Well, I left Laura's Home today. I'm sorry I didn't post more about it here. It's overwhelming to try to soak in everything that's happening, let alone put it in some sort of form that's accessible to readers. Spend some time with me, and I guarantee that the stories will come out. But trying to put them all here would be crazy.
Looking back on the experience (talk to me in a week and I'll probably have a different perspective), I'd say that the coolest thing was how little my plans mattered. I tried not to go there with any preconceived notions about what it would be like, but I had them anyway. And I couldn't even articulate to you what they were or how they were shattered. I really think you can only understand it if you do it.
Leaving was pretty emotional. Several ladies slipped my their phone numbers on my way out, and I sort of wonder, if I were to call them, what would we talk about? A couple of the kids cried, but most of them were too young to really understand what my leaving meant. One woman, Tara, welled up for the past week every time I said anything about leaving. Tara has a 3 year old boy (one of the cutest kids ever!) and when she came, she would hardly look me in the eyes. Over 10 weeks, she has turned into such a softy. Seeing her cry this morning as I gave her a hug and told her I'd be praying for her and Jalynn made me want to weep, because I can't believe how far she's come, and because I'm seriously going to miss her.
I was certain that by the end of 10 weeks, I'd be burned out. After the first few weeks, I couldn't get over how tired I was all the time. I was exhausted from giving so much of myself so much of the time. But I adjusted. Giving became less of an effort. I worked hard, and God sustained me. And I feel like I could go longer. The 10 weeks went so fast. I could go 10 more.
It's bizarre to think that now I'm returning to my world that is held together by a false, yet deceptive sense of stability. Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful that I never have to worry about having a roof over my head, or clothes to wear, or insert luxury here. But there's something so humbling about living among people who have no such assurance.
In fact, the whole summer was humbling. In every possible way. It's not about what I think should be said, or what rules I think are good, or what I want to do, or what I think is fair, or what I know. It's about God and how He has planned everything to be. And in coming or going, I can rest in that.
It's been a sweet summer. I can't wait to tell you about it.
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