Lost in the Desert

Her name is Jessica. She had heard our camp might help her so she waited in line to see us, and when I first saw her, I knew something was terribly wrong.

Dressed only in panties and a bikini top (common Burning Man attire), this beautiful young girl looked traumatized and shell-shocked. But to see that, you had to look beyond the bleeding scrapes on her face and swollen, bloody lips and black eyes. She was shaking and choking back sobs.

We had to pull information out of her…she didn’t know who to trust. She had come to the desert of Burning Man with some friends, not knowing what she was getting herself into. Many people come to this desert arts festival thinking it is a big happy party. While there is some of that, there is also great darkness and potential harm for unsuspecting innocent kiddos.

Anyway, she got drunk and got on a bike and decided to trick ride on a ramp. She rode over the end and crashed face first in the concrete-hard playa floor. She busted her lips and her face. Her friends left her passed out in the dark shadows of the late night, and then someone raped her.

She was unable to find her ‘friends’ (no cell service or wifi out there), didn’t know where her camp was. She didn’t have any of her clothing or personal things, no food, no water, no place to stay. She was stranded and understandably desperate. Lost in the desert.

We fed her and got her some water, lotion, and lip balm, wiped her tears, and began to talk to her about getting some help. We would take her to a ranger station and report the rape and get her some medical attention. Then we suggested she try to find a way to get back home to safety.

Getting into and out of Burning Man is no easy feat. You can’t call home. You can’t bum a ride safely. The nearest city is a couple hours’ drive away.

“My mom will kill me if I go back home like this,” she said. It wasn’t a figure of speech, she really meant it.

We tried to assure her that mother would want her safe back home, that no mother would EVER want to kill their daughter that was in her condition. But she insisted her mother would only give her more trauma to deal with if she were to open up about what happened.

Mother wounds. Old pain that lay beneath the current, freshly inflicted damage.

The mother warriors in us fiercely rose up, and we began to tend to the emotional and spiritual devastation in this young girl’s life. We spoke Mother’s Blessings to her heart….told her how significant and valuable and beautiful she was. We spoke truth to her about who she is and is called to be–all the things her heart always longed to hear about herself but apparently did not receive from her own mother.

We gave her food and water and offered her a place to stay in our camp…and took her to get some medical help. She eventually decided going home and choosing to trust that her mother would be kind to her was the best option.

Thousands of young kids from all over the world don’t know what they are getting themselves into at big desert parties. We need more safe mommas and daddies to be available at the right time and place to help them out. It is a privilege for me to get to go camp in the middle of madness and be a refuge of light and safety for our kids.

*****

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