Thankfulness

Today was Thanksgiving. It is a day that most spend surrounded by family or friends at a table filled with great food, laughter, and shared memories and experience. My girls are a little different. They spend holidays like today longing for the family they are no longer with, or dreaming of the family they could have. It is hard to have a staff and not a mom today. I can try my hardest, but I am always only Miss Amy. Some days that distinction doesn't hit very hard, but I was expecting it to hit home today.
For one it was the day I expected it to be. She pushed back and was overcome by big emotions. Her day was spent ranting and railing against people who aren't within reach, striking out instead at the ones who did show up today. It is hard to be hard on those behaviors when behind the defiance is an abandoned child. I had to look at the defiance at face value and make sure that, even though she was hurting, we didn't undo so many weeks of hard work by coddling a tantrum. That is a hard line and I had to tap out at some points. I am thankful for the team I have behind me that can come in and take over when I need to step away.
For a few of them, it was a normal day with more food. They played normally, and helped around the unit with daily tasks. At lunch it was fun to watch them pick what they wanted to eat instead of being given a plate of food that has already been made for them. They get little choice in this life of theirs, so seeing them realize they could have seconds or just eat mashed potatoes and green bean cassarole was hilarious. They would walk over to the dishes and raise the serving spoon like someone was going to tell them no. I assured them over and over it was fine and they could eat whatever they wanted as long as they were't going to pop from eating too much.
One of my little ones though,  was my shining moment today. She struggles even listening to Christmas music because she cries and wants to go home. I was worried about her today, but she watched the parade without issue and then came the big test of eating our Thanksgiving feast. She was talking and laughing with the rest of them. I remained worried about her until a little bit later when she was riding her bike around outside. She had a soft smile on her head and her bike helmet was slightly askew. I went over to her to help her fix it and heard her singing a little song under her breath. As i got closer I could make out the words. She was singing "Pecan pie, pecan pie, we are gonna eat pecan pie. Yummy yummy pecan pie." I fixed her helmet and watched her ride around still singing her little song. When we went inside and she actually got the pie she did a little dance and said "Miss today is my favorite." I asked what about the day was her favorite and she told me "I am all full and happy"
Well folks, that did it. That is what I am thankful for. I am thankful that a child got to be a child and for a happy pecan pie dance and song. Life may be hard, and there is a huge obstacle in front of them, but today, she was happy and I am thankful for that.

Life in the Bubble

Sometimes we all need a little perspective. It can be so easy to become consumed with the little bubbles we live in and forget the outside world. My girls and their issues become all I think about as I sleep, breathe and live the unit. My worldview shrinks and my reference point becomes what does and doesn't work for the eight girls I work with. They are important, and I love my job, but they aren't my entire life. I had a wonderful reminder of that as I got to step outside my bubble and travel to Mississippi to see my Mississippi people and watch one of the most influential people in my life get married last week.
I was surrounded by people who didn't need me to de-escalate them. Children had tantrums and no one looked at me to solve it. No one tried to run away, no one got physical, and no one needed me to medicate, feed, tutor, or keep them on a routine. I was an adult, with other adults, and everyone was happy. It was the oddest feeling. The world continued on in the unit without me, and I was able to take a break and realize that the outside world still exists and welcomes me when I have the time to encounter it. I reconnected with friends, made some new ones, ate great food, laughed until I cried, had my breath taken away by beauty, and stood in the company of great men and women. I saw Elizabeth gazing at Matthew as she walked down the aisle to join her life with his. I saw Matthew's giddy grin when they were pronounced man and wife. I was reminded that relationships are not all dysfunctional and warped.
Stepping outside my bubble gave me better perspective once I returned to "normal" life. I had recharged and taken time to refocus my energies and attitude. Everything wasn't horrible and stressful, I had just been in the world and seen beauty. My girls weren't all I had to think about or focus on, as I was reminded of all the people I have who love me and are there when I need them. My world was better focused because I had something to balance it.
I also got another perspective. While I was in Mississippi preparing for a wedding, I took a minute to check the news and learned of the attacks on Paris. I was reminded that my worldview needed to include the world. My small bubble was not the only one I was called to impact in some way. Terrorists commit heinous acts everyday in countries who are classified as "war-torn" or "third world" and we don't feel rocked to our core because we are desensitized and busy. But Paris struck a chord and we were reminded that safety is not a guarantee and our comfort zones are not our mission fields.
My job is important, but it is not the only one I have. I am called to bring Christ to those who seek him, no matter what they look like.
I logged into Facebook with caution, knowing some friends would be able to show Christ-like compassion, and some would have taken the opportunity to suit up in their judges robes. I was not surprised by what I saw. Some friends have taken the time to try to learn how to love those who look different while others have grown comfortable in their towers from which they look upon the rabble. I decided to mix the beauty with the ashes and attempt to see both for what they were in the hopes that I was seeing clearly.
I needed, and was given, perspective. There is beauty and terror in the world where we live. My job is important, but not my entire life and reason for living. I have been called to be here, but not only here. Rest and work, sorrow and joy, quiet and noise, we all need balance. As you figure out where you stand in the days and weeks to come, I hope you are able to find the beauty, see the truth of the terror and widen your scope so that your perspective can be more like that of Christ.

Boundaries

Most of my girls have a problem saying four letter words that they should not say. We try to combat that with  some other four letter words, love and time. This week however, we encountered a four letter word that made me want to scream the four letter words they get consequences for using. This week we had to deal with...the dreaded infestation of...lice. As we scrambled to check every girl's head, we then turned to the dreaded task of checking each other's hair. My coworker patiently checked my hair in sections and then informed me that she was slightly positive she may or may not have seen a shadow of something. That was enough for me to get treated and saran wrap my head while chemicals hopefully killed whatever she did or did not see. As coworkers snapped pictures of my alien head,  I tried to find the humor in the situation. Of course the one day I was too lazy to put my hair up after my shower would be the day we find lice. Of course the girls who had it would be the ones I had consoled and hugged the day before as they had emotional issues. I got off lightly, as after my saran wrapped chemical experience, I was deemed to be clean. I made an essential oil mixture and bought special shampoo just in case, but I got off lightly compared to what it could have been.

Later in the week I wanted to (and did) say those words I shouldn't say again when I realized one of my girls had played me and run away. I am imperfect and thought my spidey sense was tingling all day, I connected the dots about a minute too late and she made it out the door. Since it was dark outside when she ran, they were still looking for her when I left work. I felt a huge weight on my chest. I came home angry at her for abusing my trust, but mostly angry at myself because I should have know better and seen it coming. I had a feeling between wanting to burst into tears, punch something, and throw up until I got a text message around midnight saying she had been found safe and was back where she needed to be. The next morning walking into work was hard. I didn't know whether I wanted to yell at her, or hug her and cry. I realized then my emotions were running the show and I needed to let my head take the reigns. 

A few years ago I realized that I had terrible boundaries. I came to realize this after no less that five different people recommended the book Boundaries to me. (If you haven't read it, you need to! Super helpful, Cloud and Townsend, check it out.) I came to the conclusion that I cannot help anyone when I am too tired or drained to care. That book made me do some evaluating and changing in my life, prioritizing myself and what I need. It isn't selfish to make sure that I am okay, it is necessary. It is something I have to check from time to time though, as not taking the time to care for myself is a very easy habit to fall back into. 

Looking at my runaway this week, I realized I had been neglecting my boundaries. Much like the lice that infected my unit, without care or check to their infestation, I had allowed other people's emotions and issues to infest my life. I had neglected myself and was headed toward the place of being burnt out. I care, and will always care about the emotions of those around me; but caring and carrying are very different things. If there was emotional infestation shampoo, I needed it. Instead, I went inside myself and inspected my mental walls, filling the gaps and patching the holes. I said no when I needed to say no. Instead of trying to play a game with one of my girls who wanted me to play, I was honest about needing to do paperwork. I didn't let my runaway dump her emotions on me, instead tapping in others who can help. I shared the load. Everything got done and I when I left for the day, I left the emotions of the day behind. When I got home, I focused on what I needed and wanted. I rested. 

I am still tired. We are so short staffed right now it is ridiculous. (Seriously if you know anyone who wants to work with some pretty cool children at a youth ranch in Kerrville Texas let me know.) I am trying to show these kids that someone loves them and point them toward Christ, but I am no good to anyone if I am burnt out and emotionally drained. I have to take time for me, even if only in small ways. I am so excited to get to go see my soul sister get married this week (*happy dance*). I am not sure I remember how to have conversations with people who aren't emotionally disturbed, but I am going to dust off my social skills and give it a go. I was so glad to get to hug my sister and hold my nephews this week. I have a dinner date with my mom and am going to get to hug my dad before I go to the wedding. I am going to get 5 whole days without having to contain or de-escalate. I am going to re-charge. 

This week remember that while you are important, the fate of the world does not rest in your hands alone. Take time to make sure you are okay. Do something for yourself. Check your boundaries. While you can and should care, don't carry the emotions of others. Charge your batteries so that you can continue the work to which you are called. Don't fight needless battles for ambiguous reasons, instead focus on where you hear God's voice. Don't waste emotion on things that ultimately don't impact the Kingdom or you in any real way. Take rest, say no, and practice some self care. Your health matters. 

Heartbeat Pat

There are moments where I wonder why on earth I choose to work where I do. There are tantrums I can't de-escalate, past trauma I can't even imagine, attitude like you wouldn't believe and aggression that can come out of nowhere. Some days I leave the unit and wonder if I have accomplished anything at all or if I am just a glorified babysitter for these kids until someone comes along who can really help them. When those moments come, God has been gracious enough to give me moments of clarity. A child will say something, or do something, that makes it clear that I am exactly where I need to be.

There is a little one in my unit now that we call Tidbit. She is seven but my three year old nephew Jackson gives her a run for her money in the size department. She is so little that you can barely see her over the counter when she is standing next to it. She has an infectious giggle, gives great hugs, will choose a cheese sandwich over any other food and can scream for an entire day. We know this because she once had a screaming tantrum for an entire day. On her first day in my unit she had a tantrum. It is always hard when they have an issue the first day because we don't know how to help them yet. That day she was crying and screaming and I could't make out what she was trying to tell me. I reached over and began to pat her back in a heartbeat pattern. She collapsed into my side and calmed down enough to talk to me. The issue was far from over, but at least now she could talk instead of just wailing.The next day when she was screaming, one of our Program Coordinators tried the same method and she fell asleep, waking up in a much better mood. She had been tired and not know how to tell anyone. The heartbeat pat became a way to let her know she was safe, to help her calm down and to help her fall back asleep when night terrors woke her up. She got to where she would ask to "hug it out" when she was getting mad or upset instead of just screaming. She still has the fits, but they aren't as long or as frequent anymore. 

Sunday I went to Chapel with my girls. We are lucky enough to have a place where they have freedom to express themselves with others who understand who they are and what they have gone through since we have a chapel on ranch, but there are still some behavioral limits. One of mine was using the stage like a drum, another one was staring at the boys, and another one was using praise and worship time as conversation hour. These girls have all been with me long enough to know when they get the "look" they need to stop, so thankfully we didn't have to make a scene. I thought the moment passed without recognition, but Tidbit had been sitting next to me. She saw me monitoring everyone else and shifted closer to me. I leaned down, thinking she wanted to tell me something, but she placed her tiny little hand on my back and started heartbeat patting me, still singing the praise song as she did. She continued to pat my back for the next song and then waved me down to her. She looked at me, bright smile on her face, and said "better miss?". I assured her that she had helped me greatly and thanked her for taking care of me. She smiled and said "you do it for us". We then sat and listened to the message side by side and went about our day. 

The rest of the day did not go entirely smoothly, but no day does. When something hiccuped, I thought about Tidbit, knowing something we were doing was right. Everyday since then I find myself a couple times during the day thinking about that little hand, reaching up to me, offering the tool that helps her when she thought I might need it. Does a heartbeat pat soothe me? Not really. But her thinking about whether or not I was okay is something I cherish. Sometimes we don't have the right tool to offer, or words to say, but all that really matters is the effort. Sometimes, all it takes is for someone to try, and suddenly things start to look a little brighter, the world a little better, because someone took the time to pour into you in some small way. Tidbit gave me a gift and it is one I will always look back on as one of those moments when God spoke to me and confirmed that where I am is where I need to be. 

What ifs, what is and the Great I Am

Honestly this one has taken me awhile to write. A few weeks ago I got an up close and personal look at how quickly a decision someone makes can impact their life forever. One of my girls got mad, unwilling or unable to listen to anything we said, she made some choices that I wish I could have saved her from. I know life moves quickly, but this one gave me whip lash.
I found myself in an endless cycle of what ifs. What if I had moved faster? What if I had said something different? What if she had taken a minute? They were endless and debilitating because they didn't do anything but make me doubt and worry. I was stuck in a cycle looking for an answer to a problem that had already been taken out of my hands and I could in no way impact anymore. I spent time and energy trying to change something that was as impossible for me to change.
Then I heard the still small whisper I had been trying to ignore telling me to walk away from the what ifs and rest in what is. I needed to step away from the unknown and rest in what was actually happening. Yes, one of my girls made a terrible choice, but I had seven more to focus on who needed me to see them, where they were and how they were in that moment. I have a job to do that requires me to accept the facts of a person, see them for who they are and help try to shape them into who they can be. I can't change the past, but I can help give them the tools to leave it there. I tried to focus on the now, and the here, and the girls I still worked with everyday.
But my heart mourned the loss of the one who didn't understand that the moment of anger would have such a lasting impact. I tried to move past it, but I felt as if there was still something I needed to do for her. Honestly I was angry at her for making the choices she made, but I felt this overwhelming sense of loss as well. I was disappointed in her, but also in the system that failed her. I was saddened by her choices and enraged at the people who came before me that showed her how to make those poor decisions. I was angry with myself for not getting there in time and having to see people I love get hurt because I wasn't close enough to stand in front of them. It was a confusing tornado of emotions. I cried out to the only one who can handle all of me, and that was when I understood what I needed to do for the one I lost. I needed to give her to God.
I can be removed from the lives of the kids I work with rather easily. All it takes is a caseworker or judge to come in and say they would be better off somewhere else or in a different program structure. They can make decisions that remove them from my care. But God never leaves them. I needed to actively be in prayer for the one who was lost to me, but never lost to Him. God never left her, even when she left me. I pray that someone out there shows her kindness, that she is able to learn the lessons she couldn't grasp with us, and that someone cares for her. I know statistics and research are not on my side, and that in all likelihood she will end up in prison or her kids will be in the system some day, maybe both. But I can still pray to the God who holds her in his hands and heart. That is how I best help her.
When I get lost in the what ifs, I focus on what is, and God is in control. I don't carry that weight around with me anymore. Now I move forward, trying a little harder to listen to that still small whisper and rest in what is actually happening around me in the moment, reacting and responding in ways that hopefully point those around me toward the one we all need most. I am learning how to hold on and when to let go, what to carry and what to put down. It is not easy, but it is a necessary lesson to learn if I am going to be of any use where I am. Please pray for me as I learn this and pray for the team I work with everyday as they meet these situations with me. I would also encourage you to  examine your lives as you go. If you are living in the what ifs, I encourage you to focus on what is, and let God be in control of the rest. Visiting what-ifs-ville can be fun sometimes, but make sure you aren't a permanent resident.

Dishonesty

I remember the day that I learned the world was not an honest place. It was in March during my 2^nd grade year of elementary school. I was having a tea party birthday and I was allowed to invite some of my friends. I was so excited. A girl in my class came up to me and told me she would be bringing her babysitter to my birthday party because her babysitter was so much cooler than I was and that was the only way my lame party would be any fun. I was so confused because not only was her babysitter not invited, she hadn’t been either. 

This classmate and I had never really gotten along and I was shocked that she even knew I was having a party, much less had planned on coming. I told her she wasn’t invited and moved on with my day, never imagining I had hurt her feelings in any way. Then came our after lunch bathroom break.I was standing at the sink washing my hands when I saw her in the mirror behind me. She gave me an odd smile, and then raised her right hand in the air, bringing it down with a loud “smack” on her left arm. 

I was puzzling over why on earth someone would do that when she ran out of the bathroom crying. The next thing I knew, my teacher was coming in the bathroom telling me how disappointed she was that I would hit someone. It took me a second to comprehend what she was saying. I tried to convince her of my innocence, but the handprint on my classmate’s arm was all she needed. I then got my first and only color change in my entire elementary school career.

My clothespin got moved from the green square all the way to the red one, no stop at yellow. I stared at that clothespin so many times for the rest of that day. It didn’t belong on in the red square. I hadn’t done anything. That girl had lied. My whole world was rocked by the concept that people could lie and get away with it, while innocent people had to deal with the consequences. For the children I work with, this is not a concept they are unfamiliar with. They come to me knowing that people can lie and get away with it. They know that people can hurt them and get away with it. They know the world isn’t honest.

Their introduction to this fact is not always as easy as mine was. Moving my clothespin that day in no way gave me lasting consequences. My mom believed me when I told her what happened, and the next day when I walked back into my classroom, the clothespin was back in the green where it belonged. I "suffered" from a person's dishonesty for an afternoon, my girls suffer for much longer than that. 

Because of that, we make it a point not to lie to them. So many people think that because they have been hurt in the past, the best thing for them is to say "yes" to everything you possibly can and give them whatever they want. It isn't. I make a point, as do my co workers, to try to be as honest as possible with them. 

"If you continue to fight people over every small issue, you will be charged with assault and go to jail when you are 18." "If you keep stealing things, you will not be a person who can be trusted and lose friends, if not also go to jail." "If you keep running away, there is always a possibility that we won't be the first ones to find you, and I would hate for you to be found by someone who doesn't want what is good for you." 

These are all things I have said this week. I could hug them and tell them that because they have been hurt the world will give them a free pass, but that is a lie. Instead I hug them and tell them they have to be better than their past and that I am there to help them with the monumental task of building a life for themselves. They know when they have hurt my feelings, because they need to learn that emotions can be felt without a negative response. They know when I have a headache, because they need to know that a small issue doesn't give you an excuse to not go to work. They know when I am disappointed because they need to know I think they have more potential than they are showing. Honesty might not always be fun, but it is necessary. 

My girls are working on it. They are trying to overcome the lies they have been told. "You are worthless", "Everybody does it", "No one will believe you", "You owe me", "You made me do it" and so many other hurtful lies are words I want to help them move from so they can believe things like, "You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you", "You are better than your past mistakes", You matter", "You are loved". Pray for them as they seek to replace lies with the truth and build their lives on a foundation that cannot be shaken. I pray you are able to be honest in your lives this week as well as you impact the circles God has put before you. It might not always be easy, but it is worth it. 

some days you gotta dance

I learned the value of a good dance party in college. I lived with a girl who has rhythm in her soul. Elizabeth and I would bop in the car, dance around the kitchen and watched every horrible dance movie ever made. I began to value the beauty of untrained and unrestrained motion to a beat. Letting go of any pride I had over not looking "cool" or "talented" and letting my oddly both on, and off beat motions become a cathartic release is something I will always cherish Elizabeth for teaching me. It was an invaluable lesson today.
This week I had two new girls move to my unit. They are the youngest children I have ever worked in this capacity with. I now have girls who are as many as eleven years apart in my care. Neither one of my new ones has ever been housed in a unit like mine. They are having a little trouble adjusting to not being in the only places they have ever known as home.
For the past two days, I have spent the vast majority of my 13 hour shifts with these children yelling and screaming at me. My knees are bruised from kneeling on our hard floor so that they can hear me when I speak, and they know I am listening to them. I have had to be hard with them, saying no for all the adults who neglected them and let them get away with terrible destructive habits. I am teaching them basic life skills while struggling to find the answers to the questions "why do I have to do what you say" and "who is gonna feed my mom if I am not there" and "why can't I go home". I am physically and emotionally drained.
Today, after tantrum #4 from one, and #6 for the other, I was sitting at the counter trying to get some of the massive pile of paperwork each tantrum entails done. Then I realized I was humming a song. I found it on my phone and pressed play. It is a favorite of one of my girls, so I called her over to me so she could hear it. She closed her eyes, threw up her hands and began to sway. My co-worker and I looked at each other and smiled. She hooked up the song to play over our sound system, restarted it,  cut out the main light, grabbed our little dancer's hand and headed for the middle of the room. As I began my rhythmic gyrations towards them, we began to call out the other ones. Before we knew it, everyone was out of their rooms and staring at our three person impromptu dance party. The bolder girls became dancers 4, 5, 6 and 7. That left my two new ones.
Dance parties have an undeniable appeal, so after a brief moment of timidity, we had nine dancers giving it their all. There was universal laughter in the unit for the first time. Everyone was awkward, no one is going to win any dance competitions, but everyone swayed to the same beat for a minute. We connected. We released some of the tension that comes from either tantruming all day, or having to listen to it. My new ones made a fun memory in their new home. My older ones got to connect with their new neighbors. They all got to be kids.
After the song ended, we all were wiping tears from our eyes from laughing so hard. We hugged it out and went on with our day. That is the beauty of a dance, so much can be communicated in one song. I am here for you, I love you, we have fun here, welcome, be a kid and so much more was conveyed to my girls in less than five minutes. Yes, they still have a massive amount of stuff they have to work on and get through, but now we have the memory of the dance to make us smile as we work.
I would encourage you to take time in your life to dance, even if only for one song. Let your body sway to some beat that speaks to you, even if you can't quite get the rhythm right. Don't worry about how coordinated you look, just grab a friend and dance it out. If the dance doesn't help you, laughing at how ridiculous you all look sure will. Take a minute to have fun! The craziness of life will still be there when the song ends.

Tap Out

When the world around us never stops, it can be so easy to get swept up in all the stuff that doesn't matter. We are always moving and doing, not stopping until we have to do so. Our business becomes an excuse to push aside the small things and not have time to do things that may be hard or new. I am learning many lessons this week and one of them is that rest is not a want, but a need. 

In my unit, we utilize something we refer to as a tap out. When I have been dealing with seven tantrums and three girls crying for no reason, it is easy to lose perspective and not have the patience the one who is asking me a question deserves. That is when one of my team members will come up and simply tap me out. It also works really well when one of the girls ties emotion to you during a tantrum. When someone else comes up to take over, the kid is given the out they need and you are given a break. It is an amazing concept. Whoever needs a break gets one and the kids understand that they have many people who love them and want to help. Tap outs keep us sane. 

They also function to strengthen the team. If I can't handle something, I know that Emily and Jessica are right behind me, watching what I am trying and ready to jump in if I need them. It is so helpful to know that anytime I am dealing with a kid, Emily or Jessica are right beside me. If I jump, they jump, no question. When I first arrived at the unit last summer, the kids would try to set staff against staff. The new kids still try, but it doesn't take them long to realize that we are a united front. I have never taken a step that wasn't watched and supported. I realize how lucky I am to be able to say that. My team has my back, ready to step in whenever I need them, even when I don't realize I need them. 

We are short staffed right now, which means that there are three people trying to cover as many shifts as four people (optimally five) would usually cover. Because of that, I was stressing. I am still fighting my infection with my 1/2 frozen face, but I was trying to put on my brave face and be there for my team. Saturday, Jessica told me to take off a few hours early so that I would be rested enough to work the next day. I agreed and went home to be taken care of by my sweet mom. I should have known my team would see through my brave face. Well, my 1/2 brave face... 

As I am relaxing and gearing up for the next day, my phone starts going off. Jessica and Emily have somehow worked it out that instead of 1 1/2 days off, now I had 4 if I would take them. They were tapping me out because I needed rest. I felt so selfish. How could I take the days when we were short staffed? That meant they would be giving up most of their time off. They were telling me to take time that we didn't have to give. I texted my supervisor (who is also amazing by the way) and he said they worked it out between the three of them. He would cover them, and they would cover me. Everybody was willing to step in because my body needed time to recover and rest. 

As I contemplated taking the time, I was reminded of our old dog Rusty. Rusty was our dog when I was growing up. We used to take him camping with us and when we would swim in the lake, Rusty would swim in a circle around us, keeping us safe. My dad used to watch Rusty, and when he would get tired, my dad would hold him up so Rusty could take a break. Rusty would always keep paddling though, even when he was being held. He couldn't take a break because he wanted to be sure we were all safe. It exhausted him. He would have to lay down after we were out of the water and take a rest because he was too tired from trying to swim the whole time. I realized I could be Rusty, and go beyond my means exhausting myself, or I could rest in the arms that were being offered. I took the time. I can feel the difference. After two days off, my face feels less tight, my cough is less frequent and I can hear out of both of my ears. 

And the unit marches on. Emily and Jessica are doing fine without me. Our supervisor Mark is pulling extra weight and stepping in. The girls routine hasn't been interrupted and no meteors have struck the unit. I tapped out and life continued. It can be so easy to tell ourselves we can't afford to take time off or rest. We have valid reasons that sound so good and noble for why we have to be the ones who do the 897 small tasks we have for the day. But sometimes, we need to tap out. We need to take a break, and I mean a real one, not binge watching shows on netflix or filling all our time with social calls. We need to sit with ourselves and check in, making sure we know who and where we are in the moment. We need to sit in the quiet with God and listen to his voice. We need to recharge. Sometimes that looks like having a coffee date with yourself for 20 minutes, sometimes it looks like taking four days to get back on your feet after three+ weeks of being sick. Whatever it looks like for you, take the tap out. Rest. Take a Sabbath. Take time for yourself before your body forces you to or you lose perspective on the small things. Delegate what can be delegated, step in to tap someone else out, and take the tap outs that are offered to you. You matter so take care of yourself! I am praying that all of you find rest this week. We all need some! 

Inside Work

It has been a WEEK! When I first arrived at this unit last summer I was scared out of my mind. These kids were going to see straight through me and I was going to be of no help at all. What did I, the girl who couldn't even handle the crazy combination of emotions and college know that could possibly help these kids? But Jesus said go and I listened and here I am one year later! I have been trained to do things I never even knew you could do, met some amazing co-workers who share the load with me and found out that the "scary" kids and really just kids. They told me to give it a year before making any judgements and I have. My judgement is...it has been a crazy year!
My unit houses eight girls, and there was one girl who I was warned about when I was beginning training. She had been here for a year already and no one could see her moving out. She was not willing to work on her behaviors, and, in her words, "Change is too hard." I spent countless hours trying to brainstorm up ways to impact her. I prayed and prayed and the only thing I felt was God calling me to live along side her. So I did. We all did. I have no idea what clicked but eventually, she began to try, to work, and to change. We lived along side her, through the rough and the easy, the beautiful and the shameful, until she finally could see a way out. Now I can say with a massive smile on my face that the girl who no one thought could ever make it did the amazingly hard work it took to get her out of my unit and into a less intense cabin. She did it. As she left she said "Thanks for pushing me miss. It was time for me to go." And it was! She did so much hard work, put forth so much effort, and finally got the reward. She achieved her goal!
Sometimes we have no idea what it is that helps, or when seed will begin to produce growth. We just have to keep trying and waiting for the change to come. This is not an easy lesson to learn, or a fun one. For me, I have had a respiratory infection for weeks now, which last week decided to evolve into Bells Palsy. So as I walk around with clogged ears, itchy throat and half way frozen face, my girls are being very patient with me. At this point I have taken an anti viral antibiotic, an anti bacterial antibiotic and a steroid to deal with this craziness. Now I wait for my body to do the inside work it needs to do to get better. I have taken the meds, now I have to take the time. I tell my girls all the time, you do the work, take the steps you can, and the rest will come. Now it is my turn. It is so much easier to be the teacher than it is to be the student! But if they can do it, so can I!
They do the hard work every single day of getting up and trying. They are constantly doing the "inside work" that no one can really see at first, but eventually gives them hope and coping skills. If I had a magic wand I would wave it and magically make the "inside work" easier. The stuff no one sees, but no one can do without. My body wouldn't be infected with germs and they wouldn't be infected with shame from their pasts. But it doesn't work that way. Life would be easier, yes, but nowhere near as beautiful. We need the time to acclimate to the change. We need the failure to appreciate the hard work it takes to succeed. We need the rest to realize how hard we have been working. We need the inside work. So this week, pray for my girls as they do the hard work no one sees yet, but will make a huge difference later on. And selfishly, I ask you to pray for me too. This infection palsy thing isn't very fun.

My Big Secret

Dear Friends,
I am writing this post in a different form because it is far more personal than other posts I have done so far. This is my letter to each of you and if you need to ask me questions after reading this post, please feel free to do so. My posting this is not an admittance of weakness or shame, but coming forward to say this where I am, where I was, and expressing my willingness to jump in wherever you are in your life at the moment.
 I had a happy childhood, I have an amazing family, I was never inappropriately touched or abused. I have met some amazing people who jumped in this crazy thing we call life with me and have been willing to walk with me in storms. The worst thing to happen to me so far, is that I was unable to fill an expectation I placed on myself because I never stopped to think God might have something different for me. I have been, in short, extremely blessed. My big secret however, is that for a period of time, I completely and utterly despised myself. Not in an "I could lose five pounds or change my hairstyle" kind of way, but I could not even look in mirrors because the person who looked back at me made me want to throw up. I could find no worth or meaning in her.
I didn't know her, didn't want to know her, and hated that this was the form I had to use in order to meet the world. If I hated her this much, surely everyone else did too. Everyone who smiled at me, or was nice, I carried the weight of their unwanted pity. There was no way that anyone actually liked me. Being alone was dangerous, being around other people was dangerous and I found myself in a pit. The only reason I didn't just end it all was because I did the math and realized my parents had taken out loans to pay for my college and I didn't want them to be stuck with more debt from a funeral.
During this time I led a bible study, helped other people with their lives, smiled and laughed and fooled the world. No one knew anything was wrong me with me. When I finally hit my lowest point one night I decided I wasn't worth it anymore. I wasn't going to ever be anything but a burden and I was tired, so tired of fighting. I looked normal, people thought I was fine, but standing upright and breathing was a battle everyday. You never really know what is going on in someone's head and just because they seem "normal" or "strong" or "okay" doesn't mean they actually are. Some people are just brilliant mimics who can make you believe they are fine when that is the furthest thing from the truth.
In my tired darkness however, something amazing happened. I got PISSED. I was FURIOUS. I had one of my yelling at the sky moments when I screamed all my pain and frustration to God. Other people got "normal" and "happy". I asked God how me being in this pit brought him any glory. If my entire existence was brought about to edify him, how was loathing myself glorifying? I realized that my pit was not a place of glory. It was a place of darkness and I am a child of light.  I clung to John 10:28-30 which says that no one  can take me from my Father's hand. No one, not even me, or the girl in the mirror that disgusted me. No matter how dark I thought it was, God was with me.
But as comforting as that was, I needed a human person to walk through this with me. I had begun to recognize the lies I believed were truth, but I could not do it alone. My parents listened to me say scary words without flinching. My sister and brother in law gave me a safe place in a storm. My soul sister Elizabeth helped me connect lines and be vulnerable. These people stood with me. These people gave me the courage to talk to doctors, see a therapist and a place to break and have it be okay.
I worked with a therapist for two years and came to the point that I found myself again. I liked me. My darkness receded and I could breathe. It will always be a struggle. There are days that are tinged with darkness. Those days are the days I call on reinforcements because when I am my own enemy, I need other people on my team. That isn't weakness, it is strength. Asking for help is hard. Admitting you can't, is humbling, but necessary.
One thing I realized amidst my struggle is that "normal" and "happy" are subjective. We are supposed to call on Christ for all we need. He is all sufficient, but there are times when his sufficiency is provided through the community to which he calls us. Christ will provide, but sometimes he provides through others. We all want to be strong and have it all together, but we are all weak and fall apart. We are humans on the path to sanctification, but on the path we are all broken. We live in a broken world. God is here, but we are by no means there. We are all going through something that has the potential to be the thing that tips the scales, from manageable to overwhelmed. Community isn't a want, but a need.
 We HAVE to start being vulnerable with each other. We sin, we struggle, we doubt, we fall, we question, we break, we are paralyzed with fear, we are burdened with impossible weight, we feel, we need. It is not that we are not strong in our faith or doubt God, or just need to be better Christians. Everyone, from the person who looks like their life is perfect, your pastor, your rock in the storm, your enemy even, needs someone to stand unshakably in their storm. You have to be willing to let someone look in the dark corners of your pain and you have to be willing to look at someone else's.  I would much rather walk a hard road with someone, than to wonder why and miss them when they are gone.
We are called to bring light to dark places, and depression is nothing if not a dark place. Christ, who is our model, feared the cross and asked for another way. He went alone to the father, but he took his disciples to the garden. There are parts of my struggle that only God and I know, but I let others in my garden. Let someone in your garden. Our burden is not the cross, or the sin of the world, but it is significant. If it matters to you, it matters. You matter. Asking for help is not weakness. If we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ, and called to community, in not asking for help, you are depriving your brothers and sisters of the chance to be what God has equipped them to be. You are strong, but everyone needs help sometimes. Everyone.
Dear friends, I am imperfect, I am inexperienced, I am no different than any of you. My words don't have special power, I am not stronger or better in any way. You have no reason to listen to a 26 year old girl talk about how she used to be depressed. But, please, be honest and vulnerable with someone who can go to God with you on hard days. Please be open to being that person for someone else. We cannot do this alone. Be strong enough to let someone in. You are worth it. You matter.

Head down, get through

Everyday is a miracle, but not everyday is a miracle day. Some days things flow and the kids have breakthroughs, letting go or moving from past pain. Some days they finally have the blow up where they rail against you as hard as they can and see that you aren't leaving them to pick up the pieces alone. Sometimes, you see the light come on as they finally grasp a difficult concept in school, or begin to work toward a goal, or admit they need help. All of these days are miracle days because something changes and progress, even if just in a small way, is made. Then there are days like yesterday where I am frustrated, they are frustrated and we all go to bed hoping to be recharged enough tomorrow to be able to actually have some fight in us. Those days are the days I put my head down and just get through. You can always tell when it is one of these days because you feel it in unit, that something is off. The girls are quiet and tired, waiting for someone to tell them what to do next, and that person has to be an adult who is every bit as tired as they are in that moment. More problems and issues are heaped upon the unit, but the kids aren't ready to look at them yet so you don't force the issue. You have the off day, where you get through routine and make plans and you come back in the next day to see where everything has fallen in the 12 hours you weren't there. Those are the days you wait, and I hate waiting. I want everyday to be a progress day because no matter if my kids are 17 or 7, I have a limited amount of time with them. I want them to make as much progress as possible while with me because I never know when a case worker or some other force much higher up the food chain than I, is going to make the decision that this kid, the one who is so close to getting it, needs to go somewhere else. They could run, make a decision that removes them from my care, or give up. I have seen it happen. I have felt the loss of knowing that this one kid, the one who was given to your care, is beyond your help. It sucks. But kids are not all the same, and while I serve an amazing God who equips us for what he calls us to, I am sometimes given kids I can't help. The only thing I am equipped for in that instance is to let them go. While I haven't abused, hurt, abandoned or terrorized these kids, I can't always be the one to help them either. Sometimes not being the problem is as close to a solution as I am able to be. Yesterday was that day. Nothing was wrong, but nothing got better. While these off days may seem like a welcome break because I am not having to break up fights or stand between an angry kid and a door or looking for the one who is lost, my girls are still carrying around weight they never asked for and are submerged in trauma from someone hurting them along the way. That is the most frustrating thing of all, that they still carry the weight from choices they didn't make. All in all, I still have a job to do today. I am hoping today I get to meet some challenges head on, but if I am to wait again, I'll wait until they are ready to move forward. I might not like being able to see what is in the distance looming closer as I sit, but they might not be ready to jump into the battle yet. So I sit, eyeing the danger, ready to follow their lead when they decide how they want to tackle it, but knowing I can't make these choices for them. I wait and pray for patience, take deep breaths and get through the days.
Friends, I would ask that in these days, the ones of progress and the ones of quiet, you take a moment to pray for my girls. I would not have been able to handle my life without the prayers of those who surrounded me growing up, and I covet your prayers for them. Pray that I am able to help where I can help, and let go of what I can't. Pray that my girls learn to trust the one who made them for a purpose so much greater that their pasts, and pray that every person who makes decisions for my girls is able to clearly hear God's voice as they do.

New Title, New Day

As some of you may have noticed, I have a new blog title! Woo hoo! I am in a new stage of life where I am no longer rambling from the perspective of a college girl, but I am learning lessons from the lockdown unit where I now work. I live life side by side with some amazing co-workers as we try to help the girls who live in my unit. These girls have been abused or neglected resulting in some major behavioral issues. There are some amazing days when the girls are happy, giggling and smiling as we go through our routine. Some days are filled with "I love you miss" and more hugs than I can count. Then there are days like yesterday. On days like those I wish I could grab their hands and physically put them in the presence of Jesus, because me being his hands and feet isn't quite cutting it.

Yesterday one of my girls listened to the lie that she is not enough. I stood between her and the wall so she couldn't smash her head against the concrete. I held her hands so they wouldn't scratch or pinch. I held her face and urged her to focus on me, listen to my voice, stay in the moment. Then I dealt with two other girls in my unit who reached their breaking points, resulting in most of my 9.5 hour work shift being filled with yells and anger and pain. My body hurts, my heart hurts, and after my day off today, I will go back in to start again. I will walk through those doors and try my hardest to be louder than the voice that tells them they can't. I will try to be gentle, so that they can continue to put memories of abuse behind them. I will try to be present, so they aren't reminded of times of neglect. When they are unsafe, or angry, or scared, we will deal with what comes out and start again the next day. This is what I do. But as I walked out of work yesterday, I realized that it is not just my girls who react this way. As I though about how I will walk through those doors Wednesday, I was reminded of how Jesus does all those things for me when I think I will never be able to climb the mountain he has placed me in front of.

We all have a tendency to think we aren't enough. We are all too something to really be useful in the kingdom. I know I have had times when I have heard that voice telling me to stop trying, because I will never make it. It is a lie. We were made by a loving God who has a purpose and plan behind his effort. You were made with intention. My girls were made with intention. I was made with intention, and it is time we all stopped beating ourselves up about the things we believe are wrong with us. God doesn't need perfect, he needs willing. He will perfect us as we grow where we are planted, helping to bring others to fruition along the way. God planned you, made you and delights in you. That is enough, and you are enough. Love yourself, love those around you, and most of all, love God enough to know his voice so that you can hold tight to it in any storm. My girls lash out externally, most of us lash out internally. Both are damaging and painful, one is just harder to see. We all need to stop beating ourselves up, tearing ourselves down and listening to that voice that causes us to stumble and doubt.

This week I would ask you to edify your brothers and sisters in conversation and deed. Lift each other up in prayer. Encourage and love each other as you each walk a road that can sometimes seem impossible. Be present, be kind, and listen to the voice that will guide to through the darkness, not envelop you in it. Be love as you go, to yourself and those around you because every single person you see and meet was made by an incredible God who calls us his own, including the person you see when you look in the mirror.