"Don’t be weary in well doing,
because in due season you will get to Starbucks."
Words of wisdom straight out of the mouth (ok, cell phone) of a great man. Aka my father.
He sent me that little nugget of wisdom after I had spent what seemed like years (but was really only minutes) sending text after text full of fear and frustration and general lack of emotional stability. Everything was wrong: I was sick of everyone around me, I couldn’t get away, I didn’t feel like what I was doing made any difference, I was sick of being in a place that wasn’t home, all I wanted was a grande iced coffee- whole milk and a splenda, please- and a venti ice water, an oversized brown leather couch, and an afternoon to myself.
It’s easy to think that Starbucks can solve life’s deepest problems.
Instead of taking off in my car, cell phone tucked securely in the back pocket of my jeggings, hair and makeup looking flawless and sunglasses firmly in place, I pulled a tee shirt on and headed out the door with my teams to go hang out with some no- longer- abandoned Romanian children. But instead of the same- old same- old (oh, you’re how old? Wow! How was school? Want to go play football- aka- soccer?), I was about to be reminded of a truth I had selectively forgotten.
When we rang the doorbell to the house, we were greeted by a young woman with perfect English. As the children ran around her in circles, screaming the whole time, she fed them a snack, made sure they were wearing shoes and a jacket, and sent them out the door, waving goodbye as they scattered across the field with a soccer ball or traipsed off to the playground. In between the reminders to button up, I had the privilege of catching a few words with her.
Renee has almost no childcare experience. She was helping at the nursery at her church when she was recommended for the position of helping at one of the the Caminul Felix homes. She’s been helping for six months and, though she clearly loves the children (and they love her!), in brief moments of stillness you can see in her eyes that she’s tired and a little discouraged. She confessed to me that it’s so easy to wonder if you’re doing any good, if the life lessons you learned the hard way are translating to the eleven year olds, if the kids will even remember your name when they look back at this time in their lives. With the thirty seconds I had before the door released the flood of children clamoring for attention, I looked her in the eye and told her, “yes.”
Yes, it matters. Will they always listen? No. Will they always learn from your mistakes instead of making their own? No. Will they remember you when they have children of their own? Possibly not.
But. It. Matters.
I am convinced that children are the most important ministry in the world, and people who put their time and energy into raising kids to be God- fearing, Christ- honoring, Holy Spirit- living individuals will never come out empty handed. They may be forgotten by every single person on the planet, but God sees, and His reward for them will be more incredible than the facial recognition of an adult.
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we faint not.” Galatians 6:9
My harvest may not be Starbucks (although, Lord willing, that will be my first stops upon re-entry into the States). Like Renee, the people that I’m laboring for this year may not learn anything from me, remember my face, or care what my name was.
But God sees.
I didn’t spend an afternoon in an oversized chair, but I got to talk to a girl with an overflowing heart, and I was recharged in a different way: charged to be more like Christ, to love these kids with everything I have, even when it seems like a wasted effort.
There’s no such thing as wasted here.
(L-R me, April, Kristin, Dora (after her choir concert!), Kacie, Faith, Katherine)
