I like being busy. Some people think I'm crazy (specifically my mother), but the more I stuff into my time, the happier I am. Now, I realize that it's unhealthy to be busy ALL the time, and the majority of my years are spent doing school, church, freetime (meaning Netflix and Zelda and books), the usual. But every once in a while I get months like this coming June.
Friday I leave for a mission trip to New Mexico, and I'll be gone until Sunday the 9th. The next day I leave for Florida with my family and get back Friday. Two days of rest and then VBS week starts up, where I'll be helping out with the kids in the morning and hanging out with high school at night. Saturday off and then I leave Sunday for a week-long trip to help out at Sports Camp in Monroe, GA.
So, busy? Yeah.
Crazy? Probably.
Excited? Ohmygoshyouhavenoideayes!
Despite the laziness my Zelda/books/Netflix comment implied, I love to work. Feeling useful and productive is one of my favorite things. I live for those moments of, "Yes, this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing". Those moments are one of the reasons I'm so excited for the two mission trips. Little optimist me is secretly hoping that this summer I'll have the moment when God says, "Yes. This is exactly what you're supposed to be doing." Not to "give God a hint" or anything, but finding my calling this summer would be fantastic, you know? If I'm supposed to, you know. *wink*
Regardless of any potentially life-changing revelations, there will definitely be some life-changing. You simply can't go on a trip like New Mexico and come back the same person you were. People and events will always leave a footprint on your life, usually when you least expect it. A Catholic man in New Orleans taught me why the message of Jesus is so revolutionary and strange and wonderful. A boy named Alex in Myrtle Beach proved that even the smallest kindness can change a life. Images of a cold gray room in a juvenile detention center in New Orleans and a back porch overlooking the ocean are permanently imprinted on my mind and on my heart.
These two are stories worth mentioning. One is a miracle, by any point of view, the other is a picture of true Christian fellowship, how it is meant to be. Both are now a part of me.
Let's set the scene. We've been told that we're doing a concert behind a panel of glass for are safety. We go through a terrifying amount of security, get to the room, and all we see is a raised platform and several rows of chairs with suspicious stains. No glass. Being in sixth grade at the time, I was a bit spooked when the chairs began to fill up with kids our age, in prison. Not just kids, but all boys. Boys who looked like they wanted to slit my throat. So yeah, not quite how I had imagined our nice little mission trip to New Orleans. Chris, our director, introduces us, and we begin to sing under the glares of forty terrifying guys. We sit down so our youth pastor can speak, pressing as close to the wall and as far away from the prisoners as we can.
Cue the climax. Eric gets ready for the invitation. He starts leading the prayer. "Dear Jesus," he begins. Chills run down my spine. His voice is not alone. I can still hear their voices as forty boys, in unison, cry out for their Lord to save them. When he asks who has asked Jesus to be their Savior, every single hand flies in the air, including the two beefy security guards by the door. We sing our last song in tears, awed by the greatness of our God.
The other moment doesn't seem as spectacular, but it is an equally precious memory to me. After a long week in Myrtle Beach we gather on the back porch for sort of a "summary of the week" kinda thing. We sing praise songs along to an acoustic guitar and the crash of ocean waves (gorgeous, right?), and then we all share things we've learned. A peculiar thing happens. At first, we talk about the kids we met and what we did, but gradually all the stories begin to be about things we've discovered in each other. Most of us had known each other for several years, some had been friends their whole lives. However, that week we finally saw each other, really seeing for the first time. I've never loved my friends more than in that moment, seeing God shine through them in the most amazing ways. During times when I feel alone or feel like no one really cares, I remember. For that one beautiful night, I got a glimpse of what it must be like to truly be the church. To support each other. Encourage each other. Love each other, as God loves us.
And so, with these great pearls behind me, I eagerly await the memories just waiting to be made. I can't wait to see who I am in July, because I know that I won't be the person I am right now. I look forward to fellowship, miracles, and seeing God's power and majesty in every little thing.
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