She is 3 years old.
Kissable cheeks, scarred by years of neglect and streaked with tears.
Eyes, dulled, listless.
She crawls into my lap and I feel her heartbeat against mine.
Thud, thud, thud… a story of pain, of searching, of hopelessness.
I look at her face, at her little hand in mine, her tiny toes. I hear a whispered promise… “I will give her a future, hope”. A statement, “I knit her together”. A declaration, “this one is MINE”.
I look at her face, at her little hand in mine, her tiny toes. I hear an offer… “You like her? Give me $1,000 and she is yours.”
Today, the going rate of a life in Haiti is $1,000. I know because today someone tried to sell me a perfect, precious little girl, for $1,000. A life, a future a CHILD, for $1,000.
I try to wrap my head around it… A human being… a thousand dollars.
Everything inside of me screamed to grab her up and run away, to shield her from ever, EVER knowing that someone could possibly put a price tag on her.
One thousand dollars… less than the cost of a car, a vacation, an airline ticket, maybe less than the cost of the computer that you are sitting at right now.
I think about that baby girl, how much more she is worth than the temporary treasures that this world sells. I think about her falling asleep tonight with no idea that someone, somewhere loves her. I know it’s true because I love her.
This little girl is one of many “for sale” in Haiti today. The business of buying and selling human life is sickening and it happens way more than any of us realize. Today the stories I have heard came to life in the breathtaking face of a child.
I think about $1000, how I would gladly pay that, and more, to make sure that she knows how precious she is. But it’s not that simple and life here is complicated. I can’t “buy” children no matter how much I want to rescue them.
So I sit here, stuck in a very hard place, praying with all my might. I pray that someday, somehow that baby girl grows up to know that she is worth so much more than $1000, worth more than all the diamonds, rubies and gold in the world. I pray that someone teaches her that she was bought, not with a currency of this world, but with precious blood.
Sweet little girl, I close my eyes and I see your face. I am so sorry for the life that you are living and the pain that you feel.
Baby doll, you are PRICELESS.