Walking through the streets of Amsterdam I felt like this city was making a poor attempt at powdering out its erotic blemishes. Our hostels sits in the Red Light District where life is simply open. It was but 2:30pm when we began our walking tour of the city and already we notice young women in black lingerie posing inside windows, smiling at passerbys. They are just another item for sale in a city intent on high fashion and brand names. It is hard for me to see the rest of the beauty in this city when something so base is so blatant in sight. 70-90% of the women here are forced into the sex trade. The business men of this industry often threaten to harm the womens' families if they refuse to comply. So I wander these streets, perplexed and deeply saddened. "There is beauty everywhere," I keep telling myself. I know it is true, but for once I don't want to believe it.
We make our way to the public library (7 stories tall!). A piano waits in anticipation in the main lobby. A signs reads that somewhat experienced payes are allowed to strike a tune, but quietly and for no longer than 30 minutes. With child-like excitement I sit down on the piano bench and play a rough version of "Claire de Lune" (my go-to-song, when I don't carry music). They have muted the strings, but I do my best to let the notes sing in this still, quiet atmosphere. A few people stop, listen, and thank me afterwards for playing. It is then that I realize that hope can be found in beauty, and beauty in forms of art. This city is crying out for hope. Even when I feel like throwing up my fist at it, and cursing it, I must, we must, love on it. We must see and bring what beauty we can, even in the darkest places. Beauty is in everything, but as an artist, I hope that I will strive to paint, draw, play music, and dance even harder, not just for myself, but for others and especially for those that are broken in this world.
I don't know much, but I know that God's heart goes out for Amsterdam and he will not stop working in this city. There is hope. There is always hope.
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We have a friend who goes out on the street and plays his violin after work. People ask him why he doesn't put out a hat or open up his case for passers-by to throw money in. He has done this, ever since his brother died on drugs. He wants to bring beauty and to give it freely. Thanks for being there Jessie, and bringing hope. Mum
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