There was hosting to be done, events to be supported, arrangements to be made, and our daily work load to be maintained. In addition to long days and short nights in Greece, I was working with our lawyer to try to get trafficking victim out of a local detention center. We were running at a fast pace and I was trying to keep up.

Our large group of volunteers, staff, and visitors finally sat down for lunch at 4:00pm after a day of working, touring, and sharing. As I began to take off my coat and undo my scarf, I got a text message that I had to pick up our newest girl and take her to the shelter. I put on my coat and ran out the door with a coworker and sped to the police detention center. While stuck in traffic, I began to get frustrated that I was missing out on the group activities and vision planning meeting for the conference we were hosting.

I was cold, tired, hungry, and had a badtitude.

When we arrived at the detention center, we took care of paper work, picked up the girls, and subjected ourselves to another hour of Grecian traffic. In the rain. The day was beginning to wear on me. I’m sitting in a car with a crying and confused girl who spent 17 days in a holding cell after illegally being transported to Europe trying to explain to her in Spanish who we are and why we want to help. I’m functioning on four hours of sleep, a boiled egg and apple breakfast, and the sheer will not to lose my composure.

Once at the A21 shelter, I’m translating, interpreting, and explaining the house rules and expectations before getting on the phone and communicating with her family in her country of origin about her situation. Trying to explain legal ramifications and procedures in a foreign language is quite possibly the most draining task after a long day. I hung up the phone, hugged my coworker, and headed out into the pouring rain stressed about the new girl in our care, exhausted from the day, and emotionally pulled in a million directions.

Is she going to be okay? Do we have the money to repatriate her? What will her life look like? Does what I do even matter? 

The rain was pouring down as I flagged down a taxi cab. In my haste to get out of the rain, I ran towards the taxi and lost footing in the process. The moment happened in slow motion. I saw my white wool coat, then my boots, then the concrete. I fell. But not a graceful, dainty fall. No, I’m incapable of that. I got hang time and everything as my feet went out from under me and laid me out as flat as a pancake on my back.

My white coat was wet and stained from the concrete. My head was pounding in pain. My pride ran down the road washed over by rain. I stood up and limped into the taxi hoping I didn’t break anything. Inside the taxi, I texted my sister the experience and asked, Why? Why  did this happen now? What can God possibly show me in THIS?!

She wisely responded, B, maybe you ended up on your back so you can finally get your answers. Look up. The answers are found when you look up. And she was right. When nothing make sense and worry abounds, look up. The answers are there.

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