Forgotten

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I huddled deeper under my thin blanket as I tried to warm up in the freezing room.  I knew the other girls were trying to do the same as I heard shuffling all around me.  Malasia, a sweet six year old, finally stood up on her mat and crawled over to me.  She looked at me with big, pleading eyes and whispered, “Naya, I’m cold.”

I lifted my blanket inviting her to share body heat with me.  “Thanks.” She whispered as she nodded off to sleep.  I smoothed her hair as I thought of how quickly she had fallen asleep.  It wasn’t surprising understanding the day she had gone through.

Tears welled in my eyes, yet again, as I thought of our situation.  It had all started with an innocent-seeming trip to the mall.  I was 13, and I had decided it was about time I was allowed to wear makeup.  Unfortunately, my parents didn’t agree with me on that stand.  So, I did what any other rebellious young teen would do, I snuck out.  It was about 7:30 on a warm summer evening.  It was still fairly light out as I had another hour or so before dusk.  The walk to the mall from our house was a short one so as I reached the front of the mall’s parking lot, I was excited and ready to get my first taste of maturity.

Then, the unthinkable happened.  Now, I understand it’s completely clique to say “the unthinkable”, but it really is the unthinkable.  Or, more like “the unthoughtof”.  A lean man, probably about 45, grabbed me by the waist and shoved a rag over my mouth and nose.  Before I could even think to scream, the harsh chemical had my vision blurring and thoughts slowing.  Within seconds I was passed out.

The rest of my story is a sad, painful blur.  I am now 16, and still stuck in what society calls “human trafficking”.   First hand, it does kind of feel like that.  In a way, it feels like we’re the cheapest, most unwanted livestock on the market as we’re roughly shuffled across the world.  We must be worth less than an apple because at least when they’re sold, the sellers and buyers care if they’re bruised or not.

Absentmindedly I gently ran my finger over a bruise on Malasia’s face.  She was thrown into the flow much younger than I was.  Some of the older girls and myself tried to keep her from the harder jobs, but there was only so much protecting we can do.

I thought back to my parents.  Do they know what happened to me?  Is New York covered in posters with my face on them?  Probably not.  I mean, do you really notice one girl’s face all blown up on the sides of buildings everywhere you go?  No.  That’s because there are so many of us.  There are too many for us to all get a side of a building, so we have become forgotten.  The untouchable, unspeakable, unthinkable group of girls.

Our story is not told to children because even what we are called, “Human Sex Trafficking”, has “Inappropriate!” and “Don’t scare them!” written all over it.  We are rarely spoken of in church because we bring tears to eyes and blushes to cheeks.  Because we are a tough subject, we are forgotten by many people who call themselves Christians.  We are turned over to the country to be taken care of.  Christians should have already taken care of the problem. 

What happened to John 13:35, “By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.”?  Where is the love that is supposed to be shown to us?

With a sigh, I closed my eyes and shut out the gray, sad picture I was forced to live in.  I pulled Malasia a bit closer to me and forced myself to sleep so at least I would be alert enough to try to keep myself out of trouble.  A single tear ran down my face as I fell into a fitful sleep just to face another day of slavery and abuse.

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This is a very real problem in the world today.  You may not be personally called to minister to these girls, but you can still play a massive part in this war by praying.  Praying that someone may minister to them and show them the Lord's love.  Pray for the people who are called to minister to them, pray they will follow the Lord's command.  And always remember, even if you are not specifically called to these girls, you are called to someone.  Every Christian has a mission they have been called to.  What is yours?

Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew 28: 19-20

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