Somewhere in all the craziness of a job search, the coffee shop conversations with friends and the happy hour drinks, I'd forgotten why I moved here. Doubts have flooded my mind with the "what ifs" and the "what nows." At some point it all stopped making sense, my decisions, my goals, and my choices. I began thinking, "Where do I go from here? How can I make it back to SF the fastest and get my job back?"
Within the few months that I have been here I examined the possibility that I had made the wrong choice. Because I moved to volunteer with a new non-profit I had to find a full-time job to make a living. Unfortunately it was harder than I imagined. I am at a part-time job that I'm unhappy with making almost no money. My optimism in this adventure has left me penniless with creditors calling, bills piling up and a savings depleted.
Each day seems like a struggle in itself. Must look for jobs. Must apply for jobs. Inevitably get rejected by jobs. And finally. must go to my job making coffee for people who rarely look you in the eye.
Because of all this...I doubted. Until this week.
On Wednesday night I had the privilege of attending a forum at PLNU with Generate Hope's founders as the guest speakers. I watched students eagerly learn about sex-trafficking and their community. Afterwards they came up with encouragement and hearts ready to help and abolish trafficking. Watching the video and hearing the statistics on this major issue cut through my heart. I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten why I moved.
At church on Sunday our pastor spoke of a life that may never fully come to fruition. Sometimes our lives can be racked with pain and trouble and we may never know why. But God is faithful and whether he blesses us or lets us go through trials, He has promised a better place for eternity. He says "follow me," without promises of a perfect, safe, comfortable life.
On this same day at work, I met someone who has been an inspiration to me since college. He and his wife sat at one of our tables in the restaurant. Initially I didn't recognize him but felt I knew him. As I approached I realized who it was. Laren Poole. Laren and his two friends began Invisible Children (IC). In 2003 when they came to Biola with their presentation on the child soldiers being forced to fight in Uganda, they opened my eyes to social justice. This began my passion and desire to work in a career fighting for social justice of those in other countries.
In my excitement I approached Poole and his wife. We spoke of IC and I mentioned my work with Generate Hope. I was thrilled to meet them and be reminded that if three people such as myself could create such a huge awareness of their issue then I could as well. IC just won $1M with the Chase Giveaway contest. And all this because 3 young guys decided they were no longer going to sit back and watch thousands of kids being turned into child soldiers. They are an inspiration.
Confused and broke, I am still fighting to figure out what my part is in this thing called Life. But I'm thankful for God's reminders that while I may see mistakes and unanswered questions, He sees my whole life and knows exactly why I'm here. Luckily I don't need to figure it out just yet.
Ultimately I'm excited to see how I can be used to further the awareness of sex-trafficking in San Diego.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Soul Food
I met her Sunday night. I had hardly expected the evening to go as it did. Bertha welcomed us into her one bedroom apartment that was shared with her daughter. Her story touched my heart and reminded me of a world much bigger than my own life.
Wrinkles embraced her dark face giving her the look of a much older woman. Her right ear had been disfigured from what appeared to come from a cut lobe. With small hands she handed us three red cups of water as we entered her home. We were here to offer food and companionship for an hour of her night. As she spoke my heart felt her pain, saw her longing, and ached to fix her problems.
Bertha had recently been widowed after an accident to her husband's leg which began to swell and continued to worsen. During this same time her son had begun to abuse her, bruising the left side of her face and injuring her back. Unable to stop the continual abuse, Bertha and her husband called the police and sent their son to jail. She was told that to keep him there she'd have to pay. With the little money she has she continues to pay the price.
Still left with a pain in his swollen leg, Bertha's husband prolonged treatment. Afraid of hospitals that would "leave him to die," they waited for it to heal naturally. Finally able to convince him to go in, she was later met with the news that he had died in the hospital. His fears had come true.
With a son in jail and the passing of her husband, her life had changed dramatically in a short time. As we listened, Bertha spoke of the hospital's unwillingness to tell her the reason for his death. Papers had been turned in, signed and completed but an answer was still being refused. Six weeks later she still has not been told the cause of death.
With no family in the area, Bertha struggles to take care of her daughter, keep her son from hurting her and obtain her husband's death certificate. As we concluded the evening we worked out a few ideas to help and will be contacting Bertha during the week. Unfortunately, the solution to her problems couldn't be solved overnight. However, I am committed to seeing her story through and using any gifts I have to be there for her.
It's stories like Bertha's that urge me to do more with my life then just sit around worrying about my own problems. I can't imagine the pain that she goes to bed with nightly. The thoughts that go through her head as she daily tries to cope with the events of these past few months. As I continue on in my search for a career helping others, I am constantly reminded of the need for people to come alongside those who are suffering.
I am so thankful that I was able to spend time with Bertha. She is beautiful and strong and I am blessed to have met her.
Wrinkles embraced her dark face giving her the look of a much older woman. Her right ear had been disfigured from what appeared to come from a cut lobe. With small hands she handed us three red cups of water as we entered her home. We were here to offer food and companionship for an hour of her night. As she spoke my heart felt her pain, saw her longing, and ached to fix her problems.
Bertha had recently been widowed after an accident to her husband's leg which began to swell and continued to worsen. During this same time her son had begun to abuse her, bruising the left side of her face and injuring her back. Unable to stop the continual abuse, Bertha and her husband called the police and sent their son to jail. She was told that to keep him there she'd have to pay. With the little money she has she continues to pay the price.
Still left with a pain in his swollen leg, Bertha's husband prolonged treatment. Afraid of hospitals that would "leave him to die," they waited for it to heal naturally. Finally able to convince him to go in, she was later met with the news that he had died in the hospital. His fears had come true.
With a son in jail and the passing of her husband, her life had changed dramatically in a short time. As we listened, Bertha spoke of the hospital's unwillingness to tell her the reason for his death. Papers had been turned in, signed and completed but an answer was still being refused. Six weeks later she still has not been told the cause of death.
With no family in the area, Bertha struggles to take care of her daughter, keep her son from hurting her and obtain her husband's death certificate. As we concluded the evening we worked out a few ideas to help and will be contacting Bertha during the week. Unfortunately, the solution to her problems couldn't be solved overnight. However, I am committed to seeing her story through and using any gifts I have to be there for her.
It's stories like Bertha's that urge me to do more with my life then just sit around worrying about my own problems. I can't imagine the pain that she goes to bed with nightly. The thoughts that go through her head as she daily tries to cope with the events of these past few months. As I continue on in my search for a career helping others, I am constantly reminded of the need for people to come alongside those who are suffering.
I am so thankful that I was able to spend time with Bertha. She is beautiful and strong and I am blessed to have met her.
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