Something jerked me senseless last night. Here I was minding my own business reading blogs on the internet when I stopped by Without Wax. In the comments section of yesterday’s post by Pete, there is a man who left a comment with this link.
I clicked on it. At 2:00 this morning, when I was still trying not to puke and bawl over what I read and saw, I was wishing so hard I hadn’t found that site. This is what keeps me up at night. This is what yanks me out of my comfort zone and sticks my nose right in the muck of reality, folks. This is what changes me. This is what causes me to run to my children and hold onto them.
I want to do something.
I didn’t sleep well at all. Jeremy woke me up a few times. Brianna came into my room because she was scared (she’s going through this weirdo “I’m scared” phase right now). My heart was bleeding and broken from everything that was running through my mind. I couldn’t release the images that came to me and as I slept I had nightmares.
Medical missions. That has been my motivation to try to get an education to become a nurse. I think that may have taken a drastic turn last night. I won’t know until I’ve completed my degree and started my career. I won’t know until many years from now when my kids are grown and don’t need me around the house so much. I won’t know until I am released from my full-time Mom role, thrust into my full-time Nurse role, and then I can do more planning and research. I’ll see how God decides to deal with this shockwave running through my veins.
But maybe… just maybe I need to help these girls. Maybe those red dresses and numbers will haunt me until I make my way to Asia. Maybe their little 8 year old empty faces will disturb my senses until I am able to do something more than pray and donate. Maybe.
Maybe this is my calling.
Maybe this is why I carry such burdens for the children of this world.
Maybe Rich’s heart will eventually change and we can save one of them.
Maybe this is my purpose.
Maybe it’s all beginning to unfold.
Maybe they need me.
What are you willing to do to help?
Can you turn away?
Can you ignore their cries?
Aren’t you haunted too?
2 children per minute…
In the time it took you to read this post… how many were trafficked?
Two. Every. Minute.