A Nudge . . . and then a Plunge

Two boys at PE350--boys will be boys.

I have always loved kids, which is a good thing since I'm a high school teacher.  I also love the little ones, and I am always drawn to the "underdogs"--the ones who have a bad home life or don't think much of themselves for one reason or other.

I've always said my mission field is the teenagers in our public schools, and that's true, but a few years ago at a newsboys' concert, I heard about Compassion and thought maybe I should sponsor a child but felt I couldn't afford it financially.  So I sort of forgot about Compassion.

Then after Michael Tait became the lead singer for newsboys, I heard him say that we should help our neighbors in Mexico (they were building homes for people there), so I decided to try to find the name of that child sponsorship organization and sponsor a boy from Mexico, being a bit partial to boys.

I found Compassion on the Heart It First website when I was looking for information about Winter Jam, so I clicked the link.  I found that if I sponsored a child, I would get a tobyMac CD for free.  Helloooo.  I wasn't going to pass that up!

So ironically, or maybe fittingly, it was good friends Michael Tait and Toby McKeehan who nudged me to begin my relationship with Compassion.  I began with one boy in Mexico, and now I sponsor twelve children, all from the Spanish-speaking countries where Compassion works (two in Peru), plus a little boy in Haiti.  I also have five correspondence kids who think I'm their financial sponsor, and I think of them in the same way I do the ones I sponsor financially.

I have learned to treasure the pink and bows of my little girls, and the sweet girly teenage girls.  I love my girls.

Whenever I write to my kids or send a financial gift, I am reminded of Matthew 25:40--The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’  I am honored to know that when I give to these children, I am giving to Jesus.

One of the most powerful verses to me, one that is my fuel to advocate for the children is Matthew 18:10--See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.
That's some pretty serious stuff right there.

I am honored to be a part of Compassion and thankful that God used Mike and Toby to nudge me to the edge where I plunged right in.

Just a Minute

Well, I have to say that this is a rather difficult blog assignment for me to complete.  But it's a good thing for me to do.
Wess Stafford has released his new book, Just a Minute.  (That link goes to christianbook.com, but you can also buy it at Amazon (of course!), Barnes and Noble, and most likely other Christian bookstore sites.)  I read Too Small to Ignore by Wess, and it changed me.  I can't wait to receive this book because his writing is inspiring and real.
In it he shares how we can change the life of a child in just a minute.  Having been a teacher for many years, I do not need to be convinced of the truth of that.  
So my assignment is to share how the words of an adult changed my life for the best or for the worst in "just a minute."  
*Warning: don't expect a warm and fuzzy post.*
I grew up in a family of five children.  We didn't have much.  After this most people say, "But we had love."  Umm . . . can't say that.  We rarely had enough food.  I never had a bike like my friends.  The bills were never paid.  My parents argued constantly (daggers in the stomach of a little girl).  I wore hand-me-downs most of my life, so other kids made fun of me.  I never even owned a pair of jeans until I was in high school, and I can describe those jeans to you vividly to this day.
I never heard my parents say they loved me.  Actually, my mom said it right before she died a few years ago.  That was the only time.
I did hear them say many other things.  "You are the reason for all the trouble between your mother and me."   "That sure is a stupid way to do that."  "You never do anything right."  "You are just a troublemaker."  "For someone who makes straight A's, you have no common sense." (For the record, I made 2 B's in high school, so even that wasn't accurate.)
What did I glean from all those minutes? That I'm stupid and I'm worthless.  
Many years later, I still struggle with those ideas, and I wonder if I will ever, ever on this earth be able to allow myself to find healing.
But here's the good part.  I believe with all my heart that the negative comments my parents made to me (with language I wouldn't repeat) led me to become a teacher.  And as a teacher (although I have failed at times), my goal has been to make as many kids as I can feel good about themselves every single day.  I can't even remember how many former students have told me I have changed their lives because of one positive comment that I don't even remember saying.  And I teach high school students, so if it impacts them, imagine how the words you say will impact a small child.
I have also made an effort for my entire life to make children, especially my friends' children, feel important.  When all the other adults are ignoring them, I talk to the children.  Part of it is my anxiety about talking to adults, but most of it is my desire to let those children know how special they are, and to hope that what I say to them will somehow spare them from what I experienced as a child.  I have no children of my own (you can probably infer from what I've already said what has led me to live my life alone), but I feel like God has used that to allow me to be able to bless other children, including my own nieces and nephews.
And that leads me to my involvement in Compassion.  I didn't really begin sponsoring children because I thought I would make them feel better about themselves.  I just wanted to help.  Then I realized that my letters to them, my interest in them, my telling them that Jesus and I both love them very, very much can literally change their lives.  
Children in poverty lack hope.  Believe me, I grew up in conditions much better than these children live in, yet I didn't have much hope.  To think that I now live in a house (although I don't own it) right across the street from the Atlantic Ocean and have been given the honor and privilege of impacting the lives of many children here in this city and now children in other countries through Compassion, is an amazing thing for this "troublemaker" to believe.  How am I even worthy of all this?
I became a Compassion Advocate so that I could help others to see how they can give hope to children who have no hope.  If I could tell every child on this planet how important and beautiful and special he or she is, I would do it.  Now.
I never, never want a child to feel the pain that I still struggle to forget.

My Lifelong Goal

I don't think I realized it until lately, but goal for my entire adult life has been to help children, including teenagers, know that they matter, that they are beautiful, that they never need doubt themselves.  My parents never said those things to me.  Actually, they called me a troublemaker and other names I wouldn't repeat anywhere, especially here.  That's probably one reason I have always avoided cursing, not because I think I'm better than others, but because of those memories.  But I digress.
As a teacher, I try very hard (not always successful) to encourage students and never to say anything that would make them feel bad about themselves (my heart breaks when I think of the times I have failed).
This weekend, I went to Walmart.  I never go to Walmart for several reasons, but I was close on Saturday, so I went.  I saw one of the little girls who was in my Vacation Bible School group in July.  I was so, so happy to see her again, and she smiled at me the entire time I talked with her. She has such a sweet spirit.  I told her what a great person she is, although she has parents who tell her that daily.
On Sunday, I worked at our church at what we called "Oasis Place After the Race."  The Rock and Roll Half Marathon was held here in Virginia Beach on Sunday, and since our church is right at the oceanfront, we are prevented from having our first two services.  So we set up an "oasis" where the runners and their families--and anyone else--could get food, water, prayer, communion, music, and best of all . . . the children could make pinwheels.  That was my job.  For two straight hours, I helped children make pinwheels.  Nonstop.  We were quite popular.
With every pinwheel, I did all I could to encourage each child about the good job he or she was doing, and to compliment the children on their appearance and their skill at following directions (so different from high school students!  Ha.).
I asked one little girl if anyone had ever told her she was pretty.  She said, "Yes," at which her mother chuckled.  I said, "Well, that's good because you are, and I want you to promise me that you will remember that for the rest of your life, no matter what."  She was probably only about three years old, but I do pray that somehow what I said to her will make a difference in a dark and lonely time later in her life.  Because we all have those times, don't we?
So that little rambling story pretty much tells the reason I am passionate about being a Compassion sponsor and a Compassion advocate.  I want children to feel loved and important.  Because they are.

One of the little girls who made a pinwheel

What I Learned at Vacation Bible School

Have you ever read Too Small to Ignore by Wess Stafford?  If not, you must.  One really important point that he makes is how trusting children are of adults, and the important responsibility we have to care the children and NOT to break their trust.

I was reminded of that time and again this week when I was a Crew Leader at Vacation Bible School for a group of five-year-olds.  Another lady and I had twelve of those sweet children in our care.  What amazed me is that they immediately trusted us.  They had never seen me before in their lives, but I suddenly had all the answers and the power to protect them.

Our theme was PandaMania, which I loved because it had a tropical flavor to it.  One young man dressed in a panda suit and walked around the church.  Most of the children loved him and ran to hug him whenever they saw him.  I had one little girl in my group named Whitney who was scared to death of the panda.  Every time we saw him, she said, "Oh no!  The panda!" and clung to me while she either buried her face in my legs or covered her eyes with her hand.

One day our Bible story was about Peter's denial of Christ.  First we heard about some of Jesus' miracles while we were sitting in our normal story room.  Then we had to pretend that we were followers of Jesus after He was crucified, and we had to find a secret place to meet.  As we walked through the hallway, we had to plaster ourselves against the wall if we saw a Roman soldier or a Jewish religious leader (just robes hanging on the wall, but it was pretend, you know).  Whitney and another girl were terrified.  Each girl had to hold my hand, and when we saw a robe hanging on the wall, they pulled me into a corner.

And then don't you know . . . the Panda showed up!

When we finally made it to the secret (rather dark) room, the girls were still petrified, and then Peter showed up.  They kept saying, "I'm really scared" as they clung to me with grips of steel.  

I felt so bad for them because their fear was real.  They were so very afraid.  I felt quite heroic being able to hold and protect them.  I hope I made a difference.

The thing that struck me the most is that they trusted me to protect them from those very scary situations . . . and they didn't know me until a few days before.

I've always been angered by child abuse.  If I ever were given free reign to mete out justice on someone guilty of child abuse, I wouldn't stop.  Just thinking about it angers me.  When I looked at the sweet faces of those trusting 5-year-olds (okay, I know they're not perfect; I saw that, too), I can't imagine how anyone could ever, ever hurt a child.

I thought of the Compassion children I sponsor and the scary things they face each day -- much scarier than a pretend panda and robes hanging on the wall.  I can't be there with them, not like I was with the children last week, but they still trust me.  They trust me to pray for them, to care for them financially, and to be their friend, to develop that friendship through writing.

Every time I looked at those children in VBS, I thought of my Compassion children, and I remembered that they are trusting us, that their need is so great, and that Jesus has commanded us to care for them.

I am so grateful for those children who trusted me and allowed me to care for them.  And I am grateful for what I have learned from them.