Someone was pounding at our door. The three of us exchanged looks from over the laptops we were all on in our living room. Who would be knocking at our door at this time of night? We wondered. And why were they so urgently rapping against our door? What was the matter?
We set aside the laptops and wandered over to the front door opening it cautiously. I was relieved but concerned when I recognized our visitor to be one of the women who is a part of the Project. She stood at our front step with a perplexed look on her face while she held the hand of her four year old son. She tried to explain to us in her broken English that she needed us, that she needed our help, that she need our pr.s. She said she had just moved to a new home just down the block from us and wanted us to come ask for a blessing over her home. We of course said we would and slipped on our shoes to join her on a walk through the dark alleyways and narrow streets to her door. We entered her one room apartment. There was double bed that her and her son shared, a desk, and a cupboard. She again bravely charged ahead with her English and effectively explained that some of her former co-workers from the bar she used to work in lived next door and just down the street. Her eyes were filled with worry and she wrung her hands as she told us that she did not know what to do or say. Seeing the former co-workers again obviously brings up a lot of pain and stress for her regarding her past. I could tell she was worried about what this would mean for her. We stood together in a circle in her little apartment and held hands and closed our eyes. We asked for peace to settle on this home and her life. She took a deep breath and her posture became more relaxed by the end of our lifting her up. She then asked us to lift up the women she knew from her previous line of work. We closed our eyes and begged the Father to open their hearts to His love and His truth, to give her the wisdom to know how to reach out to them, and for Him to flood their lives with His presence. She then asked us to lift up her son Joseph, that he might know the love of a father. Myself and two of my housemates spoke blessing and favor over him and asked that might know the Father’s love deep down.
We opened our eyes and wiped away the tears – tears of emotion, tears of joy, tears of desperation, tears of peace.
And then she spoke to the Father about us. In her own language she lifted us up. It didn’t even matter that we didn’t understand. He knew what she was asking and I could feel the power in her words.
I was humbled that this woman would speak to the Father for me. Her love and desperation against pain and toward Hope cut right to my very core.
I was humbled that I would be asked to speak to Him for her. Out of all the people she could have turned to, Father thought us to be the right people to help her. He trusted us and said “You are good enough, go love My child.” I was baffled and humbled by what He thought of me. I was touched by the reality of us holding hands in her little apartment talking to the Creator of the Universe on each other’s behalf.

May He continue to pour out His peace and love over her and her son.