Spill Over

"What if I die and don't go to Heaven?" 
"Can I come live with you and your dog?"
"If I sin, do I have to get saved again?"
"Is she your sister?"
"Do you love me?" 

These are just a few of the many, many questions I've been asked this past week while working at a sports camp in Monroe, Georgia. This is my second year there, and while I was more prepared this year than last year, there are some things you simply can't be ready for. 

I wasn't prepared for a precious little girl who wouldn't speak to me. Monday Anessa walks over to my small group area, and as I ask her name she simply points to her name tag and sits down. "What sport are you doing?" No answer. "Have you had a good time?" No answer. A half hour later when we're getting ready for Bible study she pats the floor next to her and gestures for me to sit, then goes back to eating her hamburger. I chat with the other girls in our 5th and 6th grade group for a few minutes until I feel a tap on my arm. "Can I see your phone?" I hand it to her, surprised that these are the first words she's ever said to me. As we get ready to go to our afternoon sport, she holds out my phone. As I reach to take it, she hugs my waist and runs off with the slightest hint of a smile. 

Fast forward. By Friday afternoon, Anessa's perched on a stool, my sunglasses on her head and my phone in her hand, waiting to be picked up. As she's talking about her week I turn to answer someone's question, and when I tune back in she asks, "Can I come live with you and your dog?" I debate how to answer and mumble something about her missing her house and family. She considers this for a few more minutes and replies, "We should have a sleepover." "I live three hours away," I laugh. "You can come get me!" She smiles and someone else joins in on the conversation. As she hugs me and leaves, the thought hits me. 

I would've said yes. 

Had she really been in need, and had I been able, I would take that little girl home with me in a heartbeat.

The same goes for a perky, curly-haired girl named Sierra whose sister was one of the other workers. The opposite of the other girl, she never sat still and never stopped speaking. Thursday at lunch, the girls were discussing what we'd talked about the whole week, which was mainly the gospel. One girl who'd been at the camp for years piped up, "I'm saved, but I'm still scared of dying." The other group leader, Hannah, asks her why. "I just don't know if I'll go to Heaven." As Hannah explains that if she's truly asked Jesus into her heart then she can know for sure that she will, I hear Sierra beside me. 

"I did that." "Did what?" I ask. "Got saved. Last night I came to church with my sister. You know when everybody went down and prayed?" I nod. I was down there praying with some people from my group. "Well, I went and prayed for Jesus to save me." By now Hannah's heard what she said, and we're both telling her how wonderful that is. "You'll still mess up," I tell her, "but now you can ask Jesus to forgive you. You don't have to get "saved" again every time you sin." Her eyes grow wide. "I don't?" She's amazed. This girl who's been in church for a while has never had someone sit down with her and answer her questions. She could've grown up believing that if she messed up again she was out of luck. I watch her the rest of the week, and she's practically glowing, already beginning to change with this hope inside of her.

Friday afternoon as the last child leaves and we get on the bus, I'm talking to my friend Nicole. She's mentioning several different kids she'd gotten to know, and at one point she says, "I just fell in love with that kid." Thoughtlessly I reply, "I've fallen in love with every kid I met." Later, I realized that it's true. Several times when hanging out with our small group girls, they would get into the game of "You know you love me!" "No, she loves me more!" and I would answer with the general "I love all of you!" and they'd laugh, each one sure that I still loved them most. 

But I do love all of them. Every single child I interacted with this week has a special place in my heart. Hillary, Anessa, Sierra, Sarah, Summer, Preston, Amanda, Alexis, Grainger, Christa, Will, and so many more. Just like with Anessa, I would take every one of them home with me if I could.

If after one week they are this dear to me, imagine how dear they are to their Heavenly Father. 

He created them. Placed them in their homes. Watched over them. Put them in my path this week. For those that have repented, he's adopted them into his family, made them truly his children. He loves me with that same intense love. He's filled me with His love so that I can love them. The fact that I remember their names is proof that God gave me the ability to love these children! 

May we be so continually filled by our Father's love, that our love would spill over onto others, and we may show them to the One that loves them most.