Innocence

Today, the kids and I had to run a quick errand in Ft. Worth. I needed to pick up instruments for my class at our homeschool co-op, The Cube. As I followed the map, I could tell our destination was going to be near downtown. After turning around several times on the same road, I was finally headed in the right direction. We drove slowly down the street, looking for the correct building number. The kids began to notice there were a lot of people on the sidewalks and in front of the buildings, and started asking questions. Things like:

Mom, why are there so many people walking around here?
Why do they look so dirty?
Why doesn't that woman have shoes on?

Then I realized we were right in front of the Union Gospel Mission. Not really such a big deal, but just last week I finished reading "Same Kind of Different as Me." The biography is about three very special lives that intersected at this mission. The mission was rebuilt as a result of all that happened between them. That made it a big deal to me! Instead of seeing these homeless people as scary and shameful, I saw them as hearts that God longed to reach. Lives that were just as important as mine and my children's. And all because of this great book (a must read if you haven't already).

Another thing that moved me just as much was the way my children responded to the information I gave them. I told them these people didn't have homes to live in, most likely didn't have jobs, and probably only had the clothes on their back and nothing more. Immediately, in childlike innocence, they wanted to scoop up all these people wandering around and bring them home. They wanted to buy them clothes, food and cars. The ideas were just flying all over the van as we drove slowly by. My favorite was from Sam: "Mom, maybe we should just adopt a baby for one of them. That would really help them because it would make them so happy to have someone to love."

In innocence, my children responded much the way I think God would want us all to respond. In matchless love and abandon. Not caring why these strangers were there (did you notice the kids NEVER asked why the people were homeless?) or what they looked or smelled like, and not caring if they ever changed...just simply living out our faith by actively loving them.

I have a lot to learn from my kids.

"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' Matthew 25:37-40

An Errand In The Night

Tonight, after a full day of homeschooling and piano lessons and homekeeping, and after getting dinner started for my family, I hugged my children and kissed my husband goodbye. I was going to run an errand I told the little ones, with an all knowing look between my husband and myself. "Groceries?" they asked. "No, just an errand," I retold them. Then I snuck out the back door.

I drove down the darkened highway, making phone calls along the way...asking for any messages that needed to be passed on. Mental notes were made. Traffic jams did not ease any apprehension I felt, but did offer moments to breathe. It's been a long time since I'd seen the Dallas skyline at night - so beautiful. Amazing that just across the bridge from the colorful city lights, ugliness in every form awaited me.

As I turned off the highway, I began to look for the building. It didn't take long to find it. The high fences and barbed wire quickly set it apart. It was very dark, no where to park, and cold. I saw a spot where some cars were parked in a makeshift lot; good enough. I grabbed my purse, my phone, my paperwork and headed for the building. I'm not afraid, just cautious, eyes constantly roaming for anything unusual. But honestly, this was all unusual.

I walked up the steps to a small covered porch area, and stood in the back of a line of about 50 people. I quickly stood out like a sore thumb among them, being one of 3 or 4 caucasians among throngs of hispanics and blacks. I looked around, cautiously surveying the others. Old, young, babies, teenagers, from every possible background imagined or unimagined. We were all there for the same reason. A kind woman next to me informed me I couldn't take my purse or cell phone in. So I ran back to my van, stashed my purse, returning to find I'd lost my spot in line. More waiting, more cold. It smelled of urine, filth, and alcohol.

After about 1 hour and 10 minutes of waiting outside, they finally called my name. Cox, number 18. I walked through the entrance and made my way to number 18. I sat in a white plastic chair, next to a sweet grandmother with her 3 year old grandson. They were at number 17. She spoke no english, but the little boy did. He pointed at the plexi-glass window in front of him and said, "Daddy." The boy and I played back and forth for the next few minutes, filling the time.

Finally, I looked up and there he was. He looked years older to me, and tired. As he sat down, we picked up our respective phones, and tears filled my eyes. "Happy Birthday brother," I said as happily as I could. I teased him about the stripes on his uniform, and he showed me the too small shoes he'd been issued. I passed messages on to him, and he told me stories to pass on in return. Five years is a long time, but if he's good, maybe it will only be 6 months.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my little 3 year old friend placing his fingers on the glass in front of him, sobbing "Daddy, daddy." His daddy had his hand on the glass as well, sending as much love as he could. Absolutely heartbreaking.

As I drove home, I wondered what hopes and dreams my parents had for their sweet baby when he was born 41 years ago? Did they dream he'd be president, or an athlete, or a doctor? As they cradled him in their arms, did they hope he would have a life better than their own? I'm certain they never envisioned the sort of life he's chosen for himself. What happened along the way? Why him, and not me?

My heart aches so deeply tonight, that only God can hear my groanings. Come quickly Lord, come quickly.

2 Corinthians 10:4-5

"The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that set itself up against the knowledge of God; and we take captive every thought, making it obedient to Christ."

This is the first passage I've memorized for Beth Moore's challenge. Spending two weeks on a verse gives me a lot of time to dissect and ponder it's meaning. What are your thoughts on this passage - what does it mean to you?

Happy New Year!

Now that you've picked your jaw up off the floor from realization that I have indeed posted to my blog, I have a challenge for you. :-)

Beth Moore, a beloved mentor and bible study leader, has issued a scripture memorization challenge from her blog at Living Proof Ministries. It's not so threatening, and holds with it the promise of accountability and hopes of God moving deeply.

So if you are looking for a great way to start the new year, then head on over to Beth's blog and check out the challenge. 2 verses a month for one year - you can do that! I can do that! Let me know if you decide to join.

Blessings to you for a great big JESUS year!