From Stephanie Fisk, this heart-breaking story:
It was the typical story. A family of 6. The mom left for
work two years ago and disappeared somewhere in Kazakastan. I assumed a
case of human trafficking. The dad was a shepherd and an alcoholic. The
13 year old was left to take care of her
younger brother and two sisters. They
were awaiting the return of their mom. She was going to rescue them.
work two years ago and disappeared somewhere in Kazakastan. I assumed a
case of human trafficking. The dad was a shepherd and an alcoholic. The
13 year old was left to take care of her
younger brother and two sisters. They
were awaiting the return of their mom. She was going to rescue them.
They slept above the stove and on a dirty mattress right
beside the cat and her three kittens. Brightly
colored bandanas covered uncombed, lice infected curls. Blackened pots and pans with weeks old,
molded food sat on top of the broken chest. Mounds of clothes were strewn across the dirt floor. The smell of
dampened hopes hit me as I entered the room. Through the streaked windowpane, a single beam of light cast a spotlight
on the shattered dreams that hung defeated on the broken bed frame. I could not shake the feeling that something
ugly had taken place in here before.
beside the cat and her three kittens. Brightly
colored bandanas covered uncombed, lice infected curls. Blackened pots and pans with weeks old,
molded food sat on top of the broken chest. Mounds of clothes were strewn across the dirt floor. The smell of
dampened hopes hit me as I entered the room. Through the streaked windowpane, a single beam of light cast a spotlight
on the shattered dreams that hung defeated on the broken bed frame. I could not shake the feeling that something
ugly had taken place in here before.
We cleaned. We
burned, a lot. We cut hair and gave
bathes. We painted doors blue and tore
down cracked walls. Then the mom came
home. True story. The reality was the mom standing in front of
me, holding her 3 year old daughter. The
kid hung on to her mom as though she knew her. The mom had the opposite
affect on the 13 year old. Did the mom really just reappear after two
years? And ironically during the time the church was coming to their
aid? Was she trafficked in the past? What was the
true story?
burned, a lot. We cut hair and gave
bathes. We painted doors blue and tore
down cracked walls. Then the mom came
home. True story. The reality was the mom standing in front of
me, holding her 3 year old daughter. The
kid hung on to her mom as though she knew her. The mom had the opposite
affect on the 13 year old. Did the mom really just reappear after two
years? And ironically during the time the church was coming to their
aid? Was she trafficked in the past? What was the
true story?
I do know she cried. Actually, she wailed. She also
yelled. While I do not know the whole
truth of what was happening before my eyes, I do know there was pain and
brokenness. There was desperation and
separation. I wish that I could wrap up
this ‘story’ for you so it could be beautifully wrapped with a happy ending,
but I cannot. I do know that the church
body in Slobozia is still working on the house and the mom is present. But other than that, the memory remains fresh
and continues to paint a very real picture in my spirit of life in
Moldova.
yelled. While I do not know the whole
truth of what was happening before my eyes, I do know there was pain and
brokenness. There was desperation and
separation. I wish that I could wrap up
this ‘story’ for you so it could be beautifully wrapped with a happy ending,
but I cannot. I do know that the church
body in Slobozia is still working on the house and the mom is present. But other than that, the memory remains fresh
and continues to paint a very real picture in my spirit of life in
Moldova.
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Just watched the movie, Trade, tonight. This stuff is all too real.
And the reason that she came home, was that she knew that at last she and the family was safe in God’s love. That is the reason that she wailed, it was pure and simple love for what you had done.
my spirit wails also. and has not stopped yet.
This blog is haunting me today. I see my little girls in those pictures. Why am I “here” again? “Here” being where we live, the life we’ve built. Why are we not “there”? “There” being those dark places that need His presence and love, and where children are so vulnerable and alone?
I’m so ready to shed this life and move on. This blog cuts right to my heart. I wonder if Jesus felt this way in eternity, as he watched history play out from Adam to his birth? Was He restless, too? Itching to get into the game? Restless to go set people free, bind the brokenhearted, and heal the sick as he watched from heaven? Was he impatient waiting on His time to come?
As a parent, I’m so grateful God led Stephanie and the team to this family. God indeed heard their cries and orchestrated Stephanie’s presence. Thank you, Stephanie, for being “there”.
just another realization that the women who are caught up in this horror are not the only innocents affected. a generation is losing their mothers. This is where God is calling His people. to the trenches, with the broken. Praise God for this awakening of reality he is stirring in people like Stephanie’s heart! May we respond accordingly.
Great movie, it shows the reality way too good!