tears

The bustle and normality of bars and their clientel rumble through our streets round the clock. In the early morning it's the trucks, collecting the empty kegs, hundreds of them, and replacing them with a fresh batch. Monotonous and regular, like clockwork. The strings attached events begins a little later, after the street sweeper has cleaned up last nights vomit and broken glass. Then the bar girls drag themselves awake and begin the cycle. Since registering to be a prostitute here is no longer kosher, the new term is bar girl. Used to be, she had to have a card, and with it, a free physical, retirement, and she had to be over twenty-one to get the state-run prostitution position. Since power changed hands there's a pretense that such things are beneath us and the card was lifted. With it went the physical, retirement, and age limit. Now young girls have joined the ranks behind the bar. Her first job is to get the client drunk. She gets her commission on the drinks. Her sugar daddy looks out for her, making sure the guys aren't too violent when inebriated. Her next job is to get him upstairs. Or to the nearby hotel. He is usually a regular in for his weekly fix. By morning she is meant to turn over a certain quota. By morning she is also exhausted. Most "bar girls" don't see the light of day. Most of them could also never walk a straight line. Since one must drink with the client, they are usually sleeping the day away for more than one reason.

So it was huge when Autumn Crocus came and told me that she was going to live during the day now. With that she was saying so much more than you and I take for granted. And at first it was relatively simple. Use an alarm clock, get up, come to the Outreach Center and learn a trade, and get paid for what you make. Wonderful! She was excited and told other bar girls, inviting them to come too! But gradually she realized that the drink and the life have a power over you. The darkness does not let go so easily. Now she realizes why we have a Bible study over lunch each day. She's coming to understand why we lay hands on each other and pray.

So, last week, she asked us to lay hands on her and pray too. She wanted to be free of the dragon called drink. She realized her need for help. We prayed, and one of her former - now saved - coworkers told her she could cry out to God and tell Him what she wants. She did. With tears running down her cheeks, she did. And she felt a load lift off of her, physically. Her face has shone with joy ever since. Blessed are those who are poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of God.