As her name was called, a burqa clad woman moved slowly, quietly, submissively towards the makeshift doctor’s office–a few chairs and a dirty coffee table ruined and stained by flood-waters. She sat. Slowly she half raised her veil. A myriad of words overflowed from our aching hearts. Young. Pale. Frail. Lifeless. Hopeless. She was 20 years old. Breastfeeding. 8 months pregnant. Forced to fast for the Holy month. Beaten. Conversation started. Surprisingly she quietly confessed the plight she faced because of her mother-in-law,the plight she faced because of her husband. It was obvious, she was searching and looking for help, looking for Hope.
This face is etched in my heart forever. This woman’s life, perhaps more severe than others or perhaps not, faces a desperately difficult life without hope. This is her life. This will be her life. And the depths of despair ends not here, but ends in death in hell, eternity that makes her life on earth look easy. This will not change apart from J.
For a short time, we gazed into her eyes as she gazed into ours. We gave her all the Truth and all of the Hope the few minutes together allowed. She smiled tenderly and with affection. She left. She hustled back to her village, back to her life, but having at the very least gazed into eyes with light and heard brief words of hope.
Ask for this woman. Ask that somehow she would know. Ask for all the other women that she represents. Those whom are hidden behind a veil, behind a curtain. Ask that His love permeates to the most difficult and protected people group, the women behind the veil.
