Nothing could prepare me.

I would like to talk about a specific moment during my trip to India that I think hit me the hardest.

It's strange, and feels wrong because I'm struggling to find the words to describe the moment. It feels like I'm pulling word after word off the racks and it just doesn't look right or doesn't quite fit. And it certainly doesn't do anything justice. The problem is endless, and I'll never figure out the words. Because they're aren't any. They don't exsist. The only possible way for you to know is if you were there.

I've been through 2 years of pursuing my women's studies degree. Reading about forced prostiution and sex trafficking. Seeing documentaries. Looking at women in pictures. I thought I knew. My heart broke for the women. I cared about them. I wanted to do something about it.

But, then, I was actually there. I was with the women. She put her hand on my leg as she painted flowers. Modeled after mine. She held my hand. She smiled, laughed. Sipped chai tea. Enjoyed life with me. Her eyes connected to mine like oceans to rivers. The women were so beautiful.

My heart didn't just break, it landed on the floor with a loud crash into millions of pieces when I remembered. When I realized, after they were done enjoying life with us, after they were done sipping chai, painting flowers, eating chocolate and laughing -they had to go work.

When we left the building, and quietly grabbed cabs to go back to the YMCA, I lost it. Tears were abundant and words were gone.

The words were gone. Because there were none anymore. They didn't exist.

I remember the cab ride back was extreamly quiet. Which is a strange occurence in Mumbai, India. Where people are abundant and cars are honking and noise levels are always on high. But, it's like all sound just dropped off the face of the earth. It was just my breaking heart and God. Even my crying wasn't making much noise. Their lives, were unimaginable to me, I thought. But, they've endured it all their lives. It's sort of all they know. The robbery of their very being is all they know. Knowing that made it worse. Made the tears flow more heavily.

I'll never forget these women. Ever. I constantly wonder what they are doing throughout the day. Are they working? Or are they getting the opprotunity to live today? To paint? To laugh? To sing? To pray? And I have never been so urgant and yearning to continue loving these women. Even with the language barrier, the love was universal. I know it sounds cliche and like a badly written song. But seriously, the love language was understood by all that day.

For a while, it seemed to helpless. I was so angry at God for letting this happen. How could he allow millions of women get raped everyday for their jobs? How could he.

and I realized, even among this horrible puzzle of an issue God was there. These women aren't completely enslaved or depressed or trapped or helpless. God is still with them. And God is calling me. Little, nearly useless me to finish my degree so I can keep loving them. How blessed am I? And I have to do this. It's so important. I'm not living for me anymore. I want my life to be about serving them. I absolutley love these women. With all of my shattered heart.

There are no words. Because God is the word. And words for something like that don't exist.

He's too big.




I asked the Lord to break my heart over this. Thankfully, He did.