A Mother's Guilt

One of the biggest struggles I've had since becoming a mother is the constant battle of trying between putting my kid first and making others happy.

My son was but days old the first time I faced this challenge when asking the midwife in the hospital how long until she came again to help me with breast feeding and saying out loud something to the extent of "okay, so I should be able to fit in a feed just before it's visiting hours so that people can come and see us..." to which she strongly (and kindly) put be back into some much needed reality and said "um, your child comes first...it doesn't matter when he needs to feed, your visitors can wait." I was instantly shocked with myself that I had actually started to plan the needs of my 2 day old son around the needs of others, who were not dependant on me for their very survival.

17 months later, I'm still battling with this. Usually it's in the form of guilt when we let people down or complicate things by needing to cancel plans due to our own illness/fatigue that comes with having a kid, or because of whatever 100's of possible reason's Link is unwell/not up for it...or because Link has decided he just wants his mum today and no one else...or because Link has an explosion out of one end or the other making things extremely smelling and messy...or a new but increasing issue of Link's stubborn, determined tantrum having toddler self has demanded things go his way and his way alone...etc, etc, etc.

Oh, I would like to add to all of you parents out there doing this job wayyyyy before I became a parent....I am sorry for any negative and judgmental thing I did/thought/said because you put your kids first.  There really are a great number of things you cannot grasp or understand until you actually have one of these little brats, I mean, bundles of joy, and I am deeply sorry to anyone in my life who I may have acted unfairly or selfishly to in the past because I couldn't fully grasp what it means to have to put your kid and family first.

One of the most consistent times I'm facing this struggle is voicing my thoughts/concerns when someone does something that effects my son that I don't like.  My first indication is often to down play it in my head, make myself forget I saw it, or to rationalise it myself that it in fact wasn't that bad. I have to intentionally tell myself every day that I am Lincoln's advocate, and his voice, and that it is my job and right to stand up for him to keep him safe and to make sure he is protected and looked after. Considering I am often one to bluntly share my thoughts and opinions about, well lets face it, everything...this whole internal battle is a constant surprise to myself that I am feeling so out of my depth and low in confidence in what essentially boils down to standing up for my son as his mother.  I don't know if it's because almost everyone has an opinion about what constitutes a good parent (don't pretend you don't...I know that you've looked at a parent in public at least once in your life and judged them in some form or another...we've all been there), or because society as a whole still doesn't validate and give rights to children that they deserve while they are still young and "helpless", or simply because I just don't want people to judge or think poorly of me. Whatever the reason, it's a daily struggle and one that I know will probably not go away for a very long time.

We are working on teaching Lincoln that he has a say about his body and that his opinion matters.  At this age what that looks like is letting his "no"'s mean something when he doesn't want to be touched. We've taught him how to blow kisses and wave when we say goodbye to someone so that he has a variety of ways at his disposable to show this act without needing to be touched in the form of a kiss or a hug if he doesn't want to. How this is effected by all that I've said above is the dilemma of offending someone by not letting them touch him if he has made a sign that he doesn't want them to. It sounds so easy in theory but when it comes down to the nitty gritty of it, people are so easily put off if a cute little baby/toddler doesn't want to show them attention or physical affection, especially if they think they're deserving of it.

I have to admit, it's already hard for me that my son is old enough to decide when he wants to be cuddled, kissed, hold hands, read to, etc, and is no longer a completely helpless newborn that I can hold, squeeze and kiss every second that I want to. I have to remind myself every day that he has the right to choices, especially about his body, and I have to already give him the independence when he wants it to be his own little person exploring the world and developing his personality.

I don't know if I have a point to this blog, or if I simply just wanted to get out of my head and admit to the world one of the struggles I am facing as a mother.  But to try and finish this rambling off with a bit of a summary....Let's all try to be less judgemental, give parents permission to ACTUALLY put their kids and families first (no saying it and not actually meaning it all you passive aggressive people out there), never ever make a parent feel guilty because their kid (shockingly) prefers to spend time with them over you, and let's all work a little harder and teaching kids (yes as young as 17 months) that their opinion matters and just because we're adults we don't have a say about how we touch their bodies.

My little observer.

One of my favourite things about my 15 month old is that he is highly observational.  Some of it is due to the fact that children are wired to be mini detectives to soak in the world around them so that they can learn and grow into functional human beings. But I think it is also just part of who he is as an individual and he's walking in the footsteps of his parents who both pride themselves on their observational skills.

I love taking Lincoln out for walks, and I do enjoy taking him to the shops. Now that he's a very confident walker I love letting him walk and explore and just watching everything through his eyes as he stops and takes his time to notice and interact with everything he comes across.

What makes his observational skills stand out is how he notices people. Every single person that he walks by, or walks by him, he looks at and observes...and as soon as they notice him back, he's ready with one of his very adorable smiles. Our trips to the shops always consist of dozens of conversations varying in length and depth with strangers who are captivated by his smile and big eyes and pause for a moment or stop for a longer chat with him and I.

If you haven't met Lincoln, he has literally been wide eyed since the moment of birth. Matt and I were both treated to beautiful big eyed gazes right from the very first minutes he was born, and many of his first visitors at the hospital were met with this wide eyed little bundle looking inquisitively at everyone and everything whenever he was awake (if I had a dollar for everyone who used the expression "he's been here before..."). His whole life has consisted of him believing that people are meant to be looked at and smiled at, particularly strangers whom he's never seen before.

The best part of watching him now walk around at the shops, which we were doing this morning, is seeing this cute little ray of sunshine work his way into the hearts of every single person who we come across. Whether he's running around in the play area, sitting eating some lunch, or walking in his meandering curious way through the shopping centre, he always stops to notice everyone around him.  And he doesn't stop looking at that person until they're either out of eye sight, or they've noticed him as well and shared a smile with him.  I love seeing how people's faces transform when they notice his smile.  Matt and I both like to think that he's helping give a happy moment to someone who really needed something to smile about just at that time.

It's such a happy reminder seeing this innocent little one notice and show love to complete strangers every day regardless of age, race or gender...free of judgement or hate. I pray that the day his perception of the world is shattered is far far away or even non existent...that even as he grows and learns about the hardships of the world around him he continues to observe and notice others outside of himself and loves them for who they are, simply because.

It's Been a Year.

A year ago.

Feels both so far away and like it was just yesterday. Honestly, a lot of the past year and the nine months previous to that is a haze...a traumatic, emotional, overtired, roller coaster of a haze.

In short, I am not the same person I was a year ago. I have a new title...mother. It felt foreign, strange and a bit uncomfortable at first, like trying to break in a new pair of shoes. But the more time that passes the more it fits "just right", as if it was what I was always meant to be.

Along with that new title comes a lot of other new things.  A new body, a new perspective on life, a new wake up time (I can't even remember what it was like to need to set an alarm..), and a whole new set of challenges and learning curves.

The most astonishing thing about the past year is being able to be a part of the creation of a life. It's down right insane, magical, and freaking amazing. I don't think our language has developed to the point to be able to adequately describe what it's like to be apart of not only the privilege of bringing a life into this world, but then to watch in awe and wonder each day as it turns into a real human being. I can't count how many times Matt and I have looked at each other, shook our heads, and just sat in disbelief as we watched the incredible little life grow and blossom into a unique individual right in front of our eyes. Every day we look into those big beautiful eyes of our son and cannot believe that there was ever a time when he didn't exist...there is just far too much personality to have not always been.

It's been a hard road. Pregnancy was the worst experience of my life, and despite assurances that I'd miss it when it was over...I don't. I spent months feeling like I was going to die, that I was a failure because I couldn't healthily grow a baby inside me, and guilt that I was letting down everyone in my life. And between those 9 months and then a complicated birth and difficult recovery, I suffered depression, anxiety and post traumatic stress. It was 6 months before the thought of taking my blood pressure didn't make me have a full out anxiety freak out, and only recently when getting a tattoo I nearly fainted at the thought of having a needle near me (after never having a fear of needles in my life and already having 5 tattoos).

It's been only in the past month where I can honestly say I feel like some version of "me" again. Lincoln is (finally) sleeping through the night, I am finding time and motivation to exercise, clothes are starting to fit comfortably, I have the energy to focus on the days I'm at work, and I am getting back some resemblance of a social life. It's also been long enough now that the idea of ever being pregnant again doesn't make me want to have an absolute melt down.

But...of course I would do it all again, and it was most definitely all worth it. If anything, everything I've gone through only makes me appreciate having a child and being a mum all the more. I had to work hard at a lot of it but the smiles, cuddles, and kisses I get from that crazy little one year old every day makes me so thankful for the journey that brought him into my life.

Today I feel extremely blessed. I am incredibly thankful for the people who have hung on and have survived this bumpy ride with Matt, Lincoln and I. Thank you to family who have been nothing short of a life line in helping me survive, and have just poured so much love into Lincoln's life. Thank you to friends who have had to put up with going months without seeing us, last minute cancellations, and have let Lincoln become a part of their lives.  And thank you to everyone in the Reservoir community who were so patient while I was sick, and have given Lincoln such a beautiful welcome into this world, and are already becoming so incredibly import to him.

Time to celebrate today with my now one year old, and to see what life's got for us next.

Dear Lincoln...

Thank you.

Thank you for the smiles. Thank you for the cuddles. Thank you for the unconditional (and undeserved) love you lavish upon me everyday. Know that I treasure and relish every single hug, every kiss, and will never take them for granted.

Thank you for teaching me, stretching me, expanding me and forming me into a newer and even better version of myself that I never knew I was missing. Thank you for helping my heart explode to proportions that I never knew were possible as it grows every day to attempt to contain all the love I have for you.

Thank you for helping me slow down, helping me notice the small things and appreciate the details of what's around us. As I see life through your eyes as you grow and learn I see the world as I've never even dreamed, seeing it all through a lens of curiosity and wonder untainted by the weight of negativity and pain.

Thank you for being in my life. I know you may not have had a choice in the matter, but I want to thank you anyways. Some day you'll be able to choose how much time you want to spend with me, talk to me, visit me. Know that I appreciate every moment we have together and whatever may come I will continue to relish all the time you choose to give me.

Thank you Lincoln for being you. For the strong, cheeky, stubborn, funny, smart, curious, amazing little bundle you are and continue to grow into every day. Thank you for who you are...and when the days come that it becomes harder to be that, I hope you learn how to love you and never apologise for it.

 Thanks for the tears, the laughs, the frustrations, the experiences, the memories. 
Thanks for this journey. 

Thanks for letting me be your mum.

Love you to the moon and back.

x

Becoming Observers

I'll admit it. Sometimes I enjoy the company of kids to that of adults.

Maybe that seems like a given since my occupation is working with young people.  Or perhaps you find me childish or immature so no surprises there.

Honestly, as exhausting as managing large group of energetic children is or as frustrating as it can be running programs for non compliant kids...some days I'd still prefer to sit and chat with a primary schooler then with a table full of adults.

It's something about their non judgemental attitudes, their creative imaginations, their childhood innocence and selflessness that can be refreshing to be around.  I know some adults just find kids exhausting, or are unable to relate to them, but I think that's cause we try too hard or have simply forgotten what life was like before we had "grown up" worries and stresses.

I often spend time with young people in my jobs who deal with some really big issues or "bad" things that are part of their every day life that as an adult we would have difficulty dealing with. Yet, these kids still have an inherit ability to care about others in their life, to dream big and have crazy imaginations, and to find reasons to smile. That's certainly more then I can say I do when I find life getting quite hard.

I enjoy time with children because although they can be bossy, struggle to share their favourites of things, and don't always listen to instructions...they still notice when a friend is having a bad day, or realise when an adult in their life is struggling with something, always want to give a hug when they see someone who is sad, or are willing to include kids sitting alone in the games that they're playing at recess. They are keen observers and "noticers" of the world that is happening around them, and very readily pick up when something has changed with the people they are familiar with in their lives.

I think we lose this as adults.  We become so focused on the "me, myself and I" of a situation, we forget how our actions effect those around us, and how to notice when those around us are showing us actions that they would like for something else to notice.

I heard a saying recently that pretty much said, "telling someone not to share when they're struggling because someone is going through something worse, is the same as telling something not to share when they're happy because someone else may be even happier."  We all have our baggage, issues, and difficulties that we carry each day.  No one should feel like theirs is not worthy of being heard and supported, nor should they be made to feel that they're not justified in feeling the way that they do.

What I struggle with is people who are so focused on their baggage, or how much "worse" their struggles are to those around them, that they forget to look outside themselves to notice those around them.  It doesn't take much to say a genuine "how are you?", to think about how your actions affect those around you (after all, no man is an island), and to simply notice the people around you in your day to day (as more then just a sounding board or someone to off load YOUR problems onto). If I had a dollar for every person who asked me a question about my life or current situation and then immediately changed the conversation to talking about themselves... (apologies to those that I do that to...it's a work in progress!)

I am thankful for the selfless people in my life. When I think about those I've appreciated most in my life growing up, who I feel inspired by in every conversation, and who I value every minute spent with, those people are all strongly selfless. Capable of great conversation that doesn't circle around themselves, with not just those closest to them but with everyone single person they meet and converse with.  Those who say "how are you?" and there is no doubt in  your mind that they really want to hear the answer.  Those who notice when a stranger on the bus just needs someone to smile at them, or the mother struggling with her pram needs help getting down those steps.  These are people I strive to be more like, to be able to balance my own struggles with still genuinely caring for those around me.

Please don't stop sharing when you're struggling with others, or taking time to fill your needs and looking after yourself (this really isn't done enough!).  But maybe take a page from that of a child, and simply become "aware" of what's happening in the lives of the people around you, whether they be close friends or someone you meet for the first time.  Take the time to notice what is happening in the lives of those around you (beyond perhaps how what they're doing directly effects you...this is still inherently selfish).  I promise you won't have to carry the loads of everyone you meet, or be expected to solve the worlds issues.  But maybe you'll gain some perspective about where you sit in the grand scheme of things, or get to know someone far better, or even just simply be more connected to the world beyond your own bubble.

I think if we all a bit more time looking beyond ourselves, taking time to notice those around us, then maybe we all wouldn't feel the need to be so selfish and to spend so much time immersed in our own world...because after all there'd be heaps of people taking the time to ask how you were and helping to support you through the baggage that you're carrying.

Just Smile

Have you ever smiled at a baby? Caught one's eye as you were standing in a line at the shops, or walked by one in a pram while walking down the street? I have to admit, I can't help myself. I smile every single time I see a baby. And do you know what happens 9 times out of 10? They smile back. Not one of those fake smiles, or slightly uncomfortable "why are you looking at me" smiles. A beautiful, ear-to-ear, full hearted smile...simply because you smiled at them first.  At church on Sunday morning, as my husband and I sat smiling at the very cute baby sitting with her parents a few rows up from us, I found myself thinking on this point.

At what point in our lives do we stop smiling at the people around us?  When is it that something clicks in us to make us not want to engage with people, to meet someone new, to think first of those around us before ourselves?

A smile is contagious. I've seen this in action many times. There is no greater example though, then that of my dear friend Sharon. I couldn't tell you how many times while simply walking down the street in downtown Toronto, or at a subway station, or in a crowded shopping center, people stopped to talk to her just because she had smiled at them. As we walked, she smiled (to tell you the truth, I could probably count on one hand the amount of times Sharon has NOT smiled). Lots of people smiled back, some stopped to say hi or simply comment on her lovely smile.

What makes us so afraid to engage with the people around us? Now, I'm not even talking about strangers you pass on the street or in the shopping center...but what makes us fear engaging with the people we work with? Go to church with? Study with? Live next to on our street? See every single day? What makes us so afraid to forget ourselves for a moment, and reach out to someone else? What keeps us from having good
and flourishing ministries in our churches...ones that cross the generations because people aren't fearful of what they don't know or might put them out of their comfort zone?

As a teenager I was not good at meeting new people. Well...my husband would probably say that it still might be the case. Part of that is I hate change, and I like what I know. Part of that is because (like most people) I've got trust issues due to past hurts and scars. But most of it, in hind sight, is because I'm selfish. I have memories of sitting in church as a youth, and someone my age who was new turns up, and all I can think of is my world (like every good teenager). I don't want to put myself out there and look like an idiot by going up to a complete stranger and introducing myself. What if they don't like me? What if they're better at stuff then I am? What if they're super annoying and I just can't stand talking to them? Solution for teenage Esther....simply don't.

I literally grew up with one of my now best friends I've ever had, Jess, going to the same church, our schools attending the same suburb functions, going on the same youth camps...never ever engaging with her or bothering to get to know her. Years later when we worked on camp together, turns out we were co-counselor soul mates and she's one of the best friends I've ever had. She told me once that growing up she had always thought I was a bit of a snob and not very nice...and she was right. I simply couldn't be bothered to engage, and missed out on having a best friend that many years sooner.

Going back to what I think kept me from engaging with others, selfishness, I think this is a key issue. It comes in various sizes and shapes and looks different on different people, but ultimately selfishness is a major key in why we simply just don't let people in, suck it all up to say hello to someone new, or have churches that are truly successful cross generational communities.

When you smile at a baby, they don't contemplate how this new person is going to factor into their perfectly set up world. Or wonder what they're going to get out of the relationship. Their instinct isn't to be afraid and keep their true feelings hidden, and they don't think "but I'm just not good with adults. Let the adults worker talk to them". They smile back.

Nothing makes me more angry then lines like "I just don't know how to talk to teenagers" or "I'm really not good with people" or "you can look after all the kids, right?" or "it's so and so's job to look after that age group, let them do it."  Let me tell you a little secret....you have nothing to lose, and anyone can do it. Start with a smile, listen well, put yourself second, be yourself...and I promise the rest will all fall into place.  It's in our DNA to be in relationship with people...it's how we were created to be. So surely engaging with others, regardless of age, gender, race and belief, can't be too far past our capacity?

Like I said, I still struggle with new people. I"m slow to trust, I like what I know, and sometimes simply cannot be bothered to exert the energy it takes to get to know someone new and start the process ALL over again.  But I do love community...and belonging...and family events where I get to see every generation engaging with each other simply because we've put them in the same room together...and that's worth sharing with others.

So...let's all start with a smile, and just see what happens.

Robyn

Have I ever told you why I became a children’s worker? Why working with kids on the fringes became my passion?

It was my first summer working at a camp…12 years ago this June.  I ventured out halfway across Canada with my sisters and cousin as we dared to try something new and find out what really was so great about giving up our whole summer to live and work on camp.

There were a great many experiences that summer and I cherish a lot that I learnt and the people that I met. But one memory sticks out….one moment and conversation with a child…her name was Robyn.

She’d be struggling for the first few days, causing a few difficulties, and eventually I asked her if she wanted to go for a walk and have a jump on the trampoline as she wasn’t doing well with whatever program they were meant to be at that moment. As she jumped on the trampoline, the 17 year old version of myself actually had the wisdom to ask all the right questions. Eventually Robyn just spilled it all.

Turned out she hated herself, as with having short hair and being a bit of a tomboy, she always got mistaken for a boy. She was also living in a really bad environment, got abused regularly and had gone through some horrific abuse that at that point in my life, I couldn’t fathom any little girl could be put through. I think I may have very well been the first person to look her in the eye, tell her she was worth something and that she in fact didn’t deserve anything she had been through. The conversation ended with me promising to send her a postcard from Toronto when I went home at the end of the summer, as she had never received a postcard before.

I remember being surprised at how well I had done in the conversation with Robyn and how I had been able to keep my emotions in check despite how shocked I had been by what she had shared with me. Later that night, after all the kids had gone to sleep, I remember sharing what had happened with the head cabin leader. When she asked if I was okay and gave me a hug, I began to sob uncontrollably into her shoulder. She told me that these things are never easy to hear for the first time…but that we should never become so used to hearing them that we forget how horrible and unfair the injustice of all of it is.

I have met literally hundreds of kids that I have come along side, had conversations with, and journeyed with for both short and longer periods of time, since this conversation 12 years ago. But that was the moment that I knew God had called me to work with the Robyn’s of this world…to come along side and be a voice to the children who no one was listening to and to do everything I could to make their lives safe.

I did send a postcard to Robyn when I got home to Toronto that summer, but the address I was given to write to couldn’t be completely guaranteed that that’s where she was still living. I mailed it anyways.  I guess more then anything, it was a symbolic gesture asking that wherever this little girl ended up, I was going to have to trust that God would have her back.

So…I suppose these things are supposed to end with a morale or a lesson of some sort.  I guess it’s just this…sometimes serving just flat out sucks. Helping isn’t easy…giving to others hurts, and will always cost something from us in return.

But it definitely helps to remember the why.

Protector

I am a protector.

This is not a self appointed title, but one that has given to me. However, upon reflection of my life and memories I have accepted that it is in fact part of who I am.

I can remember going on an excursion/field trip in primary school and we took the subway/train. I spent the entire time while we were waiting for the subway to arrive, making sure my classmates and peers were lined up against the wall, far away from the yellow line near the edge of the platform, and thinking to myself how silly the teachers were to take kids on the subway. This wasn’t out of a need to be in control, but rather a need to protect them from the danger that being in a subway presented.

I can remember being 8 or 9, bundled up in a snow suit, out in the school yard during recess. I didn’t always get along with her, and we didn’t become best friends until high school, but someone was picking on my cousin. I’m pretty sure they had smashed her snow fort or something similar. I gathered up my courage and began the one and only attempt at a physical fight that I’ve ever undertook. I told the bully off and maybe pushed her once or twice, having no idea how to begin such brawls...but it all ended as quickly as it had started with it getting broken up by a teacher. I may not have got along with her then, but I still felt it was my job to protect my cousin from school yard bullies.

I can remember being maybe 12 or 13 and my little brother was really sick with the flu. I slept on the floor by his bed, getting up throughout the night to check his temperature and to wet the cloth that was on his forehead. I’m sure he would’ve survived that night had I not been there watching him, but I was compelled to sit by his side and to make sure that he was protected by his big sister.

I can remember being 21 and taking a group of fellow leaders during a weekend off at camp one summer to go and get piercings done...being the responsible head cabin leader that I was. The last person to get something done was my sister, who I went in with. The guy took too long piercing her ear, and she went pale and fainted. I remember helping her lay down and saying “breathe, just breathe” trying my best to stay calm. She recovered moments later, but I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the porch of my cabin while she slept in my bed, making sure she was protected from any further harm.

I can remember one very cold Friday night, not long before I moved out to Australia, going to down town Toronto with Sharon, where we looked for people who were sitting on the street who could use something to eat and some company. Sharon with her beautiful soul can instantly strike up conversation with anyone, and did so with agentleman who was sitting on the frozen sidewalk. I don’t remember if I was standing or sitting...if I had even said anything...but this man looked at me and said, “are you her protector?” Sharon was the conversation, and I was the protector, making sure she didn’t come to any harm.

I am a protector. In the realization of what that means, it helps me understand how hard it was to leave my family, most especially my siblings, to move to Australia. If I spend too long thinking about where they are, what they’re doing, and what they could possibly need protection from...I go a little crazy. I feel sad because I miss them desperately, but I also feel without control as they are now beyond any hope I have to protect them and keep them from whatever harm might come their way.

My second year in Australia, I tried to fully rely on God for the protection of my family. I even had specific prayers for members of my family as to what I wanted them protected from. I remember getting the news that there had been an accident. Even before I knew all the details, all I could do was yell at God “I told you to protect her!” I hadn’t been there to protect my sister and those with her, and all I could see was that neither had God.

It’s now 6 years since I’ve moved to Australia...and I still can’t dwell too long on the specifics of what my family members might be doing...because I still miss them, but also because I still worry about being too far away to be the protector.

Maybe it’s because I’m the oldest sibling...or perhaps it’s because have an innate desire within my personality to be in control. It’s probably both. Regardless, isn’t acknowledgement the first step to recovery?

I don’t think being a protector is necessarily a bad thing. I would like to think it’s what drives me to be an advocate as a children’s worker in areas and communities that are in need of more protectors. I would also like to think it’ll make me a really good mother one day...although I pray not one that is OVER-protective.

But the downside? Worry. Stress. Needing to feel in control. Feeling that if I’m not there to protect them, who is? The constant test of the size and strength of my faith in God as I wrestle to relinquish control back to Him.

It’s a daily struggle to remind myself that I may be A protector...but I am in fact not THE protector. But really, what a relief it is to acknowledge that truth. That in fact, it isn’t me that keeps those I love safe and from harm...because in reality, there are a great many things in this world that are beyond the protection that a human hand can give. It doesn’t all make sense...and as long as we’re on this world it isn’t going to (my plug for my love of Ecclesiastes here in helping us to see the absurdity of this world) but how much more will I actually enjoy life if I can leave the protecting up to the one who not only loves the ones that I love, but created them too?

I am a protector. It’s part of who I am. But I am also a believer in a sovereign God who will one day make sense of this fallen and broken world. And to that truth, I will do my very best to continue to (daily) relinquish control.

Thanksgiving

For the first time in a few years, I actually shared a Thanksgiving meal, which included turkey, cranberries and pumpkin pie!

Stealing the fabulous idea from my sister, I'm going to make a list of things I'm thankful for (in no particular order), since I got to feel the thanksgiving vibe over this past weekend despite being so far from Canada!

1. Matt

2. Siblings that are not just related to me, they are also my best friends.

3. Parents who continue to love me for exactly who I am

4. The hippee commune that I grew up in

5. God's sovereignty and provision

6. Technology - because it makes family & friends seem much closer then they really are

7. The Atkins Family

8. Earl Grey Tea

9. Sunsets

10. Good advice

11. Popcorn

12. Children

13. Photographs

14. Gum Trees

15. Loud music

16. Good conversations

17. Massages

18. People who say "how are you?" and mean it

19. Family meals

20. Airplanes

21. Laughing so hard you cry

22. Love

23. Chocolate and Peanut Butter Ice Cream

Freedom in Love.: The Mission to Jamaica

It's always interesting to reflect on where I was years ago. Here's a blog I wrote (which seems like a life time ago!) after the one and only mission trip I've ever been on, but which lead to me being open to travelling, living overseas, studying theology, and perhaps going back to Jamaica one day :)

Freedom in Love.: The Mission to Jamaica: Isn't it ironic when you do something with the intention of helping someone else...but then end up being the one blessed by the person you s...

The Bar

Back in my late teens/early 20's I went every now and then on a Monday night to a non-denominational worship rally held at the Canadian Christian college where hundreds of Christian youth-adults would gather. I found it both a refreshing and challenging time, and it gave me a lot of strength during a couple of difficult years as well as teaching me new things as I became an 'adult' in my walk with God.

I'm pretty sure it's the first place I had heard people speaking in tongues, and seen people slain in the spirit, and without opening any sort of ethical or theological discussion on that fact, it was an interesting experience having grown up in the Salvos and never being apart of anything like that before. I had several amazing encounters with others and with God that still blow my mind to think about, but that isn't what has caused me to remember those Monday nights of my youth.

Aside from any of my thoughts on the 'worship' aspect of these nights, there were some amazing speakers. I didn't agree with all of them, and I'm sure they didn't all have it worked out, but nonetheless, each week I felt challenged and encouraged by the words spoken at these Monday night meetings.

There is one speaker on one night that has always stuck out to me, and it's a preach that I've often reflected on when challenged about something personally or by those around me in this particular area.

More or less...this is what he said...

There is bar we have as Christians. A bar that we use to measure up our life choices and decisions, what we use to determine right from wrong.

As we live out our lives as people of the church we start to forget who set that bar, and instead turn our eyes to one another.

We look over at Fred over there and say to ourselves, 'well...at least I'm not doing THAT like he is' and the bar gets lowered a little bit. We then look at Susan over there and say to ourselves, 'well... at least I only do it once a week, not every day like she does', and the bar gets lowered a little bit more. Then we see Tom over there and say to ourselves, 'well...at least I still go to church, unlike him' and the bar gets lowered a little bit more.

This continues, usually without us realizing it, as we justify and rationalize our actions according to how our fellow brothers and sisters are living our their own lives, feeling relief and satisfaction in the fact that at least we're doing it all just that little bit better.

Before you know it, the bar is no longer where it was...far from it. It's settled so far beneath where it should be that perhaps what was 'black and white' becomes grey, and what we always 'knew' to be 'right' now seems cloudy and uncertain.

The problem is that we're all fallen, weak, sinful human beings, and therefore it will only cause us harm and compromise to compare ourselves against one another. There is in fact only one that we can be justified against...only one who should be telling us where that bar needs to be, without allowing it to slowly get lower.

That about summarizes the preach, and of course, preaching to teens and young adults it held great impact, because temptation, justification and compromise comes with the territory of growing up and learning our way in the world.

Thinking about it now though, I think it's an even bigger danger for those who are 'adults'. Teenagers have the excuse of hormones, peer pressure, high school, the influence of the media, and so forth to fall back on...and usually, eventually, they learn from their mistakes.

When you're an adult and you've come to the conclusion that you've worked it all out, that you're solid in your walk with God, or that you're a great contributor to the church and Christian community....I think you're actually at a much bigger risk at letting that bar slowly slip from where God had set it to where it's just a little bit more comfortable to suit the lifestyle you've chosen or the choices you have made. The problem then becomes, that it's a whole lot harder to admit to yourself that perhaps the bar has slipped or even to get it back to where it should be, because at least with teenagers, they're in a time in their life to be molded and formed and are just extremely teachable. It's not always the case once we hit the point of deciding that we've got things pretty much figured out.

There's probably a multitude of directions you could take the analogy preached about so many years ago to a much younger version of myself, as well as ways to discuss the theology of it or how it practically plays out.

Regardless....it's a thought someone once had to preach about to a group of a couple hundred youth, and I've got to say, it's stuck.

Probably a good thing to pop back into my mind every now and then as I take a look at my own bar, the slippery sucker that it is, and ask God to help me get it back up to where we both know it's supposed to be.

A Life Worth Following

Growing up in the church, believing in God and the journey of what that looked like goes back as far as I remember. I have memories of Sunday school and sitting in church with my parents as far back as my memories go. Saying prayers at night time, hearing Bible stories, and being involved in various programs and activities (brass band, Christmas productions, singing groups, etc).

What I also remember is how that realm of all things God related was trapped within some sort of bubble...a bubble of my own making I’m sure. It didn’t transcend so much into the rest of my life until I was well and truly into my teen years and no longer a ‘kid’. I didn’t spend a whole lot of time with friends from church, only school ones, nor did I speak a whole lot about those extracurricular activities once I was outside of this bubble.

Maybe part of that was to do with not being sure of or strong enough to stand up for what I believed. Maybe I didn’t know how the two worlds were supposed to relate to each other, never finding anyone else outside of the bubble who shared similar beliefs and activities. Maybe it was a little of both.

I have this vivid memory. I was in grade 6. The Billy Graham Crusade was in Toronto at the Sky Dome. We attended the programs that were intended for kids, as well as some of the concerts that were put on (DC Talk among others). I don’t remember what was talked about or preached on. But, what I do remember is the feeling...the revelation...of sitting in a packed stadium FULL of other kids. Other kids who obviously had a similar faith and knew the same God I knew. More than just a dozen others who shared a Sunday school class with me...this was different. We filled a public stadium, that normal every day people used all the time for normal type stuff...and talked about God!

I was on a high when I went back to school after that weekend. I was buzzing with the realisation that there were so many others. Not only that, there were these amazing people who spoke and incredible bands that played, and they all believed the same thing I did. I remember trying to share that excitement with two girls in my class. I showed a dog tag necklace I had gotten from the event and explained how the Sky Dome was full of people as we got to be part of this very fun and very cool weekend. Know what the reaction was? They laughed. They told me I was wrong. They told me I was making it up and that there was no way such an event took place and that it had to do with church or God. I did argue, and I did push..but eventually, defeated, let it go. And sadly, pretty much put it all back in the bubble and continued on as I was before...until, like I said above, several years had passed and I was well into my teens.

This story serves a point as I reflect on it. As a kid growing up in the church, I was never taught how to integrate that bubble into the ‘real’ world. How to allow what I learned and what I believed to transform me in such a way to make my life stand out because, somehow, I was different. Of course there were the typical teachings of how to be a child evangelist, encouraging us to bring our friends along to church and programs. But I lacked, as did many others I’m assuming, the ability to be wholly transformed by what I believed so that I led a life that was county cultural and stood out from what everyone else was doing.

Now today. I’ve done and learned a lot of things. I’ve gotten a degree from a theological college, and I have worked for over 10 years for The Salvation Army is varying capacities. There is no keeping my beliefs in the bubble, even if I wanted to. Due to where I have chosen to work and study, it is automatically presumed that I am a Christian. It’s no longer a matter of keeping hidden what I believe, but needing to make an effort to not compromise how people view those who do believe in God by what I say and do. In many effects, it’s an apologetic work as I strive to show those who have been hurt by the church or ‘religion’ in some shape or form what it really means to know love from God.

Now, let’s draw the comparison from my earlier story from when I was in grade 6. The problem with kids and God is that often they don’t know how to make it ‘fit’ into their ‘normal’ life...how to bridge two worlds, two cultures, and to have it all make sense in one lifestyle. Compare this to the life of adults and God. There’s probably still the same issues kids face, but going with my examples of where I currently am, the difficulty now lies with people knowing I’m a ‘Christian’ and therefore being judged on the fact.

I’m all for pride, stubbornness and just not caring what people think of me (I think something to that effect was said in the matron of honours speech at my wedding!). But how about instead of saying, it’s not fair to be held on a higher pedestal because I go to church, or, it’s my life and I can choose how I live it regardless of what people think......we actually embrace the opportunity to use our very life, the decisions we make and words that we say, to remake people’s views of religion, God and the church.

How about we suck up that pride and stubbornness and say, because people are watching...I am therefore going to make a decision about where I work, what kind of house I live in, where I choose to travel, how I spend my free time, what I do with my income, what causes I fight for, who I spend my time with....and use it all to be a living example of the transformation God has made in you?

I could argue for the fact I believe that if God has really transformed your heart, all of the above should just happen...but the reality is it’s hard, and we are a weak and broken people. The bubble is easier, cleaner, and makes it much easier to shut out what I don’t agree with about the church and it’s decisions, and means I can hide when I’m just too tired to do the ‘right’ thing.

There was something wrong with the grade 6 me, albeit not all of it was my fault. However, knowing what I do now, I will actively work towards using my natural red-headed stubbornness and pride to make my life one that is worthy of being dubbed as someone who knows God.

I Spy With My Little Eye

I’d consider myself a very ‘observational’ person. As a kid, this was probably more correctly labelled as ‘nosey’, but as an adult I’ll simply say that I’m just observant.

There seems to be a lot of negative news, down trodden spirits and just tired and worn out people at the moment. Every day Matt and I have been finding ourselves met with sad conversations or just people who have forgotten how to smile. Call it the time of year, blame it on winter, or say that it’s the end of school term. Whatever the reason, it sort of gets to you after a while. Matt so rightly reflected a couple days ago that it was just starting to get him down.

What good is being observational if all you observe is sad, heart wrenching or stressful? There may be a more than the usual stressors and difficulties around at the moment...but perhaps part of the problem is that it’s just so much easier to get caught up in the negative, then to allow our eyes to capture the beautiful and optimistic moments. I’m sure that they are there, despite how cold it is outside, or that it’s week 10 of the school term. It’s just time to start looking for them.

So...I will reflect on the good news and smile worthy moments of the past week or so...

- Two different sets of friends have received a happy and healthy baby. Thank God for new life!

- I spent my lunch hour at the primary school I work at on Mondays playing ‘what time is it Mr Wolf’ with a dozen preps who all seem to have much bigger feet then myself as they always ended up at the wolf before me.

- I watched my husband and his team win their basketball grand final, and then receive free pies to celebrate from the man who owns the petrol station where they hang out for a drink and chat after games.

- I talked to my sister for 2 hours who has just recently returned to Canada from Haiti. And despite her being half asleep by the end of it, thoroughly enjoyed the catch up and entertaining stories.

- I had a lovely dinner at the in-laws, and feel very blessed to know that even though my family is just so far away, I still have people who love spending time with me (and feeding me!)

- I got to hang out with 40 children, parents, leaders and others from our Reservoir community for Family Squads. It was pretty much chaos...but the good kind that you can only get when running programs in Reservoir.

- Played the most intense and vicious (I didn’t cheat I swear...) game of Pit that I have ever seen! But more importantly spent that night with some very lovely people to celebrate Darryn’s birthday.

- Enjoyed the company of my best friend and partner over the weekend as we had time to stay in bed until noon, have a walk in the sunshine, and enjoy a brunch of delicious French toast.

Well, I have to say...I now have a smile on my face and am feeling the most positive that I have felt in a while. Just because I took a few minutes to think of the highlights of my past week.

Happy glasses are now on...and I will be on the lookout for more ‘magic moments’.

What’s yours?

To become an 'Atkins'...

Lets see if you can keep up with this...

We got married in January in Canada, but then returned straight after our honeymoon to Australia.

As soon as we got our marriage certificate, we applied for my partner visa (a VERY expensive visa might I add) which takes up to 9 months to process. We're four months in, and recently called regarding the status, but apparently it won't even get assigned a case worker and looked at for at least another 2 months.

I can't get my Australian drivers license changed without other ID in my married name, as well as the marriage certificate, as it was an overseas wedding. So the plan has been to get my passport changed.

We've been waiting to have enough money to get my passport changed (which you have to mail to the Canadian consulate in Canberra), and finally got around to sending my current passport, our marriage certificate, my birth certificate and a $100 fee to have it changed to my married name. A couple days later, we get a letter back saying I have to re-fill out the form and mail it in id WITH my married name (although the whole point of getting the passport was to get something with my married name on it....) as well as have a guarantor sign my form that is not a minister of religion or pharmacist or physio (which is acceptable in Australia, but not in Canada) so finding someone who is a police officer, a bank teller or notary (and has known me for 2 years...) is on the list of things now to do...

So...I can try again to get my Australian drivers license. but I need to apply with Victorian births, deaths and marriages to have my name changed (if I can prove I've lived here for longer than 3 months and am considered a 'permanent' or long term resident....which I have no idea if waiting for my partner visa counts for that). And in order to put this form in, I have to get BACK my current passport and birth certificate from Canberra to prove what country I was born in and am from. Which means, getting it sent back to me from Canberra, forfeiting the $100 fee for my passport I can't get, and paying $90 to get a piece of paper that says "yes, she has in fact changed her name because she's married".

If I'm able to get the name change form....I then take that to get my license changed....and then mail that and all my id AGAIN to Canberra (and another $100....) to get my passport changed.....

And all for what??? Just so that I can "legally" show that I "assumed" my husbands last name!!

Anyone else feeling exhausted from just reading that?!?

Good grief I say....they don't make what should be a very simple process (at least I think so) easy by any means!

Once a Helpless Romantic...

If you don't know much about me, here's some quick insight....growing up I was a helpless romantic.

I dreamt of love, marriage, being swept off my feet, and one day meeting Mr. Perfect. I was told once, by my dear friend and cousin Jocelyn that I was 'in love with love.' I was defensive of course to that description, but knew straight away that she had hit the nail on the head. As if I could have argued with Jocelyn anyways...the girl who had to put up with me swooning over one guy to the next and using her to call boys for me since I was too chicken to do it myself.

Long story short, I was challenged to give that all up by the time I was 21, to stop planning out how my life should be romantically, and focus all that time and energy on more productive things.

So...present day, I'm now 5 months married to my best friend. It's amazing how now I can look back and see God's fingerprints over the journey we had in our relationship, and the path it took once I did finally give up trying to put it all together myself.

I had a wedding present for Matt, a collection of letters tied up with green ribbon, that I had to patiently hold on to for a year during our engagement...which I think keeping silent about was the hardest part leading up to the wedding.

Somewhere in the teenage years we had a youth group night based around the book "When God writes your love story". Although somewhat mushy and fluffy, it does hold some challenges for those waiting to meet the love of their life. Anyways, we spent the night writing letters to our future spouse. I wasn't entirely sure what to think of it, but the romantic in me jumped at such a fantastically sappy activity.

Regardless of how silly some of the things I wrote were, or how naive I was at the time, I kept writing these letters...over the course of about 8 years. Some were prayers for the man I had yet to meet, and others were more ridiculous. There was probably about 20 in total, with the last one being written just after I became good friends with Matt.

So, after a year engagement, I finally got to give this present to Matt. I apologized several times for how silly I might have sounded, because I couldn't remember most of what I had written (it had been 4 years since I had written the last one), and we sat and read through them together.

The result? It was amazing really. Despite how afraid I was of how irrelevant the whole exercise was, and how worried I was about sounding stupid in these letters, we got to see how our paths were coming together even before we met. During several difficult times of Matt's life, there was a corresponding letter with a prayer for him, written from the other side of the world. I had also stuck an Australian pen into one of the last ones I wrote that had gotten left behind when Matt left Canada.

I'm not going to say that I was predestined to meet Matt, or that we're soul mates that were destined to find one another, or any other hopelessly romantic statement. But, what I do love about all of this is the reminder of how things turn out when you put God in the drivers seat. When you stop trying to have control and to plan it all out, and instead just relax...trust God...and enjoy the journey!

I got to give Matt a really special gift, and together we were able to see how God was and is apart of this relationship. It only strengthened the resolve that this marriage must and will include God in it. It also served to remind me....once again....how important it is to remember what God has done in our past, if we hope to have faith for the future.

God is good.

People Workers

Children are the future.

Any arguments?

I think it’s pretty much a biological fact that the next generation of youth and adults will come from the children of today. Pretty straight forward I’d say.

If the above is true, what I find puzzling is the seeming lack of funding, resources, people and time given to children, in comparison to teenagers, adults, and the elderly.

What is so extraordinarily appealing in waiting until the little ones have hit puberty before we decide to start investing in their futures and well being?

I’m making reference more specifically to the fact that you will find (at least in my experience) an abundance of people willing to spend time with youth and teenagers...willing to run drop in centres, social clubs, Friday night youth groups, church hang outs, etc. But when it comes to the children...only a few put up their hand. And of those few, mainly females remain.

I’m an employed children’s worker. I’m in my late 20’s and have been working with kids, in a very wide variety of settings, both voluntary and for employment for the past 10 years. I consider it a privilege to be welcomed into the world of a child and to have the opportunity of journeying alongside with them. I am never bored but am instead forever being entertained, challenged, taught, and stretched. What’s not to like?

I am continually running into the problem of not having enough people willing to give of time and invest in kids who desperately need someone to care. Oh, there are many good intentions, with most people stating how much they love children. There just aren’t people who are willing to put their words into actions and actually give some time to kids (in their own communities) who could use an hour of positive attention more than anything in the world. However...I’ve been to youth events where the adults outnumber the teens, and the amount of youth workers to children’s workers funded and employed are 5:1. Never mind the fact that more time is put into youth “programs” and big flashy events, then it is into spending one on one time mentoring and discipling youth who could really use an adult to walk along side them and take an interest in their world.

If children are our future, and childhood certainly happens BEFORE adolescence, isn’t that where we should start? If the decisions teens are going to make under peer pressure, biological change, and worldly pressure are going to be at all influenced by what they have known and experienced up until this point in their lives, doesn’t that make the time of their childhood absolutely critical to helping prepare them for the hardest stretch of change, decision making, and new things they are ever likely going to face?

Childhood is fleeting, yet it leaves a lasting thumbprint on the rest of an individual’s life. Doesn’t it make it the most valuable and vital time to invest a few minutes into the next generation of youth and adults? Maybe we wouldn’t ‘need’ quite so many youth workers if the investment time was put in just a few years earlier?

I’ve heard the line, “but I’m just not good with kids” or “kids don’t like me.” Granted, there are a few people who I might want to say that to. Regardless, I was challenged recently by someone who said, “There is no such thing as children’s workers, and there’s no such thing as youth workers. There are only people workers.”

In the past, I may have argued that, stating that I believe my gifting and talents make me a children’s worker and that is the only thing I will dedicate my life to. However, experiences in the past couple of years have led me to think on the above statement that perhaps, the problem we have (specifically in the church) is not being able to train up ‘people workers’.

We tell people that they can only do kid’s ministry OR youth ministry OR seniors ministry, never crossing over between areas. But what if we taught that things weren’t meant to be this off balance? What if we were all “people” workers? Then certainly the important time and influence needed in the life of a child wouldn’t be wanting, and we wouldn’t be bombarded by people who want to join the ‘hip’ ministry of youth work leaving those age groups who maybe aren’t quite as attractive, by the way side. The needs of people would be met, not just a select few.

My heart is well and truly for children’s ministry, and I am continually amazed at the lack of people wanting to pick up on the cause that will affect the future of everyone, never mind the fact that it takes a giving of so little to make a difference in the lives of some so desperate.
However, I would like to conclude with calling you to be people workers. Be advocates for people who are desperate and without a voice, not being limited by the need to be titled and put into a box, only giving time to the groups that are easy or are the most popular to work with.

And if needs be, maybe for the first time, consider investing into kids.

I used to love the rain...

I've had a busy and stressful few days as I try to do a million things at once, including preparing for exams.

Yesterday, I walked down the street to Shop 16 to print out some notes I had finished typing up. Just as I left the Shop, it began to rain. This added to the frustrated mood that I was in and I walked as quickly as I could (without falling, as I was wearing thongs/flip-flops) in the direction of home. After waiting patiently for the road to clear to cross over Plenty road and then began to head back up the street towards my house (debating whether I should attempt to cover my recently straightened hair in attempts to keep it dry), I realized that I had left my printed notes at the Shop...my whole reason for being there in the first place.

I let out some form of verbal frustration, as I waited to cross the road back towards the Shop. Upon finally getting everything I needed, and heading once again towards the destination of home, the rain picked up and it started to pour.

Some moments after, I'm not sure how it happened, I began having flashbacks. Memories of camp, when we used to long for the days when the sky would open and a down pour would come. Memories of excitement when the wind started to pick up, the sky darkened and thunder could be heard in the distance.

My mind flashed back to all those times that a downpour would start, we'd all race to our cabins, put on a change of clothes, then run into the quad to find the biggest puddles to jump in. Then someone would put on some music, blaring it from their cabin, and we'd just run, jump and dance in the rain.

I can remember the many moments of running out to see Spidey, with a huge grin on his face, who was working up the courage to attempt some mud sliding. Or the time that Daryl and I found a MASSIVE mud puddle outside the nurses station and used it to absolutely cover Bean's bike in dirt...and then covered head to toe in mud had to welcome a bus load of campers who had just arrived. Or when Thumbalina and I started up a mud lovers newsletter to give ample coverage to the wondrous adventures that was puddle jumping.

In reality, these memories aren't from that old...maybe 5-7 years? But in the context of storming up my street in a foul mood because I had to take a 5 minute walk in the rain, those camp memories seem like forever ago.

But as I remembered and laughed about the various ridiculous things we used to do when it would rain, I couldn't help but slow down and make the walk to my house last as long as it possibly could as I attempted to hold on to that feeling of freedom and fun I used to have in moments like those.

I'm not sure that it was any great revelation that struck me...maybe it was just the reminder that nothing is so stressful or worrisome that I can't enjoy taking a leisurely walk in the rain.

I love...

I love that when I wake up feeling really sad and alone,

...Matt sends me a beautifully perfect text message

...My lovely classmate takes me out for a spontaneous coffee and chat

...My mum answers the phone at 11:30pm just so I can hear a loving motherly voice

...My sister just happens to need my credit card for $5 and ends up listening to me vent for an hour & reminds me that God is bigger then the boogie man

...My inbox has an email from Jeff just to remind me that he loves me and is praying for me

:)

Motivation

I've been challenged on something recently.

While writing in my prayer journal a few nights ago, I concluded with a sentence that included something about my brothers and sisters in Christ. It's a term I've used plenty of times, but in this particular moment it sparked something new for me.

Being so far away from home (Toronto) these past few years has allowed for me to appreciate how much I love and cherish my family. I guess it isn't just since I've been living in Australia, but it has helped to heighten the appreciation. Included within that is how deeply I love my siblings, and how being away can often be hard because I'm just so limited in how I can show them my love, or be there during difficult times.

Anyways, thinking back to my brothers and sisters in Christ...I got pondering about how easily and fully I am capable of loving my siblings. I want to be their protector, their friend, their support, their guide, their encourager, their listening ear...and the list continues. All of that just because I love them and value them and all that they bring to my life. If that is the range and depth I have for my 'blood' brothers and sisters...shouldn't that be a guide to how I love and treat everyone else? My brothers and sisters in Christ? My neighbours? My enemies?

So this has provided me with a real challenge. How do I practically live out a love that I'm capable of having for my siblings, towards everyone else in my life? I am aware of how different relationships with people often effect how we treat and react to people...but I guess what I'm looking more at is the motivation behind it all...the genuine depth to the love...the reason as to why we conduct our actions. It's just been something that has challenged me recently, and has forced me to be aware of how I treat people in my daily life..and what is it that motivates me.

Another point, though somewhat related to the above thought, is that in reference to being created in the image of God. Due to a question I had to study for my theology exam this past semester, it was a topic I had to do a great deal of reading on. It's just an interesting point that if, as a Christian, we believe that we have been created in the image of God...then in a sense all humans carry within them an aspect of that image. I won't get into what exactly I believe it to mean in terms of us being a fallen people and how that may or may not have corroputed this image....but what is interesting to think about is that if we ALL are created in the image of God, then surely this should be enough motivation for us to treat one another with respect, love, and grace? I mean, just the very idea that our 'neighbour' has been created in the image of a great and mighty God, should really give us enough motivation to just love them in all that we do?

Anyways, that was just something I've been pondering about.

Blessings!

Fifteen

Last night, at Shop 16 Reservoir, we enrolled 15 Junior Soldiers. I am still a bit stunned as I replay the scenes of last night in my head.

I believe that I have allowed myself to get in the mind frame over the past year and a bit of severely limiting the power and glory of God, more particularly in regards to how He is working within Reservoir.

When we first decided to be extremely intentional about making sure we shared the Gospel with our kids, and introducing the Junior Soldier pledge and curriculum...honestly, I was nervous. I remember one night as we were concluding squads, some parents came in as they waited for the program to finish. We were doing an activity to memorize part of the JS pledge, and I remember thinking...uh oh. What are they going to think? Well, I was put back in line the next day when I was told that the child of these parents had called in to let us know that she was going to become a JS. More then that, she's become extremely switched on in terms of knowing and loving God and wanting to be an example to everyone in her life. She even stood up at the ceremony last night and proclaimed in front of a packed room full of people that she was becoming a Junior Soldier because she loves God and wants to live a life that is clean.

I am amazed. Maybe I shouldn't be though. Maybe I should have known that God WAS and IS doing a great work within our community. Should I really be surprised when children stand up and say they want to lead a life following the Lord? Probably not. I'm learning though...God is breaking me down with His glory as I learn to humble myself once again and remember that He IS in control and doing incredible things...and that I am absolutely privileged to be a part of His ministry.

About a month ago one of the boys at homework group was sitting in a corner, looking quite sad. As he's normally full of life (and spending free time on the computer) I went over to see what was up. After much prodding and encouragement that I did actually want to hear what was upsetting him, he shared with me that he was very sad. He felt as if he didn't have any friends, and that no one liked him...anywhere, at Shop 16 or school. My heart broke for him and I spent the next few minutes trying to smother him with as much love and encouragement that I could muster.

Last night this boy became one of our 15 Junior Soldiers. After the conclusion of the ceremony, while everyone was eating and mingling, I once again found him sitting alone, with his head bent low. I went over and sat next to him and just said hello. This time, he didn't need any prodding. In a quiet voice he said, "Esther....I'm just so happy. I'm so happy, I think I might cry" and before he had even finished speaking I could see his eyes well up. I was just overcome with joy. I gave him a hug and told him what a very good thing that was! That it was a great thing that he could feel so happy, and that I was so very glad that he was.

In comparison to the amount of children whose lives we are involved with at Shop 16, 15 kids really is just a portion. On the other hand, it's also a really large amount of children to enroll as a Junior Soldier in one night! However, there is no doubt in my mind in regards to the decisions that these kids made last night. On our part, we really didn't need to force, twist arms, or encourage any of these kids to decide to make the decision...it was totally on their own, and with a great deal of enthusiasm that thoroughly surprised me! I am just so grateful that we were able to offer these kids an opportunity to commit themselves to something greater...to allow them the chance to stand up in front of their family and community and say that this is the life they want to lead.

God is awesome, and continues to be doing great things. I just need to make sure I continue to let Him!

Blessings!