She looks at me and her eyes are without hope. Her children are working on a craft a few feet away. They act as if everything is normal, giggling at one another as they color the pictures with the “wrong” colors. I look at them and smile, glad that something so small can bring them joy, but when I turn back around, all I can see is the mask, a smile on her lips, but not in her eyes.

Their mother is 28 years old, but her eyes speak of a long and hard life. I don’t know what to say to her. But right as I open my mouth, she begins to speak. She tells me she feels powerless, useless, and hopeless. She is trying her hardest, but nobody is satisfied and the less satisfied they are, the more cautious and timid she becomes. Their criticism is killing her, and she doesn’t know how to keep going, especially now that her husband is threatening divorce.  She tries to smile at me, but instead a cry of embarrassment comes from her mouth and tears start rolling down her face. No words come. I just hold her in my arms, praying that God will give me the words when the time is right.

After a few minutes of a silent embrace she lifts her head and asks me something I was not prepared for. She asks me if they are right; If she is really a bad mother because she has chosen to care for an injured man and her elderly father in law as well as her three children even though she barely has the money to feed herself; If she is really a failure because her son is can’t seem to focus in school and has been reported for bad behavior yet again; If she is worthless because she can’t find a job with the little education she has; If she is stupid for putting others before herself, feeding her children while she doesn’t eat for days.

Her head is downcast, kicking the loose dust back and fourth, packing it into her dirt floors. I grab her hand, and she lifts her face but her eyes avoid mine. Before I can think of the right way to say it my anger slips through and all I say is, “No. They couldn’t be more wrong”

Her eyes look at me like what I am saying she has never heard before. My mind tells me to stop talking. I just called her mother, husband, sister and pastor liars, I could probably just shut up and everything would be okay, but my mouth doesn’t close and my sermon begins.

This woman is the strongest, most courageous, selfless, humble woman I have ever met; yet the world tells her differently.

Today she found hope.

We read through the Bible, jumping verse-to-verse reading what the Word says about us, the children of God.  The eyes that were once hopeless and broken lit with fire. All of a sudden her value didn’t come from what her family and friends said about her, but what God says about her.

She is made in his image. She is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is capable. She is valued. She is courageous. She is beautiful. And she is loved.

This is what empowerment is. This is what the Bible teaches us. This is forgiveness. This is a second chance. This is what it means to be valued, not for how much money you make or your fancy diplomas but because the King of the Universe is your father, and you are worth something.