1. I ate a cheeto, soaked in tub full of water, moldy salsa, chicken poo and hot sauce.
2. (on a van-ride home) One of our youth shared with me that she was incarcerated by the age of 12, raped by an auntie's boyfriend, separated from a biological brother because of his mental illness, and deeply affected by the murder of a sister she had never met.
As to the first, our Fear Factor club was wild and crazy, just as we hoped. The Orange Avenue building surged with intermittent laughter and squeals. Laughter is good medicine for hurting people. And it's hard not to laugh at people eating fried chicken feet, drinking spit-mixed lemonade and enduring the sting of bare feet in tubs of crushed ice.
And to the second, I have a few thoughts. I hurt deeply when I hear what some of our youth face at such an early age. I hurt with them. I pray like crazy that God will bring more adults to walk these rough roads with our students. I am faced with a reality that a 10 minute message about God's love is just the speck of a beginning of a magnanimous healing process. And, I am left looking for a day when healing is assured; when dignity and innocence are restored, when pain and self-doubt and fear are cast away, when pure love, acceptance, and rightly directed intimacy abounds.
For her, come Lord Jesus.
No comments:
Post a Comment