Exhaustion

"I am worried about you Sam, do you ever get time to rest, relax, or go home?" The question came from my dear friend after helping out with club last night.  She was not the only one who took one look at me and asked if I was alright.  The truth is, I feel exhausted but thats the reality of my life the majority of the time.  I am struggling to find the balance in life. I want nothing more than to have all the time and energy in the world to offer where it is needed. Today I took a much needed day to relax and spend time alone and with God but I cannot help but feel a sense of guilt as I think of my friend, a young mother, who is homeless and trying to care for 3 kids under the age of 3.  I think of another friend of mine who is also homeless and trying to balance work, finding a place to stay and raise 4 young children on her own.  Then I think of my kids, a young girl who recently ran away from home, who I know is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and could use someone to talk to.  My mind spins, how can I selfishly say 'I need rest sorry I can't help you' when they too desperately need rest?

Wise words come flooding my mind, words from counselors and mentors in the past who told me, 'You are not the Savior, you cannot save the world. You need to take care of yourself or you cannot help anyone else.'

I am thankful for their advice, but it is a daily struggle. I want to give so much more.

Beauty from ashes

Today was one of those days where I was so deeply reminded that I am exactly where God has called me.  It is the best feeling in the entire world, to be reminded of the tears, the doubts, the "fighting" with God and questioning what in the world I was doing here; and then see, this is why.

 I sat and watched as my little girls stood before a church packed with people and shared their testimonies of heart ache and pain but how they met God through it.  I got choked up as I watched a mother, whose little girl has been praying for so long for her to come to church, wrap her arms around her dripping wet daughter, both with tears flowing down their cheeks.  I watched a grandma cry aloud with such joy to see her granddaughter take this step of faith; the same little girl who has never once been taken by her family to the church but rather comes on her own week after week.

God is good and powerfully at work.

One of the girls shared in her testimony that it was after losing our little Shamiya that she was in so much pain and needed someone to talk to and that is what brought her to the church.  That little girl has never stopped coming, she is now a believer and serving in the church.  I think back on the past year since Shamiya has died and I cannot help but praise the Lord for His goodness in it.  There is no doubt in my mind that God was able to use such a horrible tradgedy for something beautiful.  I look at my group of children and the bonds we have formed through her loss and I know there would have been no other way that we would have had this had we not endured that pain.  The kids have grown so much.

One little girl in specific has grown immensely, the same little girl who has had the hardest time of all of them.  I watched as this little girl went from an innocent smiling child, to one whose eyes lost their spark.  The trauma she endured killed that little girl inside her.  That same little girl has allowed God to begin to heal her heart and He has restored her beautiful smile and given her a heart of gold.  One day in small group we were discussing what it means to be a Christian and the girls were on fire, they couldn't stop sharing but one new girl did not know a lot of the answers to the questions we were discussing, she had only just begun coming to church and knew very little about Jesus.  After small group S pulled me aside and asked "Do you think we could start spending more time with T.  I feel bad that she didn't know a lot of the answers to the questions and I really want her to know Jesus."  I wanted to cry right then and there.  She gets it, she really gets it.

God is powerfully at work.

The Apple Orchard

Every time I spend time with my children I come home with an intense amount of emotions.  Often it is a mixture of sheer exhaustion, excitement, joy, and yet a deep sadness.  The sadness comes as I wrestle with the facts of life.  The fact that life is not fair and I feel like my children have been dealt a bad hand in life.  I look at all the challenges facing them and it makes me want to cry.  Some have physical and mental affects from drugs, alcohol, and trauma which creates many obstacles in day to day life, especially education.  The majority attend schools where they are not properly educated and if they graduate they will not be prepared for adult life and jobs.  Many come from hard homes where they may be abused, neglected, unloved and not properly cared for.  The odds seem so against them.  As I think about them I cannot help but picture their smiling faces, and memories come flooding in of E, with such a willing heart, struggling to carry three large bags of apples because other children were unable to carry their own; or L who jumps at the opportunity to help me by picking up trash outside.  I think of T and how she asked with a smile on her face, "Samantha do you think one day I can be like you and pour into girls younger than me?" or K who without being asked, faithfully sweeps the gym every week after club ends.  I think of the joy these children pour out day after day and it blows me away. They are some of the strongest, most beautiful and resilient children I have ever met.

Today I had one of those moments where I was able to see so clearly God's love for these children.  As I planned an outing with the children to an Apple Orchard, I knew I was very short in help and tried to pick an easy group.  I called an invited children who I knew would not be too difficult and could be easily managed, and I am embarrassed to admit I intentionally left out a couple of children who I knew would make things very difficult.  But you see, God does not go through and pick the "easy to love" he loves all so deeply and so one by one this morning children backed out of the trip and there, sitting at the church, was just about every child in our program who are not "easy".  I had to just laugh as I saw God make His heart known.

Our trip was amazing, the children were enthralled and could not stop smiling.  They had the time of their lives.  We made it our mission to pour out as much love as we could on this energetic bunch.  They didn't always listen, they were not always respectful and we had to break up many fights but I left with a beautiful exhaustion due to energy well spent.

As I dropped off the children I couldn't stop smiling at one little guy in specific.  His skin was incredibly dry and ashy.  He appeared very unkept.  He couldn't sit still if his life depended on it.  He used me all day as a human jungle gym despite me telling him not to and defied any rule I set out; but as he left, with a smile that took over his entire face, he yelled "Bye Samantha I love you," and in that moment my heart was entirely full.

Pain.

Let me be honest with you, I'm struggling tonight.

I can't get them off of my mind.

I try to not share too much about my children's stories because I do not want them to be looked at as a charity case, I want them to be seen for the beautiful, incredible, children that they are, but tonight my heart hurts for them.

I hate knowing that my little girls will put themselves to sleep tonight and wake themselves in the morning and get ready for school on their own because their mom has abandon them with their drug dealing father and so the children are virtually on their own.

I hate that a 6 year old wanders the street barefoot and dirty and no one notices, or maybe even cares.

I hate that three little girls get passed back and forth from home to home whenever mom winds up back in jail.

I hate that most do not get scooped up, hugged and kissed.

I hate that they have to grow up so fast.

My heart aches tonight because this is their life and there isn't much I can do about it.  I want so badly to be able to open my doors wide and say, "Come in! You need a place? Stay here! You need a home? Here it is!  I will love you and care for you and you can be safe."

But I can't, I don't have the means and it kills me.

So what is my role then? How can I love them and care for them best at this stage of life? Sometimes it is hard to be content with where I am at in life and with my limitations but I know I need to just stop and know that God is in control and He has me here and He knows what how He wants to use me.  I need to let go.  

Freedom to breathe

"Samantha I almost got shot" Meishona shouted as I picked her up to leave for camping.  She went on to explain that she had been walking down by her cousins when men started shooting.  The girls ran for their lives and made it home unharmed.
"Did you hear Shaunti almost got shot too" Jermiah chimed in referring to the incident last week where 3 of my girls had been playing at thepark when shots began firing and they too fled for their lives, they made it back home safely but one girl, only 14 was shot.
We drive just a little down the road and Mikyla points out the window, "That's where we saw that man getting stabbed."  The stories continue and then the topic switches to something light hearted as though the previous conversation was something totally normal.

I hate it, I hate that my children have to live in an area where their life is at stake daily, that they cannot play outside without fear of being shot, and even worse they are not even fully protected in their own homes.  They are growing up in a warzone.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by the injustice that surrounds me.  How come they have to grow up in an area where they have to live in constant fear when just a few blocks away children can run and play freely without a care in the world?

Oh how I wish that I could give them back their childhood and allow them to experience a childhood where they are allowed to hold onto their innocense.  It breaks my heart.

It brings me such great joy to be able to give them little breaks in their lives to let go of their fears and enjoy time just being kids.  This past weekend I was able to take 8 children camping and we had the time of our lives.  I couldn't help but be filled with such joy as we pulled up to our campsite and the children came flooding out immediately wanting to explore.  We took them hiking where they were able to see deer, climb trees and breathe in the fresh air.  They could not contain their excitement!  Shortly after arriving the rain began and didn't let up for most of the trip, but no bad weather could hinder their fun.  My mom texted me in the morning concerned about how we were doing in the rain and I could proudy report that the children were totally unfazed.  They never even sought shelter they just laughed, ran, chased eachother, and played in the rain.

There were so many moments throughout the trip that I just had to stop in soak in because they filled my soul so deeply, like watching 3 little boys surrounding my brother as he taught them how to cook hamburgers and sweet corn over the fire and how they excitedly jumped at any opportunity to help him; or watching the kids kayak for the first time and catch on so quickly.  They absolutely amazed me in so many ways, seeing their hearts to serve, on numerous occassions I had children approach me asking how they could help me.  They were always so eager to help.  I am so beyond blessed to be able to know so many incredible children, who despite the difficulties their lives have given them, they have hearts of gold.

On another note I could use some prayers.  For the past year I feel the Lord has been challenging me to start support raising so that I can work a little less and focus my attention on the children I work with.  As most of you know the work I do with these children is completely unpaid which definitely doesn't stop me, but at the same time having to work to support myself alongside working with them has caused my time to be drastically split.  I see the great need here in West Garfield Park and want to give so much more of myself to these children.  Would you please pray for me as I consider taking this leap of faith, cutting back my employment hours to be with my children?  If you have any questions or desire to come alongside me please feel free to contact me!
God bless, Sama

heart check

A lot of little whispers have been filling my ears, sometimes they are hurtful words said straight to me, sometimes they are in reference to someone anonymous and I question if they are intended for me, and then sometimes it is the voice inside my head, these words…they are like a punch in the gut, probably the most painful words I could hear.  The words whisper, you’re doing this for yourself, desiring something in return, pride, self-glory, a desire to say “Hey look what I’ve done”. 

I’ve sat, I’ve prayed, I’ve sobbed before God, is this true?  Is there a part of me that is trying to make this about me?  I fear it greatly and so I fall to my face and cry out to God, ‘please examine my heart and convict me if there is something inside me.’ I question am I doing this because I find my identity in works? Do I have a ‘Savior complex’?

So many questions and accusations fill my heart until I nearly make myself sick.  Maybe I need to step back, maybe I am wrong and I should no longer be here. 

Then I see their smiling faces, I receive their heart felt hugs, and my mind clears.  3 years ago God handed me all these little children and broke my heart for them and every step since has been due to my love for them.  I do not plan activity after activity because I want someone to notice me; I do it because I want to be with THEM.  I want to be involved in their lives.  I want to know what is on their hearts.  I want to walk with them through life when it’s painful but also rejoice with them in the beauty.

I’m crazy about them, I want to see them grow up, I want to see who they become and what God has in store for them. I can’t stop talking about them because they consume my mind! I am so blessed to get to have some of the most incredible, beautiful, and loving children in my life. 

So when it comes down to it, people will always think they know my motives, but I know my heart.  I also know that that heart is sinful and can easily lead me astray and so I continually turn to my Father and ask Him to search my heart.

Would you like to partner with us?

As we sat around the picnic table with my parents, after a weekend full of adventure and fun camping at Terry Andre State Park, the girls shared with them the highlights of the trip. Some shared about going to the beach, others shared about playing in the sand dunes but Shamiya spoke up and responded, “What I like most about the camping trip is that I feel safe; I don’t have to worry about watching my back or getting shot.” As her words came out I got choked up, what 11 year old would respond this way, literally constantly scared for her life?

Part of me dreds pushing the app for the Chicago Tribune that I have kept on my phone to keep up with what's going on in my city. "Man charged for slaying," "Man charged in fatal shooting," "South Side teen killed two days before freshman orientation," "Woman shot dead on Dan Ryan, year after teen brother was killed," "2 dead, 10 hurt in shootings on South, West sides," 82 shot over the fourth of July weekend. My heart aches. Each day I hold my breath praying that it’s not one of my babies. On July 19, 2014 my nightmare became a reality as I received news that my little Shamiya was shot and killed while innocently playing at a friend’s house during a sleepover with the other girls who had been at our camping trip. These young girls have experienced far more pain than any child should ever have to experience.

When we read the news and hear of all the shootings happening in Chicago it’s easy to dismiss it as gang violence but what isn't being talked about are the innocent lives caught in the middle, children who fear their lives constantly. A nine year old girl here in Chicago wrote a rap, the chorus saying, “Put the guns down cuz I wanna grow up”. This is the cry of the children caught in the middle of a war that is not their own. Many hear about the crime and violence of Chicago, it is nothing new, we see it all over the news, but very few have had the blessing of knowing that in those gang filled, blood stained streets are the gems of the city. For the past 3 years I have worked with the children of West Garfield through the children’s ministry of Reborn Community Church and I can honestly say that these kids are some of the most incredible children I have ever met and my life has forever changed because of them. In the past year since Shamiya’s death, as I have walked alongside the children as they mourn the loss of their dear friend, I can’t help but question what can I do to help? I can’t pick them up and move them out of their neighborhood and I can’t stop the violence that surrounds them, but I can walk alongside them and share with them the hope we have in Jesus Christ. I can also help allow them to see that in this world so filled with pain, there is still beauty.

This has been my heart and mission with the children and we are doing it in many ways, such as starting a kid’s garden at our church to teach the kids about gardening as well as provide them with a place of beauty in their community. We also have a reading club, a junior leaders program, kids club, field trips and many more camping trips.

So how can you help? There are many ways! First and foremost through your prayers; Chicago is in desperate need of prayers as daily the death count raises due to street violence. Secondly you can help us through your donations. We have little to no money to work with which makes planning very difficult. I am currently working 4 jobs so that I can support myself and any ministry I do. You can also donate supplies! Please read our donation suggestion list for ideas! Thank you for taking the time to hear about the work we are doing in West Garfield and I hope that you will join with me to help impact the lives of these incredible children!

Samantha and the children of Reborn Community Church

Donation Suggestion List Camping Trips -Sleeping Bags -Flash lights -Pudgie Pie Makers -Hot Dog Roasters -Head Lamps -Camping gear -Snacks -S’more Supplies -Food Reading Club -Books -Prizes Kids Club -Prizes -Candy -Games -Craft supplies -Snacks -Balls -Water balloons -Outdoor toys -Garden Club -Gardening tools -Plants -Pots -Bricks or Stones (to decorate with) -Bird Houses -Flowers -Anything decorative -Lawn furniture

Inner City Ministry

Smiling little faces chased our van and immediately after stepping out I was tackled by little children wanting hugs, piggy back rides and just an extra snuggle. Everyone was full of joy and returned back to the base feeling exhausted their bodies aching with deep joy that God used them to “love on” the little children of ______ (fill in the blank). This has been the majority of my experience of missions. An immediate self-gratification that God used me to love on some children who desperately needed it. It feels great, an inexplicable high that makes you want to give up everything and run away to a foreign country where you can love until there is no more hurt. Then God brought me to West Garfield. The van pulls up but no children follow, you are met by cold stares of people wondering what you are doing in ‘their hood’. If you walk into the children’s program you will see children happily playing, they may greet you with a hello but beyond that do not pay you much attention. I’ve watched my good friends and other well-meaning volunteers spend many Tuesdays working with the children only for the kids to forget their names and choose not to sit by them during group time. I’ve watched the discomfort on their faces wondering what they are doing wrong and believing that the kids disliked them; but that’s not it at all. You see, children in the inner city have been hurt too much and too deeply; they have seen countless people in their lives make promises and break them; they have seen people say that they love them and then abuse them and they have seen the constant flowing current of volunteers who come in thinking that they are going to “help them” and soon then after leave when they realize that their efforts do not seem to be appreciated or their fear overrules their desire. These children have seen too much to carelessly jump into the arms of a stranger no matter how beautiful their smile is, how far they’ve traveled to see them, or whatever noble intention they have. So the kids hold them at an arm’s length, guarding their hearts fiercely refusing to open up until, through countless hours of dedication and dependability, they begin to believe ‘maybe this person really does care about me’. I watched a good friend of mine who patiently pushed through and faithfully showed up every Tuesday and one day after more than 4 months I saw a little body scoot up next to her to sit at her side. Soon I heard the children calling her by name and asking to be put in her group. They began to unbolt the little treasure box where they safely guard away their heart. Little does she know the depths of this. I think back to my own start here in West Garfield, I cheerfully greeted people only to have heads turned and eyes rolled. I remember having a handful of people on my heart who I was praying for and clearly remember the praised mile markers when ______ actually responded with a hello back to me or when _____ said hi to me first. It was months before a conversation of more than a robotic “hi how are you, I am good’ conversation took place. It was probably my second semester before faces recognized me and actually smiled when I approached. One year hit and more walls came down, simple walls that in many cultures are never seen as a wall, such as a family member of a child recognizing me and calling out my name. After a year and a half some of the kids began allowing me to love them and loving me back. It took until year 2, and a horrible tragedy of losing one of my children by a stray bullet and countless hours of being by the sides of mourning children before they gave me the honor and privilege of seeing their tears and unveiling their hurting hearts. After nearly 3 years of nonstop dedication, a family of one of my little girls invited me into their house to lie on their floor and help their little girl with her homework, as I left that evening her grandma walked me out to the car and asked me how she could ever thank me for investing in her kids. My experience in Garfield is such a short breath compared to the many incredible people who have dedicated their entire lives, for years well beyond mine, and I claim no pride of my own for the mere glimpse I have been able to experience; but what my short experience has taught me is this: Inner City ministry is not an instantly gratifying field of ministry. It tears out the part of you that selfishly wants to receive honor and praise for the calling God has given you. It throws to the ground the arrogant voice in you that thinks you have the ability to change the world. Inner City ministry is hard, it’s painful, and it takes all of you. Inner City Ministry is not for the feel good missionaries who want one foot in ministry and the other foot in their own selfish pleasures. Inner City Ministry will rip you apart, spit you out and leave you bloody, broken, and undone; but places you, in absolute dependence, into the arms of our Savior who has come to bring good news to the poor, bind up the broken hearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, open the prison gates to those who are bound, bring comfort to those who mourn, give the oil of gladness instead of mourning, a garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; who will build up ancient ruins, raise up former devastation and repair the ruined cities and devastations of many generations. (Is 61)

capturing moments

Sometimes I wonder if the way I view life is normal. I often believe it is not. It seems to me that there is something inside me that I don't often find in many other people. It is hard to pinpoint what exactly it is but it causes me to live very differently. It is as if for me, life is slipping away so fast and I fear I'll miss it. Not a moment can be wasted and yet each moment is treasured, savored. At times the little voice within is one of pressure and guilt like I cannot rest because then I am going to miss out on something. Other times this, feeling I guess you could call it, causes me to stop, and bottle up each moment. Yesterday I was biking home with my roommate, my skin warm from the sun and the light of day was slipping to the west causing beams to shine through the city buildings and illuminate Emilia ahead of me. My heart felt so full and I wanted to capture that moment to cherish always. Today watching my children perform I kept wanting time to slow down so that I could take in every moment of it. There is so much to grab ahold of, so much to experience. Life to me always feels so full as if it is coming to an end. You know that way you feel right before something ends forever and suddenly you live fully in the moment and cherish it all. Thats how I feel nearly every day. I do not know if this is a deep knowing of my own of the frailty of life or what caused me to live this way but I know it is a gift, something I pray never leaves me.

They are meant for greater things

I look into his big brown eyes flooding with a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and hurt. Each week I have warned him it would come to this and finally the moment came. He buried his face into his coat sleeve as I spoke with his grandma about his behavior. Each week he has slipped and slipped until I can hardly recognize the child before me. I remember his honesty as he shared with me his prayer requests asking God to help him not be bad. It breaks my heart because I know he is not a bad kid. Sometimes it feels like holding onto sand all the while watching it slip between your fingers. I want to shake them and tell them that they are made for so much more. It breaks my heart to see so many of my boys slip away as though they were destined for this, but they weren’t. Why can’t they see it? Why can’t the world see it? Please please see it.

Filling up and spilling over

We sit across from eachother at McDonalds their beautiful smiles shining as we laugh over ice cream. They've asked me to meet to talk about "stuff". I have offered to my girls many times that if they ever need to talk, to tell me and I will take them out to chat. The girls laugh as I have them practice approaching me to handle a problem that they are dealing with with their friends. I explain to them ways to confront problems in such a way that their feelings can be heard and yet they do not come across as attacking their friends. We laugh, joke, reminisce, and then run to Wal-Mart to pick up school supplies for their project tomorrow. I have come to learn through living here in Chicago that ministry is just living life. It's keeping a flexible schedule so when a kid needs help with homework or needs to talk I can be there. It's spending a little less on myself so that I can share, its being intentional. Ministry isn't glamorous, it can be exhausting, heart wrenching, and cause you do give every last ounce of yourself but moments like today when an eleven year old girl asked me with excitement filled eyes, "Do you think I could teach and invest in younger girls like you do with us?" it is all worth it.