Habemus Papem!

Written on March 13, 2013:

“We have a Pope!  There’s white smoke.  We have a Pope!” was all I heard as they rushed into the office.  Rather than our usual Wednesday tradition of running into the office to dig into our dinners, we instead raced to our computers to see who could first find out what was going on.  Pictures of white smoke billowing out of the Vatican covered the screens as we pulled up the BBC News.  As others pulled out the bags of chips, pasties, sausages, chicken, and curry while gathering plates and cups, Siobhan placed her computer prominently streaming live coverage from St. Peter’s square.  I said a quick prayer of blessing over the food, our youth program that evening, and our new pope.  Excitement fills the air as we eagerly await the announcement of who is the Bishop of Rome. 

The West Belfast Lifeline team has a tradition of eating a chippy (thick cut French fries with chicken, sausages, pasties (don’t ask) with curry dip) together before our lifeline night.  Lifeline is a program for 15-18s cycling through a rotation of nights including coffee bars, life skills training, sacred space prayer, and small groups.  Our team is quite rowdy, loud, and crazy most dinners.  Sometimes, it does my head in.  However tonight, I felt so unified, excited, and encouraged by my Christian brothers and sisters (most of whom are Catholic) yet we were all united by the fact that we were witnessing history taking place.  Stories were swapped about different candidates and “bets” (they weren’t even proper bets) were made about where he would be from and at what time “exactly” it would be announced.  We talked about how many people in the world were watching this – way more than any football match.  I was quickly scanning the screen for my American friends who were studying in Rome.  My heart was overjoyed by the sight I was beholding in St. Peter’s Square.   We would all lean forward telling everyone to be quiet each time the crowds clapped.

Then at 7:13 a few minutes after the lights filled the windows, the announcement was made “Habemus Papem!” “We have a Pope!”  After telling Curtis several times to be quiet, (supposedly he guessed the exact time of the announcement) Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio- now named Pope Francis- was announced as the Bishop of Rome.  The news is rapidly giving facts about a humble Jesuit priest from Buenos Aires at the age of 76 becoming the first Latin American and Jesuit pope… and he chose the name Francis.  Do you know what Jesus said to Francis? “Build My Church.”  May the Lord continue to whisper the same thing into Pope Francis’ ear, heart, mind, and soul… “Build My Church.” 

I’m already struck by his humility, his gentleness, his strength, his surety.  I can tell he’s a man of prayer and courage.  He’s traditional, yet a man of great generosity with a heart for the poor.  He’s truly a pope that I can feel like I can relate to.  He asked us to pray for him before he even prayed for us.  He truly needs our strength through our prayers.  My heartstrings were pulled when he was praying the Hail Mary in Spanish (I believe, but later came to find it was Italian).  Anyways, there was a bit that I remember that brought me back to when I learned the Hail Mary in Spanish in South Minneapolis at the Missionaries of Charity studying and praying with the older boys.  I loved those boys so much.  They struggled in school because they didn’t know English very well- maybe that’s because they were sometimes deported from the country.  They were poor and they struggled, yet they really tried on their school work.  I loved helping them.  I was inspired by the humility of the sisters and their deep love for the Lord and these children.  It just blew me away.  It was there in those little moments that God started breaking my heart for His The City… for His people.  It’s a moment that’s hard to put into words.  A moment that flashes before your eyes, yet makes an impact that I won’t forget. 

God’s about something big here, and I’m really excited about it.  I don’t know what it is.  I don’t know what Pope Francis is going to do or how God’s going to work through him, but I will be praying for him.  For now though, I am soaking in the blessing of the night.  Gathering around the computer, chippy in hand, waiting for the announcement of the new Pope.  Feeling incredibly blessed that I am living and working in a Catholic community.  Being convicted in new ways to share the faith and work towards the renewal of the Church here in this community.  Longing for the Kingdom to truly come into the Colin neighborhood.  Dreaming big dreams knowing that God is the one who knows the desires of our hearts, and He is the one who provides away.  Come Lord Jesus come. 

Yesterday I Cried

Yesterday I cried, but the tears were few.  Rather it was a cry that came from deep within.  A cry that's hard to explain, easy to hide, and hard to stop.  It was a cry from my heart that started in my gut.  It was more emotional than tears can express.  It was a taste of anguish.

Growing up, I don't remember crying much.  I cried when I got yelled at or in trouble.  Mostly it was lip biting while desperately trying to hold back my tears. I cried when people died and when my dog S'more died.  Laughter rather than tears defined my childhood.  I was known for my laughter and occasional snorts.

One summer when I was about 14, I was standing at the mirror in the bathroom.  My eye hurt and I was trying to figure out what was wrong.  I noticed a small black dot on my bottom eyelid near the corner of my eye.  I thought something was in it, and I wanted to take care of it (I have always been a fixer).  After unsuccessfully trying to get it out with water, I went to my aunt to informed me that it was my tear duct. It was supposed to be there.  I was surprised to learn that there was a special part of the eye whose entire job was to secrete tears.  Tears was its specialty.

You know those random conversations that you aren't sure how you got in them. One night while talking with one of my friends who had studies anatomy and physiology, we got talking about crying.  (Now he had studied this, and I barely knew what he was talking about then, so explaining it now will be even more confusing). The jest of our conversation was that there is no biological connection for why emotional experiences would cause physical responses.  You see a cat killed and you start crying.  There is no reason why that would happen. (Remember I don't know if this is true or not, but this is what I remember from the conversation.)  That night  I realized that there was something unique and special about our emotional responses.  Something of God.

I've always been a pretty compassionate person, but most of my tears dealt or related to me.  How did I feel about this? How was I affected? I am the one sad about this.  For most people I think this is pretty common. As a woman who lived with lots of different women throughout my college career I experienced a lot of tears from myself and others through the stresses of course work, death, betrayal, loss, and pain.  My best friend and I often talk about "last time we had a good cry" and the build up of needing another one.  Crying is healing.  Crying releases something that's good for you. I have always felt better after a good cry.  I'm actually really good at crying quickly and quietly.  I just need to sometimes let it out.  Then I can move on with life.

"I don't know how to deal with my frustration," I said frustrated nearly two years ago.  I had just driven home on snow blown, ice covered roads,  barely a drip of gas in the tank, no way to get money, and after getting someone to help me out- I got my car stuck in a snow pile on our street. Fed up by my car, I traded with the father of the family I was living with to bathe his child covered with poop if he got my car out.  Happily he traded while I changed shirts and bathed the crap off this beautiful little boy.  I still had to figure my meetings for the day even though everyone was caught up by the snow.  I desperately wanted to cry, but I couldn't.  "Kick something" one of the guys I served with advised.  "Haha I don't know if I could do that."

At that time, it had been a few months since my crying "capabilities" had changed.  Something had changed inside of me. I cried but not for the normal things I used to cry over like my own frustrations and hurts. Rather I cried over the brokenness the surrounded me.  The brokenness of relationships, normalcy, love, families, jobs, sufferings, fights, pain, death- over the City of Detroit... even now as I write, I stop because I don't know how to move forward. I want to yell out "no, don't you see. Don't you see all their pain. Don't you see what's going on around you."  It's half cry but more of a yelling out.  A welling up from the inside out.  A rush of emotion that is so deep that it seems insurmountable.

The first time I remember encountering this wave of grief was a fall afternoon.  I had started my day with Mass which was the memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows, and afterwards prayed in the chapel.  During Mass the priest talked about how with great love comes great suffering.  Looking back in my journal, I recognized that I had received great love, and I questioned if that meant I also was going to encounter great suffering like Mary did.  Then I prayed a prayer I didn't want to pray because even though I knew I should, I didn't really want God to answer it. "Mary, I pray for your eyes to see your Son and his children as you do- with eyes filled with love and suffering. Then I pray for the hope and faith to rely completely upon the Lord."  (As a disclaimer, I was praying to God not Mary.  For the way in which my prayers were answered were by the Lord and His Holy Spirit.) 

And He answered that prayer almost immediately. For that day my eyes were opened to the City of Detroit in a new way.  While on the Sister Judy route delivering lunches to the homeless, she told me about the hardships of the prostitutes she worked with yet couldn't really help because of the lack of resources available for women in their circumstances.  Then she told me about the morgues filled with people who have died with no one to claim them for burial.  Maybe family members didn't know that they died or even worse maybe they did, but they didn't have the money for a proper burial.  Or maybe they were homeless and no one was there to care.  Or maybe there were people like Sister Judy who cared, but didn't have the means or qualifications needed to bury them.  Instead they sat in the morgue until it's too full then they are buried in the Potter's field.  Sister Judy would sometimes hold memorial services for the homeless people she knew who had died.  Different friends of there's would speak and then they would gather back at the church for pizza and fellowship- if they had the money.  My heart broke as she told me these stories.  My dad had always taught me the importance of burying the dead, and the Churches teaching on it.  I was horrified by how the morgue could be filled with all those bodies and how family members weren't able to properly grieve over their loss. 

Not that my heart wasn't heavy enough that afternoon, I sat with Josh Rock, the director of Youth Works, for nearly an hour talking about the Detroit public education system.  We talked about people graduating from high school without being able to read.  We talked about classes being filled with 40 plus students.  We talked about all the "dyslexic" students who really just needed a little one on one attention with reading.  We talked about a failing education system with little opportunity to get out.  I saw all my hopes and dreams as a future teacher flashing before my eyes.  Is this really what it's like? 

As I walked home from work that day, my mind my racing and my heart was grieved.  I talked with Priscilla on the front porch (some how uninterrupted by children) about the brokenness of the world, and how sometimes God gives us opportunities to see it through His eyes and to grieve over it.  We talked about one of the Brothers who God has really given the Lord's heart and how he has been graced with the ability to grieve and to love deeply. Even today, I still don't really understand it, but I continue to experience it.  Throughout my year in Detroit, my tears were less about me and more about others.  I experienced grief far beyond anything I ever imagined.  There were many of times in which I was just in agony over the situations that were before me, and all I could do was turn to God in prayer.  Often, I could barely pray.  Rather I would beg, worship, and cry some more.  I truly learned what it meant to "rely completely upon the Lord."

While in Detroit, I learned about a preacher named David Wilkerson.  Pastor Wilkerson was a small town preacher who was led by the Lord to New York City.  Many lives were transformed on the streets of New York through the power of God working in Wilkerson.  Over the last year or two, I have read his book The Cross and the Switchblade and listened to some of his sermons.  The Call to Anguish has stirred my heart in ways that only God can.  He says, "All true passion is born out of anguish."  Nehemiah from the Bible is called on by the God, and before he starts "the work of God" he is led to anguish and prayer.  A total surrender to God.  It is only then that he is able to be led by God to do not his own work, but the Lord's work.

Since coming to Belfast, I knew this "Baptism of anguish" needed to occur.  I also knew I didn't want it.  (Read former blog post called Love for further details.)  At the beginning of January while on staff retreat and focusing on Nehemiah, I thought "what would I do if I believed that God would take care of me?"  What would I do if I completely relied on God?  My mindset switched, and I realized how much I was holding back since moving to Belfast.  I wasn't really allowing God to work through me because I was afraid.  I wasn't really trying to settle here or learn to love Belfast.  Rather I was doing just enough to get by without giving my all and relying completely on God.  That day, I prayed for my heart to be expanded and to see God work miracles. 

A week and a half later I cried.  I cried because of the sufferieng some of the young people were facing.  I cried over the fatherlessness they experienced.  I cried over the flag protests and the divide this city has/ is going through.  I cried because the young people I had just spent two hours with were hurting, and I wanted them to know how loved they were.  I cried.

Little by little. Little by little.  That's how I have come to see God work in my life and in so many others lives.  Sometimes there are big changes, but usually it's the little things that make the difference.  Most of the time we don't even notice it, but little by little, little by little- it's occurring.  I continue to pray for the grace for God to expand my heart.  I pray that I can fall in love with the City of Belfast and it's people more than I could ever imagine.  I pray that my heart may break for the people here, and that I am given the opportunity to storm the gates of heaven.  I have no idea how long I will be in this city with these people, but I pray that the bricks I lay will be honoring to God and foundation for His people.  May He provide the strength, love, and grace I need each day to truly be His hands and feet.  

Peer Pressure

Everyone's eyes were on me while quickly scooting away.  Looks of fear, shock, and amazement covered their faces as they watched to see what I was going to do next.  I had just talked to them about how pressure can build up, and often the littlest things can set us off. I dropped three white candies into the bottle and poof a stream of cola went straight to the roof.  Excitement filled the air as everyone said "do it again!" 

Many people have seen the cola explosion done before in school, summer camp, or online.  Tonight, I did it as a visual example of how peer pressure can affect us.  Most of us will never explode fizzy drink like a geyser, but we can have times in which the pressure from others causes us to crack and do things we never imagined ourselves doing before.  In today's culture, young people are constantly experiencing pressure not only from friends, but also in school, from family, from media, and from the society in which they live in.  It can be a lot to take, and it's important that we all learn how to cope with the pressures we encounter in positive ways or we may one day shoot fizzy drink everywhere.

Every Wednesday night, you will find me in a green hut fondly known as the PC (YI project centre) for our Lifeline nights.  Lifeline is a program for 15-18 year olds from the Colin area in West Belfast.  Each night we have about 60-80 young people walk through our doors with many more who have just started coming.  We have a rotation of coffee bar hang out nights, single gender small groups, sacred space faith nights, and life skills nights that happen every 2-3 weeks.  Lifeline is funded by the Northern Ireland Big Lottery and part of our grant's goal is to tackle criminal behavior and reengage young people with formal education.  Our Life Skills nights attempt to accomplish this.

Deboragh Webb my incredible co-worker and partner in crime has a criminology something another degree and uses her loud voice, short stature, and wealth of knowledge to equip young people with skills hopefully to prevent criminal behavior or at least get the young people thinking a bit more about it. 

Tonight's session was amazing and I am so blessed I got to be a part of.  The lights were dimmed down, cards with words relating to peer pressure like "sex, drugs, and fighting" were hanging from the ceiling with painted splattered on them to look like lava, mats were on the floor for young people to sit on, and at the back of the room was this massive volcano.  The environment was set, and the room was a buzz as young people arrived.  I floated between groups people excited that I knew most of them who were there.  There were also a few faces there that I knew from street work that I wouldn't have imagined coming to our programs, but tonight they did.  It was a good night for them to be there.

The night started with a challenge.  Two of the youth workers called on two "volunteers" that didn't really volunteer at all.  They were pushed and encouraged by everyone to eat a disgusting plate of beans and artichokes while the other one had to do 10 more sit ups than he thought he could.  Immediately afterward a video was shown of interviews of young people and staff about what they thought peer pressure was.  Without us even saying what the "theme" of the night was, the young people already knew. Such a classic teacher strategy. 

Probably the best part of the evening was when one of the gapper interns who grew up in the neighborhood shared his story of being peer pressured as a youth.  It started as bullying then led to people taking advantage of his desire to have friends by convincing him to do things that he wouldn't have done other wise.  Eventually he became really down yet continued seeking after these "friends" while getting into further trouble with drugs and alcohol. But his story didn't end there, a voice within led him come to reality with the situation, tell his mum what was going on, and surround himself with better people.  Those people became the community of YI, and he is now making a huge influence of young people's lives through his young mens work and street work.  I'm really honored and blessed that I get to work with him.  He's one of the most encouraging co-workers I have. The young people were also really able to connect with his story, and it was helpful  for them to see how someone from many of their situations can change too.

After the story, Deboragh talked about the different kinds of peer pressures while I prepped for the cola pressure experiment.  One of our goals of the night was to have everything connect together, and I loved how we had so many people involved in different parts. We all stepped in, and helped with what was needed.  And the cola didn't go everywhere, but it stayed in the contained area I had prepared.  Not a recommended indoor activity!

Volcanoes are such mysterious entities.  They are so fascinating because they are unpredictable.  There is so much going on that we don't see or recognize.  When we least expect it they explode.  Sometimes they do straight into the air as a massive eruption while other times they slowly trickle down the sides.  Peer pressure can often have the same affects depending on the person pressuring or being pressured.  The young people were given the opportunity to connect what we were talking about to their own lives by writing down a "boulder" a way in which they have been pressured into something or in which they have pressured others into something.  Most them talked about smoking, drugs, and alcohol while a few were a bit more vulnerable about other ways they have experienced peer pressure.

Reading through each of those boulders, the gravity of the work I do sunk in.  It's easy to label and stereotype the issues these young men and women have.  They are just "punks" and "hooligans," but really they are just children desperately searching for love, meaning, and acceptance.  Those "boulders" aren't just little pieces of paper, but actual situations, stories, lives, and hardships that are faced every single day.  A month ago during my prayer time, I drew a little picture in my journal with me hunched over with a bunch of boulders on my back, and Jesus standing near a stream of water with his arms out.  He just wanted to unload the boulders of burdens off my back and refresh my soul with the streams of living water.  Tonight, I see the Lord desiring to do the same thing for each of those young people.  They might not even realize the load on their back, but I see how they have started to hunch over from the heaviness they carry.  I pray that the Lord will continue to use me as his hands and feet to lighten the load of my brothers and sisters through his love, hope, and joy.  For all the pressure will be gone, and only freedom will exist.

Ping Pong

Ping pong- it's the mark of a youth worker.  I'm not very good at it... yet.  It's the art of going back and forth.  It's a balance of bounces, quick moves, points, excitement, and competition.  Hoots and hollars!  It's important to have a white ball perfectly round.  Even a slight default in shape can throw off the whole game.  And the paddle. People become very particular about the shape, size, and condition of the paddle they use.  Each unique hands grips onto the wooden handle hoping for that one shot that will win the game. A broken paddle could throw off everything.

Then you have the real players who know the game isn't about the perfect paddle, the size of the table, or even the perfectly round ball.  Rather it's about the love of the game.  It's about the ability to adjust to all situations.  You stretch, focus, get into game position, and strike against your opponent.

But it's not really about beating your opponent rather it's about the process.  The process of going back and forth.  Being focused and patient.  Remembering not to get too caught up in the little losses, but to stay focused on the game.

And sometimes you need to dive risking everything in order to get that one point.  It's all about momentum.  Respect. And love! That is where games are won and lost.

There's a mark of respect to those who can play well.  Hoots and hollers fill the air as plays are made.  But once again for youth workers, it's not about winning or losing but the process.  Youth workers are often known for "just playing games with youth," and even though we do play a lot of games there is so much more occurring than meets the eye.  Youth work often isn't about the results, but rather the process and the journey we take with each young person. 

Anyone is capable of playing games with young people.  The true art is building relationships, teaching lessons, and awakening hope within each individual while playing the games. Conversations are had and trust is being built.  Interest is being taken in lives that are often broken.  Just like the real players, it doesn't really matter the shape of the ball, the size of the table, or the condition of the paddle because love conquers all.  If it's about the love of the game or love of the young person then hope can be awakened, mountains can be moved, and lives can be transformed.  It's an art. It's a mark. It's my job and it's worth risking it all for that one sweet moment that changes everything.

22 Days Until Christmas

I had this great idea on December 1st to do blog posts every day counting down to Christmas. One of my roommates in college once told me that I'm really good at planning things and not very good at executing them. The trait continues!

Today though, I am trying to complete a homework assignment even though it's 11:40 at night and I am absolutely exhausted. Today, I was at an ASIST (Applied suicide intervention skills training) one of two day course. Being a youth worker, the information is very beneficial, but it's also incredibly draining.

During the training we were given the task to do something that was life giving this evening. Since I didn't get home until 10:45, I wasn't sure what that was going to be. I decided that I would go with the classic candles, music, and blogging. Now that I think of it, when I was meeting with my pastoral leader she gave me a back message along with a cup of tea and biscuits. All very life giving.

The last few weeks have gone by so quickly. It's so easy to get so busy with life that you can forget to take time to do things that are life giving. I was reminded today of how easy it can be to pressure ourselves with the many needs around us when in reality God is calling us to do the task in which he has laid right before us. He provides the grace in which we need as long as we rely on him. For now, I pray for the grace to have a good nights sleep in order to beat this cold!

Love

I am absolutely wrecked! I had such a blast tonight at a haunted forest Halloween thing YI was helping with today. I didn't know that it was going to be a haunted forest or that I was going to be outside of hours. Needless to say, I was not very excited.

I don't really like Halloween as much as I used to. I hate taking the time, energy, and money to figure out a costume. I hate how it has become so scarey, demonic, and sexualized. I loved it as a kid, but now I kind of wander if it actually is a holiday worth celebrating.

Tonight I had an absolute blast! It was my job to take Micky and Minnie Mouse around to the kids. Basically, I made sure that they were facing the right direction, knew where the kids were, that they were able to move about giving the kids hugs, high fives, and taking pictures since they were barely able to see. I loved seeing the joy on the kids faces when they were able to see Micky and Minnie. It was my responsibility to make the mouse couple successful and serve them because they weren't able to see anything. I loved how high energy it was and how much I was able to interact with different people.

It was especially neat to have kids who knew me from school or the neighborhood call out my name even if I didn't know who they were. I spend a lot of time doing outreach in a local high school and on the streets once a week. I'm becoming a mini American celebrity in West Belfast. I love it! One 12 year old girl we met out on the streets a couple of weeks ago started coming to a couple of our social events this week. It's neat to see how our efforts in outreach is building relationships and getting youth involved in our programs.

Today we had about 40 young people ages 11-18 go on a day trip ice skating and bowling. I loved skating alongside preteen girls who gripped my hand in fear as I taught them out to skate. As I was skating with these young people, and entering into their fears and vulnerability, I realized how much I was beginning to love them.

Love is a crazy thing. I don't really understand how love works. This is border line for being too deep for my tired little brain. We'll see what happens though! :0) I remember being 16 years old just getting back from Sierra Leone, West Africa and being shocked by how much my heart could expand to love people. I didn't understand how it was possible for me to love those children in Africa so much. But I did. And after going a second time, I realized that I honestly loved 80 plus children from the bottom of my heart. It didn't make sense, and I didn't understand how it was even possible.

My dear friend Kayla Boi with a group of children from a hospital we visited on our first trip to Sierra Leone. Many nights after coming home, I would cry myself to sleep thinking about them. I really cared about them, and it broke my heart to know that I will never know what happened to them.

Joseph and Saidu. Two boys who I love to death. They truly are like my younger brothers. I still pray and think about them often.


Now I'm sure that there were times in college when I experienced this kind of love as well. During college it was different though; it was probably more about realizing that I could love my friends in ways that are different from loving my family. Sometimes I preferred to be with my friends than with my family, and that was something very new for me. Some of my friends became my family.

The funny thing about love is that it hurts. It hurts a lot. I was talking today to someone who wondered if it was worth investing in a relationship knowing that it was going to end in less than a year. I told her that we never know where the relationship will end up, but that the joy of the relationship is always worth so much more than the pain of the separation. There is a Garth Brooks song called "The Dance." It talks about "Our lives are better left to chance. I could have missed the pain, but I would had to miss the dance." I was reminded of my cousin Patrick who died at the age of 4 from cancer. My family could have missed a lot of pain, but 4 years with Patrick was so much better than ever not knowing him. He was such an incredible little boy who taught me a lot even at a young age.

I don't know if I realized how much I loved loving people until I went to Detroit for the first time. There was a guy named Jamie Graham from Glasgow, Scotland, and... if you know him... you are probably eagerly waiting to hear what I am going to say about him and how this ties into everything. Jamie isn't like any other person I have ever met. He's outspoken, sarcastic, opinionated, annoying, outgoing, LOUD, and he doesn't necessarily follow "cultural norms". Now this looks like I am painting a really bad picture of him, but the truth is I love him to death and he's an incredible guy. I don't really know when it happened, but some how I pushed past his "Non-Minnesota niceness" and got on with him brilliantly. To this day, I would say he is my favorite person from Scotland.

JAMIE!

On the last day of DSO during dinner, we had a bit of time in which we could honor one another. Jamie got up to honor me for the way we were able to get on and my ability to love lots of different kinds of people. It was really neat because I don't think I even recognized that about myself. I served and loved the homeless, young children, and teenagers all within six weeks of service in Detroit. It can often be challenging to relate with such a variety of people, and Jamie expected it to be challenging for me to. He was surprised that it wasn't. Again, the Lord gave me a heart for His people, and I loved them unconditionally without really knowing what I was doing.

For the last three weeks of the summer, I was put on Jamie's street team working with high schoolers doing manual labor around the city of Detroit. I knew there were a girl or two who the rest of the staff were completely fed up with. Since I was new to the crew, I decided to take on the challenge of one of the girls named Sequoya. Little did I know that I would be making a decision that would change the rest of my life. Every single day I worked alongside Sequoya and Malaka even when they didn't want me to. We talked about a lot of things while pulling weeds, cleaning, gardening, and doing loads of other tedious jobs.

Erica, Malaka, Sequoya, and I at the Street Team closing banquet.

Sequoya had a big attitude... some may say a big attitude problem, but I would say just a big attitude. She always seemed to be pissed off at the world, she had really short patience, she didn't like being told what to do, and if you messed with her- she would take you out. I loved her immediately. I would work alongside of her whenever possible. She caught on and it annoyed her. I liked the challenge of getting to know her and building a relationship with her. We talked about her anger and ways to just ignore the other girls. She also liked telling me about hood rats and other things this white Iowan girl never heard of before. One day while gardening, I was talking to her and I put my hand on her arm. She totally freaked out. Don't touch her! I would remember that for next time. Next time, proved to be different. On our last day of work, she gave me a big hug. All the staff were shocked, but I knew that love truly bears all things... even big attitudes.

I was shocked two months later when I was starting up the Youth Works-Detroit girls youth group by how much Sequoya had changed. She was even a bit surprised by how she felt happier and more patient with people especially in the crowded hallways at school. Our youth group was really small. And that was often challenging for me because it didn't look like a "normal" youth group. I was blessed with the opportunity not to only meet with the girls regularly but also with their families. By sitting in their homes (I don't have words to even begin to describe their home lives or the issues they faced. Someone once described it as "If you were to list serious issues that a family might face your list would probably be shorter than the list of issues that this family had encountered."), I learned what it meant to be a Christian. I walked the road to Calvary with these families, I felt the pain of the crucifixion over and over again, but I also remembered and rejoiced in the resurrection of Jesus Christ when we will one day stand before Him in the heavenly Jerusalem where pain and sorrow will be no more. It was through these girls and their families that I experienced more love and sorrow than I ever imagined possible. It was there where I found Jesus.

Andy, another youth worker in Detroit, and I spent a lot of time with Sequoya and her brothers throughout our year in Detroit.

Out with the youth group girls.

There is a line in the song "When I Survey the Wonderous Cross" that goes See from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown? Coming to Belfast, I was hesitant to love like I had in Detroit. There was a lot that I hadn't processed through (and in which I am still processing through), and I wasn't sure if I was ready to dive into deep relationships in a new city, in a new country, and with a new ministry remembering how much it had hurt in Detroit. While on our staff residential, God reminded me of the truth of the cross. It's not only about sorrow but also about love. Yes, there is extreme pain, but also the glorious resurrection where my hope lies. I continue to set my gaze heavenward remembering the Christ is already victorious over sin and death.

There is another bit in the song that goes Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all. That brings me back to ice skating. Love itself gave everything it had, and it demands me to do the same. I am blessed beyond belief to be loved beyond measure by the Creator of the heaven and earth. To be loved by so many people all around the world, it's indescribable! I know that God is going to continue bringing people into my life to love. But it's nothing that I have to fear or worry about because He's the one who provides everything that I need as my heart continues to expand and be filled with more and more love each day. I don't love my family, the children in Africa, my collage mates, Jamie, or the girls in Detroit any less because I am no longer with them. I'm no Grinch! Rather my heart will continue to grow through the grace of God even through the painful bits as I enter into His love for His people. That's all I want to do with my life- love people. Some days I do it better than others, but I pray that God is the one doing the loving and that I continue to be able to journey alongside His people no matter where in the world I might be. For now, it's in Belfast. Praise the Lord!

StumbleUpon

While living in household 3 years ago, my roommates were often on StumbleUpon a website that will help you discover great websites, videos, photos, and facts from the internet. For some of my roommates it became regular habit to "stumble" after checking her e-mail and facebook and any other form of procrastinating before starting an assignment. I never visited the website myself, but I heard lots about it as I learned fun facts.

Today I thought about the website for the first time in over a year while exploring Belfast City Centre. (I did it! I spelled City Centre as if I am from Belfast. Please note, won't spell it any other time like that except when referring to Belfast). Today, I had the whole afternoon and evening free, so I decided to explore the city centre. I needed to by a few things for Matthew's birthday which is two days before mine. Besides that I had no agenda, so I decided to walk around.

I haven't spent much time in the City Centre since moving to Belfast. My weekends have been really busy since being here, but I have reflecting a lot recently about what brings me life and restores me from the business of life. The downtown of cities just speaks to my heart in ways no other places do. It's an automatic "happiness" moment. Sometimes after hard weeks in Detroit, I would just leave work early and drive downtown and walk along the river. There were also many times I would drive around at night in awe of the massive buildings lit up. My roommate Alex knew the way to calm me down after being stressed out by student teaching and my final year of uni. She would just take me on a drive to downtown Minneapolis with music blaring, windows open, and thoughts flooding without having to say a word. For being a small town girl, I LOVE city life.

While getting my city fix today, I stumbled upon majesticness. Side note: a moment of truth. I don't do a very good job researching the cities I live in before going. Rather I allow the city to show me what it has to offer, talk to locals, and figure out the rest later. For some reason, I turned down this little alley way and I saw this massive cathedral. I can't put into words what it was like to stumble upon something that beautiful at the end of such a random alley.

St. Anne's Cathedral- also known as Belfast Cathedral is the cathedral for the Church of Ireland.

As I was walking across this open square up to the cathedral I was struck by the words written on a slab of concrete in the middle of the square.

"I was born in Belfast and brought up to believe that, like St. Paul, I am a citizen of no mean city."

I continued walking around the square and saw quotes from men who had lived, worked, and loved the city of Belfast. My favorite was finding a C.S. Lewis who was born in East Belfast. As I continued reading, I realized that I was in Writer's Square. It was brilliant because that's exactly what I wanted to do was sit down, think, write, and be creative.

I absolutely loved my time in the city centre today. Time seemed to go in slow motion as I discovered incredible shopping centers, window shopped, looked down cute alleys, and enjoyed living in a city in Europe. It was so incredible. Sorry, I don't have more pictures. My camera started dying at the beginning of the evening. There will be more to come because I have much more to explore.