The Return

I was supposed to be blogging to journal and spread the love. Something happened to throw a wrench in those plans...life. But whatev. The great thing is no matter whatever beneficial thing you leave behind it is never to late to return to it. Here is a brain tickler of a story. I work at the Methodist home with some of the funniest, brightest, sweetest and hurting(est) teen age girls this city has seen. Frankly, some of their families just suck. I know we aren't supposed to cast blame because hurting people hurt people but these girls have become my "thing that i do" if that makes any sense. I am impassioned about them.

So here's the deal...I have never felt more like Jesus than before I started this job. Not the peaceful, non-discriminatory, WWJD Jesus but that Jesus that seeks out the company of the drunkard, the abuser, the murder, the liar, the sex addict and the demented and who loves on them until it hurts. 40 hours a week these girls are the source of many a days greatest thrill and debilitating exhaustion. Typical day...they come home school greeted by a smile on my face and tell me I am a crappy advocate (sarcasm, unwarranted or needed after a Ngan day nonetheless). They also grunt or make faces when I tell them I'm happy to see them...I get cussed out (F-bombs like WWII) throughout the evening and fear being shanked by some :-P We served them dinner once, made their plates and set the table, the whole 9. We explained how Christ served his disciples and we wanted to do the same...Reaction??? confusion and even frustration with our service. WHAAATTT?! EXCUSE?!!!! I am serving you...gratitude much? Sadness...some of them are not socialized to respond to acts of grace and mercy because they have never been offered to them...They don't say thank you because goodness has often come with a price, if at all.

Want my job? A surface analysis paints a thankless picture. When I work I have to make a minute by minute decision to ignore my instincts to shake them and verbally go "tet a tet" with them and love on these chicks until it hurts...and it does sometimes...most of the time. I turn my cheek until I stand dizzy. I also remember that I am no better. I serve a God who pours his heart on me even when I respond to Him through my hurt. No "thank you" or loving glances in his direction...yeah, I do that. It is love that changes. It is love that heals. It also clenches the jaw, gives without thanks and extinguishes the snap back. It takes time and determination and intention. I decide to love.