Heavy days and words that aren't pretty

My eyes are open. My ears have heard. My heart has broken.

The last few months at Edgehill have brought gift after gift. From Easter celebrations with water slides, karaoke, and all the cotton candy in the world.(click this video to see the banging job our church did celebrating the joy of Christ in our cityhttp://vimeo.com/93751142) Kid President and the family at SOUL PANCAKE sharing our story with the world. Every day I am more full of gratitude than the previous for all treasures God has given to our park family.
He has given friends who I have seen grow in their love for each other, God Himself, and our kiddos. He has given financial means to throw amazing parties dreamt up by the kids themselves. He has given them the chance to let the world hear their small voices through art shows and disposable cameras mixed with a crew of people who love well. And last but not least He gave growth not only in the amount of kids who come to the circle each week, but growth in their love for each other, love for us, love for their community. 

I often go to Edghill with my head in the clouds, with pride of all that has come to this place in our time there. I often forget of the brokenness that can be found in the shadows of the neighborhood, behind closed doors of the homes we visit, and in the deepest places of our neighbors hearts. Today I was reminded of the dark that lurks around even when we try our best to push it away. I was reminded that as hard as I try, as hard as we try, we can not protect our small friends from the hurt and evil of this world. My stomach turns thinking of how fast the little hands we hold must grow up, how quickly their innocence is stolen from their futures. Selfishly I also hurt because I feel helpless, suffocated by the effects of having to sit by and watch as these babies I love with all of me, hurt, and break under the weight of this heavy world they live in.

I usually attempt to leave my writing with words that ring with notes of joy and bits of wisdom I am learning. But I don't have any pretty words, just feelings that sit deep in my gut that no amount of Office episodes can shake.

I must rest, we must rest in truth that I claim each morning. That despite the darkness that often over shadows the light, God is holy and good. Maybe cheesy and cliche but sanity is found in the sovereignty that those are truths. He is holy and good. He cares for his people, He is just, and that His character reflects the heart of one who desires restoration and reconciliation.

Lord God,
Have mercy on your people. Hear our cries. Protect your children. Show justice to the wicked with your strong arm of compassion. Teach us to love the way that you do. Bind us up in our brokenhearted ways, and let us see your grace more clearly.
Amen

As the trees become bare.

The trees are bare…or so it seems. 
The sun goes down a little earlier each evening…or so it seems. 
The chill of the morning turns to cold of the day… or so it seems. 

The season of Advent is on us. This season is meant for one thing. Waiting.
Waiting for the greatest gift one could ever have the chance to wait for. So we must wait. 

I think just as the trees must go bare in this season, so must we. We must come bare to expose to ourselves (and to those close enough to us to see) that there are hidden tucked away inner longings that are to often hidden in the covering of the colored leaves. 
We get to hide these desires and dreams away during most seasons. Covering them with other activities, other jobs, other joys, even excuses as to why its ok that these things still remain dreams. 
But there must come a time that we see them again. See them again bare.  
Because after all the leaves fall just tree remains. For those of us who stop to look, to take in the bareness, we see. 
We see what might look like longing, what might look like uncomfortable, what might look like naked. 
But there it is alone a limb, exposed for all the eyes that walk the path to see. 

I believe that we too look like longing, like uncomfortable, like naked, when we become bare. And although most can cover back up much quicker then trees grow back leaves, we all feel the season that is to become bare. 

I learned from the trees that we must become leaf free to remind us of the strength in our dreams, in our longings, in our desires. As the thick branch remains through each mornings frost, so do our deepest passions.

Each year we must see them bare, with out the spring bud of "this is how I'm going to get there." or the Autumn orange of "Its ok, I understand why I'm here and not there." But being that bare hurts us! So instead of resting in the bareness of winter among the trees that are empty of the things that we believe make them beautiful. We go to our nearest tree lot buy the biggest tree and dress it up. Maybe because its tradition but maybe because we can not stand for another second to be faced with the twinge and awkwardness that comes with being bare to so many, for so long. So we hide. 

I am finding that no matter what city I live in, which group of friends I am around at the time, their always comes the internal clock that reminds me (sometimes painfully) that it is time once again to shed the leaves and become exposed. For me it is necessary because it reminds me that this is not just a season of bare limbs, and bone chills that reveal our deepest loves, but it is a season of waiting. 


And again we are not just waiting to wait! We are waiting on a promise. A promise that brings with it love, and redemption, and grace, and peace and hope! We are waiting on the promise of Jesus coming to earth to walk among us, to make a way for connection to God once more.
And in following the tradition of so many who came before me I wait. And I learn that this waiting is not just a reminder of the promise of Jesus but also the reminder of the other promises God has given me. 
Promises.
Promises of Africa.
Promises of loving and being loved. 
Promises of being his Beloved.
Promises of motherhood (one day, a long way down the road)
Promises of Him not forgetting His children. 
Promises of This too shall pass.
Promises. 

Just as the rainbow reminds us of these promises in the heat of summer. So does the bareness of limbs in the winter. 

Lord, 
Give us hope in waiting and joy in the reminder of your faithfulness. Your promises are true. Let us stand sturdy through the chill of winter, laying on exposed longings, dreams, and desires at your feet. 
Amen

Dead in sin. Alive in Christ. Jesus Loving his Beloved.

Its been one year since I walked timidly into the community of Edgehill. A year holds many moments, many memories, many stories. To tell them all would be quite the tale. Here is one.

Autumn seems to bring a bit of change to not only the colors overtaking our city, but to the spirits of those who find them selves amidst the crunch of freshly fallen leaves. Edgehill is no different. A new season has brought us new joys, new struggles, and new adventures.

My friends and I have had the chance to watch as our small Saturday play group has grown to nearly 50 kids! Not only is Saturday growing, but we attempt to go visit families two to three other times through out the week. And our newest adventure has been taking some of our kids to church with us each Sunday. Much is changing, much is growing, much to give thanks over.

(If your interested in reading about the first times we brought our kids to church check out this BLOG.  Thankful to have friends who tell stories well.) 

Today however was a very special Sunday. Friends I am going to attempt to share with you how dear to my heart today was. 

Ethos Church, a place I have grown to love, celebrated its fifth birthday today.  A small church that gathered in the home of the founding pastor has now grown to a church of six services spread over two campuses. To celebrate the fifth year of Ethos we as a church gathered at a near by university to worship as one family. My friends and I had wrestled all week with if we were going to bring our Edgehill kids this Sunday. We had some trouble with behavior the week before and were feeling a bit discouraged thinking about if our kids were more of a distraction or if they were even getting anything out of coming on Sundays. After hearing from all three senior pastors at Ethos that our kids were not only welcome but loved, we decided to pack up 17 of them in our cars this crisp fall morning, and take them to celebrate a birthday.

 


Six of the kids were under the age of seven which qualified them to be allowed to go to the children's room where they could play on bouncy houses, do crafts, watch veggie tales, and eat snacks. After sitting them down and explaining the importance of behaving and looking out for each other we turned them lose on some wonderful Ethos Kids volunteers.   
After dropping off the 6, that left us with 11 older kids to take to the actual service. 

Midway through the first half of worship I got a moment to look around. The sight I saw was with out question the kingdom of God. Dear friends from all different families from all different cities, were worshiping and dancing alongside our Edgehill children who also were from all different families, and even different countries. This was undoubtedly a picture of reconciliation in all of its beauty.

The service had so many wonderful components, worship with so many talented members of the worship team, Dave (the main pastor) shared a short message, and they had a time of baptism for those who wanted to celebrate the joy of finding Jesus with the entire church body. 

When Dave first began speaking on baptism explaining the events of the morning, one of our little boys named Anthony asked me if he could get baptized one day. I quietly asked him why he wanted to get baptized and he explained to me that Jesus died on the cross for him and that He loved Jesus with all of his heart. I told him that was so great and exactly why people get baptized but that we should wait for his Mom and maybe do it next week. He seemed to be ok with that answer for the moment. But as the baptisms began he asked me again, "Ms. Bailey can I get baptized NOW." I called his mom who gave me the ok, and spoke with him again asking why is this something you want to do. He explained again "Ms. Bailey I love JESUS!" My heart was full. 

Anthony changed clothes and as we waited in line for his turn to get into the water Jordan joined us and sat Anthony on his lap. He gently spoke to him about how getting baptized shows you and everyone else that you were a sinner but that the water washes away the past and makes you new. Jordan told him how much God loved Anthony and how nothing in the world would make God or us stop loving him. Anthony was overcome by tears and emotion in a way I have never seen a small child react. As we walked on to the stage and helped him into the horse trough we got a moment to hold his hand and look and see all of the kids squished to the front of the stage cheering on their dear friend. Once again the kingdom in all of its glory. Anthony's brother and sister, our Islam children and our "big kid" friends, all celebrating the work the Lord was doing in this 10 year olds life. My heart is full.
Then.

Hold your nose. 
You are Dead in sin.
Dipped under the water, emerging with smiles. 
You are alive in Christ. 
Celebrating, cheering, a church loving its children. Jesus loving his Beloved. 

Walking Anthony back to put dry clothes on his younger brother Man Man ran to us. Embraced his brother with tears in his eyes and loved him. Another picture of the kingdom brothers celebrating brothers for the newness found in Christ Jesus. 
Man Man then looked at me and Jordan and said "I want to get baptized." Whether in the moment or because he genuinely desired to be baptized, we sat him down talked about why and then gave him new clothes. 

Jordan walked him into change and saw in front of him his own roommate, our dear friend Asher who also felt God calling him to publicly share in his faith through emerging in the water. Tears rushed down cheeks, as we celebrated the joy of watching not only our kids take this step but our lovely friend who has loved these kids so well too.

Asher was baptized by Dave, and 15 of his closest guy friends. I got to stand with Man Man as Asher's turn was right before his. Another picture of the kingdom: I am  thankful that our little boys have such literal, tangible examples of strong godly men in front of them, directly in front of them. 
Man Man's turn as he sits in the water. Again watching as a group of all different kinds of people, big, small, white, black, young, old, cheered as a new soul found true love today. 

Hold your nose. 

You are Dead in sin.

Dipped under the water, emerging with smiles. 

You are alive in Christ. 

Celebrating, cheering, a church loving its children. Jesus loving his Beloved. 

My knees ache from calling out in gratitude this evening. My eyes burn from the tears cried as I was able to praise, and pray for these little souls over tea this night in my empty house.  

  

I looked at this story of these little hearts with not only my eyes but with my heart and thought and thought: What can this be? Saturdays were so little, our kids are so little, my faith is so little, our love is often so little… What can this be?

I was amazed that it could last, for I thought that because of its littleness it would suddenly have fallen into nothing. And I was answered in my understanding: It last and always will because God loves it; and thus everything has being through the love of God.

A Story. A Lovely Story.

A wise friend told me that the shortest distance between two people is a story. Their Story. Your Story. Our Story together.

The world comes together, unites as we step into other peoples life. Whether for a moment, a season, a life time. Becoming a character, becoming a written piece of some one else's journey is the beauty of creating a world full of fully alive souls. Regardless the measurable time spent in the pages of another's tale, it is clear by the lives we all live that our stories our often changed immensely when a character enters into a chapter of our life. 

Because of this weight we hold... as humans connecting with other humans, I am learning to hold with great reverence the gift that it is to enter into another's story. 

We must walk gently, appreciate deeply, and hold with care the treasure it is for another who undoubtedly pained with mis trust, scars from others, or innocence not yet wounded from hurt of this broken world…oh what a gift for them to welcome us with joy.

We MUST enter humbly into the words, chapters, pages of each other. When we do not enter in selflessly we hurt, we add bricks to walls already miles high, and we leave marks of us undeserved on another. 

We try weekly to come to Edgehill on our knees, and when we don't God puts us there quickly. In this renewed humility the Lord has given us the gift of stories.

I hope to share with you a few stories at a time. Not to share what is not mine to share, but to illuminate characters that may have stepped into my story unaware of the ways they have changed my ending.

This is D'Myiah. She loves Hello Kitty, wants to be a model, and her favorite color is white and black. She lives with her Granny and Mommy who let her come to church with us each week. D'Myiah recently road her bike all over the neighborhood on our community bike ride and showed everyone just how bold she truly is. This little soul, full of sass and spirit is brave and can do anything she desires…I hope she knows that. She calls us Auntie Corisa, Bill and Tim (Sam & Dan) and Mista Bailey. She shows me how to be STRONG, so strong. 

This is Coral. She is beautiful and has the smile of an angel. Her laugh is contagious and fills the entire park. You always know when she is there to play, because she loves to hug and engulfs you with her tiny little arms. Her family is from Puerto Rico, and her Mom is lovely and welcoming, and perfectly hospitable. Coral wears flower crowns, and builds forts, she winks at boys and cares for all her friends. When Coral jumps on your back her joy penetrates your being and you can't help but be overwhelmed with her innocent posture towards a world she wants to know more of. 

This is Ibrahim. He is in fifth grade and is the most stylish kid I know!  He will show you just how tough he is, and how he can hang with his brother, but when it comes down to it... a hug and a cuddle is all he really wants. He desires to prove his courage and bravery, and does so with determination and boldness. Ibrahim loves us well. He teaches us the value of being present with out words and the deep meaning of a gentle touch of the arm. He shows me that we all wrestle with who we want to be... and that is simply ok.

This is Abdiwahab. Oh man words just will not do this little man justice. You can find him in swim trunks or snow pants, two different socks, no shirt, or five shirts. He hasn't had two front teeth the entire time we have known him but smiles with his entire face! He loves to fix everything. He voluntarily poured lemonade at our cook out for half and hour and then got food for himself. He loves riding in cars and wants to be a mechanic. I wish with all my heart I could be a fly on the wall in his new Kindergarden class, because he always has the right words to say in moments of speechlessness.  He has a heart of gold and shows us the beauty in being confident in who you are. 

This is Hassan. He is a brilliant second grader who wants to be a teacher. He recently got two new bike pedals and yelled "its Christmas!" Hassan has the most gentle spirit, calming presence but in the same step can give energy through his contagious love for life. We watched as week after week this summer his determination to do a back flip led to practice and pride. What a sight to see him show off his new skill.  He is a wonderful reader, who is curious about all things and seeks truth in this crazy world. Hassan has a memory like no other… He remembers each name that he is ever told and makes you feel so known. He loves to share and wishes he could always give what he has to his family. If he could go anywhere in the world it would be Subway! Look for his name because Hassan will undoubtedly change this world.

These faces, these exerts, this recalling of funny stories of past Saturdays are as familiar to me as this coffee shop I sit in here in Midtown. I hope that in the familiarity I do not forget the importance, the depth, the precious meaning behind each word or lack of word I had the privilege of writing tonight. 

Through different circumstance God continues to show me that it is not by chance that I am in Nashville. It is not by chance that we go play. It is not by chance that we have met the families that we have or the families that we have not. It is not by chance that He has invited a group of such different people, who might never be friends outside of this place together to love, to seek community, to strive for Heaven in a place we all unite over. 

I must stop for a moment to give reverence to the holiness that I, that WE step into when we place our feet into the stories of the children above. 

Taking of the bread and drinking of the wine, removing of sandals is necessary. For this is Holy ground we place our feet upon. One step after another. 

"I think that if we got to people with love, with only the desire to give God to them, to bring the joy of Christ (which is our strength) into home with simple actions of this great love, if they look at us and see only Jesus and His love and compassion in us, I think the world will soon be full of peace and love." -Mother Teresa 

Lord, 

Grant us hearts of humility. Eyes to see the tender gift it is to become a character in the life of your Beloved son or daughter. Let us hold dearly the moments we spend with our kids, their families, and each other. Let us love in a way that brings Heaven to this earth, and reconciliation to our city. Thank you for your creative love. 

Amen

Growing Roots

Lately:
My hands have been more dirty then clean.
My body has been more tired then awake. 
My heart has been more stretched then full. 

The beauty of soft light filling my new room has become a gentle wake up call most mornings. I have actually started to look forward to the thirty minutes of crisp silence that echos the 5 A.M. wake up call from the lovely family of birds that has made their home on my window sill. Consistency is a word I am learning. Dwell is a verb I am learning to make time for.
I wish I could honestly say that I appreciate daily what the above paragraph explains about my life. But there have been several days when I wish I had a blind fold to block out the creeping light, the capability to train my bird neighbors to wait till nine to start singing their morning songs, and a traveling adventure in my near future. 
For this season however, I must accept that Consistency and Dwell are my adventure. 

Consistency.
Dwell. 
They don't sound that scary at first glance. But to a girl who has spent the last several years bouncing from place to place, person to person…Consistency and Dwell are terrifying. 

My mornings are spent digging my hands into dirt, planting seeds into soil blocks, intensely pulling weeds from garden beds, placing seedlings into earth homes, feeding chickens, gathering their gifts of  eggs, returning the dead back to the earth at our compost pile, watering the living things, and then going to bed and doing it all again the next morning. 

 












Very Consistent. 
Time to Dwell. 


I have wrestled daily between fear and acceptance of my place of growing roots in a place...in a city... in Nashville. I hated the thought of being in one place, its seemed boring sometimes it still seems boring. As I planted sunflowers along a creek bed that seemed rocky to me the parable of the sower came to mind. 

"other seed feel on rocky ground where they did not have much soil and immediately they sprang up since they had no depth of soil, but when the sun rose they were scorched, and since they HAD NO ROOTS they withered away." 

I sat on the creek bank and cried. It was as if God wiped mud from my eyes, from my hard heart. I had been so angry that my life was the same that he was calling me to live consistently, that he was making dwell in this place… 
He spoke gently, softly, crisply, like light crawling through my curtains in the early morning…

After all did He not place man in a garden to start with? Eden. He created it and it was good. Good, full of change, full of unlimited potential, full of life, full of growth, full of roots. 

What if my farming in this city is not just me looking for my roots in Nashville, but God allowing me to find my original roots. Roots that began long before I moved to Nashville. Long before I dreamt of taking this sustainable way of life across the ocean. 

As much as I am searching for a way to get to Africa, I am consistently searching for the woman I am supposed to be… created to be. I believe that through growing roots in this city, being stable, being consistent, being forced to dwell in God, in Nashville… He has forced me to dwell in myself.
He desires for all of us to bare fruit, to produce flowers. But how can we bare such fruit or produce beautiful flowers with out first knowing where those things come from…Roots. 

Places I am growing roots:

In my skills as a gardener. 
In my love for the children and families in Edgehill. 
In learning how to live in FREEDOM. 
In being apart of a movement reconciling brokenness in my community. 
In confidence and security in the person I am. 
In Nashville. 

I am reminded again of the intentionality of the way Jesus walked…Close to the soil.

If I am to follow Jesus, then I, too, must remain close to the soil. Often I look up into the clouds and daydream about a better world. But my dreams will never bear fruit unless I keep turning my eyes again and again back to the dust of this earth and listening to what God is saying to me on the road of life. For I am connected to the earth and to all who walk the earth with me. Nature is not the background to our lives; it is a living gift that teaches us about the ways and will of the Creator.

The Story of Saturdays

I have typed and backspaced more times then I can count at this point. Writing and rewriting…trying to put into words what has become the beat of my heart. 

In October a special girl invited me into her home. At 15 she was the oldest to 5 younger brothers. Her mom had gone into labor two months early and they needed a ride to the hospital. Simple enough. What began as a small act of piling kids into my car, jamming to Taylor Swift, and trying to explain to every nurse at the hospital that "no these weren't my kids." and "no their mother doesn't speak english." turned into a relationship that motivates my weeks, humbles me daily, and gives little pieces of heaven to so many. 

   
Just a few photos taken on October 25th. The day baby Nurtu was born and brought us all together.

Later this same evening Abdi (The oldest brother in the blue shirt) asked if I would come play soccer on Saturday. Due to my secret desire to go back to being 10 years old…my heart jumped! Soccer on Saturday sounded like the best idea. I had been praying for a way to become a part of this families life and in the small words there God laid my invitation before me. 

That following Saturday I showed up with a small box of chalk,  a somewhat flat kick ball, and a jump rope. I knocked on the door to Abdi's house and as it opened I watched about 20 kids between the ages of 6 months to 15 come pouring out of this small house. As my legs became inner twined with little arms hugging, and holding on tight, my ears began to be filled with a sound I had been missing. 

Joy as a sound may be a strange way to say it but as I sit here watching the rain slowly roll down this window pain, I can't find any other words to describe this particular kind of sound…its just sounded like…well joy. 

After a long day of playing… I realized quickly in no way could I do this every Saturday by myself. 
I had been in Nashville for a short month and was still in the process of meeting people and making new friends. I began to pray intentionally for God to provide. 

In January God placed in my life two beautiful new friends. 
The first being my new roommate and co worker and now dear friend Corisa. Her love for people and desire to support and come along side another is by far one of the most inspiring gifts. 

The next was a new friend who will be working for CSM in Denver, his name is Jordan. His passion for speaking with his entire being of the love of Jesus is something that brings life to our time at Edgehill as well as our friendship.

Jordan on the left Cor on the Right! SO thankful for these gems!

Every week (with the exception of the first) I have not come alone. God has been so faithful in providing these kids with more and more "big kid" hands each Saturday. It overwhelms me to recall all the many faces who have come out just play and watching my friends feel just as loved as our small friends is where I see the Kingdom of God come full circle. My heart is full. 

Saturdays have become the highlight of our week. Our short park day has gone from one family to around 15. We are meeting parents and building other relationships with the wonderful folks in this community.  Our play time has gone from just soccer and kickball, to... jump rope, wheelbarrow races, football, ring around the rosy, swings, chalk, fighting over bikes, puppies, dancing, popsicles, hugs, kittys, Easter egg hunts, piggy back rides, screaming into the drain pipe, spinning in circles and running until we literally can't run anymore! 

But I think if you had to ask any "big kid" their favorite part it would be sitting in a small circle at the end of our time and hearing what each child is thankful for. 

My favorite answer to this day is a tie between "cupcakes" or Abdi…"You guys are what I am thankful for your my best friends."

I think that when Jesus said "let the little children come to me" it was because he knew two things.

1. That little kids are the most fun!

2. That the sound of joy…pure and unhindered, sticks to your soul like honey…is found in those small voices that fill my heart each week. 

Lord, 

Teach us to keep loving. Teach us to keeping playing. Teach us to keep laughing. Thank you for joy.

The Journey of Reconciliation

Reconciliation begins with ourselves. It begins with a pure heart, a heart that is able to see God in others.

                                                                                           - Mother Teresa- 

The past few months I have journeyed with a some girls who live in the Edgehill neighborhood of Nashville. Edgehill is a small community that consists very dramatically of two sides of the street. On one side of the street you will find wealthy middle class families, who live in recently renovated houses and drive nice cars. On the other side of the street you find groups of families from all over the world including ( Somalia, Kenya, Kurtish folks, & Latin American Immigrants) just to name a few. Their housing consists of your typical government housing set up… brick buildings lumped together, grass and a few parks in the middle. The girls I work with live on this side of the street. 

Starting on day one of my fist encounter with these young ladies a deep seeded anger and dislike has taken place between the differing types of girls. There is anger towards different religious beliefs, anger toward different family units, anger toward body type, anger toward income level, anger toward rumors spread, and anger toward boy friend stealing. Typical high school drama mixed in with issues even the United Nations can't solve. 

At first the mission of bringing these girls together in community seemed hopeless. Every time one step was taken forward, five more were taken backwards. Jealousy and hate spewed from their lips easily. But has much as jealousy and hate spewed, even more hurt and lack of self worth was taken in. Teenage girls have the world against them it often seems…from the media and television, bullies at school, brokenness at home, and disrespect of boys… the last thing they need is the hurt from each other. 

I felt lost as I sought out advice on how to bring community and love to our after school program. It was not until a wise friend shared with me his experience growing up in post Apartheid South Africa that I began to some what recognize what needed to take place in our space. This friend described to me the ugly racism that had stemmed from this country for so long and that the way the began to put pieces back together was forgiveness. In hearing him speak with passion and truth I began to see that in one small word lay the answer to our community. 

After all God begs us to return to his feet confess and allow him to breath into us new life…but we can not attain this new life with out first accepting, and recognizing our need for forgiveness. 

So in that thought we began to offer times to grant the girls who desired to share their hurt. For them to have a place to speak openly about the ways that some one had wronged them, also allowing for the girls doing the wronging to be forgiven. Each girl did their fair share of both sharing and being forgiven… their vulnerability and depth taught me the beauty of a pure heart.

Community has formed. Love has been shared. Souls have been encouraged. New life has been breathed. 

Our girls recently came together to prepare a meal. Our Somalian sisters showed us how to cook a traditional Somalian dish called a Sambusa. ( Usually eaten as a celebration after Ramadan) 

Every girl took turns chopping, stirring, rolling, and stuffing. No nudge was given by me or any other volunteer… they came together and they cooked a meal!

While watching them joke, and laugh, cook, sing and dance. God allowed me to see just how far these young women have come. A picture of reconciliation in front of my very eyes. 

The book of Isaiah often comes to mind when praying for these girls of all different races and religions, I often get confused on how to love them well. I worry that I am not speaking of Jesus. I worry that there is more that I can do. I get confused on what it means to be Jesus to all. But at the end of the night as I lay my head on my pillow I must hold strong to the verse in Isaiah 43:

 "O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you."

He has called them all, He loves them all, and He shines through them all. 

Lord, 

Thank you for being a God who loves us, each of us dearly. For being a God who desires to reconcile all things. For being a God who brings joy. Let us forgive as greatly as we we receive forgiveness. Let us love as greatly as we are loved by you. You are good…all things that are good. 

Amen