You have been the greatest mom anyone could ask for. You are one of the most incredible people I have ever known, and I love and respect you more than you know! Words cannot express how blessed I am to have you as a mother, and I truly do thank the Lord every time I think of you. You have done so much for your family, and especially your children, so today I wanted to say thank you for just a few of those things:

 

You taught us how to be adventurous and have fun

 

 

You let dad teach us how to dance (maybe not the best decision)

 

 

 

You've been proud of us and supported us in all we've done

 

 

 

You taught us about our Savior, and showed us what it means to live for Him.

.

  

You have loved on our babies

 

 

 

 

You disciplined us when necessary...

 

 

 

       

You showed us how to be a great friend

 

and serve others 

 

You trusted us and gave us freedom to make our own bad decisions...

And then you were always there to pick us up when we fell.

 

    

   

 

     

       

                   

 

         

 

Few people know how to LOVE, serve, and live joyfully the way you do. When I look at myself, I realize the greatest parts of me come from you (and dad, of course). You have instilled many great morals in me, and your beautiful example has taught me how to live a life of faith, forgiveness, peace, compassion, and especially love.

Thank you for being the wonderful mother you are.

 

       

   

  Today began just like any other day here in Cambodia. At 4:30am, the sound of Buddhist chanting came over the megaphone down the street. The deafening blare pierced through my earplugs, and in my state of delirium, I was convinced they were chanting right outside of my window. I sat straight up on the tile floor of the church, rearranged my mosquito net, and rested with my thoughts until it was time to get up.

      At breakfast, the Pastor told us we would be doing house visits for the morning. After spending over a week in Cambodia, the inescapable heat, mosquitoes, and restless nights were really catching up with us. We were exhausted, but I was looking forward to seeing the kids and spending time at some of their homes.

      Many of the students from English class met up with us and we began walking around the village. After several visits, we came to the home of an older woman named Sokrem. She was a widow with 5 children, all whom were too young to help work for food. She had no income and was forced to rely on the generosity and support of her neighbors. The Pastor had previously made many visits to her home, and the church brought the family some food when they could.

      When we arrived, two of her children were resting in hammocks under the house to escape the heat. They were so young. So fragile. There was no shade in front of the home, so the sweat poured down my face as I forced out a smile to hide my exhaustion. Like many other families, several of the children were bare for lack of money to purchase clothing. I wondered what it must have been like for her, knowing that she had five young mouths to feed, and no way to provide for them on her own. They couldn't afford education, clothing, and heaven only knew when they would receive their next meal.

The Pastor looked up at us and said: "I want you to speak with her about Jesus."

We stood there for a few minutes - speechless. It's funny how we can take this journey around the World to tell people about the love of Christ, but when someone asks us point blank what to say, we stumble for words.

      He had told her of Christ several times before, but she was Buddhist. Her neighbors were Buddhist. Their support for her family had already began to dwindle, and if they found out she chose to follow Christ, she would not only be alone, but she would suffer the persecution of all those around her. She was alone, and choosing Christ simply looked like the lonelier choice of the two - or so she thought.

      As we stood there speechless, the Lord put a story on my heart, so I spoke up. I told her my name, where I was from, and who this God was that I served. I told her the story of God's provision in Honduras. I told her of our loving Creator and Heavenly Father who answered when His children called. I told her of the village of La Laguna and how just a few years ago the Lord provided food for the entire village, right before my eyes. For those of you who haven't heard it, it's the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand, but through answering the prayers of a young team of high school students in a small, humble village in Honduras.

      Her eyes widened with hope as I told her about this God who longed to provide for her in the same way. In that moment, I realized that she could connect with the Pech Indians of Honduras in a deeper way than I could ever grasp. Standing face-to-face with her, seeing her pain, I could feel her heartache, but as I told her of these people she had never met, she understood their desperation. She knew their despair.

      The Pastor spoke with her for a while, and then he looked up with a huge smile on his face.

"She wants to accept Christ into her heart!"

My heart leapt with joy, and our team surrounded her and prayed over her as she proclaimed her desire to know the King. The same God who revealed Himself and provided for His children in Honduras was present today, touching the heart of His distressed daughter in Cambodia.

I pray that as our Pastor continues to visit Sokrem, her faith in Christ will be strengthened. I pray that the Lord will provide for her - that He will feed her family and her soul as she fights against the oppression and persecution. I pray for her neighbors, that they will see a change in her heart and long for the same freedom and peace that she receives from the Lord.

   Before this month began, I knew it was going to be challenging, but it was a challenge I've been looking forward to for longer than I can remember. From the first moment I heard about sex trafficking, my heart burned with a passion to intervene and set the captives free: children, women, and even the men.

      Through my blogs, you have read most of what we witnessed this month. You know a little bit more about how this industry works, you know that it can be found right around the corner, and you've even heard my story. So now what? What do we do to fight a multi-million dollar industry that has covered most of its tracks and seems nearly impossible to defeat.

First, we believe. Second, we fight.

It has been said that HOPE is one of the most powerful weapons in a war. This month, the rest of the women on our squad worked with intervention ministries. They spent most of their evenings covering this industry in prayer and setting up dates with some of the women they met in the bars. Many of the bar/brothel owners said they did not feel threatened by the ministry because they knew that even if the Lord worked through our girls to bring these women out of the industry, there would be plenty more women and children to feed into it. For the sake of freedom, I hope they maintain that mentality until this war is over.

The greatest thing I carry from this month is a heart of everlasting hope. The brothel owners may think that their supply is endless, but what they don't know is that organizations like Remember Nhu are fighting for these children before they ever become involved! Innocence is still theirs. Their spirits are filled with passion, the love of their Savior, and some of the strongest faith I have ever met. We must believe and trust that the Father has not abandoned His children, and He eagerly awaits their salvation - physically and spiritually. We must believe and hope in the works of the Lord to put this cataclysm to an end. After all, hasn't He already won?

So how do we fight? Well, first and foremost I ask you to be in prayer for the warfare of human trafficking. This year the lord has taught me that no matter how much I may try to do for others, nothing I can do compares to the greatness of His power in answering prayers. If we call, He will answer! I also ask that you too will Remember Nhu. Her story of salvation from slavery, forgiveness for her family, and redemption from her heavenly Father are all a part of a story I will never forget. There is power behind the way the lord has moved in her life. If you want to learn more about human trafficking, check out the book "Not for Sale" and visit their website for ways to join the movement.

One of the greatest blessings from this month was joining with my friends Beth & Brian Woods (former racers and current missionaries with Remember Nhu) in their efforts to raise awareness and support for the children's home. Like myself, Beth is an artist and photographer, so she started a small organization called "Art for FREEDOM". With this website, visitors are able to purchase photography or auctioned artwork, and 100% of the proceeds will go to Remember Nhu.

"...this is what the Lord says to you: 'Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God's."

     2 Chronicles 20:15

Just last month, the AJC (Atlanta Journal Constitution) printed an article about men that were paying $600 to have sex with a 12-year-old girl. The girl's mother had hired a man to babysit while she was at work, but instead, the man sold the young girl. He "fed" her drugs and alcohol before raping her and then sold her to other men. The man was arrested and sentenced more than 17 years for trafficking. The article also stated that nearly 400 girls are "sexually pollinated" in the state of GA each month.

Like many issues in our world today, we seem to believe the misconception that sex trafficking is a problem limited to other countries, not affecting our own. For the United States, this could not be further from the truth.

Foreign, poverty-stricken woman are tricked into following men (and women) for promises of a better future, jobs, or an education, but they quickly discover the deception once they step foot on American soil, lose possession of everything, and are sold into a brothel.

According to Not For Sale, an anti-slavery organization, human trafficking rings are far more abundant than we have been led to believe. Less than 15 minutes from my previous home, and only blocks away from a Norcross police station, a sex trafficking brothel has thrived for many years.

In 2008, a 36-year-old man was accused of trafficking at least 10 victims into the Norcross area. The young girls were tricked into leaving their families in Mexico and were in turn beat and forced into a life of prostitution.

Four of the women that survived were under the age of 18. The men pretended to have a romantic interest in the girls, thereby gaining their trust until the women saw the brutal truth. According to U.S. Attorney Sally Yates, the women were sold to customers at a rate of $25, and often serviced more than 40 customers per night.

"One victim testified that when she refused to engage in prostitution, Cortes-Meza threw an iron at her head, then denied her medical care. Other victims said Cortes-Meza hit them with his fists, belts and sticks and dragged them around by their hair."

In a trial against the ringleader and his accomplices, the survivors courageously testified against the defendants and played a key role in bringing them to justice. The ringleader, Cortez-Meza, earned 40 years in prison and $292,000 in restitution charges. He will be 76 when he is released from prison. Ironically, one of his partners is an elderly man from Cartersville, Ga. At the age of 71, Edison Tort was sentenced only 5 years in prison, with a 3 year supervised release, and a $57,000 fine.  

So my question is: why don't people know about this?

Was this article hidden in a small portion of the paper, overshadowed by the latest sports scores or weather reports? In the midst of our busy lives, do we really take the time to consider that people all around the world are still bound to slavery, waiting for someone to rescue them?

As I drift off to sleep, I am surrounded by the sweetest sounds of laughter and joy. I think of these beautiful little girls and where they might be if they had not been delivered.

My intentions are not to make a blow to anyone's conscience, or to even convict someone of not doing enough. Sometimes I simply need to remind myself: what am I living for? Who am I living for? Do I really ask the Lord to use me each and every day, wherever I may be? Whether sitting behind a desk, in a cubicle, or out on the mission field, any one of us may be called to rescue the life of another.

Heroism is not defined by the appearance of the "costume", the amount of bravery shown, or even the extremity of the mission, but rather by one's heart and willingness to follow the voice of the Lord.

"...if you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your light will become like the noonday. The Lord will guide you always..."

Isaiah 58:10-11

You know that feeling when your heart hurts so badly it sinks into your stomach and makes you feel nauseous? It's the feeling you getting after suffering from an intense break-up or attending the funeral of a loved one. You feel like you have a knot in your throat and it becomes a challenge simply to swallow. It's the adrenaline that rushes through your veins when your 2/3 of the way through a gut-wrenching film and you're just dying to know whether or not the protagonist will survive.

That's how I feel every day.

That's how I feel when I think about child sex slavery.

That's how I feel every time I picture a little girl being sold into the brothel and her mother thinking she has a promising future or job ahead of her.

That's how I feel every time I see a little boy selling flowers in the market, knowing that in the distant future he will be transformed into a woman against his will and sold for sex.

That's how I feel every time I imagine a child abandoned, lost, and alone, just waiting to be rescued.

It breaks my heart like nothing I've ever experienced, and sometimes I want to run home and immediately tell you the truth and reality of the world we live in, but sometimes it's to heavy to even put into words.

This morning we were given the opportunity to visit the Hill-tribe Villages to see where the children come from that live at "Remember Nhu". I didn't really know what to expect, but as we arrived, it looked like many other villages I had seen before.

One thing I noticed was that, as usual, many of the houses were made of natural materials. However, a few of them were much fancier. It didn't take long for our contact to explain where the money had come from. Many of the families sell their children out of desperation. They are poor. They are starving. If they don't send away one child, the others will die. Many times the families are tricked into believing it is for a decent job, only to later discover that the children end up in a brothel. So I ask you: what would you do if you had 5 children and your entire family was starving? Would you risk sending one of them to spare the rest?

 

 

 

 

                                                                                  We prayed over them...

 

       

 

"The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion."
Psalm 116:5

   He wore his hair long and dark, pulled back in a ponytail. Through his leather jacket, shiny boots, and youthful attire, his attempt to hide his age didn't fool me. The street light above his motorcycle, on which he was still seated, only enhanced his gray hairs that shone through the dye. It was his eyes that struck me most; they left me dumbfounded and perplexed. In later discussions, my teammates described the look of disgust they saw (rightfully so), but for some reason, as strange as it may be, I saw a glimpse of compassion, driven by his own heartache and personal longing. Maybe its because I've been praying for my own heart of compassion for the men I would meet here, but maybe he really was just another one of those temporary male visitors, lost and searching.

      As I witnessed their conversation, the seconds passed in what seemed like years. The familiar scent of jasmine filled my nose and I remembered the young girl that had come to our dinner table earlier that night. Before taking our prayer walk through the Red Light District of Chiang Mai, we had dinner at the night Bazaar, or the night market, only a few blocks away. In the middle of our meal, a young girl approached the table selling jasmine. She was going through a process calling "seasoning". This meant that she was already owned by a brothel, and through this job, they were prepping her for interaction with strangers. They were preparing her to be a prostitute. She wouldn't be able to return "home" that night until she had sold all of her flowers, so as I was pondering how to actually help her, I wondered if buying all of her flowers and sending her back to the brothel early would really even be better. I offered her food, but she declined. As I was racking my brain for a solution for her, her glassy eyes looked around in fear and desperation and she slipped away. The hint of jasmine lingered, and my appetite disappeared as quickly as the young girl.

      We walked away from the food area, and made our way through the market. A young boy quickly caught my attention. He too was selling flowers. He too was being seasoned. He too was a slave; a soon to be sex slave, and no matter how he felt, his identity would soon be stripped and he would be transformed into a "ladyboy", sold as a woman. 

      The sound of her sobbing brought me back to my senses and I realized that I was staring. Most of my team was further ahead, but they had stopped at this point as well. The chaos on the street continued, but for a few of us, the world had come to a complete stop. It was like that moment when the world is running around in madness, but the only sound you hear is the conversation that matters most - the conversation that's plastered on the big screen, when everything else is hushed to a silence so that you can hear the words in that pivotal moment - the words that you never forget.

For this little girl, her world had just come crashing down. I wondered if it was her first time. I knew it wouldn't be her last. Even if it was her first experience, I knew that she would be sold as a virgin yet again. They would send her to the doctor, stitch her back up, and resell her like she was new, just to make more money off of her. This process would continue as long as her body would allow.

She too wore her hair long. It was beautiful and dark and flowed down her back. She looked so young, so innocent, so heartbroken, so hopeless, alone, and distraught. She stood in the arms of a woman next to the man on the motorcycle and she was sobbing hysterically. The woman wrapped her arms around her, but she had a smirk on her face and the other women simply snickered in the background. They got their money out of her, and they knew that it was only a matter of time before she would become accustomed to the business. She hid her face in the woman's arms, but he continued to speak to her.

             "Are you okay?"

             "Are you feeling any better?"

             "I hope it doesn't hurt too bad."

             "Well, at least you can go home now."

I wanted to run back, grab her out of their arms, and throw any amount of money at them just to save her. I wanted to scream and tell her that she was loved.

You are precious! You are beloved! You are NOT alone! You are still pure! You have a heavenly Father that has NOT abandoned you, so don't give up hope!

 

As we made the 30 min. walk back to the truck, I couldn't stop thinking about the man's words. Compassion? Disgust? Heartache? Brokenness? Repulsion? Loneliness? I wasn't quite sure what to feel, but there was one thing I knew was true: it was far too familiar. It was one of the two most disturbing conversations that I knew I would never forget: both delivered by older men, both delivered to silent, weeping, young girls, and both disturbingly unforgettable.

     It was in that moment that I felt the Lord calling me to tell my story. 

 

It's no surprise to me that my compassionate heart hurts for others so badly sometimes it could burst, but I don't doubt the fact that I have been blessed to witness more in my lifetime than most could ever dream. It's easy for me to sympathize with people because I have seen. I have walked the dirt roads, stepped through their homes of trash, seen the eyes of hope in the weak and dying, and worshipped with those who don't even know what they will eat the next day. Maybe it's easy for you to read my stories and have compassion for these people and pray for them, but I feel like the Lord has called me to share my story for those that don't find it so easy. For those that don't get to see the tears of the girls inside the bars, hear my story and know: they need your prayers. Hear my story and know: this life is about so much more than we see on a daily basis. Humanity is far from perfection, but our Savior is alive and well! So read my story and know: there is freedom in the cross, there is freedom for the captives, and prayer is needed by all, even those you least expect. 

 

"The LORD lives! Praise be to my Rock! Exalted be God, the Rock, my Savior! He is the God who avenges me. . . who sets me free from my enemies."

2 Samuel 22:47-49

 

  In case the hyperlink doesn't work, the next blog containing my story can be found here: http://amandahoward.theworldrace.org/?filename=i-am-1-in-3-and-i-am-free

It's amazing the amount of freedom we can receive from Christ. It's also amazing how much freedom we don't realize we need until we are desperate enough to graciously receive it from our Savior.

It's been 9 years, and I can still hear his words ringing in my ear. It's been almost 7 months since I've told the whole story for the first time, and I feel completely freed from the situation.

      Did you know that at least 1 in 3 people are victims of sexual assault? Every year there are about 213,000 victims reported, and every two minutes, someone in the U.S. is assaulted. By the time you finish reading this blog, someone else will be added to that number. Someone's daughter. Someone's little sister. Someone's mother, son, wife, or brother. If the numbers are 1 in 3, how many people do you know that are carrying this secret?

As the Lord has called me to share my story, today I declare the truth that I am 1 in 3. I am a victim of sexual assault.

People stay silent for a number of different reasons. Guilt. Shame. Pride. Confusion. Fear. Mine was a combination. I felt like what had happened was my fault. I didn't put up a good enough fight, and I somehow should have seen it coming. Looking back, I now know how unrealistic those lies are. Guilt. I couldn't tell anyone close to me because I couldn't bear the thought of them thinking they didn't protect me well enough. Telling my family, even over skype, was like a weight lifted off of my shoulders. They had a right to know, and I had robbed them of the opportunity to help me cope.  

The beauty of the situation is that today I can write my story to you and know that I am FREE! I no longer have to carry the burden of the lies, guilt, or shame.

Rather than feeling guilty for not fighting hard enough, the only remorse I feel comes from not fighting harder for him. A few years after the incident, I found a way to forgive him. I prayed that his eyes would be opened to the Lord and he would be spared of the heartache, pain, and loneliness that caused him to do such a thing. My sophomore year of college, as I was attending the funeral of a mutual friend, I found out that this man had passed as well. He died in his late 30's after suffering from a long battle with cancer. Rather than walking in the regret of not forgiving him sooner, the Lord has given me eyes of compassion for other men in his situation.

"Guard my life and rescue me; let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you."  Psalm 25:20

I think back to that night on the street when I saw the young girl sobbing, remembering the older man's words to her. His words will forever be engrained in my memory, right next to the words that were spoken over me. There is no excuse for the impure actions of man, but our hatred for the sins of our brother will only bring victory to the enemy. It's too easy to hate them, but we are called to something more. It's funny how our hearts can be changed when we realize the depth of a situation. The bottom line is that the thought of purchasing a little girl is detestable, but several (not all) of these men are buying them for more than sex. They long for companionship. They are lost and looking for love, so they come to a place where they think their money will buy it for them, they fall in love with these girls, only to wake up and realize that the women feel nothing but enslaved by them. Sadly, they don't even realize that most of the time. The men are deceived into thinking that the girls like it, they are older than they actually are, and so the men somehow believe they may even be doing the women a favor. Why is it so hard for us to see that they too are lost, hurting, and broken souls?

These men are beautiful, children of God, and they need our prayers and love just as much as the women they purchase.

"For He will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help. He will take pity on the weak and the needy and save the needy from death."   Psalm 72:12-13

One of the darkest places we entered that night was a narrow building/alley lined with bars on either side. The glowing signs lit up the faces of the women as they approached us looking for business. At the end of the strip, there was a boxing ring where visitors could enjoy some extra entertainment. Young children flooded the alleyway, selling flowers and trinkets as they were being seasoned, and the ladyboys flaunted themselves at us as they were wearing next to nothing. The irony is, I've never seen so much light in a place of darkness.

Before we entered, I knew it would be a difficult walk, so I immediately allowed the prayers to flow from my lips. The moment we stepped inside, I knew the Spirit of the Lord was in that place! My heart was broken for them, but I could see in that moment that the Father had not abandoned His children. It was a strange feeling, but as I looked at the hurting children and prostitutes, I was overwhelmed by a sense of peace and comfort. My heart burns to rescue them, but the Lord was reminding me that He was already there, planning their rescue!

"When they cry out to the LORD because of their oppressors He will send them a savior and defender, and He will rescue them."  Isaiah 19:20

My experience in no way compares to what these children face in the sex trafficking industry every day of their lives, and I don't claim to have grasped an understanding of what life is like for them. All I know is that when I look into the eyes of young girls who are broken, lonely, and shameful of what has been taken from them, the Lord has blessed me with an opportunity to relate to them. For that, I can do nothing but thank the Lord for the darkness He has carried me through.

 "In my anguish I cried to the LORD, and He answered by setting me free." Psalm 118:5

Too many times we allow the lies of the enemy to infiltrate our hearts until we believe them as truth. Luckily, we have a Savior who is always ready to speak truth, freedom, and healing into our lives. 

I am pure. I am loved. I am strong. I am bold. I am faithful. The Spirit of the Lord is strong in me. I once was broken and robbed of a part of me, but now I daily walk in the freedom and truth of our Lord. 

So I do not mourn for the lost and lonely that fill the streets of this world, but I rejoice in the truth that our Savior has already won! I walk in compassion and prayer for their hearts, knowing that I will not stop fighting for them, just as our Lord has not abandoned them. Just as He did not abandon me.

"Shout for joy, O heavens; rejoice, O earth; burst into song, O mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones."    Isaiah 49:13

              It's hard to believe that today is our last day at school. At the beginning of this experience, each day seemed to drag on forever, as though it would never end. Now, I'm not near ready to leave. This month has been incredible! From spending the afternoons at the baby house, tutoring after school, star-gazing on the mountaintop, going for walks with the kids, baking cookies for the teachers, going for hikes, writing lesson plans, and even spending time in the teachers lounge, it has been a month filled with joy, challenges, and the presence of the Lord.

            We started the morning off with the usual assembly, and I shared a message with the students on the power of their prayers.  Melissa, Emily, and I stood before the students to say a few final words, and then the students thanked us for our time with them. Then we went back into the teachers lounge and were surprised to see a spread of cookies and juice laid out all across the table. They had prepared a farewell party for us!

We sat down and enjoyed the refreshments together and the principal asked us to share some final thoughts with the teachers as well. Then came their words for us. As one of the women began to speak, her words of appreciation and gratitude nearly took my breath away. She told us that we had brought about a spiritual revival in them. She was so thankful for our willingness to serve them, help them in whatever way they needed, support them, and encourage and lift them up spiritually. I felt warmth from her that I had not experienced the whole month of being with them, and I began to see that the Lord had truly been working through us in a way that I simply could not see before. The principal read from a document that he had prepared to tell us how much our time and sacrifice had meant to him. They had even created a PowerPoint presentation to say thank you.

We took pictures together, signed their book as a declaration of the importance of our visit to the school, and then we waved our final goodbye. As we walked back up the hill, I wondered how much the Lord had truly done in this past year that I couldn't even begin to imagine. I spent most of this month without hope, feeling like my actions were meaningless, but today the Lord reminded me that the perseverance He provided was not in vain.

Every month we leave, and I know that I leave a small piece of my heart behind in each country simply praying that the seed we have planted will grow into a part of the Lord's great plan for His people. In reality, my small mind could never begin to comprehend the greatness of His beautiful masterpiece, in which I am only a small part. As small as I may be in that plan, nothing in this life compares to the honor and joy that comes from knowing that I have made a difference for the Kingdom.