Memoirs of a Run-away Model, Part 19

3 o’clock came quickly and after a morning at the market I made my way back to my apartment where the Bishop’s wife would pick me up and take me to safety.  Still fearful of my agency tracking me down and uncertain of their intentions, I carefully gathered my things from the building rooftop where I had made my bed the previous night and quietly made my way down the stairwell to the front of the building.  At exactly 3pm I arrived at our meeting spot, and much to my relief she was on time.  She introduced herself and then helped load my luggage into the trunk of her green Subaru.  Within moments, we sped off and were headed to her home where I was to stay for the next week until my flight departed.

As I entered her luxurious and spacious home–unlike many of the apartments we had been accustomed to in Tokyo–I quickly realized that I reeked of smoke and suddenly felt haggard and embarrassed to be in her presence.  Her husband was an ex-pat and their home was quiet, peaceful and welcoming.  She was a kind and measured lady,  and I perceived her as a mother-figure.  I soon began second guessing her opinion of me and feared her judgement of me as a wild and disobedient teenager–but she was gracious and refrained.  As uncomfortable as I was, I was so grateful to be in a home where I was safe and protected from all of the influences that had surrounded me for the last several months.  The peace and calm was palpable to someone who had been battling their morals for far too long.  That night, I nestled comfortably in their guest room and slept as though I hadn’t slept in months.

The remainder of the week was spent preparing sushi at a local homeless shelter and running errands for those in need.  My hostess presided over the women’s Relief Society auxiliary of the church in that area and so spent her days doing service for many people requiring assistance.  The concept of putting others first was foreign and uncomfortable to me, but somehow I felt grateful for the opportunity.  For the first time, my focus was on the real needs of real people;  there was meaning in my work.  We delivered our carefully prepared meals to the homeless–some on the street.  They were beggars, but so was I –and more than ever, I realized the need for the redemption of a loving Heavenly Father.  It was a  beautiful experience to realize the worth of a soul, including my own, in the outstretched hands of these individuals.  While their were many awkward moments and silence that could cut like a knife, I knew I was where I ought to be.  I began to sense greater purpose through these small acts of service.  This simple woman’s example of charity and service as an integral part of one’s life is one that I will never forget and forever be grateful.  To me, she exemplified the pure love of Christ as she went about doing good and blessing the lives of others.

A week came and went, and it was finally time for my departure.  With much relief, I was able to board a plane without any questions asked about my Visa and in a moment, I was headed home.  My heart was changed and I was relieved to be in my childhood surroundings.  Although I don’t recall the weeks immediately following my return, my mother reminds me often that I literally sat in a catatonic stupor on the couch in the family room for more than a week.  While I have blocked it out, I was decompressing from the spiritual and moral warfare that I faced each day.  I knew I had made a lot of mistakes that I needed to reconcile and as a result, I completely shut down in order to avoid facing the reality of it all.

Days passed, and I was finally able to function enough to formulate a game plan.  My agent called from San Francisco–after the fact–and didn’t mention a thing about what I had endured to get home or that he had abandoned a teenager who was stranded in Asia.  Instead, he got right to the point and informed me that he had another agent ready to sign me on in Greece.  I was furious and for the first time, didn’t hold back.  I let him know in no uncertain terms that I was done modeling and that it wasn’t going to work.  He persisted, and so did I.  Instead, I determined to get back to school and begin salvaging what remnants were left of the promising young girl that had existed only 2 short years earlier.

Ultimately, my decision to leave the business was the most pivotal and life-changing decision I have ever made.  My life may have taken and entirely different course had I not come to certain realizations about my convictions, desires and values.   While the cocktail of the modeling industry and a vulnerable teenager managed to steal my identity and mame my self-worth temporarily, integrity and courage ultimately prevailed.  Perhaps the most important thing that has come from this experience is a determination to never go back to the morally bankrupt place that I found myself.  The difficult journey to overcome that experience has no-doubt strengthened my spiritual resolve to choose better, to be obedient to a loving Heavenly Father, and strive to be more like Him on a daily basis.  For this, I am grateful and for this, it was ALL worth it.  Mostly, I’m grateful to many guardian angels along the way, who were there to catch me at my lowest points, and above all to my dear mother, who loved me through it.  She, like the good shepherd, never gave up hope and each day, her pleading and prayers for her lost child were answered in some small way.  May their lives be abundantly blessed, and may you find strength to overcome through this shared journey.

Photo credits:  “Hope” and Red Berries by photography.andreas

Read all previous posts in this series here.