Stories like these...

One day a young woman walks into the village carrying her seven-month-old son. She has a small bag with a spare shirt, a phone and a few notes worth about nine dollars.

First she finds a place to live. She moves into a tiny, one-room, thatched-roof, low-to-the ground shelter made from bamboo, rubber and thatched leaves. It's almost like camping. But there are no roasted marshmallows at night. There's no sizzling bacon in the pan for breakfast or packing up the car or driving home to a hot shower, soft bed and an alarm set for an early start to beat the Monday morning traffic.

The woman is hungry. She sells her phone for eleven dollars to buy food: rice, oil, salt, eggs, garlic, soy sauce, fish.

Some women in the village notice her arrival. They talk with her and feel compassion. To her surprise, they visit with cooking pots, coals for the fire, bowls, spoons, forks, a light cotton blanket and clothing. She wonders why they show her such kindness and they tell her about Jesus.

Some men in the village also notice her arrival. They see poverty and desperation; loneliness and need. They see an opportunity. Some think, "Maybe she has a trade that requires very little in terms of start-up costs? Perhaps this woman has something she is willing to sell?" A few men make suggestions but she refuses their advances. Still, the question lingers in the village like smoke from the evening fires, "Maybe she does have something to sell?"

The young woman is quickly caught up in the warmth and love of the Christian ladies at the local church. Someone from outside the village sends her five kilos of rice. She feels more secure with food in her stomach, hands of these new 'aunties' to hold her baby, the prayers offered to a God she doesn't know but somehow feels, the talk of NGOs who might be able to help. The embrace of this community gives her courage to think about new possibilities.

A few days later she asks one of the teen aged girls in the church to look after her baby for a while. She comes back with cash in her hand. She doesn't try to hide where and how she earned the money. Whether or not it was deserved, she already had a reputation as being, "that kind of girl". Why hide the reality of her occasional business? She has a baby and she's sick of him being sick. She is tired of being hungry.

The ladies in the village church keep praying and keep loving. They are hopeful that God might provide an alternative way for her to earn money as well as take care of her son.

The donor who gave the rice knew it probably wasn't ever going to be enough. She sips her morning coffee and scribbles in her journal and wonders about the next chapter. She hopes the woman will stay. She fears the more likely scenario is that the young woman will soon move to a new village where nobody knows her and nothing has changed. The story starts over again:

"One day a young woman walks into the village carrying her eight-month-old son...."