Gulsen

Gulsen smiled nervously as her boys tore screaming up and down the corridor. She wasn't sure if we were ok with boys being boys. We smiled back and she relaxed. Fiona bent down and joined them roaring like a lion. It worked. They ran faster.

Gulsen's shoulders let a bit of her tension go while she sipped her tea. This was the first time she had ever been out of the neighborhood. Her 'husband' had been good enough to drop her at the church. It was a special day, being March 8th, and women had to be honored, you know. So he had brought her and the boys over.  He smoked a few cigarettes outside, chatting with the pastor as we went on with our program.

The room buzzed with ladies chatting between sessions. It had been a good day so far. The ladies were a little awed to all be able to get together, and surprised that they were being honored. Usually March 8th was for the rich women. It was also a first for them to all get together across all the various racial and regional boundaries their people groups had set for them.

'It's so nice for the boys to play.' Gulsen smiled sadly. 'At home the neighborhood is muddy, and the men watch me so closely, we don't get out. Being boys, they are full of energy, you know.'

'Your older son is a big boy, does he go to school yet?' I asked.

'No,' she shook her head, 'Because we're illegal, he can't.' she sighed.

I was puzzled. Her husband was a national. I knew she was from Turkmenistan, but ... 'If we were married, maybe.' she explained. 'But he has a wife. I am the clan woman, you know. So my children have no papers.'

Of course. I understood. I hadn't worked through all the implications. In this people group men from a family found one woman that they all shared as the family prostitute so they could make sure their sons didn't get sick when they reached puberty. They also used her when their wives were pregnant. So she was a sex slave, but the property of a family instead of a brothel. She interacted with the clan wives, but was a second-class person. Of course it hadn't been her choice. She had been sold to them, and now, with sons, she could never leave. If she did, the boys would stay. In her world view this was 'kismet' or written on her forehead by Allah.

I knew that Gulsen didn't know me well enough yet to learn that God doesn't dictate destiny like that; this was the evil aspiration of men who had no self-control. But I also knew that as we spent more time together, she would begin to taste of the Kingdom of Heaven and hunger and thirst for The Way, The Truth, and The Light of Life.

And she did. Months later the questions came; we were different; we loved those not like ourselves; we trusted; we were kind. And as she began to understand, she took steps forward, and found The Love of the Father who gave His only son as the only possible sacrifice to pay our personal debt of sin. There was no holding her back. She found and chose Jesus, and He moved in. Gulsen herself became the Light in her small household and brought transformation. Jesus does above and beyond what we could ask or imagine, if we invite Him to.

Her situation didn't change right away. She was patient. But who she became was so attractive that first some of the wives, then some of the daughters, and eventually some of the men began to ask questions. Jesus comes in with transformation. Her situation was no exception. When a sick child was healed after she prayed, she became a person to listen to. When she didn't gossip, and she turned the other cheek, and was kind to all the children without exception, she was trusted. Gulsen is allowed to come to church now, and others sometimes come and listen as well. Time will tell what happens next.