a story to tell

I finished reading the last composition notebook as the tears welled up. I brought the notebooks as close to my heart as I possibly could and tightly hugged them there. The tears fell full stream and I began to feverishly pray for the girls behind the stories. In that instant I realized how much I love them...how my whole being wants to see them succeed...how blessed I am to have them in my life.

When I was making the decision to leave my corporate job and enter into full-time ministry, I remember going to the movies alone...with this unwavering desire to see Freedom Writers. I remember the brisk air brushed against my cheeks as I walked across the parking lot after the credits rolled...a sheepish grin drawn across my face as I realized..."I'm actually going to do this."

When it comes to emotions, I've always been more likely to express myself on paper vs. to utter a word. With some of the Jr. High girls showing a similar reluctance to open up, I shamelessly stole the Freedom Writers approach, and handed out journal notebooks. And the girls began to write. If they leave their notebook in the top basket, that gives me permission to read it, bottom basket, and it's off limits. Imagine my excitement when the first few journals found their way into the top basket.

Everyone has a story...waiting to be told...perhaps hidden secrets, hurts and scars from our past...or worries about our future. We all have a story to tell. Maybe we're just waiting for someone to listen...or on a good day...maybe we're simply waiting for someone to care.

On the way home tonight a thought crossed my mind...I don't know if I'm saving these kids or they're saving me...

I know...I know...guess we'll leave the saving to Jesus. ;)