T H E - H O U S E

My dreams haven't changed much since I was in the 6th grade. I set goals, goals that seemed hundreds of miles away - years down the road from where I stood at the time. With perspective changes, and various different experiences with people - new environments, and my own personal challenges given to myself, those dreams became a lifestyle. They became my story. {My DNA was tattooed and my heart marked up with the most colorful graffiti - translation? I was born for this. Even the Queen of England had to be taught how to do her job, raised for it or not. That is where I'm at. I am growing, stretching, and absorbing the culture for the day when it is my time.}

I started to achieve those goals. Items were being checked off just as quickly as I had added them in middle and high school. People started to see the blueprint I had laid out for myself. Some shook their heads in approval and encouraged me to work hard, love people, and do the radical things. Others. Well, some people just don't have the same heart that I do. And that's ok. It hasn't stopped me from continuing and pursing the radical - investing my whole self into what that 6th grade dream was.

 

I need a second to catch everyone up.

 

For a little over a year now I have felt the call to live in the neighborhood(s) that I work with. Which if you don't know already means a predominantly under resourced, underemployed, "inner city" community. I've had people call these areas anything from downtown, ghetto, the hood, even "the bad part of town". Depending on how I feel that day I might correct you, but most days I just let it go and know that to me, those places look and feel like home. Like a place where lives are lived and stories are waiting to be told.

 

Within that year my church bought a house in the neighborhood I felt led to call home. So of course I claimed it! I told everyone it would be mine. That I didn't care if it took 4 days, or 4 years. But somehow I would move in and be the 24/7 presence I knew I wanted to be. Then I went to school in Knoxville, not Lexington. And 4 years became the reality a lot quicker than 4 days. I would wait.

 

 



Fast forward to one of the last days of school. I got a call asking if I would be up for the challenge to move into the house for the summer with the knowledge of it being a ministry house. And for those who know me at all know what happened next - tears. I looked at my mental list of goals and in the "dream" section, that was the next thing to check off. And it would actually be happening... 3 years early.

 

The park is in walking distance. I would be just around the corner from my kids. I could play ball with the boys anytime. The house would host missional community groups, and in my mind sleep overs and girls nights with all my girly girls that don't get too excited when I play sports instead of do the art projects with them! I would be forced to get to know the neighborhood and those who reside in it even better - only though I wasn't being forced. This was my dream come true. The only problem? The actual house was falling apart.

 

Set back after set back. Satan really did not want me to be in this house. No matter what we did, we waited longer, prayed harder, asked God to show us if this was what needed to happen. He said yes every time. I was hopeful. I was optimistic. I was in love with the idea being so close to reality. Someone once told me that God doesn't do bad things, but because there is sin, bad is inevitable, and when it happens God uses those moments to teach us. To see how we react. Do we call out to Him waving our arms like a crazy person saying "save me"? Or do we hunker down - gather whatever strength we have left - wipe the tears and scrapes and try again with a different approach? Neither one of those reactions are bad ones. I guess it just depends on the scenario and what God is trying to show the person. That's where I am currently. I am trying so hard to hear bad news, strategically reacting and figuring out what He is going to do with this pile of crap... literally broken, bowing, cracked, leaking, and half finished house on Larkwood.

 

So my living arrangements have changed for the summer. And that's ok. It hasn't stopped me from continuing and pursing the radical - investing my whole self into what that 6th grade dream was.  My dream has not changed. Whatever city, whatever neighborhood, and whatever house He calls me to. I will go. I will accept the looks of worry and judgment. I will nod as you tell me how ridiculous I am for putting myself in a dangerous environment as a young. single. white. girl. And I will even let you finish talking about how living in darkness can ruin my chance of getting into heaven. Then I will smile, walk away, pray for you, and continue to live the story God wrote out on my body years ago. I know what I have signed up for. Fully aware of the risks, dangers, violence, etc. I am also fully aware of the beauty, and community, and J wearing kids who just want someone to care about them. You don't have to join me. But you will not discourage me.

 

My heart hurts tonight... but tomorrow is a new day, and I am excited that one day my dream will be reality.