Girls of the Night

After  an hour car ride we get out of the car. I know the routine well since we come here once or twice a week. Maya, an Indonesian ywamer and I, begin our walk down the dark street. We pass where 16 year old Lisa should sit with her little wooden stand, selling drinks and rice packets to men. She isn't here on this night, probably because she didnt make enough money the night before to motivate her to sit on the side of the road from 7-3 again tonight. So we keep walking. We walk past many young girls, sitting with men double their age , talking, drinking or having a cup of coffee. I'm still confused with how it all works, but I know that sometimes their purchases are more than just cigarettes, sometimes it's actually the girl. We smile and wave at these girls, calling out the names of ones we know and continue our walk. Tonight we are headed to one specific girl. I've only met with her three or four times and she's quiet, so I'm not necessarily looking forward to our meeting. Maya and I approach her stand. "Rena!" we call out to her. She is there with her boyfriend whom Maya speaks to in indonesian. As we sit down with her I ask her how she is. The night before we had sat with her while she slept because she had gotten no sleep the night before. We sit with her for an hour tonight, and the things we find out about her life make my heart break for her. Rena is a 16 or 17 girl who works every night on the street. She lives with her 25 year old boyfriend, her boss, and another girl that works on the street. At some point in her life, her mother died. She borrowed money from her boss for the funeral and is now indebted 3,000,000 rupiah (350ish dollars) to her. Her father got remarried and she can't live in his home because her step mother is too mean to her. Then she got typhoid and had to borrow more money from her boss. She has been working off her 5,000,000 rupiah debt (about 560 dollars) for three years and is halfway through paying. She has been working on the street since she was 13. Staying out until 2 or 3 in the morning. Entertaining men who are often drunk. Being alone, in the dark, all night long. As I heard this news, I wanted to empty my bank account, give all the money to her and help her start a new life. As astonishing as all of this was to me, it is just normal life to her. We get up to leave and my heart breaks a little more. This is the last night we will be able to come see her. "Will you ever come back to Bali?" she asks me in Indonesian. I want to tell her that actually I'm staying and sitting with her every night and fixing all of her problems, but instead I give a lame "maybe one day" and head off on my way. As we walk away, I feel the urgency of her salvation. She needs Jesus to save her. She needs to know of her Heavenly Father's unmatched love for her. Maya promises that she will continue to come back and tell her, but still my heart breaks. Maya tells me about her conversation with Rena's boyfriend. When she introduced us, he told her that he already knew who we were because Rena had told her about her friends that come visit her every week. That's when it hit me. I'm her friend. I came to visit her and honestly thought she didn't want me there every time because of her shy nature, but I was so wrong. Just sitting with her every night and talking the little that we did impacted her hugely. We are her friends, and we got to show her how much we really truly care for her. As sad as I am to leave, I trust that Maya and the other women involved in the Nasi Jinggo ministry will love Rena and our other friends on that street well. I trust that the Lord knows each and every one of their stories and will continue to pursue their hearts. 
Our time in Bali has been so sweet. As excited as I am to be back in Hawaii and Tennessee, I'm going to miss this place immensely. The people we have made relationships with will be forever molded into my heart.