Love Believes all
Did you ever watch Pretty Woman?
The movie that told the story that true love could transcend fear, loathing and prejudice – all of the inherent boundaries associated with prostitution.
But it was an idyllic story, very ambitious in its moral direction and decidedly naive – right?
What are prostitutes then – other than promiscuous, dirty, alcohol weathered, drug infested, and disease ridden items?
Are they women?
Just about nine years ago – I was involved in counselling of a sort and I was approached by the family of a young lady who was a prostitute.
She had fallen pregnant at the hands of her pimp boyfriend and was considering abortion.
Eventually she decided that she wanted to keep the baby despite my advice to consider putting the child up for adoption.
She asked me for help in moving her away from the brothel that was her accommodation, in keeping her safe from her toxic estranged boyfriend and in finding her gainful and legal employment.
What I saw in this young lady – was desperation to escape what had become a living hell for her.
Silently, I doubted – figuring that this baby would be abandoned sooner or later – I doubted her resolve and her ability to be a worthy mother.
I remember the morning clearly, asking a friend to accompany me to the brothel – walking inside and fetching this lady. We took her for breakfast at Wimpy to discuss her new living arrangements. She would be subsidised for a while – but the heat was on to find a job and her own apartment. It was a daunting time – a mountain had to be climbed.
Yesterday, I witnessed a nine year old boy’s baptism.
He had decided to choose a certain path to follow in life – a higher road.
His mother was there with him – still single (she has confided in me that the price she’s had to pay – is that it’s impossible for her to be with a man – she still feels too ashamed)
A single, quiet – still fragile but noble mother was there.
An employed single mum doing her best to raise her son.
It was such a momentous occasion yesterday witnessed by just a few – understood fully by even fewer.
Sometimes we learn that victory can come from the most desperate of situations.
I was wrong to doubt, I was wrong to question – in short I was wrong to judge.
I don’t want to come across as some kind of saint – because I am not – I question religion, I question God and I question life all of the time.
But yesterday was one of those days where I’ve never been so happy to being proved wrong.
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