life, lately: biology, my favorite kids, & a surprise party

Life lately has been...

my junior year of college; I'm at 78 credits! (right now it's all about biology. oh, and fresh chocolate milk in a cute little mason jar).

Miyah (9) and Melodie (10), on the way to Girl Scouts

Johnny (14) and Coleman (5), being boys

Jayden (6), who makes me laugh constantly with his grown-up vocabulary. He is exceptionally smart.

work at Palmer Home (now that most of the kids' sports & activities are over (just call me the taxi service), however, I may be finished for the remainder of the year. the great part, though? I can still visit to see the kiddos. I'm hoping to make it out there for a snow day. ::heart explosion::)

campaigning (sign waving on Voting Day for Mississippi's Yes on 26 amendment which sadly failed, yet raised awareness of the pro-life movement and caused thousands of people to question when exactly life does begin! praise God)

new Ben Rector shirt (Let the good times roll!) for my birthday from the best friend, Sara Ferren (she saw him in concert. ::jealous::)

and speaking of my birthday...

a surprise party FOR ME from the folks at Palmer Home! I was totally, genuinely caught off guard. Brittany, one of the house moms, invited me to a ::ahem:: "costume party" on the 31st. I was the last thing from suspicious, because after all, it was Halloween, so of course the kids would be in costume.

Katherina (13), as a cat, and Becca (11), as Mario (she even had his hat)

Well, they were in costume, because they were about to go trick-or-treating, but the "party" (complete with dinner, cake, and a hand-made "happy birthday" sign) was invented completely for me.

Johnny, the world's biggest sweetheart. He says I sing like Bruno Mars.

Tyler (14), my buddy. He plays football at the middle school. He doesn't wear Elton John glasses. Usually.

I was beyond blessed.  Words literally cannot convey how much my life has been enriched and blessed by Palmer Home - the faculty, the house parents, and of course those precious children. What a year. (see the checkered shirt and rope slung over my shoulder? I was a cow girl. hey, I was born on this day - it's in my nature.)

Life is good, and God is great. (Not gonna lie, the phrase "God is gooder" nearly toppled out of my typing fingers. Obviously it's time for sleep.)

"I just want to help."

My job is the craziest, most wonderful, emotional, and rewarding work I could ask for. For those that don't know, I work at Palmer Home for Children (a home-style facility for social orphans), providing transportation to various activities of the kids', whatever else needs attending, and just hanging out with some of the best kids around town. They are precious, and so much fun, but there needs are often overwhelming to me. Emotional instability, anger problems, intense sorrow from their past life (usually inflicted by their own parents). Just yesterday one of them exploded (nearly literally) for a reason unknown to me (he was in another room with his House Dad), but his screams were deafening. I ached for him. It was scary, unnerving. He is 12.

I want to help. I just want to help. But oddly, this job, while providing millions of opportunities to do just that, has inadvertently revealed to me just how very selfish, empty, and ultimately futile our desire to "help" can be. Without the sheer grace of God, that is. I have had to check my motives. Do I want to help this person because they are desperately in need of God's love? Or because I believe that I have some special ability or gift to impact others? Because I need an outlet simply to show off my relational abilities? Because I... can?

So many questions, lessons to learn.

However, despite my true, sinful self - my actual lack of anything sincerely great or noble - I press on. I press on, because God has called me out of darkness. My old self is gone, washed away with the rest of the filthy sin of this world by the blood of Him who died for me. My inability is no excuse to quit persevering, to stop ministering to the saints as well as the lost. Indeed, it's the very knowledge that drives me - God uses weak, sinful humans like me to change the world for His glory. History proves that.

And I couldn't ask for better news than that.

Jayden (5, whom I wrote about previously)

100 years.

My heart is broken. Broken for orphans. For children whose parents cannot take care of them, usually by their own selfish choices. Why? How? They have such a beautiful chance to love a child, raise him or her up in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Instead? They choose to ignore them, or abuse them, ultimately place their own preferred pleasures over their precious, uniquely designed children.

I work with orphans. Three days a week I spend the afternoon with children whose parents are either totally uninvolved, or just completely unable to raise their child. Sometime I'll write a blog about the incredible organization, called Palmer Home for Children, and how I ended up there (total God story), but for now, just know that I intern with them and help with various needs, like picking up and dropping off kids at their activities around town or playing with the younger ones on the playground. It's basically an absolute dream. I'm very grateful.

Today I was teaching Jayden (5) how to swing. He has, er... very little patience. :) I showed him how to kick his legs and rock back and forth, but he insisted that it wasn't working. I said that if he kept practicing, he would get better, but he wouldn't hear of it!

"I don't want to learn - it will take too long. Just push me!"
I asked him if he knew the word "patient."
Jayden retorted, "Yes, and it's very annoying."
Fighting laughter, I explained to him that patience is good and that he could use patience while learning to swing!
In his best dramatic 5-year-old voice, he exclaimed, "It'll take 100 years!"
"No it won't."
Somehow, between his exclamation and my answer, he switched subjects and stared up into my eyes and asked, genuinely, "It won't take 100 years to see my mommy again?"

Jayden arrived at Palmer Home last week. I don't know his exact situation, but I did my best not to cry in front of him. What do you say? He is only 5, and he is distressed because he thinks he may not see his mom.

For 100 years.

At 5 years old, this week may as well have been 100 years.