This weekend, on what I later realized was the 11-year anniversary of me leaving the sex industry, we had one of the most memorable outreaches EVER.
For starters, we had a young woman go out on her very first outreach since escaping the traffickers who brutally forced her into sex work. We have been walking alongside of her for the past couple of years and Friday night, she was ready to turn her pain into purpose. She was so thankful for the healing and rebuilding that has taken place in her life that she wept with gratitude throughout the night. It was an honor to witness this moment in her journey.
Later that night, at the end of the outreach, we pulled up to the strip club where I used to work. This club is a landmark in so many ways. It was the place where, as a broken 19-year old girl, I first stripped and sold myself to strangers. It is also the place where, years later, a compassionate manager, who felt just as trapped as I did, offered to pray with me that God would help me find a way out of the club. Weeks later, God clearly spoke a message to my heart that gave me the strength to leave—“I am going to take care of you. I will never let you down.” And He hasn’t.
This is also the club I sat outside of wondering if there was any way I could reach the girls still working there. My heart bleeding with prayers, remembering them. As it turns out, there was a way—and a simple message, “Her value is far above rubies and pearls.”
Friday night, on the 11-year anniversary of the weekend I quit, and after 6 1/2 years of visiting that very club, desiring to speak love, value and purpose into the lives of the women working there, we were told that the club would be closing the following day. After 53 years of business, the building will be leveled and turned into an airport parking lot.
This would be my last time at the club. And while many of the clubs we visit allow us to hand-deliver the gift bags to the girls, this particular club received them at the door and never allowed us inside. Something in me would not let me leave. So I asked the manager if he would let us in, just so that I could say a proper “goodbye”. And for the first time, since we have been doing outreach, I walked into the club.
It felt as though I entered a time warp. Aside from some wooden stalls they built for more private “lap dances”, nothing had changed. Even much of the staff was the same. Some of them said that they were happy the club was closing—that they finally had a reason to leave the industry. One woman who had been there 25 years said that she WOULD HAVE DIED IN THAT CLUB if it didn’t shut down. Others were not as glad to hear the news. They didn’t know where or if they would be able to find work. We were able to tell them about some of the resources we have.
As I walked in, a young woman threw her arms around me saying, “I have always wanted to meet the girls who have been bringing us gifts. For 6 years we have looked forward to these gifts. Nobody EVER gave us anything or did anything nice for us. You were the only ones who cared." She brought out her camera to take pictures with us and cried like we were long lost sisters.
We spent some time in the dressing room, talking to the girls about their plans for the future. It was the same dressing room where, piece by piece, I sold my outfits on the night I quit, knowing there was no turning back. These women too are at such a pivotal moment in their lives and we hope they will take us up on our offer for support.
Where many clubs have high turnover rates, this particular club seems to keep the employees they hire. Many of the girls reported that this was the first and only club they had ever worked at. And after several years, it was all they knew.
One woman told a volunteer, “This is the only home I have ever known…and there’s no place like home.”
This statement struck me because I can remember a time when the strip club was the only home I knew. I can remember a time when I had become so familiar with being sexualized and objectified that it was comfortable to me. So comfortable, it was almost comforting.
And “home” is exactly what I found on the day I walked into the Oasis, my church. “I am finally home” were the words that came to my heart. I could feel my Loving Father, with His hands outstretched, welcoming me.
We hope and pray that each of these women will discover a home—a refuge—unlike any they have known. And that the closing of this club will mark a new beginning in their lives. That they will come to know that they are loved, valued and purposed and that this revelation would penetrate every corner of their hearts and lives! Here's to new beginnings!
With Love,
Harmony Dust
www.iamatreasure.com
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Where Does it Hurt
Where Does it Hurt?
The other day, my 1-year-old took her first tumble in the bathtub. After hitting her chin on the side of the tub, she slipped face-first into the water. I quickly swept her to her feet and began to examine her for injuries. She looked me directly in the eyes and cried at the top of her lungs. She wanted to know one thing, “Am I going to be okay?”
After finding no blood, bumps, or bruises, I held her in my arms and answered her question. “That was so scary but you are going to be okay, darling. Mommy is right here.” Within moments she quieted and went right back to playing with her bath toys.
Pain can be good. It tells us that something is wrong—that there is something that needs to be addressed.
I realized that my daughter’s response to her pain and fear was actually very healthy. She turned to me, her caregiver, and allowed me to assess her injury and give her comfort. It got me thinking about how I handle pain. Do I always go to God, my loving caregiver, and allow Him to assess my injury? To tell me if there is a wound that needs tending to?
The following day, I found myself hitting a wall. How many of you know that walls can hurt? So I came up with a solution: “I need a freaking piece of chocolate,” I said out loud. The chocolate tasted great, but it didn’t solve the issue. My prescription for the pain was insufficient.
In that moment, I could hear God whisper to my heart, “Come to me…Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”. In that moment, what I needed was the loving presence of my Caregiver, my Loving Father. I needed to spend some time with God and allow Him to assess my hurts. Like my daughter after her fall in the bath, I just needed God to tell me that I was in fact, going to be okay. It was an instance in which I just needed some perspective.
But sometimes our pain is an indication of an actual injury that needs tending. Perhaps an unhealed hurt, or a root of unforgiveness or rejection. We are walking wounded, trying to pretend that all is well—stuffing our faces with chocolate, our appointment books with activities, our minds with television. But these things can only offer temporary relief from the symptoms of our pain. They do not heal our injuries. We again find that our prescriptions for the pain are insufficient.
And there comes a point when our prescriptions for the pain can actually bring more pain. A point when they go from being insufficient, to destructive. It is when the chocolate becomes binge eating and excess weight that jeopardizes our health. When the pain of our loneliness causes us to look for connection in affairs and meaningless sex that jeopardize our families and our hearts. It’s when social drinking turns to drunken stupors, hangovers and missed work.
There comes a time when our prescription for the pain becomes our addiction. We are chasing after what we think we need when only one thing can satisfy.
God has a cure. He says, “Come to me” for “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Ps 147:3). In the arms of our Loving Caregiver, there is rest. There is safety. There is comfort. There is healing.
Written by Harmony Dust for Treasures
www.iamatreasure.com
The other day, my 1-year-old took her first tumble in the bathtub. After hitting her chin on the side of the tub, she slipped face-first into the water. I quickly swept her to her feet and began to examine her for injuries. She looked me directly in the eyes and cried at the top of her lungs. She wanted to know one thing, “Am I going to be okay?”
After finding no blood, bumps, or bruises, I held her in my arms and answered her question. “That was so scary but you are going to be okay, darling. Mommy is right here.” Within moments she quieted and went right back to playing with her bath toys.
Pain can be good. It tells us that something is wrong—that there is something that needs to be addressed.
I realized that my daughter’s response to her pain and fear was actually very healthy. She turned to me, her caregiver, and allowed me to assess her injury and give her comfort. It got me thinking about how I handle pain. Do I always go to God, my loving caregiver, and allow Him to assess my injury? To tell me if there is a wound that needs tending to?
The following day, I found myself hitting a wall. How many of you know that walls can hurt? So I came up with a solution: “I need a freaking piece of chocolate,” I said out loud. The chocolate tasted great, but it didn’t solve the issue. My prescription for the pain was insufficient.
In that moment, I could hear God whisper to my heart, “Come to me…Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”. In that moment, what I needed was the loving presence of my Caregiver, my Loving Father. I needed to spend some time with God and allow Him to assess my hurts. Like my daughter after her fall in the bath, I just needed God to tell me that I was in fact, going to be okay. It was an instance in which I just needed some perspective.
But sometimes our pain is an indication of an actual injury that needs tending. Perhaps an unhealed hurt, or a root of unforgiveness or rejection. We are walking wounded, trying to pretend that all is well—stuffing our faces with chocolate, our appointment books with activities, our minds with television. But these things can only offer temporary relief from the symptoms of our pain. They do not heal our injuries. We again find that our prescriptions for the pain are insufficient.
And there comes a point when our prescriptions for the pain can actually bring more pain. A point when they go from being insufficient, to destructive. It is when the chocolate becomes binge eating and excess weight that jeopardizes our health. When the pain of our loneliness causes us to look for connection in affairs and meaningless sex that jeopardize our families and our hearts. It’s when social drinking turns to drunken stupors, hangovers and missed work.
There comes a time when our prescription for the pain becomes our addiction. We are chasing after what we think we need when only one thing can satisfy.
God has a cure. He says, “Come to me” for “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Ps 147:3). In the arms of our Loving Caregiver, there is rest. There is safety. There is comfort. There is healing.
Written by Harmony Dust for Treasures
www.iamatreasure.com
Monday, August 3, 2009
I hear you...
My good friend Ashley wrote this beautiful poem and I thought you might like it.... Love, Harmony
I HEAR YOU...
Frustration threatens, calls to me, wants to know more than my name! It wants to call me home.
They're all the same.
Suffering, disease, pain, fame.
Calling, calling, calling my name.
Pressure intensifies but I know you’re here… Familiar with my ways, whispering my name, yesterday, today, always the same.
I hear You. I hear You when salt water travels like a creek down the creases of my cheek, collecting, connecting like oceans in my collarbones. I hear You. I hear You.
Disease and death hovering, looming, sea green swampland devils, cooing, luring, consuming, but I hear You, I hear You. Gently, firmly, "You will not drown. Daughter, son, You will not drown" I hear You. I hear You.
Burnt orange and rust colored flames sweeping the land. Red roasting fire of perverted passion rushing gushing, stealing what's left of innocence, ransacking the sacred and holy, raping not just the body, but the soul. But I hear You. I hear You.
Restoring God. Redeemer, Glorious Healer, Magnificent Master, Ferocious Father, Righteous King, Living Word, Great I Am, Alpha and Omega, Beginning and The End.
It is finished, You said. And I hear You. In joy and in pain, we believe You for the day when children are not soldiers, when humans are not trafficked, when cancer will not ravish bones and bodies, when loneliness is not our companion, when poverty and injustice does not reign. We hear You. We wait. We wait with joyful expectation for the day when we see You face to face, when we stand before You in love and longing finally fulfilled.
Holy, Holy, Holy are You lord god almighty! You are the one who was and is and is to come. In light of eternity, I hear You. Let the spirit and the Bride say Come.
Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Come Lord, Come.
Written by Ashley Dodson for Treasures
www.iamatreasure.com
I HEAR YOU...
Frustration threatens, calls to me, wants to know more than my name! It wants to call me home.
They're all the same.
Suffering, disease, pain, fame.
Calling, calling, calling my name.
Pressure intensifies but I know you’re here… Familiar with my ways, whispering my name, yesterday, today, always the same.
I hear You. I hear You when salt water travels like a creek down the creases of my cheek, collecting, connecting like oceans in my collarbones. I hear You. I hear You.
Disease and death hovering, looming, sea green swampland devils, cooing, luring, consuming, but I hear You, I hear You. Gently, firmly, "You will not drown. Daughter, son, You will not drown" I hear You. I hear You.
Burnt orange and rust colored flames sweeping the land. Red roasting fire of perverted passion rushing gushing, stealing what's left of innocence, ransacking the sacred and holy, raping not just the body, but the soul. But I hear You. I hear You.
Restoring God. Redeemer, Glorious Healer, Magnificent Master, Ferocious Father, Righteous King, Living Word, Great I Am, Alpha and Omega, Beginning and The End.
It is finished, You said. And I hear You. In joy and in pain, we believe You for the day when children are not soldiers, when humans are not trafficked, when cancer will not ravish bones and bodies, when loneliness is not our companion, when poverty and injustice does not reign. We hear You. We wait. We wait with joyful expectation for the day when we see You face to face, when we stand before You in love and longing finally fulfilled.
Holy, Holy, Holy are You lord god almighty! You are the one who was and is and is to come. In light of eternity, I hear You. Let the spirit and the Bride say Come.
Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Come Lord, Come.
Written by Ashley Dodson for Treasures
www.iamatreasure.com
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