We Moved

After much consideration, I have decided to move my blog to the following website:

notyourgrandmasclassroom.blogspot.com

My new blog will focus almost solely on my classroom and is attended for a more diverse audience. For those of you who have faithfully followed Lakota Rapha, thank you so much.

Always,
B

If You Are Willing

40 A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, "If you are willing, you can make me clean."

41 Jesus was indignant. He reached out his hand and touched the man. "I am willing," he said. "Be clean!" 42 Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cleansed.

I am so drawn to accounts of healing in the Bible for so many reasons. In fact, I have been drawn to healing for a long time. I have always been drawn to medical missions, I studied pre-med for a year at college and my blog and dog are both named "Rapha" which is Hebrew for Healer. Why the obsession with healing? I think it is because I feel so wounded and broken. I have so many hurts brought upon mostly by my own failings. But the accounts of healing in the Bible bring hope.

Today I was reading the above passage from Mark. I have read this account so many times, but I was struck once again by a couple of things. First, I love the audacity of the unclean man. He dares approach a religious leader who has gained quite a following, knowing (perhaps even believing) that he could be cast away because of his unclean state. In fact, according to Hebrew law of the time, if a Jewish person came into physical contact with a person who had leprosy, they would be unclean and must offer a sacrifice and go through purification. Religious leaders of the day went to great lengths to avoid becoming unclean. Despite this, this man comes to Jesus.

What does he do when He reaches this Man? He falls on his knees and begs Him to heal him. Though he is bold to come before this Jesus, he is humble enough to recognize his place--at Jesus' feet. What's more, you can almost hear his heart breaking as he begs Jesus to cleanse him. Still then, as his heart breaks open, there is a declaration of faith "....You can make me clean." If there is any doubt in this man's heart, it is not regarding Jesus' supernatural abilities. Instead, it seems to me what the man is really asking is "Am I lovable?"

And then look at what Jesus does. Mark tells us that Jesus was indignant. Jesus' frustration and anger was not directed at the man humbly before his feet. Instead, I think it was at the evil in the world that had wounded one of his children so much that he questioned whether or not Jesus loved him. But Jesus gives his answer to the man's questions--the physical question "Will you heal me?" and the spiritual "Will you love me?" He does so when he reaches out and touches him. Do you see how Jesus actually touches this unclean man before he heals him? How powerful is that? In our most unclean state, when we are at the fee of Jesus, begging Him to make us clean, asking Him if He still loves us, he reaches out and touches us in our brokenness. And as the rest of the passage shows, the man left a clean man.

We can never purify our hearts apart from God. We can only fall at His feet and trust in the wonderful knowledge that He is willing to reach out and touch us when we are the most unclean.

Goodbye Rapha

Yesterday I was walking Rapha. We went to the post office together and I tied her up behind the building. I was only in there for about a minute when the postal worker got a strange look on her face. She asked who owned that dog. I sheepishly admitted that the barking scoundrel was indeed my dog. Wanting to take a look, she stepped outside. To my horror, she then declared that this dog was in fact her friend's dog who had gone missing over a month ago. She promptly got on the phone and told her friend she found her dog. Apparently Rapha belong to a seven-year-old girl who had named her Sparkles. I cringed--both at the thought of the broken-hearted girl and the disgrace of baring the name "Sparkles." Kennedy told me she would get me another lab, if I wanted one. I only shook my head, choking back tears. I didn't want just any old dumb dog. I wanted Rapha.

I took Rapha home yesterday and cried my eyes out and waited for her owner to come pick her up. I called a few TFA friends and told them the sad news. They all urged me not to give Rapha back, saying it was my dog now. But you know, if Rapha ran away from me, I would want someone to return her. What should I tell that little girl? I am a 23-year-old with no one to come home to so I need her more than you? Real mature.

I don't know if she got lost or what, but the old owner never came, so for now Rapha remains with me. I will admit though, I thinking of forever avoiding the post office...

B

P.S. I took some pictures with Rapha in case I ever have to give her up.

An Influx of Visitors

About a week ago, I had two very unfortunate situations occur. I went get into the details, but I will say that after school, a former student and a current student went missing. In both cases, their guardians assumed they were with me as students often stop by and visit me. I had, however, seen neither of the girls that day for more than a minute because I was will. Anyway, one set of parents in particular was very very angry and threatened to call the cops on me and another teacher. (I'm not sure what I would have been charged with). However, the experience has made me much more guarded. I have therefore implemented a new policy. Every student that visits me now must produce a written note from their guardian stating that they have permission to be at my house as well as the time they must leave by.

Today, I had over twenty students stop by--the most I have had in a single day. I sent every student home that didn't have a note from home, after allowing them to drink a glass water. Three did come back with a note and the others promised to return another day with the required item. The policy makes me feel more guarded and I think it will cut back on children lying to me about where their parents say they can and can't be.

His Mercies Are New

Yesterday was such a hard day. I was both emotionally and physically exhausted. Rapha was really upsetting me because she just wouldn't stop barking. I was so afraid I was going to get kicked out of my apartment. So, I decided to call up my country friends and ask them to take Rapha. I went to bed tearful, weary and so discouraged.

Today was different. Though I was tired when I awoke, I was stress-free as Rapha had slept through the night and had not wakened me as she had so many nights previous nights. I dawned one of my favorite dresses, parted my hair and dropped Rapha off at the dog-sitter. For some reason, there was a bit of spring in my step as I headed towards the school. I felt joy and hope restoring me and it was wonderful.

Today was such a good day. My children made me laugh in so many ways. In fact, I am going to make a special post just for the funny things they said over the last few days. And for the first time, I left the school building knowing that my children had learned. It was beautiful.

Mother Theresa once said, "I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much." Though I am clearly no Mother Theresa, I can resonate with this quote. Today, God reminded me that indeed He will not give me more than I can handle.

Thank you, Dear Father.

B

P.S. God sent me this photo yesterday to remind me why I am here.

Weary

I have been having a rough time. I am just discouraged, weary and exhausted. But this song keeps running through my head, perhaps because it has been on repeat for hours. Anyway, I learned it when I went to the Virgin Islands about four years ago. Check out the lyrics.

When the morning falls on the farthest hill,
I will sing His name, I will praise Him still.
When dark trials come and my heart is filled
With the weight of doubt, I will praise Him still.

For the Lord our God, He is strong to save
From the arms of death, from the deepest grave.
And He gave us life in His perfect will,
And by His good grace, I will praise Him still.

Father, I will praise you still.

The Dark Side

The rumors are true. I did indeed succumb to temptation. The result? A new member of my family. Yes folks, I am not the proud owner of a black lab puppy. Isn't she cute?

Her name is, of course, Rapha. She is 14 weeks and the calmest puppy I have ever seen. She sleeps a lot and barks very rarely. Her current major infractions include waking me up this morning at 4:00am having begun to chew on my favorite Habana sandals from Brasil and having tinkled on my floor when I suggested she just "hold it" until I was done lesson planning. I am not quite certain what (or who) possessed me to take the little tike, but I am not looking back. Any way, she will be good for me in that I can now run at nights with an added degree of safety.

Continuing to shock and awe,

B

Challenges

Friends-

I am not going to lie, this year has been harder than I ever imagined. I usually, though not always, can hold back my tears until I get home. But every single day, I just sit down and weep.

My classroom is essentially a disaster. The situations is such that I cannot teach a lesson. It's not just that they are disruptive, though this is often the case. No, I have found that even when they are not talking, they really aren't listening at all. It is as if I am talking to air.

We are three weeks into the school year and I am terrified. I am terrified that I this will continue the entire year and that my children will learn absolutely nothing this year.

I feel like God is so far away. Last year, I knew that He was working in the heart's of my children and my heart every day. I just can't sense that anymore.

As you can see, I could really use prayers. Please pray that God turns our classroom around and that I can see His hands at work.

B

Rosebud

Today I had to attend a required Teach For America event. The event was held on Rosebud Reservation in a little town called St. Francis. The drive is about two hours away. Last night I made plans to follow Rachel, the new 5th grade teacher and now a good friend of mine. However, this morning her and her roommate got up late and in the panic, they left without telling me. I therefore found myself alone, which I am used to. However, I have been having some troubles with my truck as my battery is dying and one of my front tires is leaking. I also didn't know how to get to St. Francis so I had to go to the school and print a map. As a result, I was pretty stressed as I tried to make it to St. Francis on time. Thankfully, I walked in right on schedule.

The three hour meeting was very good. It provided me with some really concrete action items to improve my plans for this year. I am really excited to make some revisions to my plans and be more strategic this year. It was also really nice to see the entire corps--all 62 of us. Because we are spread out across two reservations, there are some teachers that I almost never see. It was good to catch-up with a few friends.

After the meeting, Rachel decided to ride back with me so we could go to the Rosebud Fair, which is basically a pow-wow. Sadly, we couldn't find it and by the time we realized we had passed it, we decided not to turn around. Instead, we decided to take some time going home by stopping and taking some pictures. In particular, we stopped in Allen on Pine Ridge Rez near this absolutely stunning stretch of land chalk full of sunflowers. I snapped some photos. Here are a few:








Life is just beautiful.

B

P.S. By the way, I find it completely annoying that the pictures always look low-resolution when posted. However, if you want to, you can click to enlarge them and they will become higher quality.

Today was such a beautiful day in so many ways. I entered the classroom armed with a renewed resolve to fight for my children--even if I had to fight them in the process. I also purposed in my heart that I would do whatever I could to invest my children by simply getting to know them. And so today I did just that, got to know my children. Can I tell you how beautiful it was?

--Al is such a sweet little girl. She is bright and eager to please. I can tell that she has a supportive family at home that is invested in her education.
--Ad is without a doubt my biggest behavioral challenge. However, he is a natural leader whom I requested to be in my classroom. Of all of my students, I think that I can perhaps do the most for him in terms of altering his future.
--Ta is such an interesting kid. He is one of my most academically proficient students and has a clever sense of humor.
--Li is a gem. She reminds me so much of her cousin whom I had last year. She is probably my most academically advanced student and I find her presence to be refreshing.
--Ge, well I love to see that smile of his. I have to work extra hard to keep him engaged, but he is so worth it.
--Je is one of the most likable boys I have ever encountered. He is really sharp and so pleasant to be around. He is what you would call a "cool" kid, but he is real respectful just the same.
--Te is such a sweet little boy. He is sensitive and already loves his teacher. He brings me pencils and erasers and scoots real close to me so I will give him a hug. He has my heart.
--Ga is going to have his world rocked this year. You can just tell that he has suffered much already in his short life. He is often morose and withdrawn but when I can coax a smile, I feel like I have won the lottery.
--Hu is my last girl. I had her brother and know her sister. She is also sweet and intelligent but her home life is difficult. She is also one of those children I feel like I am fighting to save from a intense brokenness.
--Da is my lowest reader and writer. He is literally illiterate. He has really low self-esteem, but I am hoping to draw out the boy-wonder that I know is inside of him.
--An is my last student. He was labeled as a "monster" by his former teachers. This year is going to be different. By the end, the 4th grade teachers will be begging to have him.

Pray for my babies.

Love,
B

Photos

For those of you who don't have Facebook but would like to see some photos I've taken over the past few weeks, take a look:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2066970&id=55300229&l=8b26166866

Love,

B

If Anything Would Ever Drive Me to the Bottle...

...the past week would do it.

I met my new class last Wednesday. It was probably the worst day of school I have had in the year I have taught here. I had 7 boys and three girls. The next day didn't get any better--except that I got one more boy. I now have 8 boys and 3 girls. And on Wednesday and Thursday of last week, I just cried my eyes out. I haven't cried this hard since my uncle died. In a way, I did feel as if I had lost someone--19 students to be exact. I missed my old students and just wept over the fact that we were no longer together. I was angry at the new kids for not being my old children and was even angry at their ridiculous behavior.

We have now had 5 teaching days. In that time I have had one student call another's sister a whore, one call another boy with a facial deformity "Chinese Butt," a situation where a student bolted--twice and I had to chase him down in my high-heels. (I caught him in the parking lot, curled up in fetal position, weeping. It took me a very long time to coax him back into the classroom and convince his grandmother not to let him go home, as he wanted.) In short, I have more behavioral problems over these last five days than I had all 165 combined last year. It is truly ridiculous. Please pray for me. Today I just got angry. I had enough of their disrespect and blatant disregard for rules and consequences.

On the flip side, I see that God has given me children who need me so much. Please pray that God gives me His heart for these children. Pray that I love them with everything that is within me.

Take care,

B

No Fear

Dear Father-

You know that I am so tired and more than a little frightened. It is past 9:00 and I have so much to do still. I don't even have all of my day planned yet. I feel disorganized and like a failure. There is a cricket somewhere in my house that is driving me crazy and my cell phone is lost. I had several teachers "warn" me about my future students. I can feel the battle waging around me.

I don't feel victorious. I feel weak and ill-equipped. But you know, Father I am going to choose to trust you. I know that your will is far superior to my weakness. I know that you can use a broken vessel like me to bring about positive change. I know that you have already won the battle. I know that you have chosen me and will never ever abandon me. And so Father, I lift up my head and cry out, "I AM YOURS!" May your will be done. I submit myself to you. I shall not be afraid. I will NOT be afraid or shaken. I am like a tree planted by the water of Life. I will be strong and courageous, I will not be terrified, I will not be discouraged for you are with me wherever I go.

I love you so much,

B

Bonding, Birthdays and Bullying

Yesterday I went to the Kyle Fair, though the actual event doesn't really jive with the traditional images of fair. Instead, it consists of a three day Pow-Wow and several vendors selling food, arts and crafts. Sunday was the last day, but the first I was able to get out to.

Unlike last year, I am really making an effort to get know the new corps members. So, before leaving for the fair I had dinner with the new 5th grade teacher, whom I am very fond of. I think she is going to be an excellent teacher. Joining us for dinner were three other TFA teachers. During that time I realized how truly jaded our generation is when it comes to issues of faith. One girl referred to religion as a "buffet" from which we choose what we like and don't like. I had to refrain from shuttering. I just let them talk, but noted the different views each of them had on faith.

R and I headed out to the fair after dinner. I brought my camera and had way too much fun. I saw so many of my students I couldn't help but snap away. The first shot is of our new 5th grade teacher.






I then went home to attend K's 9th birthday party. When I arrived, they had already eaten dinner, but we sang and we had some cake and ice cream. Here are a few shots from that event:








So after a short while at K's house, I decided to take her and her cousin to the fair. Here is K getting her shoes on. Don't you love her face?:


When we got back to the fair, K and I just walked round and round the pow-wow grounds, much like teens did at the football games in high school. After about two laps, we ran into a group of girls who were in the fifth grade last year. I know that most of the girls really like me a lot and want me to like them as well. However, they are undoubtedly the most disrespectful and rebellious kids in the elementary. Most of them are really into some heavy stuff. Anyway, K and I are walking but are soon stopped as this gang of girls literally surrounds us. They are really close and begin taunting me. They start running their hands through my hair and flicking it around. They called me names like "poodle" and "baby doll" referring to my hair. I was really really ticked off and a wave of emotions swelled over me. I haven't been degraded like that since I was a young girl and I really wanted to stick it to those girls. But K was with me and I didn't want to give them more power than they had. So I leaned forward and looked into the eyes of the ring-leader, a girl with so much pain in her heart. I said "Baby, one day you are going to have to make a choice whether to keep heading on the path you are on or get some help. When you are ready to change, I'll be here. I care about you." And then I took K and walked away.

K later asked me about the exchange I just told her that those girls were hurting and didn't know how to deal with it. My thoughts were only reaffirmed when the ring-leader and a friend tried to cut K and I off were their bicycle as we were walking to my truck to go home. She kept calling out for me saying things like, "I have a message from the boy you came with! He is waiting for you and wants to snag you. Hey you, come back here! Don't walk away from me when I am talking to you! Hey-you're not my friend anymore!" I never slowed down and never even acknowledged her, but she grieved me. I was pondering how to deal with her in the future and I feel like God is urging me to say this whenever she is asking out, "I am sorry you are hurting. I love you." Please pray for her and the other hurting girls on Pine Ridge.

B

My Parents

My parents are not exactly the most tech-savvy individuals, if you know what I mean. So, when I told them that I was starting a blog about my journey as a teacher on Pine Ridge, they had no idea what I meant. It still amuses me to think of all the explanation that was required in order to ensure that they could access this webpage. But of all the things I have since taught my parents to do on the internet, posting comments on my blog is not one of them. Why not, you ask? I think part of it was because they told me their comments over the phone during our daily conversations. If they posted them straight to my blog, I couldn't actually censor them :). But yesterday I broke down and walked my mamma through the simple steps, knowing that she would find great pleasure in posting ornery comments! And sure enough, one of the first things my mom had to say to me today was that she wanted to post a comment on my blog yesterday, but she couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't cheeky! I laughed really hard and this got me to thinking about my parents a little more.

I love my parents--a lot. In fact, I have encountered very few individuals indeed who are as close with their parents as I am. They are two truly unique individuals that I have not met the likes of in all my travels. In fact, I decided to make a list of some of the things I love about them. So mamma and daddy--this is for you.

Daddy:

1) I love how you reach out to all people. I have never met a person who reached out to strangers as often as you.
2) I love the way you willingly lend a hand to everybody and their brother despite the fact that you have more than enough work to do at home, never asking for payment in return.
3) I love your faith. Have I seen such faith in any other?
4) I love the way you rub your hands together after you have told a deliciously lame joke.
5) I love how you love my students so much that you stay awake at night thinking about ways for me to better reach them.
6) I love that you taught me how to work hard.
7) I love that you can still beat all the younger guys.
8) I love how you came to all my games and even my practices. You were as much a part of basketball for me as the rim.
9) I love that you taught me that the Brendsel's are too stupid to know when to quit.
10) I love that you are proud of me.

Mamma

1) I love your sense of humor. No one on this planet can make me laugh as hard as you can.
2) I love your generous heart. You give when it hurts and then give some more.
3) I love how you cry when you hear about the suffering of others, despite the fact that they are often thousands of miles from you.
4) I love it when you come home.
5) I love how you buy things in bulk just because you know that I once liked them.
6) I love how you love me unconditionally. Never in my whole life have I ever doubted that you loved me.
7) I love how all my life you have fought for me in so many ways.
8) I love how you pray for my husband.
9) I love how I if I go a single day without talking with you (and daddy through you), I feel it as keenly as if I skipped eating.
10) I love how I always feel like Jesus is hugging me when you hold me.

I love you two,

Brittany

Can you tell I got a camera?

Our Classroom

I thought I would share some images of our classroom as I get it ready for school on Monday.

Three more reasons that I Teach For America: K, K and K

Another School Year

Another school year is just around the bend--Monday of next week. Today in-service began for all teachers.

You would think that with a very successful year under my belt I would feel calm and confident about the year ahead. But the truth is, I think I am far more nervous about this year than last year. My program director says it is because I realize this year what I don't know. I think that is true to an extent. However, I think there is more to it. I think I currently am in the midst of an ugly spiritual battle.

There are indeed a lot of reasons for me to be anxious about this year, or even terrified. At the last minute I was switched from teaching Social Studies to Science, a subject I hated all throughout school. I can't even get started in planning it as the curriculum order got lost and wasn't placed. In addition, I am teaching Math this year which was undoubtedly the most difficult subject for me during my formal education. I also had a very bad experience in teaching it at Institute in Houston last year. Furthermore, the new group of third graders has more than a few children who in the past have struggled behaviorally. I also have a new TFA program director whom I am adjusting to. In addition, we also got three new TFA teachers in the elementary school. Though this is truly wonderful news as more students will receive an excellent education, I am insecure and intimidated and feel like they have it more together than I do. Finally, the bar for me and my children has been set extremely high because of last year's success. It almost seems unattainable. So, these are the reasons why I have been fighting back terror.

Today as I sat in my newly arranged classroom, tears streaming down my face, I realize something: I will most certainly fail. That is, I will most certainly fail if I attempt to repeat last year's success apart from the Lord. You see, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my babies learned so much and we were so blessed last year because the Lord was moving in my classroom. I was willing and so He used me. Last year I was praying for months for my future children. This year, all I can think about is how these won't be my first babies and I can't possibly love them as much as my first children. Last year I prayed as I/God picked my class. This year I have been fighting back the impulse to avoid having those students with behavioral challenges in my class. In other words, thus far this year I have relied on my own strength--a recipe for disaster.

And so, I would like to confess my sin and repent and seek God. Please pray with me:

Daddy,

Before the foundation of the earth was formed, you knew that I would one day be a teacher in Kyle, South Dakota. You knew the names of each of the children I would be so fortunate to teach and you always have their best interest at heart. Father I ask that you would forgive me for not remaining in You and seeking your will for this year. Abba I give this year back into your loving hands. I trust you and give the future of every one of my children--your children--to you. I pray that every desire and dream that you have for this year would be fulfilled through me. I ask that I would be obedient without question and faithful when I feel like surrendering. I pray that I would not look to human wisdom, but your wisdom. Oh God, I pray that the children would make supernatural academic growth. But even more than that, I pray that your children would tangibly feel your love this year. Walls will be broken down, deep wounds healed, lies banished. Instead of death, despair and deceit, Love will be poured out, Truth will be spoken and Hope firmly planted in the hearts of your babies. I ask Father is that you would use me this year, even when I don't want to be used. Move in a way that I have never seen before.

In You alone,

By the way...

I have posted the link to Abby's blog on the right hand side of this page. I encourage you to read it and post encouraging comments for her. If we get any news on the boys, I will post that on my blog too.

Looking Back

Today was an interesting day. I went to my classroom fulling intending on getting so much work done as school starts the Monday after next and orientation begins this Monday. I, however, made the tragic mistake of bringing a book. As you may have guessed, I ended up reading the entire book instead of working. I wasn't too worried about it as I had arranged to meet my literacy coach at 4:00 to work on improving my teaching this year. However, I ended up spending the next five hours learning to cook (more on that later) than working. During that time at my friend's house, one of the new Teach For America corps members came over. I like her very much and have done everything I can to help smooth this transition for her. However, I have over the last few days become increasingly unnerved by her progress in planning and my decided lack of progress.

It is past 10:00 pm right now and I am sitting in my classroom feeling just like a first-year-teacher. I feel inadequate and unprepared. I feel terrified that I am not going to be successful this year, as the bar set last year was so high. This new teacher is going to be amazing and she is so on top of things. I am honestly overjoyed by this and have done everything I can to get her to that place, but in comparing myself to her, I find myself lacking.

But then I began to read some of the first posts I wrote last year on this blog about my experience moving here and my feelings those first days before school. In doing so, I have been so encouraged. You see, I will undoubtedly fail this year if I try to be successful in my own strength. I have been forgetting that the only reason that we met with such success last year was because I relied on God. He empowered me to make a difference and blessed my classroom beyond all I could ever hope for or imagine. And you know what, I choose not live in fear. I choose to cling to hope and the nature of God. I know that He loves the children even more than I do and I know that He is not done with me yet. And so, I begin this next year the same way as I did last year, crying out to God for strength and wisdom. He is my sustainer, my hope, my everything.

Lord, this is your year.

B

A Message From Abby

Dear friends and family,

Thank you SO much for all of your prayers, support and encouragement. I am sorry that I have not responded to most of your emails, I have simply had no time to get on the internet (because here I have to go to an internet cafe and pay for it) but know that I have appreciated all of the emails you have sent me, they have encouraged me so much!

Yesterday as I was walking with some of the kids William (who everyone thougt was one of the boys kidnapped, although Sharrif our major source of information was the least sure about him although he WATCHED Nicholas and Mukenya be taken) came walking up to me. All the kids went crazy showing him to me and getting all excited. When we told him that we thought he had been one of the boys taken he gave a bit of an off reply saying that he had been sick. Jessie and I are not exactly sure that his story matches up or sounds completely rightso she is going to talk with him more today to see if there is anything else that he wants to tell us.

We know 4 boys were taken, 2 for sure (mukenya and Nicholas, the youngest) that have not been seen or heard of since and 1 who we thought was kidnapped but seems not to be. There is a streetboy named Fupi (another very young street boy) who saw everything happen and knows the names of all the kids but we have yet to be able to track him down in Kisenyi to find out the names of the other boys although we have been trying everyday.

What we do know is that Friday nioght at 3 in the morning 2 westerners,1 man and 1 female (which makes it seem even more like a set up to steal kids) and 1 Ugandan came into Kisenyi (one of the largest and most dangerous slums in Kampala). They were new to the community (which is also dangerous, you are not allowed to go into Kisenyi without the chairmans consent if you are not with someone who is living/involved there) and the kids said that they had never seen them before. I wish you guys could see Kisenyi, especially lately it has gotten so much worse, it is a place that even Ugandans do not go in the middle of the day. It is a very violent and oppressive night. POlice officers do not even go there in small groups at night because they get beaten up. Anyways, they gave out candy and bread to the kids (yes in the middle of the night) and then tried to snatch one of our 5 or 6 year olds, Sharrif. Sharrif is incredibly scrappy and a huge fighter, he fought them off and ran but watched as they carried off his sleeping best friend Nicholas. Nicholas is around 6 years old and a huge sweetheart. He is perpetually sick or tired and is very timid and shy. He is a sweet boy and not someone who would even be able to resist someone taking him because he has about the same amount of strength as a rabbit. He was one of the boys who was supposed to move into our house just 11 hours later. The other boy who was taken was a boy named Mukenya (Who was going to be in our house until we didn't see him in our programs and we had to give his spot away sense we never saw him). Mukenya is another boy who is so sweet and endearing. He is very smart and has a huge fear of abandonment and being left behind. I love him so much and was very close to him. It is especially hard for me that he was taken because Mukenya was a boy that I was very, very close to until he got, "too" close to me and got scared that I would leave him. There was a few times that he had misunderstood something that was said and thought that I was leaving, and he would begin to cry and get upset until it was explained to him that he had misunderstood./ Without any reason he stopped coming to our programs and being really moody. I gave him space because I just knew that eventually he would come around and see that I had never left him and was still right there for him as I had always been. But he was taken before that could happen. I wont get to restore the relationship with this boy that I love so much. There were 2 other boys that were also taken. They were put into a car and driven away. We have yet to discover who the other 2 boys are although we are sure that we know them and that they are in our programs. There are hundreds of street children that sleep in that slum and because we have so man kids in our programs and because street kids are constantly put into prison, moving around, getting sick and holing up somewhere for sometime and simply going missing there is no way for us to guess which kids they were simply by looking at which kids are not around anymore.

We have reported the incident to the police and chairman but know they are not going to do anything, police here don't care very much for a group of street children that end up missing.

All of the uncles we work with love the kids sooo much, and are always very optimistic about everything, they always believe anything is possible. When I asked them if they thought we would ever see Nicholas or Mukenya again, they just got really sad and said, "no... we wont..."

What is so hard for me is all of the uncertainty. I will never know what happened to them, whether they were sold, or sacrificed, or escaped. It is also so hard for me not knowing what other two boys were taken as well because we definitely knew them.

Every week we have kids that disapear from our programs, they are usually put in prison, they come everyday and then one day we never see them again.

Around the same time last week someone that lives in the community we work in said that there were 6 kids that had been grabbed by city council and were going to be put in prison that were crying out for me and asking me to come get them out. Jessie, Pastor Nelson, and Abbey (an amazing social we work with from Grace Church) went to the prison on Monday. The thing was that we had not been told the names of the kids that were asking for us and over the last two weeks we had SO many kids that had also disappeared. We went to the prison and found one boy and got a list of a few boys that had been taken to different places but we weren't able to figure out which boys they had in the prison and the man wouldn't tell us (because ALL the kids go by nicknames or different names, we know very few of the boys real FULL names which was what we needed, we have a list of them but the man wouldn't go through them and let us know). We knew that one of the boys as well was very young and had been asking for me, I could think of several boys that he could be. The kids go to sentencing at several different courts so we wouldn't have been able to know where they would be to speak for them because we wouldn't have known where they would be.

It hurt me so badly to know that there were kids that had been depending on me to get them out of prison and I completely failed them. I couldn't help but feel so discouraged when we were sitting on the car on the way back thinking of all the kids that I have fallen in love with since being here that have disappeared and I have no idea where they are. It made everything so real and final. All those kids that disappear I had just been hoping they would come back and telling myself that they were around and that they would return eventually when the reality is... they wont (and they don't). They are gone. I cant help but picture their faces in my mind... boys that just disappeared. I will never know what happened to Charles, and Robert, and Derek, and Mukenya, and Nicholas, and Sobote...

I appreciate so much the prayers of everyone for my kids that were kidnapped. I know that God can work miracles, and in fact He may have already done so with William, we are not sure yet. I am praying for it constantly that God will move in an incredible way. I am not giving up hope. it has just woken me up to the fact that the many, many kids that I had fallen in love with, noticed they were missing and was simply waiting for them to come back are most likely not coming. It is a grieving process for me for more than simply the kids that were stolen. It has been really hard for me. I know that God is a big God and that He is with them and experiences everything that they do. I do not feel hopeless just immensely sad and overwhelmed with the evil and suffering that I am surrounded by in my ministry to street kids.

Thank you so much for supporting me and for all of your encouragement, it has meant the world to me. I am so blessed by how many have come around me and my ministry and Jessie and our kids to pray

I love you all

Abby

Praying for Abby's Boys

My Lakota sister is having a math camp for girls, but they live very far out in the country so it is difficult for family's to get their children there. So, when I saw some girls walking on the street that were former students. I asked them if they wanted to come. When the quickly agreed, I spoke with their families and loaded them up into my truck and headed for the country. On our 45 minute journey, I heard such disturbing things about the lives of the three students in my truck. They have been exposed to such awful situations.


After we arrived, I stayed about an hour before deciding to head out. But before I could leave, I gathered his family and the rest of the girls into a circle. When all shuffled into place, there were 11 children standing a circle. He then quickly left and returned with the Prayer Staff.

The Prayer Staff is a staff that first came to IW in a vision several years ago. He was told in this vision to fashion a Prayer Staff which was to carry the prayers of the children to world leaders, that their voices may be heard regarding issues of peace and justice. This staff is wakan-sacred, and only he and the children may touch it. The staff has been all around the world and many little hands have touched it, but little hands alone for no adult may touch the children's staff.

Well, tonight, I saw the Prayer Staff for the first time after hearing about it for nearly a year. He brought it out so that the children whom I loved so deeply might pray for four boys whom they have never met, but have learned about this year and have come to call "Abby's Boys."

The smell of burning sage wafted in the air as I watched each of the children hold that staff and silently say a prayer. Almost instantly, a dam burst open within me and I began to weep. Tears streamed down my face, tears for innocence lost. As I cried, my 13 year-old niece silently but firmly slipped her arms around my waist and cradled me like a baby as I wept. My salty tears dampened her shirt but she just held me, her tears mixing with mine.

When the Prayer Staff came to another one of the children--the girl whom I have come to call Hannah Montana--I noticed that she too was weeping. Then I glanced over and saw that my nine-year-old niece was crying too. As I considered the children weeping around me for four boys they will likely never meet, my weeping soon became sobbing. And as my brother prayed and sang in Lakota, I could feel the Spirit of God.

When he was finished closing our prayer time, the girls who had cried with me, came to me. The four of just mourned in each other's arms. Again, I was struck and deeply moved by the compassion of my children. All they know of Abby and her boys is what I have told them and a few pictures they have seen. Yet they were weeping for those boys as if they were their own brothers. I soon realized that my heart was not only breaking for Abby and her precious babies, but for my precious babies. I felt moved to pray for them and for the calling God has on their lives. And so, I held each one of those girls, many of whom have had absolutely disastrous home lives, and spoke my love and God's love over them. I could feel hope just pouring over their hurt hearts and I was praising God inside.

As I drove off, three of the girls were still crying, perhaps for the boys, or perhaps for their own deep wounds. Either way, I witnessed a moment when Heaven touched earth tonight.

B

Note: I have no additional new from Abby except that they have filed a police report. I promise to pass on any and every detail I get. Your prayers mean so much to us.

Emergency Prayer Request

I received this email early this morning from one of my best friends. Abby works in Kampala, Uganda taking care of street children. She is one of the most incredible people I have ever met and the children she cares for are priceless beyond words. Here is the email--please forward it to your church, friends, etc. Pray.

Dear friends and family,

My heart today is absolutely breaking.

Yesterday, the opening of our house was a bittersweet day. We were
able to take 10 kids into our drop in center, and had a wonderful
celebration. However, we couldnt find two of the kids that were
supposed to come...

We found out that the night before at 3 in the morning 4 kids from our
programs were kidnapped in the middle of the night. Not just any 4
boys but dear, sweet, amazing young boys that I love sooo much.
William, Mukenya, Nicholas, and a 4th boy we have yet to figure out
who he is, although we can be sure we know him (because it was dark
and very crazy when it happened). They were forcibly took from the
slums in the middle of the night, put into a car and drove away. Of
all the boys in our programs they took some of our youngest and
absolutely sweetest kids (kids that would not fight back).

Child sacrifice is a huge problem here (the cover on a newspaper today
was about people convicted of sacrificing children) as well as child
trafficking (Uganda is on the US's child trafficing watch list). They
had tried to grab another one of our boys, Sharrif but he ran away and
so he watched them carry out his sleeping friend instead. He was
acting soooo badly the next day and towards the evening he finally
told us. There is no good reason that anyone would go into one of the
most dangerous slums in the middle of the night and grab children that
did not want to come, no reason at all. THey took our sweet precious
kids and we have no idea what they are doing to them.

PLEASE please please pray that God will return our kids to us and
that they will not be harmed. PLease pray


Abby

Painful Lessons

Yesterday and today I learned two rather painful lessons. I have been humbled by both of these circumstances and can only pray that someone out there learns from my mistakes.

Yesterday one of my nieces and I decided to go to Rapid City for the day. As an eight-year-old who rarely gets to leave Kyle, the event was an exciting one for my girl. I was simply going because I was restless.

Before we headed into town, W's dad asked me to stop by the clinic in Kyle and pick up her glasses. I drove my truck into the parking lot and pulled up next to an old van. As I stepped out of the car, I noticed a face that I recognized, peering through the smudged glass of the van window. It was Maria Rapha.

I really can't express the wave of emotions that came over me in seeing her again. To be honest, her departure was a very abrupt and painful one and seeing her actually brought me more pain then joy. But though I was uncomfortable, it was clear that she was far more so. She shied away from the window and barely replied to my greeting. I hastily walked away, practically dragging my niece into the clinic.

When we came back out, I obviously had to walk pass Maria Rapha again to get into my truck. She called out to me this time and I was able to take a good long look at her. What I saw saddened me. Her faced was smudged with dirt and seemed to have aged years. Her eyes were filled with sadness and the mischievous sparkle that used to be there was gone. She told me that she was moving back with her mom today who lives in Nebraska. I nodded, having known that this was coming. I told her I loved her and to keep practicing her reading. She slipped her hand out of the window and I squeezed it. I don't think I shall ever forget the look in her eyes as I left. I have seen it so many times before, but it always haunts me just the same. It is the look of abandonment, weariness and defeat.

If the situation with Maria Rapha wasn't painful enough, today drove the dagger all the way through. A few hours ago, the first student I ever met in Kyle knocked on my door. K whom I call Hannah Montana, is a beautiful girl who is absolutely anchor-less in this world. She is searching for love and beauty in all the wrong places, but I am very fond of her. Anyway, when I saw her at my door, I threw my arms around her, despite her being soaking wet from head to toe. We naturally got to chatting about her summer, how much she had grown, where she would go to school next year, etc. At one point in the conversation, she paused and told me this:

"Miss Brendsel...last week I was at the school and the principal was there. She was talking to one of the teachers and I overheard them. I could hear the principal telling one of the teachers that you said I was annoying. Did you say that?"

I wish you could have seen the look in her eyes. There was so much pain. I would have given my left arm that minute to have taken that sorrow away. I admit that my initial reaction was anger with my principal in being so careless with her words. But what about my words? To be honest, I don't ever recall calling any of my students annoying. However, I do know that at one point I had told the principal that I would not agree to have K transferred into my class because she and I were too familiar with each other (one of her relatives had requested that she be moved into my class). I think I even said that her disrespect and materialistic obsession frustrated me at times. Though I was merely venting my frustration, I was unknowingly speaking words that would months later be misinterpreted by a wounded child. In her mind, my "true feelings" were revealed in that office. Nothing I could say could convince her otherwise--I could see it in her eyes.

Words. They have so much power. They bring forth life. They bring forth death. They can be arrows or the Balm of Gilead. Sometimes I think it would be better if I were mute.

Father, why have you chosen such a broken vessel to care for your most beloved children?

Reach out to heal their hearts Father, for I cannot.

Twilight

As an elementary school teacher and a sort-of-aunt to a young teenager, I am very familiar with the phenomenally popular "Twilight" series. Though the book shot to national acclaim very quickly, it wasn't until the Pine Ridge 1st-12th graders were sporting Twilight bookbags and "I love a Vampire" t-shirts that I became very curious about the franchise.

For those of you who are not familiar with the premise of the story, I will briefly summarize it: A 16 year-old beauty named Bella moves to some po-dunk town in Washington to live with her dad. Soon after enrolling in school, she falls for the strange, but overwhelmingly alluring Edward Cullen. You soon learns that Edward is a vampire who though deeply in love with Bella, also wishes to suck her blood. However, as a 'vegetarian' vampire--meaning he and his family only drink animal blood--he is able to restrain himself. But, not all vampires in the area are so human friendly and soon Bella finds herself being tracked by a group of very-hungry human eating vampires. Can Edward save her? Can Edward's love overcome his desire to devour her? Only time (and three more books) will tell.
(If you read an actual book or movie review about Twilight, it is much more romantic and alluring, but I don't have time to polish this.)

Over the past few months I have become more and more interested and curious about Twilight. However, it wasn't until the last few weeks that I began to realize that there was actually a war going on inside of me. You see, part of me already loved Edward Cullen. As depicted in the previews of the movie, he is ridiculously handsome and clearly devoted to his girl. And I have to admit, his dark, bad-boy edge only ads to the attraction. But another part of me sensed something much, much darker about this series. In fact, over the last few weeks I have become increasingly reminded of another time when I felt a conflict in my soul over a seemingly harmless book. Allow me to share a bit of my past which I think relates to this whole issue.

When I was in grade school, the first Harry Potter book was released. Initially, there was little public backlash, but by the time I had entered by teens, there was a full-scale culture war over the books. This war actually leaked into my home. You could probably guess on which side I fell. My parents initially discouraged me from reading the books, but it wasn't until I was sixteen that that outright forbade me from reading them or having any Harry Potter paraphernalia in the house. Normally, I would have screamed and cried, but ultimately complied. But there was something different about the Potter books. You see, I was addicted. Please understand that I do not use that word lightly. You see, I would stay up in the early hours of the morning reading and re-reading those books. During the day, I was increasingly wishing for the sort of powers that the Potter characters possessed. When my parents banned Potter from the house, I got desperate--really desperate. It was almost as if they had denied me my drugs or cigarettes. That night, I snuck into the room that had the computer. With the lights off and careful not to make a sound, I downloaded the entire Harry Potter audio book onto the computer--no small feet considering that we had dial-up. For the next few nights, I would sneak into the room and listen to bits of the audio. You must understand--I had already read the book multiple times. There was absolutely no natural reason why I should go to such great lengths for a book. However, this sneaking in the dark didn't last very long because that summer I took a two-month long trip to Botswana, Africa. Ironically, on the sands of the Kalhari desert, God brought my Harry Potter addiction to my doorstep. It was there that I realized how much of a hold this book--and the spirits that I believe are behind it--had on me. And so, I made a vow to never again pick up a Harry Potter book or watch any of the movies. Once I returned to the US, honoring that promise was initially extremely difficult, but as time passed, I was released from its bond.

The same war within my soul that occurred seven years ago with the release of the Potter series was resurrected when I watched Twilight for the first time two nights ago. Actually, it started before that because I knew that I shouldn't even buy it, but I did. Within the first five minutes I was hooked. I found the film to be extremely alluring. It was dark--but I liked the darkness. When the movie ended, I literally had to fight the temptation to immediately watch again. Startled by the allure to the movie, I shut my computer down and tried not to think of Twilight again. That was 48 hours ago.

An hour ago, I found myself in the following scenario. My eyes were glued to the computer screen and I was just staring at the file name "Twilight." I knew I shouldn't click it-I had watched it just the night before last, after all. But I seemingly couldn't help myself. I watched ten second clips for about a minute before I shut it off. It was then that I knew I had to get a copy of the book--now. I glanced at the clock and noted that it was 8:00pm. By the time I got myself presentable and left for the nearest bookstore--Rapid--it would be 10:30pm. But the bookstores would be closed...Wal-Mart! Never have been so glad for a 24-hour Wal-Mart!

I went so far as to calculate my return time--probably close to 1:00am--before I nearly shook with shock. What in blazes was I thinking? Was I really going to drive a total of four hours, on a deer-infested-road in the Badlands for a book that I would no doubt read into the early hours of the morning? Perhaps I could rationalize this if it were the Bible or a book that would offer life-saving tips on how to save my neighbor from his deadly rattlesnake bite. But you see, my desire to get my hands on this book was truly unnatural. Indeed, I will go so far as to say that it was evil.

I threw Twilight away. I also found this article that talks about how the author got the inspiration to write the book. Though I don't agree with parts of the article, I was chilled by how the author "received" her ideas. Check it out: http://www.prophezine.com/PZArticles/TheTwilightPhenomena/tabid/800/Default.aspx


Anyway, I am using my little blog-soap-box to suggest that you learn from my experiences and be wary about this book and these movies.

Yours,

B

Unconditional Love

Today, I was considering some of the things in life that bring me inexplicable joy, each time they unfold. I have concluded that one event in the human experience which causes one to feel treasured is the homecoming. Let me explain by giving an example from my life.

As my regular reader(s) know, there is a family here that I consider to be my family. They are Lakota, live very simply and care for seven children. The road to their home is very difficult and dangerous at times. It takes me about 45 minutes to get there during the summer. Despite this, I love making the journey. The scenery is beautiful, I role the windows down, blare the country music and let my hair fly free. It is wonderful. But the best part comes when I reach the top of a bluff about a mile from their home. At this point, I can see their house in the distance and they in turn can see my truck. As I draw closer, I watch as one by one people pour out of the house, much like tiny ants. Soon my truck is near enough so taht I can see that the older girls are grinning and the toddlers are jumping up and down clapping their hands with glee. If I turn my music down, I can here them shouting "MISS BRENDSEL, MISS BRENDSEL!" As I pull my truck up in front of the house and jump out, I am immediately covered in slimy baby kisses and crushed with tight hugs. Though I have made the journey to their home dozens of times now, their reaction is the same every time--sheer joy at my arrival. They don't care if I am not wearing makeup, if I brought them no gift or if I am considered the social pariah of TFA corps. To them I am their aunt who loves them deeply and that is more than enough for them. As for me, seeing their grinning faces at the top of that hill makes me think a bit of my Heavenly Father. I kinda think He gets that excited every time I spend time with Him. Just a thought.

B

P.S. I am 23.5 years-old and I still feel the same excitement that those children feel when my mamma comes home from work.

Elusive Contentment

One of my basketball coaches from high school contacted me today. In his note, he mentioned that my pictures suggested that I was "content and at peace." I have been thinking about those words all day long. Am I content? Am I at peace?

I feel like there is a constant war within my soul. Am I content? Certainly...and certainly not. You see, I am content in knowing that I am exactly where God wants me to be (in terms of geographic location). Throughout this last year, I have never doubted whether or not God wanted me in Pine Ridge. I know He had and has a purpose for me here. But at the same time, I am extremely discontented. You see, my face is literally streaked with tears as I think about the people of Uganda. I want to go back so bad that it literally hurts. I am also discontented with my maturity level in my faith. So am I content? Kinda.

Do I have peace? Yes--perfect peace. I have complete peace in knowing that I am exactly where God wants me. I have peace knowing that God has everything under control. Yes, I have peace. But my soul is also one of the most turbulent of anyone I have encountered. I want so badly to be more obedient and more faithful. I despise myself for my constant compromise and focus on the temporary. I am haunted by negative thoughts of fear and rejection. My soul is, at times, more like a tsunami than cool waters.

So what am I? Who am I?

When you get a clue, let me know.

B

Why I Don't Drink

Soon after I joined TFA, I realized that many of my fellow teachers were very passionate about the art of partying. As a recent graduate from a small, Christian liberal arts college, I was simply appalled by their behavior and was quick to shoot down offers to join in their revelry. As a result, I earned the reputation as social pariah and the official fun-sucker of the corps.

When I returned to Houston this summer, I decided I would take a different approach. Because the majority of school socials that were arranged by our staff centered around alcohol, I found that to hang out with the new corps members, I had to attend these outings. Because visibility as a staff member was important to me, I decided to attend these events anyway, despite the presence/focus of alcohol.

It didn't take long for my CMs to notice that I didn't drink. I had several responses prepared for these questions, each of which was applied according to one's sobriety level. For those sober enough to listen, I told them about how alcohol was responsible for the bruises on my kids' arms or the death of my baby's uncle. Alcohol meant that R's dad couldn't hold down a job or that S's mom was beaten within an inch of her life. I don't drink because I promised the children of Room 170 that as long as I was a teacher, I would never drink. It is a promise that I have kept and will continue to honor.

On the night I returned to Kyle, I was reminded of that promise. I wish those CMs had been able to see what I saw that night for if they had, I would hope that they would be a bit slower to run to the bottle. Here is what happened...

My Lakota family had picked me up from the airport late that afternoon. Because we were all in need of supplies, we stocked up in Rapid. It was very late by the time we got to Kyle, so I decided to spend the night at their place in the country rather than dropping them off and returning to Kyle in the early morning hours. About twenty-minutes into the rugged journey, we come across a vehicle--a very rare event on this road. The lights of the ancient car were flickering erratically and as we drew nearer, we could plainly see that the car was hopelessly stuck in thick mud. Steering my truck away from the bog, we pulled over. A young woman opened the door of the car and walked over to our window. Very drunk, she attempted to explain that they were in need of some help. Soon, another woman stepped out of the car, causing me to catch my breath. She was wearing two-inch shorts and a shirt that wouldn't properly fit a baby doll. Mud was caked on her legs and she struggled to even stand. She wobbled over to my truck, opened the door slid right in next to me as my Lakota brother had stepped out to examine the situation. J actually knew the young woman and introduced us. When J mentioned that I was teacher, the young woman turned her body away and said "Oh no! And you see me like this?" But what she didn't realize was that when I saw her, I simply saw pain and brokenness. And I remember wishing that my CMs could see the realities of alcohol in the world in wich I live.

So why don't I drink? Because though alcohol can be a source of great pleasure and enjoyment, in some cases it is abused. This abuse can tear apart countless lives and leave my babies to pick up the pieces.

B

P.S. After dropping J, the baby and myself off at the house, my Lakota brother returned to pull the car out of the ditch. However, he arrived to find all three of the people in the car passed out. After rousing them with much effort, they realized they had lost the keys. They all searched for hours, but to no avail. They ended up having to leave their car and be taken to a relatives house for the night. I saw them the next morning, still combing the area in search of the keys.

My William Wilberforces

There are few things that stir my spirit more than to hear the accounts of very normal people being used by God to do truly incredible things. Right now, I am nearly trembling and passion is running through my veins like fire. I want to seize the sword of Justice and shatter the chains of oppression. Ironically, what stirred by spirit was not an eloquent sermon, lengthy prayer or gorgeous sunset. Instead, it was the main menu of a DVD.

The film "Amazing Grace" is a truly remarkable story of a very real individual. William Wilberforce was an British politician who dedicated his life to ending the slave trade in England. Though weak in body, he poured out his life for the cause of ending slavery. Though often abused, rejected and discouraged, he persevered. As a result, the British slave trade was abolished, resulting in the business of trafficking in slaves to crumble worldwide (though we slavery does exist to this day in some forms).

As I sit here and listen over and over again to the chords of Amazing Grace, I am just in awe of the incredible individuals that have come before me and exist all around me. They are people who hold on to the heart of God, despite the trials of this life. It is to their example I look for encouragement and inspiration. I read about them in the pages of history and have been graciously surrounded by with these people.

People like my older sister who is a missionary in America--unpaid and often unacknowledged for her work as a sower, expect by the One whose opinion really matters.

People like my baby sister who went to India and loved those children with all her heart--even when she knew her heart would be ripped to shreds when she left.

People like Abby, Jess and Dan who are bright lights in darkness. They are willing to lay down their lives for the street children of Uganda in the hopes that the children there might one day rise out of the ashes.

People like Nicole who know how to speak Truth into my life and couldn't be superficial if she tried.

People like Rebekah who embody what it means to love, forgive and learn to heal.

People like the Gordons, Doneens, Sloderbachs and Gross' who are living proof that people can live for Christ in America, raising children who are socially aware of the suffering in and outside our nation's borders.

People like the Janis' who have very little but who have brought me more joy than I ever thought possible.

People like my parents who give when it hurts and love when it is not easy and forgive when it is undeserved.

People like my blog readers, many of whom I have never met but still send my children money and clothes and lift this broken vessel up in prayer.

And people like Jesus who are willing to give everything for the sake of Love.

You are all my William Wilberforces. Thank you so much for your witness, your life.

I've had a tough past few days. I've been discouraged and weary. Here are some thoughts that I had today that I passed on to my corps members:


My friends, it is so easy to get discouraged. There are times (like this weekend) where I feel like the burden we carry is far too heavy. You see, no one warned me that as I was learning about the injustice that exists in our country, I was unconsciously taking upon myself a load that I would carry with me the rest of my life. It is a burden that I can never ever shake, try as might. It is a burden that will at times make me uncomfortable, unavailable and unpopular. Why am I carrying this burden when so many others in our country live carefree and complacent lives? Where is my white-picket fence? Is this burden even worth it?

But then, I reflect upon the unspeakable value of this burden that I carry and I find strength returning during the midnight hour, for this burden that I carry is in reality, no burden at all. You see, upon my back I carry the Hope of my children. Unworthy and unqualified as I am, they need someone to carry their hopes and dreams, for their little shoulders can not bare the load alone on the difficult road they walk. So I will press on, for them. Always for them.

You are the change,

B

What A Girl Wants

Houston has been nothing like I expected. As you can see from my last post several weeks ago, I was quite depressed and passionately hating my job when I first arrived. Thanks to the incredible grace of my Father, I have now fallen quite in love with what I do and the people I interact with on a daily basis.

I could write so much about my amazing school team or the 68 corps members who are learning to be teachers. But tonight, I want to get a little more personal and share some matters of the heart.

In just 30 minutes, I will be going on my first solo outing with a guy. We are going to dinner and then a play afterward. How we got to this point is a long, rather amusing story. But what I focus on is not our journey together, my journey with my Maker.

Just yesterday, I was in tears at the thought of meeting this guy for the first time, or any guy for that matter. Hurts from my past have simply bound me up in fear and made terror of rejection something that nearly disables me. But today, things are different. I have spoken with my closest friends and they have spoken truth into my life. They have reminded me who I am in Christ. They have assured me that I am neither repulsive nor unlovable. I am worthy of love both from God and from a good man. Whether this man is that man remains to be seen and frankly I am not concerned about that. Tonight, all I care about is learning to love God more and learning to love myself. Hopefully along the way I can encourage my brother in Christ as well.

Say a prayer for me,

B

Houston

I have posted in a very long time--the longest since I started this blog. This mostly has to do with time, as I have none of it. Let me give you a brief update.

The school year ended in a blur with me jamming my things in a suitcase, leaving dirty dishes in the sink and whisking away to Houston, Texas to work five weeks on staff with Teach For America as a school operations manager.

I really can't explain my experience here thus far. I am ten days in, but it may as well be 100. It seems like forever and a day since I have seen my children. I constantly forget that I am in fact, a teacher. My life before this seems non-existent. Instead,I faced with the daily reality of my flaws and failings.

For those of you who know me, you realize how ridiculous it is that I am in charge of operational logistics for an entire school. I am disorganized and not detail oriented. I intensely dislike logistics and prefer to work with people. So why am I here? God wants me here. But the question I keep asking myself, as I cry on the floor of my room at nights, is why? Why in the world am I in Texas? I never wanted to be further from a place than here. Though I love the people I work with, my job is such a taxing one, for it brings me little joy. I worked 100 hours last week and will work about 90 this week, but the there have been no fruits to my labor. I still am perpetually unhappy. But what makes this so hard is the fact that I feel like God is a million miles away. I feel like I acted in obedience but was then left, abandoned. Now I know in my head this is not the truth, but right now my heart only feels pain. I can't remember a time where I have been this discouraged for so long.

So, friends, if you think of it, please pray for me.