My nightmare, Their reality

My eyes popped open, but I didn't feel any more rested than when I had fallen asleep. My emotions were in a tangle, and my heart was full of anxiety. Memories came rushing back, and I realized why I was in a cold sweat. My heart sunk to my stomach. It was another dream, and the details were still fresh in my mind. Fear crippled my thoughts. I couldn't move from my bed.

It wasn't the first time though. This wasn't the first nightmare I had where I had been raped, but the fear I had forgotten came rushing back. I am a "sheltered homeschooler" and the last person one would ever think to have these kinds of fears and dreams.

Why had the dream come up again? I asked myself. Why would God allow me to feel such fear? No one was in the house I woke up in, but my mom was just a hill's climb away. I was too frightened to make that walk for a very long time. The few days following I was on edge with every male encounter.

But I think I now understand why God allowed this, and please don't think I'm any sort of a victim.
Oh no.
These dreams are only a very small window into the horror that happens to girls all across the world. I want to tell you about them. 17,500 hundred girls are trafficked into the USA annually, and many of them are between the ages of 18 and 24. Some girls are trafficked at 14. I was an innocent, goofy kid when I was 14. Prostitution is legal in places called the Red Light districts.Think about this! Let this sink into your head, or more importantly your heart.

These women who are trapped emotionally and physically are often forced into prostitution. Yes, I said forced.  I can't say everything I would like to and keep this post readable, but if you want to know more about these girls and really put yourself in their shoes I recommend that you watch a documentary called Nefarious. Tears will be shed, but you can no longer say that you are blind.

God has given me the mission to pray for these girls and the people who go out and minister to them. My heart yearns to help them through prayer, and I hope that you see how important little ol' prayer can change everything. I can't go into strip clubs, out on the town, or bust in brothels to save these precious souls, but I can pray.
Will you pray with me?

Waters of Honesty

Crystal water ripples from the whispers of the wind , and leaves kiss its surface. One strains to find the heart of it all, peering into the water, but it cannot and will not be found. Time passes and the water calms, getting comfortable with the penetrating stare of an onlooker.  That’s when the mud comes forth, bubbling and frothing. Stench rises up into his nose, but he plunges in anyway. Rocks scratch at his feet. What is this?

Honesty. 

It's a scary thing, really. When people see past your persona, when the water calms, they can see the muck and stones that are logged  in that secret place. When we are honest, people will see the grit and grime we all try to hide.

I often wonder why humans try to hide their wickedness, problems, and sin. We all sin, and we all have troubles, so why do we go around pretending like we don't? Often times I do it without noticing it, like it’s a part of me that’s programmed in. I call that program human nature, but it leaves me feeling alone. Wanting to be known but then fearing the outcome of honesty, and why is honesty any better? Because after the out pouring of ones heart to a friend, you can be sure you’re known, really known, by someone, and by pouring out honestly to God I receive cleanliness, righteousness,  and love. 

And it might be funny, but this is my reason for writing all this down and putting it out to others. I want to be honest and share with people what I think, what I believe, and how I feel. 

Here marks my journey of honesty.