#nysum

     Women from all over the States flew and drove to New York City to participate in this Women's Makeover Weekend event. We showed women from domestic violence shelters and other women in need the love that Jesus has for us all. Those women got their hair and makeup done, a pedicure, and a manicure. They also received a gift bag and a new outfit.

     I worked as a runner, primarily in the pedicure/manicure section. I dumped used water, cleaned the pedicure bubbler thing, and put fresh water in it. It was quite the view. The bathroom was tiny and the sink was too small to put the pedicure bubbler thing in it (I really wanted to use the dustpan trick, but there weren't any clean dustpans we could use). So, I had to pour the used water in the toilet while small containers filled up in the sink (only could get a quarter of it filled, though).       The manicure section needed some backup so I helped out there. For those of you who don't know me, I don't do nail polish or (many) other girly things. So, the first set of nails I did didn't come out so great, but luckily the young woman was like “it's free, I can't really complain”. She told me she couldn't believe some of us came all the way from Florida to do this for them. I should've said the prompted line “well, we came all the way from there to show you God's love”. Though that statement is true, it was so cliché, I couldn't bring myself to say it. Thinking back on our conversation, I regret I didn't tell her that. I also regretted I didn't say anything when she told me she was getting a divorce and when she told me not to get married. She had the divorce papers ready, she just felt bad giving them to her husband because he just had surgery and had some other injuries. I felt like it wasn't my place to give her marriage advice (because I'm 24, what do I know about love and marriage?), but looking back I probably should've shared something. Darn you, hindsight!       Another lady I did nails for was a lot older and she had this huge tumor on her head. Her long and brittle nails showed me nobody took care of her. Her solemn expression helped confirm that. She was still married, living with her husband. I talked to her about her family and found out her two sons live within walking distance to her place, but she wanted them to stay where they were (rather than come visit her).       My soft spoken-ness really hindered me during this event. The women I helped could barely hear me (I know because they had to ask me to repeat things or didn't respond to whatever I said). My recent healthy eating habits got me feeling sick by midday (you can't be picky of what you can eat on mission trips. Especially if the food you're eating is the same food as the food the people you're serving is eating).       A group of women from a church in Ft. Lauderdale was crazy enthusiastic. They were loud and I don't deal well with overly exuberant people (though they probably knew when to be serious). But that characteristic allowed them to really reach these women we were helping. I saw tears, long hugs, prayers. Part of me wished I was like that group of women, but part of me knew that's not who I am.       One woman from the shelter there, I can't remember her name, really stood out from the crowd. She wore a red wig with braided pigtails. I overheard a conversation when she was getting her nails done by the woman sitting next to me. I'm not one to eavesdrop, but what I caught was “they hate us down there” and “y'all are nothing like the hypocrite churches”. Then when we started to clean up at the end of the day, that woman came back in the room, and with a loud voice said: “Listen y'all, I know some of you think I'm crazy and all, but listen. God sent these women here to do this for us to tell us that He didn't forget about us. You hear that? God didn't forget about us.”

Mind blown.