Externally Processing My Way Through Life

Home and settled. The boys still seem to be catching up on sleep a little bit though, seeing as how all 3 of them are sleeping right now.

What a crazy 7 days. It seems so odd that they were all back to back, and I feel like so much more happened than I will never have time to blog about.

Camp. Camp was... crazy. Interesting. Not at all like a vacation. It was nice to be at the beach and all, but I traded my job as a full time mom to two handsome boys that I can discipline however and whenever I want for babysitting/teaching 7 freshmen teenage girls that I had little control over.

All of us counselors were reminded several times that we were essentially completely responsible for our students and should know where they were at all times. No pressure right? I felt more intimidated about taking care of them then I did my own kids.

The girls that I had in my group were 3 girls that had attended my small group before, and 4 that I had never met. None of my core group of girls were able to come. This only added to my anxiousness of not knowing what to expect and how they would perceive me.

I was very surprised at the amount of spiritual warfare I saw present that week. Particularly towards the leaders. It was as if the enemy knew that was his easiest way to bring the students down, and did everything in his power to get at us. There were several instances of immediate family members of leaders having severe medical issues, and several other even more intense circumstances that are too sensitive to mention here. I really was surprised by the severity of it. However I was immensely blessed by the women leaders who hung out when we could, and got together to pray for individuals and as a whole on more than one occasion and encouraged on an other. I am so grateful to be in the midst of such amazing women. It's been a long time.

Being fairly new to the youth, and only really dealing with my group of girls on Wednesday nights, I'm not as familiar with this generation outside of my girls. Being immersed in it at camp, I was shocked to see what I think is a really big problem within this generation. A lack of respect. I feel old just saying that. I'm sure every generation has said that about the one behind them, but I really was impressed about the intensity of disrespect and downright undermining of authority.

Mind you my parents did a very good job of raising me to be a polite. In fact I think I called my in laws Mr. and Mrs. Kelly until almost a year after we were married and my MIL finally asked me to stop. It's almost second nature to me, and I still have to catch myself not offending others by calling them too proper of a name. But that's how I roll, and how my children are going to roll, and I think it's important because it teaches you about so much more.

The most disconcerting thing to me about the lack of respect shown is this: if in a camp environment you can't show me or another leader respect, then the chances are you don't show your parents much respect, if you don't show them respect how are you ever going to allow Christ to have any authority and respect His leadership over your life? Not to mention Christ commands us to respect those put in authority over us, even those who we don't agree with (I have a whole soap box on that, but another time...). Hebrews 13:17 got busted out a lot that week.

Camp was good. I learned some things too, which hopefully at some point I will have a chance to blog about. It ended with hugs and a salad (the food was horrible), and my wonderful husband whisking me off to Savannah.

I like that he met me halfway, I felt special getting to leave early and go to a romantic place. Words cannot describe Savannah. We hadn't been away just the two of us since our honeymoon. We probably could have gone to a shack in the woods and had a great time. You almost forget how much chemistry you have together without children involved. We checked into our hotel and got ready to head to dinner. While we were getting ready I was trying to put my bracelet on, realizing that at some point it must have broke. I was bummed because it was the only one I had with me, and I really liked it. Chris came in with a small wrapped box and said, I don't have a bracelet, but I do have something that might make it better. I was quite surprised. We don't usually do gifts because of money, and we especially don't do them when we are going away on a wonderful trip. The box contained absolutely perfect diamond earrings. I could not have picked more perfect ones out myself. Princess cut, screw back, perfection.

Then we went to dinner and had the most amazing meal of our lives. Jazz'd Tapas. If you are ever in Savannah, go. In fact, go to Savannah just to go there. The food was SO good. They had a live jazz band playing that was quite talented too. The only thing that could have made it better was a pastry chef and more energy. Four nights of 5 hours or less of sleep in a row were getting to me, and our dinner reservation was at 9:30.

The rest was great, we did the Trolley tours, walked around, ate at some more wonderful restaurants. We got up Sunday planning to grab a quick breakfast and see a few more spots before we grabbed lunch and headed home. God had other plans. I love it when he has other plans.

We were looking at a map, being obvious tourists trying to remember where Jazz'd was since I saw a great breakfast place across the street from it where we wanted to go. A homeless man came up to us asking if he could help us find where it was. We had already pretty much figured it out, but Chris chatted with him a minute amusing him wanting to help. He offered to help us find it. Knowing where we were going, and my protective husband wanting to be cautious he told him he thought we could get there. Then the guy just asked us if we could get him some food. I was intrigued that he asked for food and not money, as must have been my husband who had been carrying most of the conversation up until that point, because after an agreeing glance from me, he asked him to walk with us to breakfast place.

What proceeded was a very sad story. A Vietnam vet, disabled from depression and diabetes, family who wasn't unable to take him in, and no government assistance. But then God stepped in. Somehow he had found a church and he had hope, things were beginning to look up for him. There were connections he had made, and potential shelter coming in the future. After we got our food (which we were previously going to eat and walk) we sat down and Joseph asked to pray. And pray he did. He thanked God for bringing us to him, among many other things. We chatted with him for a while as he ate, hearing more about his story. He got shrimp and grits, because that's what his momma used to make that he loved, and he hadn't had it in years. We got him some fruit, and juice, to help keep his blood sugar from crashing. We're not cash people (meaning we hardly ever carry it, or much of it) but as we finally left Chris gave him all that we had. He kept saying how grateful he was that God brought us to him.

I was grateful too. Grateful that maybe we could help in some small way, and grateful that God would remind us of His heart. After leaving with Joseph's situation on my mind, and some other things that Chris and I have been dealing with, I'm impressed and confused by God's grace.

I am a blessed woman. I have an incredible husband, and two healthy handsome smart boys. While my house isn't the biggest or even decorated yet, I have a beautiful home, with nice furniture, and two cars. We have found a wonderful church and have the start of some hopefully good friendships. But why me? Why do I get so much? Not that I'm not grateful, but why do I get to have it so easy when some have it so hard? I know I have gone through some struggles, but they pale in comparison to the things that others have had to deal with. I have always had a meal waiting on me. I have always had a roof over my head. I have never gone without medical care. I have never been sexually abused. I have so much, and others have had to fight for everything that they have.

I am grieved by their wounds and what they do without, and I feel so insignificant when I try to help or give, or support with friendship and prayer. My heart hurts for these people and what they have lived with and had to endure, and I'm not sure what to do with that. I know I do what I can, and what God gives me the ability to do and that He will use that. I have faith in that, and the healing power and supplication that only He can provide in such miraculous ways. But sometimes, I just don't understand. And I don't think I'm supposed to. He's God, and He has his reasons. I may not understand or agree but I know that my God is a God of love and mercy, patience and grace, and I must trust that He has these people in His hands, and that He is doing a work that He will get great glory from. So I pray, and do what I can, and most importantly trust in that.

So that is how my week of festivities ended. I'm still processing through a lot of it, but I love how in the most unexpected circumstances (like leading/teaching/caring for seven 15 year old girls, or your anniversary trip to Savannah) God finds a way to teach me, and to humble me, and pull me closer to Him. What a great God I serve.