One week ago, we were in St. Paul, Minnesota, finishing up our HLIC staff conference. At the conference, I had been challenged to believe again that Jesus truly IS the only hope for our cities. I had been motivated again by the life and words of Dr. Bright, the founder of CCC who lived a humble, imperfect, forgiven life in Christ and who believed our big God for very big things. And I had been inspired by Jahill's story, one of redemption of a young man who had come straight from the streets.
As Jahill's words rang through my ears, I prayed again for Desi, our 19-year-old "son" here. He can stay in school until he is 21, and I hope that he does. Because if he doesn't, what in the world is going to happen to him? Jahill prayed fervently for him after we talked, and my heart joined his faith-filled prayers.
I asked God to prepare me to come back, to ready me for the doorbell rings, for the kids that would sit on my porch, for the men and women who would ask us for help.
I was full of faith and ready to go! Sort of.
Tonight. Celebrating USA wins in soccer and in water polo and in the decathalon. Eating ice cream. Kicking back. It's my relax time, after all. 11 p.m. Olympics are over, Hoffbeast is asleep, our visiting friend leaves, I need to clean the kitchen and do a couple more things before heading to bed. Rex can't sleep, so I tell him again about counting sheep, give more goodnight kisses and hugs, and he's off to sleepy land. Sighs of solitude and the end of a good day.
And then...11:26 p.m.
I know that the doorbell ringing is likely Desi. And I think about not answering. But I can't not answer. I'm awake and it's raining pretty hard and the boy who calls me "Ma" is standing on my front porch.
"I was gonna see if you could take me home," he starts, just after Rex groggily walked down the stairs yet again to see what was going on.
Really? You're going to show up at 11:30 p.m. and ask me to do something for you??! Where are the boundaries?????!!!?!
So I wake up the Hub and ask if I should do it, and the rain becomes the deciding factor. And I am stern with Desi and his friend when we get in the van and let him know that if he comes over after 10 p.m. once school starts--and if the doorbell wakes the kids up--I will be very unhappy and the answer will certainly be "No!"
And we drive. And laugh. And silly argue about cell phones and egos, like children and parents do.
And he says, "Thanks" and "I love you" as he gets out of the van.
And I thank God for providing Virgil as a friend and allowing Virgil's mom to say that yes, Desi could live with them for awhile since his home life is such a chaotic situation.
And on the radio, Calling Glory is telling me to not give up and the David Crowder Band is reminding me of oh, how He loves us.
And I pull up to the house and remember my prayer, that God would ready me for the door bells.
I could have stayed home, watched late night Olympics and gone to bed a wee bit earlier. But instead, I got to show Christ's love to a young man who desperately needs to see his need and who desperately needs to know his worth--and more importantly, His worth.
Thank you, Lord, for loving people in the city way more than I do. If you are pleased to do so, use me to love people like you do, even when it's hard or uncomfortable or just plain inconvenient.
And, please, ready me for the door bells.
As Jahill's words rang through my ears, I prayed again for Desi, our 19-year-old "son" here. He can stay in school until he is 21, and I hope that he does. Because if he doesn't, what in the world is going to happen to him? Jahill prayed fervently for him after we talked, and my heart joined his faith-filled prayers.
I asked God to prepare me to come back, to ready me for the doorbell rings, for the kids that would sit on my porch, for the men and women who would ask us for help.
I was full of faith and ready to go! Sort of.
Tonight. Celebrating USA wins in soccer and in water polo and in the decathalon. Eating ice cream. Kicking back. It's my relax time, after all. 11 p.m. Olympics are over, Hoffbeast is asleep, our visiting friend leaves, I need to clean the kitchen and do a couple more things before heading to bed. Rex can't sleep, so I tell him again about counting sheep, give more goodnight kisses and hugs, and he's off to sleepy land. Sighs of solitude and the end of a good day.
And then...11:26 p.m.
I know that the doorbell ringing is likely Desi. And I think about not answering. But I can't not answer. I'm awake and it's raining pretty hard and the boy who calls me "Ma" is standing on my front porch.
"I was gonna see if you could take me home," he starts, just after Rex groggily walked down the stairs yet again to see what was going on.
Really? You're going to show up at 11:30 p.m. and ask me to do something for you??! Where are the boundaries?????!!!?!
So I wake up the Hub and ask if I should do it, and the rain becomes the deciding factor. And I am stern with Desi and his friend when we get in the van and let him know that if he comes over after 10 p.m. once school starts--and if the doorbell wakes the kids up--I will be very unhappy and the answer will certainly be "No!"
And we drive. And laugh. And silly argue about cell phones and egos, like children and parents do.
And he says, "Thanks" and "I love you" as he gets out of the van.
And I thank God for providing Virgil as a friend and allowing Virgil's mom to say that yes, Desi could live with them for awhile since his home life is such a chaotic situation.
And on the radio, Calling Glory is telling me to not give up and the David Crowder Band is reminding me of oh, how He loves us.
And I pull up to the house and remember my prayer, that God would ready me for the door bells.
I could have stayed home, watched late night Olympics and gone to bed a wee bit earlier. But instead, I got to show Christ's love to a young man who desperately needs to see his need and who desperately needs to know his worth--and more importantly, His worth.
Thank you, Lord, for loving people in the city way more than I do. If you are pleased to do so, use me to love people like you do, even when it's hard or uncomfortable or just plain inconvenient.
And, please, ready me for the door bells.
3 comments:
read this twice, first time to myself, and second time with a tight and cracking voice to Dave..both of us ended in tears. "Wow, that's deep, that's deep" he says...
Beautiful
Thank you, Joy and Dave, for your words. Posts like this are often swimming around in my head, tales of life and Love in the broken, beautiful place called the city. Going to try (again) to be more diligent about getting them from my heart to the screen.
I think you should put this--or maybe a shortened version--in your next prayer letter!
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