I have wanted to write for a while, but just couldn’t seem to do it. I’d sit down to write and couldn’t get anything down on paper. And even as I start this, I know that I am not writing to ‘inspire’, but more to process.
But there IS one story that I really want to tell. It’s about a little girl named Brenda. She’s 13. She lives in a villa here in Buenos Aires. A villa is what we would refer to in the States as a shantytown.
A few weeks back, we did an Aguas de Sanidad (Healing Waters Conference) for Youth, in conjunction with a ministry called King’s Castle. We followed our regular format which looks like this: I share my story of childhood sexual abuse, family violence, etc…how God pulled me out, intervened when I was ready to take my life, and my ‘journey’ to healing; we then go into workshops where professionals talk about things like prevention, the process of healing & restoration, family violence, signs and symptoms to watch for in your children, etc.
We were entering the ministry time at the event where we let the participants respond: Express the inexpressible, express what has not been allowed to be expressed--a time where they can admit for the first time in their lives, that what happened REALLY happened—breaking the silence and shame of sexual abuse and domestic violence; this is a time where they are, for the first time, grabbing hold of hope and believing that God will enable them to start a journey of breaking the past’s (or the present’s) grip over their lives. Really, there’s no way to put into words what happens during this ministry time—it’s pretty amazing. Freedom…healing…I’ll try to leave it at those two words.
It was during this time that I felt a little hand reach up and tug at my arm. I looked down and saw this little girl. I couldn’t see her face; it was covered over by her thick black hair. Literally---a hair ball! I knelt down in front of her and went on an expedition pulling her hair back so that I could see her face. I finally found her in there! She had a blank stare and spoke to me in a monotone voice—not even ‘engaging’ me with her eyes, if that makes sense. She matter-of-factly said, “I want you to pray for me--I’m in a psychiatric hospital because I try to kill myself.” I told her, “Baby, of course I will! But, why would you want to kill yourself? ” She said, “Because they are raping me.”
If I could insert a long silent pause here in my writing I would. Because that’s what I felt…I felt stunned…punched in the stomach. I don’t know how to explain it either. Because it’s not like we don’t hear these confessions (and worse) every single time we take our team and minister this event. But…she was just so little…and so hard…and so broken...so detached…so wanting help.
Brenda was invited by someone to come to the Aguas Conference for Youth. She was on a weekend ‘pass’ from the hospital so she could be at home for the weekend, and ended up spending her Saturday at our event in a converted warehouse that serves as a ministry center for King’s Castle. She told me her story. But she changed the “THEY” (“…because THEY are raping me)to “HE” as she spoke. It took her a few meetings with our team before she could admit that not only was her uncle raping her (her mom’s brother), but her stepdad has been raping her as well. For the past 5 years. She didn’t want to tell us this, because she didn’t want to ruin her mom’s life (quote) and marriage.
In September of last year, Brenda dove out the 4th story window of her school building attempting to commit suicide. Instead of landing on the ground, there were two teachers on the ground who literally broke her fall…breaking their arms and legs…but Brenda’s life was spared.
That was when they took her to a public psychiatric hospital in Buenos Aires.
And nobody asked a thing.
Nobody said, “Why would this 12 year old little girl dive off of a building?” “What’s going on in her little mind?” Nobody examined her. They just medicated her and left her there. The system, as well, utterly failed her. A few short months ago Brenda told a doctor in the hospital about the sexual abuse. Even though the doctor was legally obligated to disclose the abuse and notify authorities, the doctor did nothing. I could go into more details here, but I won’t…suffice it to say that the authorities at the hospital also took advantage of the family’s abject poverty—and did not divulge valuable information as to resources that could have greatly assisted them. Because of their obvious social status, those who COULD have just didn’t intervene.
And now…Brenda is 3 months pregnant—by either her uncle or her stepdad.
It really IS a tragic situation. But there is an amazing side to this.
It’s amazing that this little girl from a shantytown in the middle of a city of 14 million showed up at a little event in an obscure location on the other side of the city. It’s amazing that something inside her still had the strength and courage to come up and tug on a stranger’s arm. It’s amazing that this tiny little creature is even still standing!
We prayed over her and ministered to her for a long time that Saturday. She never shed a tear, but clung to my hand.
When Brenda broke the silence that day, it started off a chain of events. My team and I were able to intervene in her situation. One of my team members, Malena Manzato, is a social worker and psychologist who also works for the government of the city of Buenos Aires. She has been instrumental in investigating Brenda’s situation, and helping get more help for her. I sat in Malena’s office, along with my friend Graciela Prein, who is a vital part of Aguas, as we met with Brenda’s mom, gently revealing what was happening to her baby girl in her own home….with her husband, and with her brother. We sat with her, prayed with her, and counseled her.
And the journey continues for them. They are now a part of a local church; I know their pastor and his wife…and they are working with us to help intervene in the lives of this family.
Brenda has gone to a couple of more events with King’s Castle…is friends with the directors’ daughters…texts them when she is feeling bad…asks for prayer…and now prays on her own too. Her mom is attending the church and developing new friendships with people who really care.
There’s something that I repeat over and over during the course of an Aguas conference: Healing is a process. It’s sometimes a painful process. God intervenes in our lives—many times there’s a dramatic and emotional beginning.
For me it was May 7, 1987 when I was ready to take my own life—out of hopelessness—out of isolation in my own anger and hate. I had lived for 10-11 years in absolute silence with my secret of having been violated as a 10 year old girl. I had accepted as normal the constant trauma of family violence in my own home all growing up. I accepted the lie that abuse tell it’s victims—that I was worthless; that I was ugly; that I had something inherently wrong with me; that I wasn’t worth defending; that I could not love or be loved. That was the state my mind and soul were in when God literally intervened in my life—when, even though I had been so angry with Him, I cried out to Him that night and asked Him to change my feelings; heal my mind; help me. And He did. And it was a process! There was a dramatic beginning—and then some very real, feet-in-the-dirt steps that I had to choose to take afterwards to continue that journey towards restoration and wholeness. God is faithful. And, even though the Bible is an antiquated book—it is truly the Word of God breathed and expressed on paper that, when applied, is able to transform lives—heal our souls.
Even though, as a minister, I love to communicate, to minister to people, to pray for them…I also realize the need of getting our ministry out from behind the pulpit—to put some feet on it—feet that are willing to walk with people on Monday through Saturdays, not just on Sundays. I am thankful that God has given me a great team to work with—I’m thankful that we were able to do more than just pray for Brenda (which is a critical part of her journey)—we have also been able to walk with her a little bit…
When you think of her, pray for little Brenda…that the Lord would continue to pour out medicine on her wounds and give her hope for a good future (Jeremiah 29:11).