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.