You're Just at the Age

It's a phrase I've been hearing a lot lately.

"Well, you're just at the age where you can't eat like you used to."

"You're just at the age where you can't do what you used to do."

"As you know, you're at the age where you will have to drive your kids all over the place."

"You should know, you're at the age where you will have to go to the doctor every year for blood work and a physical."

Ugh.

This morning I woke up with my hands in fists, my jaw clenched and shoulders tight. Immediately I saw five beautiful, young faces in my mind's eye, faces of women who received Cord of Hope gifts last night. Tears welled in my eyes as I soaked in the details I could remember of each young woman.

Two of them, sisters, looked wild, naive, intoxicated with money and attention. Two others stood with gifts like little girls exclaiming how perfect their new gift fit their personalities. They gushed thanks and giddiness. The last girl looked somewhat withdrawn, insecure, embarrassed, but bold enough to ask me questions about Easter church service in the park.

My heart aches today. My tears won't stop. My mind is full of wild schemes of throwing young girls over my shoulder and bringing them home with me. However, this outreach is no different than the others. The women still dance for men. They are still someone's sister, daughter, friend. They are valued, loved, and treasured no more or less than any other time we've gone into the clubs over the last eight years.

But I am different.

I'm at the age...

I'm at the age that I am old enough to be their mom.

I'm at the age that they aren't my peers.

I'm at the age that I've embraced my maternal instincts everywhere but in the clubs. Now I must wrestle with how to process my strong desires to love them like daughters when before I've always loved them like sisters.

I'm at the age that I actually know the two young, wild, naive, intoxicated sisters. I know them. I literally could be their mom. Today my heart breaks in such a way that I feel like their mom.

For eight years I've been honestly saying, "God, whether we see women come out of the business or not, whether we see fruit in this ministry or not, we will continue to walk in obedience in taking gifts to these women as a tangible example of your love for them." This morning my heart scoffs at the idea.

I don't want to leave young girls there. I want to drive my soccer mom mini-van to the clubs tonight, push the button for the door to automatically open, give them my mom stink eye, and tell them to get in. I weep at the thought of leaving them there. My heart aches at the counterfeit love that fools their longing for security and significance. I'm stuck in my inability to rescue each one.

But Jesus whispers...

He alone rescues. He alone saves. He alone died for them. He alone loves purely. He alone redeems. He alone is worthy to do the work in my heart and theirs that only He can do.

Please pray for the women who received gifts last night. Please pray for the five young girls I've mentioned.

Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna! Save them! God, save them! Only you can save them!