I get it. The sting of tears that threatened to erupt in the dealership now flowed freely in the comfort of my home. They weren’t tears for me … I’ve overcome the anxieties of this part of my past. These were tears for these young girls.
I know what they are struggling with right now and I want to take that pain away from them. I know the path they’ll need to follow to find freedom from this part of their life and I know they’ll be stronger for it, but I want to hold their hand along the way, maybe even give them a ride. If only I could.
An hour later my phone rang one ring and stopped. The fact my ringer on was a miracle because I never have my ringer on. (Just ask Neal. It’s a pet peeve of his that I never get his calls because my phone is on vibrate!) I picked it up and called the number back thinking to myself “Why am I doing this? I’m sure it was a wrong number or misdial.”
A woman with a heavy proper English accent answered and stumbled with her words. At first I was still uncertain if she meant to call me and finally she began to make sense. She needed information on my ministry.
Two hours later I hung up with the flesh on my arms still bristled with Holy Spirit goosebumps.
She was a woman in her 60s who had suffered through an unimaginable horror in Africa when she was younger. Once she was able to truly get her words together she began to lament about the 300 young women who had been stolen from their families in Nigeria.
She explained in detail the various horrors they were undoubtedly suffering (if they were not already gone) because she had lived through them herself. She wept for these young women and simply needed to speak it out loud.
In the end she let me know she had been holding on to my number for nearly three years. She had tried various times to call but would hang up before it rang just as she did today. When I called back she said she tried to lie and say it was a wrong number, but God wouldn’t let her, which is why her words were so jumbled.
She wants to see me, to share with me more of her story. She’s been to countless therapists in her life and yet she knows what she needs is to speak to someone who understands her pain.
I would have listened to her all day but she needed to get back to her life. She left me singing a hymn and asked me to look up the lyrics. I thought I’d leave you with it today:
Janet Perez Eckles 
Shawn Akers 
Abby Trivett