The events that took place last night with Maria still hang heavy over me today. Though my shirt has been completely dried from her tears for hours, I still remember them as if they were still there. Her voice still rings in my ears, “The police are taking me to Infa tomorrow”, she says to me. It was only moments after these words were spoken before the first tears came from thirteen-year-old Maria eyes. I didn’t question the tears, I’ve heard the terrors of Infa, I know the next season of her life well be hard, and she knows it too. “The trial is over. Her attacker will never see cell walls, but he won’t be able to hurt her at Infa”, I tell myself. The words I tell myself are true, yet I still find no comfort in them. Yes, she was taken from her family that not just hurt her emotional, but also sexually. But, she is now entering into a place where the staff spends months on strike because of lack of pay, shortage of food is common – meaning the older tougher kids tends to get first pick, the guards have done more than just guard the home. I feel myself getting mad and angry again. “God is going with her to Infa” I tell myself. He confirms this is the truth. “She needs tonight. The next season of her life will be hard, but tonight she needs to mourn, she needs to be weak” He says. “Ok”, I say. As I wrap my arms around Maria just in time to feel her begins to tremble as she sobs. I feel my own tears start falling as I feel her shake.
There we were – First sitting, then lying under the stars. My tears had stopped after half an hour, yet hers are still coming. Though there are thirty people around, I felt like it was only us. Part of me wishes she had left on Monday when she was suppose to, but I know that it was God who had kept her here three extra days. God reminds me of her journey this far, how He brought her out of the home where she was abused, how He had given her a month at Heart of Christ – the place where she felt loved for one of the first times in her life, the place where her walk with Christ began.
After two hours she tells me she is cold and tired, and just like that our night ends. She hugs me, tells me goodnight, and we both head to our separate rooms for the night. Through I have been sitting down for the pass two hours hugging and praying over Maria, I’m completely drained. As I sit outside on the bench, I thank him for the night, for allowing me to sit with her in her pain. He reminds me that this is what missions are truly about. Meeting, sitting, crying with people is their pain. You can’t always fix or mend their wounds, but you can be there and love them through it. I know this is the case with Maria. I feel Him filling me with peace over Maria.
When 7:30 came this morning Maria hugged everyone with not a tear in sight. As I stood at the gate watching and waving at Maria God reminded me that this is the reason why I’m here, why He has called me to missions, and why I say yes continually to Christ.
