“The secret of joy’s flame: humbly let go…Leave the hand open and be. Be at peace. Bend the knee and be small and let God give what God chooses to give because He only gives love and whisper surprised thanks…Only self can kill joy.”   -Ann Voskamp

I would highly recommend reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. The writing style is difficult to read at first, but it is such a thought-provoking book. It has prompted several intentional changes in my life, including the start of a gratitude journal. Today, I am thankful for love-filled looks at weddings, singing that fills the church auditorium, sunny Sunday afternoons and sweet smiles that offer thanks. Each moment is a gift, even if my first instinct is to reject certain moments because they are not what I would have written. We serve a good God.

“I used to think that God’s gifts were on shelves one above the other, and that the taller we grew in Christian character the easier we should reach them. I find now that God’s gifts are on shelves one beneath the other, and that it is not a question of growing taller but of stooping lower, and that we have to go down, always down, to get His best gifts.” -F.B. Meyer

I seem to be always seeking humility. 

In a crowd of exclusively backpacks, my backpack could tell some great stories. It has been strapped on my back or at my feet for every trip I’ve taken since it first came in the mail, all new and still bright pink. After all I’ve put it through, it would be the wizened grandmother backpack, which speaks words of wisdom and tells thrilling stories while all the other backpacks gathered around to hear.

It could obviously tell of all the time spent in class, of spirited learning experiences or more often, of my list-making abilities in times of boredom. It could tell of trips down the Western Kentucky Parkway for weekends at home and getting ready for campus ministry dinners that must also include homework. It would lecture about how many books it had to carry some days, in an era before books went completely electronic.

It could tell you of my complete fear my first year of college, when I really didn’t have friends, when I wished to be anywhere but the University of Kentucky. And it could tell you of my happiness at finding Cats for Christ, a place I was led with no idea of what I needed. What I found was a group of people truly seeking God, a group of people who have built me up and loved me for three years, a group of people I consider my family.

It has seen Peru. Lima, Cusco and Ayacucho, the town where we spent an entire summer together, the town we shuddered at the first time we saw it. (At that time, Backpack was still new, with its color intact, averse to all the dirt in the city.) It has been to multiple mountains in the far reaches of Peru, places that rarely see visitors. It has sat with me on the roof of our own house as we watched the sun come up or go down over the city of Ayacucho, transforming it from a place of dust and dirt to one of beauty. It witnessed my heart change about that city and about those people, as the extent of God’s love for His creation was revealed.

Backpack travelled to the beach with me and sat right next to my chair as I read book after book next to the ocean, each crashing wave healing a hard year.

It has been to San Antonio for a total of 12 weeks. To Dallas, to Austin, to Houston, to Galveston, to Gruene. It lived in the heart of the West End, where I found my peace and my joy amidst the heartache and brokenness of that place, where God worked. It was there when I fell in love with another group of kids. It sat quietly in the corner when some of those kids refused to leave after many hours of Slapjack. It witnessed dance parties and conversations and ice-cream therapy with beautiful godly girls. It was in the car on the way back to Kentucky, when I could not believe I was going home when it felt like I was leaving it.

But for most of these things, Backpack would have to conjecture the details. It never did climb a mountain with me, being too cumbersome. It never saw the sun rise over Machu Picchu, but stayed in the floor of the hostel. It never met the kids in Peru or San Antonio whom I have loved so much. It was never with me as I ran into the ocean, the waves pouring over me, or when I lay on the beach afterward, the grit of the sand rubbing against my skin. It has never cried with me or felt my hurt, and it has never rejoiced with me, tears of gladness running over. I feel a certain kinship with my backpack, because we have been many places together, but it has never traveled with me to the last tenth of the mile.

I think about these things. Especially tonight, the night before I graduate from college. I know my plan for the fall, but that is all I know. I think about the last four years, how none of it went according to my plan. It was unexpected, unlooked for, and radiantly beautiful. It was not without hurt, but the hurt made better the whole of me. It made me intentional about finding the value and the thanksgiving in everything. It made me praise more deeply.

I do not know what will happen next. But I do know what I will take with me.

If I had to choose the lessons I have been learning over the past year, it would be these:

1.      To fully live wherever I am.

2.      God is sufficient.

The last one has been most difficult. God is sufficient. Enough.

I love my church family in Lexington, and I could never begin to describe how much God has blessed me with this amazing group of people. However, it is likely that I will have to leave them. And it will be okay.

I think I would like to have a family one day. However, that has not been promised and it might not be in my future. And it will be okay.

I have small personal goals and desires that might not be met. God has promised to give me the desires of my heart. Isn’t God the deepest desire of our hearts? In that light, knowing God more deeply is my desire. And with that being continually filled, everything else falls away.

God is sufficient.

Backpack will continue to travel with me. After all, it has a lifetime warranty and has proved itself very multi-purposeful. However, it has never gone with me to the last tenth of the mile and it never will.

I focus on the uncomfortable places, because those are the scariest. But in each one, God has been there, sometimes gently guiding me to peace and joy, while knocking me down from my pride and ungratefulness in other places. He has brought me to my knees alternately in remorse and thankfulness. He has both drawn the tears and wiped them away. He has been there in the intense pain and in the healing. He has taken abuse and loved my anyway. He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock. He is the rock.

With God, I will live an unexpected and unlooked life, even if it seems completely ordinary. It will not be without hurt, but it will not be without praise. It will not be without beauty.

And in that day, declares the Lord, you will call me “My Husband.”…And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the Lord…And I will have mercy on No Mercy, and I will say to Not My People, “You are my people”; and he shall say, “You are my God.” (Hosea 2:16, 19-20, 23)

This post is so long, but let’s just call it my good-bye to my San Antonio summer, a good-bye I have been trying to avoid.

Deep breath, exhale and confession: I am a very prideful person.  I realize that that sentence can probably be said of 90 percent of humans on the earth.  Not to diminish my own part in that statistic, but I think what is so interesting (in a bad way) about pride is how subversive it is.  It can take so many different forms.  Even if a person is insecure, they can still be prideful.  Exhibit A right here, folks.  Over the past year or so, I’ve had several experiences that have served to humble me a lot.  Everything started a while ago when I came back from Peru, but really came to a head this summer, when several things happened at once:

A. I finished The Naked Gospel.  Such a good book.  It didn’t change my mind about everything, but it did make me think about a lot of issues.  I think the main point of the whole book is just how completely Jesus’s sacrifice washed us clean.  Yes, everyone who grew up in a Sunday School classroom knows that, but knowing it and really knowing it are two very different things.  His sacrifice made us clean once for and all.  Completely.  All past, present, and future sin.  And He did it all when we weren’t worthy.  Kevin talked to us once about what grace really meant.  Justice means that we die right now.  We don’t take another breath, because we don’t deserve it.  Grace is every second that God spares us from a punishment that is so very just.  I think that my deeper understanding of that made me realize that I can never do or be anything that would make me worthy of the cross.  That’s a very humbling realization.

B. Suddenly, every single time I read my Bible, the words “humble” and “humility” stood out.  On every page.  I don’t think I’ve ever realized just how many verses talk about the virtues of being humble.  I started writing them all down for a while (after a week or so, there were just too many).  Some of my favorites:

a. …he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts…and exalted those of humble estate (Luke 1:51-52).

b. …walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love. (Ephesians 4:1-2)

C. I started working at Urban Connection, where, let’s face it, every day is a lesson in humility.  God has worked so much good in so many different areas that there’s no way I could get away with claiming responsibility for any of it.  Goodness knows that there have been times I’ve fought the good life as hard as I could.  This point requires sub-points, too! (fun fact: I really enjoy outlines.)

a. Co-workers.  Confession time again: I fought so hard to be righteously angry with this one.  The summer started out very rough with the other woman who led the 9-10 group (technically, there were three leaders total, but through a very complicated series of events, let’s just say there were two standing in the end).  We butted heads a lot.  Short version: Danielle thought she was right about everything.  I wasn’t even really praying about it, because I wanted to be right and I had a nagging feeling that I wasn’t.  I truly don’t know what happened, but one day, we both just let it go.  We planned together, laughed a lot, and generally had a great day with the kids.  From that point on, Operation Happy Leaders was a go.  The only answer I have is that God forcibly unclenched my tight little heart and smoothed away all the pride that was in the wrinkles.  I like to think that the other leader had stuff to work on too, but let’s face it: I was 90 percent of the problem.  Go figure that the rest of the summer was SO much less stressful and way more enjoyable when we worked as a team.  Goodness, even thinking about it, I’m blown away by how much better it was post-wrinkle smoothing.

b. Every other facet of life at Urban.  I’m just going to state the obvious: working with kids is hard.  Very very hard.  Awesome, wonderful, fulfilling, breathtaking, tear-inducing, but also hard.  I’ll simplify this sub-point by saying that I would never be able to love kids and love them well if not for the power of my God.  I can’t count the number of times I had to throw up little prayers.  I can’t count the number of times I thought I was doing well, only to find out that something had gone horribly wrong.  Or the number of times a bad day turned around because of something one of my kids said or did.  Every single thing I have, every single thing I am is a gift from God.  They are not things that I am entitled to, but pure gifts, given out of love and mercy and purpose.  The purpose is that I use those gifts to glorify the Giver, a purpose that I am not so great at, as of yet.

I know what it’s like to feel torn between different homes.  I have Murray, Kentucky, where everything feels so familiar and peaceful.  I love everything about my home, from the quiet country roads to tobacco barns to country music to the best food you will ever find.  Then I found my place in Lexington, where I know that my first sight of the best church family in the world will make me cry happily.  Peru will always be a home, and one that I still miss like crazy.  I even miss the garbage truck music.  But mostly I miss my sweet, funny kids who first made fun of me, then began to like me, and finally loved me enough to want me to stay.  Sometimes I truly wish I had.  And after this summer, I get to add another home to the list.  Urban Connection has been one of the best experiences of my life, and saying good-bye to the kids on Friday was so hard.  I have loved this place and these people so much, and there is a huge part of me that is throwing a fit because I can’t stay.  I think I will always feel at home here, and I hope the pull-out couch next to the kitchen and across the sidewalk from Gordo will always be open. 

So yes, I know what it feels like to be torn between homes, but I think I’m working on just being content in whichever home God calls me to at the time.  I have spent so much time wanting to be in a different place this past school year (ahem, Peru) that I’ve missed the blessing that is having so many places to call home.  That is my final lesson in humility: who am I, that God would give me four different homes in so many different places in the world?  Who am I, that I would get the chance to meet and love so many different people?  I am so blessed, and I deserve none of it.  But I am so thankful that God chose to forgive my sinful heart.  I am so thankful for a Christ who died to accomplish it. 

Some of the pretty scenes from my homes:

And most importantly, some of the people:

And finally, the verse that best describes my summer, and hopefully, my heart even when I return to the Bluegrass State:

“Return, Oh my soul, to your rest; for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.”  (Psalm 116:7)

He truly has.

Prepare yourself for a random blog about cute children:

If I were to blog about all the times in the day that my kids or co-workers inspire me, no one would read anything I wrote, because there would just be too much of it.  And I would have no free time (not that we have oodles of that, anyway).  One little girl who already has a lot of issues to overcome has been reading my Bible every day at reading time.  She recently told me that she wishes she had her own Bible to read (she’ll be getting one soon!), and that Jonah is her favorite story.  I’m planning to tell her the story of Esther before I leave.  She needs a good story about a strong woman.  This little girl is a social butterfly; she wants to talk and be around people all the time.  But every day for 30 minutes, she scoots to a corner, dragging my Bible to read.  So precious.

If I were to blog about all the times in the day that my kids make me laugh, I would not have enough time to sleep.  Seriously, they are SO funny.  Today, Mercedes tells me, “Miss, I don’t like boys.  They’re rough and mean and I don’t want a broken heart until I’m much older!”  I just had to pick her up and give her a huge hug for that.  Jakari is a very large and intimidating 14-year-old boy who found out that I liked banana baby food (long story) and somehow found a mini-jar of it to give to me.  Please picture a boy twice my size offering me a jar of banana baby food.  So funny.

Several of our middle school boys went to a church camp last week, and I have so many good stories for you guys, but I’ll settle for just one:

Ricky is one of the 12-year-old boys and he is such a tough guy.  He’s only 12, but he’s the leader of the group.  Ricky does what he wants to when he wants to do it.  You boys don’t think it’s cool to play freeze tag?  Well, Ricky does, so that’s what he’s going to play.  And suddenly, everyone else is asking Ricky what he’s playing so they can play too.  You think little kids are annoying?  Well, Ricky is going to watch a little girl turn cartwheels on the playground, clapping and telling her how great she is.  And suddenly, everyone else thinks she’s precious.  Bottom line: Ricky should be perfect for camp.  He’s independent.  He’ll do great.  All of our boys should.  They’re such tough guys.  Wrong.  They’re tough guys in this neighborhood, and honestly, they have to be.  But take them out of the West End, put them down in the middle of a bunch of other kids in an unfamiliar place, and watch them be the 12-year-old boys they are.  Ricky cried the first two nights because he was homesick.  And then he cried on the way home, because he didn’t want to leave!  He pretended to be asleep of course, but sources say there were tears streaming down his face.  I am definitely not happy that he was upset about anything, but I am so glad to know that these rough and tough kids are just that: kids.  These boys are 12, and they put on a front a lot of the time.  That’s something great for me to remember.  With the older kids, we do a lot of negotiating, so it sometimes seems like they’re a lot older than the rest of the kids at camp, but they aren’t so much older, after all. 

This week, I think my kids have compiled a list titled, “Top Things to Say to Make Miss Danielle Cry.”  And they’re definitely drawing from that list.  The first thing Emily said today was, “Miss, I’m coming every day this week so I can see you.  Let’s have a really fun week together.”  Yes, sweet girl, can we please have the best week ever together?!   A few of them have informed me that since they are just 9 years old, they will be 10 next summer, which means they’ll be in my group again.  That absolutely kills me.  Mostly I’m happy that after everything—time outs, cleaning jobs, ”group talking time,” not letting them play dodgeball every day, some yelling, and a few suspensions—they still think I’m pretty okay for a Miss.  I think now is the time to start letting them know that I won’t be back next summer.  But if I wasn’t going to be in grad school, I’d be back on our trusty pull-out couch in a heartbeat!

Oh my goodness, I don’t want to leave this place.  By the time I came back from Peru, I was pretty ready to see my family and friends again (and to eat food), so coming back wasn’t so hard.  Granted, it got a lot worse once I got back and started missing my kids.  But there isn’t even a tiny bit of me that truly wants to leave San Antonio or these kids.  I had a dream that I was begging Urban for a job the other night.  Hello deep subconscious desire!  Regardless of what I want, I’ll be driving the 16 hours back to Murray next week, crying for 15.5 hours of it. 

I finally put a new title up—something that doesn’t have Peru in the title, since it’s been almost a year since I left.  Ladies and gents, that is crazy.  Anyway, I don’t know how long this title will stay up, but I really love the verse it comes from:

For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you. (Isaiah 54:10)

This title is so fitting for my summer, too.  Soon, when I’m not dead-tired, I’m going to blog about some of the cool ways God has been working in my summer.  Spoiler: one of them is giving me a peaceful heart.  The phrase “covenant of peace” means so much more to me now than it did.  I really hope my peaceful heart follows me back to Kentucky, because it will be put to the test by leaving my family here. 

Days at camp can often be stressful. God has been doing some crazy things with my heart this summer, and one of those things has been to give me peace. I’ll definitely be blogging more about that later when I have time to do it justice. If you work at Urban Connection, one ability you have to pick up very quickly is the ability to be flexible. Plans change every day, often multiple times a day. Activities don’t work out, and you have to somehow entertain 20 kids on the spot. Time is fluid. Kids get hurt. Co-workers get sick. Things happen on a daily basis, but you know what? It’s all okay. No use in getting stressed out about it. You just have to go with it, and it is so much FUN if you do. Anyway, most days, I’m totally on board with the peaceful easy feeling thing. Some days, I am so not. I wanted to share two things that have happened recently at camp that have redeemed some really stressful days.

Incident One: in the midst of a crazy afternoon, my sweet momma calls to share some news. Normally, I don’t even have my phone with me, but I happened to on this day and decided to answer since my mom must have a good reason to call when she knows I’m at work. The first thing she says is, “There’s been an earthquake.” Hey there, near-fainting spell. For background information, my home is extremely, uncomfortably close to the New Madrid fault. I’m pretty sure that every single year, scientists predict it’s close to “The Big One.” So I immediately start imagining my home destroyed, my family seriously hurt, my friends missing, years of repairing the damage, how quickly I can leave to get back, etc. Then she says it was in New Zealand. Whew! That was a close one, Mom. I don’t know why on Earth you’re calling to tell me about an earthquake in New Zealand, but as long as it isn’t home! Oh wait, a 7.8 earthquake in New Zealand could potentially affect Allyson, who is in Tonga for the summer. And down goes the emotional rollercoaster that is this conversation. If you have never had an emotional breakdown in front of 30 kids, let me tell you what it’s like: not good. I had to leave for a little while so I could try to get it together. Here’s the sweet part, though: my kids were so worried about me. They were old enough to know why I was upset, and once they found out, they were so comforting. One little girl named Emily told me that she would pray for my friend, after assuring me that everything would be okay. The faith of a child, right? Several of them attached themselves to me for the rest of the day, and others would randomly come up and give me hugs before running back to a game. I truly didn’t know if I would make it through the rest of the day, but my kids really helped me through. Their concern and understanding hugs were balm for me that day.

P.S. Allyson is alive! Tonga wasn’t affected by the earthquake or by the tsunami that followed. Praise God for that. Hopefully Mom won’t be calling with anymore tidings of best friends dying in foreign countries for the rest of the summer.

Incident Two: they tell you not to pick favorites. Too bad I blew that the first day. Favorites are inevitable, but it is definitely not okay for the kids to know that you have them. One of my favorites is a boy named Nestor, who is a tough little boy who’s too cool for Urban sometimes. He’s difficult and can cause a lot of problems sometimes, but every now and then, I see a glimpse of something more than that. I’ve been praying all summer for him, because he’s one of the ones I worry about. One of my prayers is that I’ll be able to build a relationship with him and that he will begin to feel compassion toward certain members in the group. He and another boy named Jorge fight and bicker all the time. I cannot stress enough just how much they fight. They never ever have a civil word to say to each other. So this compassion thing is a tall order for a 10-year-old boy in the projects. Last Thursday was a crazy day. My group was an especial handfull. We had a field trip, which went okay, but there were also some fights and some issues with racial slurs and respect. It was just a lot to handle in one day. Well, ten minutes before the day ends, Nestor and Jorge get into their third fight of the day. Really, they should have been suspended after scuffle number one. Strike three, you’re out. They were both told not to come back the next day. Jorge was immediately upset because he was supposed to leave on a weekend field trip the next day, and wouldn’t be able to go if he were suspended. About ten minutes later, Nestor finds me to ask if he can take Jorge’s suspension day so that Jorge can go on the field trip. Jorge, his arch-nemesis! I had goosebumps. Another one of those “God is here with these children” moments. It was so encouraging. I don’t think I can ever forget the compassion that Nestor had. It was a tall order and maybe an isolated incident, but it was something, and it was God-orchestrated.

Hopefully those snippets encouraged you a little. If kids in the ghetto can demonstrate love and compassion to each other, it gives me a little more hope for the rest of the world.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.  (Joshua 1:9)

Sometimes starting the day is very intimidating, especially when a new group is coming in and you are the group contact for the week.  Sometimes you may really dislike all the changes to the schedule and it may be difficult to be flexible.  Sometimes there are seemingly 10,000 kids screaming “Miss! Miss!” to get your attention, while the group also needs to have a meeting and some freak incident has come up.  But always, God is there.

Erin and I have been in Austin for the past two weekends, having a great time with Mari and her Texas-loving friends.  We’ve also been going to her church, which is incredible, in a word.  The past two Sundays have had me so fired up about the sheer magnitude of all the things God has done in my life.  And not only in my life, but in every human heart who is willing.  I wish I had the gift to talk about things the way this preacher does, but I don’t.  So I’ll share the link to this church’s sermons.  The ones I loved so much were the last two posted: “The Hope to Which You Are Called.” 

http://www.austinstone.org/resources/sermons/

We were unloveable, but God chose to love us anyway.  We were unloveable, but God chose to love us anyway!  Exclamation point!  To love us with an unfathomable love!  What good news that is!  When my day is totally horrible, a remembrance of that love can turn it around.  This song from the service on Sunday has been in my head ever since:

Here’s my broken life,

Lord, do what You please.

I’m giving up my rights,

My hopes, my dreams

Because You laid down

Your life in love for me.

All I have is Yours.

I blogged about the day that my group could not seem to stop sharing God.  I wish that could happen every day.  God is in this neighborhood.  When I see a pair of shoes hanging from a telephone line and know that a drug dealer lives there or when I see police lights on as I turn down the street, I have a hundred other snapshots to turn to that capture His presence.  I see Leslie and the Urban staff, loving people fiercely.  I see 70 kids singing “Peace Like a River.”  I see moms sacrificing so much, trying to make up for absent fathers.  Because God is here, loving these people, wanting these people to come to Him with their hearts.

I don’t think that many of these kids realize God’s presence in their lives, so I wish we could have more sessions like the one last week.  However, those don’t come up very often.  So I have a prayer request: please pray that the AmeriCorps staff and I will be able to share God more often than we do.  Our job is loving kids, 8-5, but I want these kids to know why.  I want them to know that there is a Father who loves them so much more deeply and so perfectly, with the love they desire from their dads who are so rarely there.  I want them to know there is a Comforter who knows and feels exactly what they feel.  And I want them to know that there is a purpose for their lives that goes beyond teenage pregnancy or prison or drug addiction.  Please pray that we recognize moments in the day where we can share God, even if it’s in the smallest possible way. 

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.  (Ephesians 2:4-7)

Raise your hand if you love your job and summer.  Oh, me me me!

Raise your hand if God is doing incredible things through your job and summer.  Oh, really now…that’s so me!  In fact, I’ll raise two hands!

Raise your hand if your job and summer and the things God is doing through them has made you really emotional all week.  OKAY, raising both hands and jumping right now!

I’m pretty much having a fantastic time.  All the time.  Even my frustrating days are wonderful, and do you know why?  Because I work with some incredible people, get to form relationships with some incredible kids, and serve an INCREDIBLE God who allows me to do those things and more.  There have been so many times this week where I have to pause and pray for a moment.  Just a moment, because that’s all I get, so usually the best thing I can throw up is, “Please make me better than I am right now.”  And it works every time.  Then there are the prayers that I can’t help but pray, because I’m totally floored by thanksgiving that I’m here.  I might never leave.  I already know that I won’t want to, judging by the dread I feel every time I think of leaving the West End in five weeks.  In fact, if I didn’t have two more years of school and if Urban never got tired of me living here, I’d set up shop and call it permanent.

That’s probably good for the “incoherent gushing about life” paragraph.  This week, Springtown church of Christ came to Urban, and they were such a good group to start off with!  Their theme was so cool: What’s in a name?  Every day, they taught a different name for God, and what it meant.  Every activity centered around God’s different roles in our lives.  Jehovah Nissi: God is my battle-fighter.  Jehovah Ropha: God is my healer.  Jehovah Shalom: God is my peace.  (I was off Thursday, so forgive my not knowing God’s role.)  And today Jehovah Yahweh: God is I AM.  There was one afternoon that was particularly special to me.  We had finished the activity, which was a game that involved learning a memory verse, so the leader was just talking to the kids.  Somehow, it became a game to see how much everyone knew about God.  It was first of all interesting to see how much they did or didn’t know, and second of all, amazing to see just how much they wanted to know.  They were asking questions and sharing information and getting so excited—I’m talking even the kids who are always too cool to participate were getting in on this.  So there we were in the 100+ weather, sitting on the ground, and every kid had their hand raised with either a question or an answer.  There are some moments where God’s presence and pleasure are undeniably apparent.  I had goosebumps.

Springtown also brought lots of goodies for the kids, including games and BOOKS.  I had to capitalize books, because they brought A LOT.  Every kid at Urban got a bag of 6-7 age-appropriate books to take home.  Springtown was asking the kids to take home more than one to give to their siblings or cousins or friends.  I’m pretty sure I had to go to another room to cry at least twice.  These kids were so excited to have their own books; I had pick-up duty that day, and more than one child asked me to read their new books to them.  The kids were being shown the love of Christ, as well as being told.  It was really beautiful.

Don’t get me wrong: there are probably way more frustrating moments than rewarding ones.  The rewarding ones are just much more powerful.  There was a particularly bad day where this verse hit me in just the right way:

But they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31)

One of the other interns blogged this week about waiting on God.  I’m so blessed to have close co-workers here who have deep relationships with God.  It’s so good to have people to remind me that this work is God’s work.  These children are God’s children, and this organization is God’s organization, and what we do every day is try to love and serve kids who need it in a way that they need it.  Something the AmeriCorps workers have a hard time remembering is that we aren’t going to change a kid’s entire life in a day or a week or a summer.  But we can contribute to the longterm change being effected by a lot of people.  I’m reading The Hole in Our Gospel, written by the U.S. president of World Vision.  It’s such an incredible book, and it talks about not just taking care of people by saving their souls for the coming life.  The Bible has SO much in it about taking care of people in the here and now.  It just isn’t enough to love people from a distance.  There is so much need and so much hurt in the world that I don’t care where you live.  Someone there has a need that you can help fill. 

Stepping off my soapbox, here are some sweet pictures of some sweet children:

Esmerelda, with her beloved cereal.

I also finally learned how to hula hoop! 

Some of my rotten 9 and 10-year-olds!

I need to take a picture of my group soon!  Oh, also what I did last weekend…

Me and this beautiful friend:

were strapped into a giant inflatable hamster ball:

and pushed down a hill.

Did I mention that they inflated the hamster ball with a Shop Vac?  I’ll post videos soon…including the one that was strapped inside the ball and caught all of sweet Miss Erin’s turn as a hamster.