The Lost Purity

She wore a white dress. It was tattered and soiled. She had just climbed through a sagging barbed wire fence and it snagged on her tiny ankle. The wound was red and gaping. She cried, but there was no comfort to be found. 

I started digging through my backpack, looking for a bandage, a wipe.

Anything.

It wasn’t enough. There wasn’t a wipe or bandage in the world that could fix what was wrong with this picture.

She lived in a rag-picking slum. Her home was an open, dirt floor, cloth shanty with a tin roof held in place by rocks.

I’ve never experienced hopelessness that says, “You have no value. This is your lot in life. It’s the best you can expect.”

Untouchable. Uninvited. Worthless.

Her culture might tell her she’s untouchable, She is not uninvited. She is not untouchable. She is not worthless. She has purity.

We can’t do it alone, but together we can reach across barriers and cultures and join hands to make a difference.

This little girl is created in His image. The sparrows are unseen and unvalued by most. Yet God sees them, and He sees her purity.