Warning: Today's post is long, BUT it is good, I promise. I actually proofread it and stuff lol
It's World Race Friday. Yes. It is World Race Friday y'all. The day where I dedicate a large chunk of time to researching backpacks and tents, adding items to my Pinterest, asking people to donate, designing pictures, trying to prepare for the 5k, and more. But before all of that, I go to Huron High School.
I intern at a local high school on Wednesdays and Fridays and I love it. It's one of the few things that make me feel alive. I. LOVE. HIGH. SCHOOL. KIDS. They are just so dang funny and so full of life and so limitless. They aren't stressed out like my colleagues. They are naive, though they think that they are grown; they are clueless, though they think that they know it all; they are fearless and full of potential and I love it and I love them. My little heart jumps when I see them because they bring me so much joy. (The other day I stood in the doorway of the office and watched them interact just to soak in the carefree nature of high school kids.)
Then comes the not so fun part. I am interning with a principal, so I see more discipline problems than happy times. Wednesday was hard for me, it was hard for all of us. It's so hard when you see so much in a kid and he/she does not see it in him/herself. In this particular case, two students had been reported to the police for smoking crystal meth (later it was found to be pot, not meth, but I digress) and one was a freshman, the other a sophomore. These are kids! Babies! And already repeated offenders, one showing clear signs of addiction. My heart broke as the principal had to talk to the parents and suggest that they get their son into a program and these parents completely befuddled, wondering where they went wrong. The mom explained with clear exasperation that they try to stay on him, they tried to get him to stop smoking, they try to encourage him, they are immigrants working so hard to give him a better life, they eat dinner together, they try to stay involved in their sons' lives and it's just not working…
****
I live in a neighborhood. It's a nice area with one-story homes and a variety of household compositions. There are some elderly couples, some younger families, some spry middle-aged couples, some empty nesters, there's a little bit of everyone, but I don't know any of them (with the exception of one person because he was my professor at school). I've been convicted of not knowing my neighbors for years and another year was about to pass without knowing my neighbors and I was not going to stand for it. At church on Sunday, I wrote in my journal that I would meet the neighbors on either side of me by the end of the month and today, I met Mariam.
I was walking home from school and as I passed her house, I saw that she was in the garage and seized the moment and introduced myself. "Hello, I just wanted to introduce myself. I've been living next door for nine months and have yet to meet you." We got to chatting a little bit and I found out that she's been living in that house for almost 35 years and that her husband died about 14 years ago and that she used to be a nurse and that her birthday is in 4 days and she's turning 87. She said that she wished she knew a little bit more about computers and that she would need someone to be very patient with her and my heart sunk a little because I realized how great an opportunity that would have been over these past nine months to serve her in that way, but I never even took the time to say hi until today. But, still I offered to help out for the month that I'm still here and told her that if she didn't have Memorial Day plans, we could go to dinner. Just another reminder that I need to stop being reluctant and reserved about meeting strangers, because frankly, it's just not working…
****
A few hours later, I pick up Sarah, a friend from Young Life, and head to the REI (I don't know what REI stands for, but it is an outdoors store). So it's one thing to go shopping online, but it's another thing to walk into the store and see all the bikes and kayaks and packs and compact towels and water bottles and sleeping bags and backpacks. Yes packs on packs on packs. And let me tell you–this is a whole new world. We don't have an REI back home and I am the only one in my family who has ever slept outside, so let's just say I'm not proficient in the matters of the outdoors world. Thanks to online resources like blogs and pinterest, I learned that I needed to get fitted for a backpack. I didn't know that you shouldn't just buy the one you like because it's not like bookbags for school, you are carrying your life on your back and it's not this simple throw it over your shoulder. No there's fifteen hundred straps and snaps and compartments and you have to be measured and sized appropriately.
Conveniently for me, I measured as a perfect X-Small, which means that tI had limited options, so I tried on four bags total. For people who have never put on a traveling backpack, let me tell you, it is an experience. I felt like I was being strapped into an amusement park ride; it was both exciting and a little worrisome. It did relive some of my worries about choosing a pack because I have a better idea about what I need, but man it made the trip real. I am like forreal forreal getting on a plane in September and not to advance my career or to try to find myself or because I'm young and throwing caution to the wind, no I am going because I can't stay here. I can't stay at this level of faith. I can't only know God in this limited way. I can't live in so much isolation. I can't live afraid. I can't not follow God's Word that tells me to go. I have to go because I can't do normal anymore, it's just not working…
****
My heart cares for the confused sophomore smoking his life away unsure what he wants for himself, my heart cares for the weary parents doing all they can to provide a better life for themselves and their children, my heart cares for the widows living for years alone and mostly disconnected from the world, but even more my heart cares for the little girls in Cambodia, the orphans in Uganda, the poor families of Rwanda, the spiritually deceived in India, the unnoticed in Nepal. My heart hurts for the world.
I am just a child. I really started to think about that this week. I am a child. Yes, I am mature for my age. Yes, I am about to get my Master's degree in leadership and policy at one of the top universities in the nation, but regardless, I am a child and I feel like Jeremiah (from the Bible) at times, insecure and afraid. But I know that I want to go, no, I have to go because the barrier of sin is still blocking most people from God and that is unacceptable. Take a look at your workplace, your city, or the news for five minutes; the way that we are living is not good at all, you could say that it's just not working…
Jeremiah 1:6-7
Then I said, "Ah, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth." But the Lord said to me, "Do not say, "I am only a youth"; for to all to whom I send you, you shall go, and whatever I command you, you shall speak.
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
I still have to raise about $13,200 to cover the cost for this trip, so if God lays it on your heart to help send me out by supporting me financially, click "Support Me" on the left to make a tax-deductible donation online. Or, cut out the 3% online processing fee by writing a check to "Adventures in Missions" with "BULLRACHELLE" in the info line and mailing it to:
Adventures in Missions
PO Box 534470
Atlanta, GA 30353-4470
Visit my page on Facebook–> facebook.com/rachellebullworldrace
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
