A small piece of fruit...

I was given a sweet gift yesterday.
My last week of work is going quickly, and as often happens when I'm just putzing around the office, a "divine appointment" walked "randomly" through the door. We'll call her Rachel. She'd seen our program at her school about a year and a half ago. At that time she was a virgin and thought that everything we said made sense. Sex is powerful.... You're worth more than your culture wants you to know... Set your standards high... Love and sex aren't the same thing...
When we spoke of the after school group where people can come to talk about the issues of sex and relationships, she thought she didn't need to go to something like that-- she "didn't need to talk about anything."
Sitting across from her I could tell she was embarrassed to be sitting here now, but there was a realness about her that was refreshing and sweet. "I wish I'd listened. I wish I'd come. I didn't realize how much it would affect me. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. It's just what everyone does. Maybe if I'd had people to talk to, to strengthen my beliefs, I could have avoided all of this..."
As we talked her eyes kept welling up with tears. "I feel stupid-- I never cry like this-- but I have no one to talk to about this stuff. I really can't do this lifestyle anymore. I really want to deal with this baggage. I need help." I tried to reassure her that this was the best thing in the world she could be doing right now. Especially as a woman-- tears are important! I told her how mature it was of her to be sitting here, that most people don't have the courage to ask for help and really mean it. She wasn't just wallowing in self pity or playing the victim. She wanted real change. Her beauty radiated through her pain, and my heart was filled with hope for her.
I told her that God loves us too much to let us stay where we are sometimes. "I wish I could believe that," she replied with a trembling voice. We talked about how so many girls end up stripped of their identity and sense of worth through becoming sexually active. To believe that you are loved or lovable (esp. by God) is beyond comprehension after you've been used again and again. Esp. if you feel that you're the one who's allowed yourself to be used. "I want to be the woman I'm meant to be," she continued, "but I know I can't become that if I don't work through this junk."
Wise beyond her years! I couldn't explain to her how beautiful she was -- how stark of a contrast she is to the hardened, bitter women who often walk in the door of that office, wanting to be free from pain, but not willing to be vulnerable and open to change.
We talked for a long time, and she seemed eager to come back for the group, as well as for counseling. I pray that she does.
In the midst of relating to her I experienced a range of emotions myself. Overwhelming awe at the blessing it is to not only see someone so vulnerable and honest, but someone who our program impacted (and obviously went deep enough for her to remember it all and know where to come for help)! Here I am, about to leave this work I've loved so dearly and devoted my whole life to-- and God allows me to see a small glimpse of the results of the investment. If Rachel were the only person to ever be affected by our words, I can whole-heartedly, without a shadow of doubt say that it was all worth it. Every challenging, long, and frustrating day spent losing my voice or feeling like no one was listening (which was the exception , not the norm), was worth it just for this moment. For all the kids who walk away saying, "That's nice. But it doesn't affect me..." Rachel is a stark reminder of the Truth. It can and will set you free-- and sometimes it takes a year and a half (or a decade and a half) for it to really sink in.
So take heart, those of you who labor for the Kindom of God's Love-- you do not labor in vain. You will reap a harvest if you do not give up. Even if it's a harvest you never see!