me, and told me that for those women who have nothing constant in their lives except pain, and abuse, and calloused hearts, and stares of lust--they are also radically defined by His steadfast love for them. I know this to be true. I am learning to trust Jesus through my grieving process--finding rest in knowing that His love never leaves, even from those who don't know Him.
So I came home from the brothels and wept. I wept for Julie and for all of the other Julies out there. I wept for the girls who know nothing except captivity; for the minors hidden in the attics and walls. I wept for the women that believe the false Hindu God's satisfy. I wept and pleaded for them to know Jesus; to know love.
This made me cry as well. I prayed for Julie, for the other women - not just there but everywhere. I prayed for you too. Love you.
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