anger

I’ve always known I’m an emotional being, sometimes I’m highly emotional (a bit out of control maybe:). Over the last year I’ve experienced a new emotional. Well, if not a new one, a fairly unfamiliar, uncomfortable one.

Anger.

I never knew how to deal with anger before. Well, I couldn’t deal with it. In the past, if I was angry I would just cry. I won’t be able to confront, I would just melt into a pile of tearful sobs.

Something happened the other day where my anger raged again. I knew I needed to respond, not have a meltdown. I needed to act. My heart raced with that conviction I get, only occasionally, from the Holy Spirit. I knew if I ignored, I would lay in bed sleepless that night.

Nede and I were walking to the grocery store. We were having the usual Nede, Dara conversation as we walked hand in hand. Up ahead where the semi-trucks unload their produce for the grocery store I saw a small girl talking with a man who was about my age. The girl was standing with her arms embracing her own waist. She looked threatened. She looked scared. My mind raced as to what kind of conversation could be being exchanged. I knew it was worth trying to intercept this encounter. My anger was rising up. I said a prayer that I would be able to muster up enough Portuguese to say what I needed to say.

I stopped when I reached them. I greeted them- good afternoon, how are you…

I knew that I wanted to stay there just long enough to make this  man go away from this little girl. He did.
I then spoke with the girl a bit more. She continued to look guarded, eyes darting back and forth. I asked if she knew this man. She said something about it being her uncle and giving her a job. I didn’t believe it.
I then ran out of things to say and thought I’d just continue on to buy my groceries as I had simply set out to do. We walked away with Nede’s millions of questions firing.

I wasn’t settled though. I kept looking back. The girl stood there watching the trucks, stone-faced.

I couldn’t keep going. I had to go back.

I called the girl to come closer to me.

“What’s your name? How old are you? Do you go to school? Where is your house? Do you know this man?”

She was 12 years old, yes she goes to school, she lived near, no she doesn’t know this man.

I then just said “you are a beautiful young girl. You need nothing from this man. You need to go home right now. Do not stand here waiting for this man. Go home Beautiful!”

Her face eased. She gave me a little smile and we almost made eye contact. She agreed and I watched to make sure she headed home.

I don’t know what happened next and I don’t really know what was about to happen when I walked up, but I can imagine. I hear the stories here. I know the statistics.

The injustice. Innocence being stolen from a child and the devastating after effects make me rage.

I then held Nede’s hand a bit tighter and had a little chat with her. I was reminded that day what Nede’s been rescued from. And I was also reminded how many other young, innocent girls have not been. It makes me so angry; it makes me want to do more. It makes me want to put my anger into action. I can’t just sit and cry anymore.