"Whoever loved me first could have my life..."

I hadn't planned on blogging today. I've had a busy week, and frankly, I am tired. (And I have Barry Manilow songs running through my head, which doesn't make for a lot of creativity!)

But then I read that Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme was released from prison today.

You might need to read the story to recall exactly who she is. I would imagine that most girls and young women don't even recognize the name. I didn't until Jimmie Davis, who wrote The Girls' Ministry Handbook, mentioned her in the first chapter of that book. Since then, I've been fascinated by Squeaky's story. The details are a little dated, but the theme of her life is just as contemporary as it was a generation ago. Jimmie wrote this about her:

"After Squeaky attempted an assassination on President Gerald Ford's life, she was asked in an interview why she committed her life to Charles Manson. Her answer was plain and simple: 'I decided when I was 14 years old that whoever loved me first could have my life.'"

I read the story about her online and couldn't help thinking to myself, it doesn't seem like a whole lot has changed. She still seems to be searching for that thing that will give her life meaning and purpose. She still seems desperate for attention and love. The interviews she gives are evidence of that. She still seems lost. Spiritually yes, we all know that. But there's a lost-ness in her communication and in her actions that is so transparent that it's a little shocking in today's "gotta look like you've got everything together" culture.

I don't understand her—I don't understand any of the followers of Manson—but my heart breaks for her.

This story impacts me more deeply than others because there are so many women and young girls who are just like her. The only exception is that their desperation is quiet, unnoticed, and hidden. They suffer silently. But I am certain they are out there—in my own church, in my workplace (even though it's a Christian organization) and in my own family. They may not say it verbally, but their eyes say it: Whoever loves me first can have my life.

I guess that's why I'm so passionate about girls' ministry. I see so many girls who are giving their lives away to every false love that comes their way, and they pay the consequences for it. The results may be different than Squeaky's, but these girls are in their own prisons—shame, regret, fear, bitterness, rage, hopelessness, despair. Seeing Squeaky's story fuels in me the desire for them to know the Lover of their souls, to find their purpose, hope, and meaning in Him. 

Can their be any more higher calling that that?