by Hannah W., DTS student
Her name is not Prostitute.
Before I met Evita, it was so easy to pray for a person I didn’t know, a situation I wasn’t familiar with, a street I’d never seen. So easy to wrap up with “amen” and get the sleep I looked forward to all day. I was like a blindfolded archer – desperate to meet the mark in my prayers, but not willing to look at the target.
But now I know her name.
Evita has two daughters — one who was taken from her and one who went willingly.
Evita wants to provide for them, but that’s a luxury she cannot afford.
Evita is incredibly funny.
Evita remembers when the best Latvian restaurant had an arcade on the second floor. She enjoys dancing but is in need of a dance partner who can keep up. She likes the color pink. She has a beautiful laugh. She struggled with drugs but God set her free.
Now she’s walking out the door and heading back to the street.
Praying and moving on just got a whole lot harder to do. How can this be her life? The weight of her reality overwhelms me and discouragement creeps into my soul. But then I remember my God, my Hope, my Light, my Healer, my Renewer. He is also her Hope, her Light, her Healer, her Renewer. I fire back at the lies that would say otherwise.
Yes, getting to know Evita was hard on my heart, but now my prayers have a direct target and I’m pulling back my bow.