… we failed to tell; we failed to name …

Mom Eam is 30 years old.  She stood on the far right with the other 2 women.  One is 23.  One is 33.  They look the same to me.  Their age difference doesn’t indicate one is less experienced than the others.  Their age difference doesn’t tell of the fact that one has seen the world more than the others.  10 years of difference, yet their fate have come to be the same.  All chose to become sex workers to support their families.  Volunteering?  Would one really choose to volunteer to be sex worker?  Would one really choose to be in the sex trade industry as their vocation?  They chose because there is no other choices.  They chose because the whole society had been teaching them their bodies are products for sale.  Their virginities, their dignities, their yet to be found preciousness in the eyes of Father God are all hidden under the heavy blankets of sin and evil.

Paul and I come here today not just to pray for Mom Eam, but also come for “SN”, probably for the days to come.  I regret with the fact that I haven’t written down my prayer for this little girl.  On Saturday morning I woke up with a heart that was filled with tons of cement.  We were getting ready to attend a wedding.  I put on make-up to go with the biege dress I chose the night before.  Yet I washed it all away and changed myself out of it.  I couldn’t bare to see myself in all these colours when my heart was mourning for the loss of a girl’s innocence.  Hers was already lost.  Does that mean she could be invaded over and over again?  Is hers less precious than those who are yet to face their first time?  I cried out to my Father God, I rummaged my fingers to this, “how can a mother forget her infant on her breasts?”

Father God, you allow us to experience such intense love you have for your children – the reckless raging furious kind of love.  Such intensity is foreign yet familiar.  So intense that it ripples out the effect that it hurts me in return.  Simultaneously I confess my sin to you that I have such hypocrisy in me.  My heart is still burdened yet in a small compartment I house a piece of attention focusing on Heather’s innocence.  How she is immuned by all these, yet millions of children face the exact opposite.  I start to mull over the concept of “Mother” – safety, forgiveness, protection, unconditional love, wisdom, gentleness, friendship, unlimited hugs and kisses.  Millions of children are not getting any of the above but malice, greed, anger, desolation, abandonment, lies, threats, coercion, intimidation (….).  Millions of children are with mothers who see their babies nursing on their breasts with dollars signs.  I couldn’t go on to let my mind run wild and dry.  Yet Father God, you reminded me that the greatest enemy in our struggle to stop oppression and injustice is always the insidious etiquette of silence.  Any serious contest with evil requires a painful confrontation with the truth.  The greatest and most shameful regrets of history are always about the truth we failed to tell, the evil we failed to name.  Now I am naming them … face them, name them, confront them, I beckon you, Father God!

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