The Signifigance in Goodnight

Before I get started, you need some background as to why this post is talking about the significance of goodnight. So I am going to tell you a story from my childhood. 

When I was little going to bed was the worst thing ever. It meant darkness, having to be quiet and still, monsters, and not having anyway to protect myself is something went wrong. But eventually hugging my mom after she got back from work late and having my dad tuck me in was ok. I looked forward to hearing the door open knowing mom was home, and my dad always tucked me in and even said some corny little sayings to make me laugh and not be sad. If you've ever seen Finding Nemo, the father/child relationships are a huge theme. So I could relate when "Noggin and Dude" were said between two turtles. And that's what we did each night. My dad even texted me my first night of college that simply said "Noggin" and of course I cried. Because even though he hadn't tucked me into bed in years we still have this sense of peace and comfort knowing at the end of the day the other knows they are loved and special. 

Now. Goodnight for my kids looks completely different. And I won't go into detail why or how, I just want to share with you one of my favorite parts at camp - which is bed time. And not because they are finally going to be quiet and asleep! That's almost never the case anyway. After the camp fire the boys and girls split into their respective cabins with their leaders and get ready for bed. I have made it sort of tradition that I go to each cabin, including my own, and give every kid a hug or kiss, or for most of the girls in my cabin, we pray and I tuck them in. Most of the kids are way too old for this, and think I'm silly for doing it since it's not their normal. But now I know why my dad did it every night for so long. I just want them to fall asleep knowing someone loves them. 

It may look like camp fire smoke cuddles, or a race to the boys cabin ending in a dog pile... And I'm on the bottom. Or it looks like giggles and tickle fights followed up with frustrated "girls go to bed" and sometimes it's even being hugged by 15 little boys straight up in just underwear. 

Whatever it looks like. I don't take goodnights with my kids lightly. And I hope one day they can look back at goodnights like I do. 

Doing What I'm Called For Daily: Whatever That Is

Leaning over I told my sister "When I'm a pastor, this is what my church will look like." 

Checking out at target last week the cashier complimented my wallet. I told her it was from India, and my roommate had given it to me. We talked about how leather was a new fashion trend now. I told her she should see my back pack from Bolivia. She freaked out - "it's so hipster!" She exclaimed. "Yeah... I guess being a missionary means you rock things our fellow main landers don't." Was my response. 

"This is Chloe, she's an Urban Youth Worker, we've watched her grow up and she's doing big things." Well that's new. 

In the van my kids always talk about my school, how I live in Tennessee now, and "she's going to be Mr. Marcus" is all they really understand what my job will look like. They still wish I went to UK, and I do too most days. But like Noah had to block out his families requests and even his own, he built the ark. I moved to Johnson's campus and continue to be what feels like my own minority sometimes in Urban Studies. 

The older man watching us from the table beside us - smiling and chuckling over the comical statements our three little boys made. After their meal and ice cream had been easily smashed, I told them to use the restroom before we left. That old man patted me on the shoulder as he got up to leave himself. No words, just a universal gesture that I will take as a sort of tip of the hat.

The conversation had with a big brother over at the drug dealers house made me feel more welcomed. He knows why I come around and who I'm looking for, so he does what I ask him to and we move on. Yesterday there was a little more respect coming from both ends. 

This past week I've talked to little ones about a home improvement store set on fire, got calls about school bombs, had to co-parent with a mom on punishment methods and remind two boys they don't need certain titles at 10 and 13. 

I never dreamed I would grow up with the possibility of being a pastor - an urban one at that - but if God told me to, I would. And I can garuntee that my "church" wouldn't look like the ones you know. 

I continually tell people I couldn't be a missionary - but I am. It's written in my veins. 

I have no idea what my title is or will be, everyone seems to have their own for me already: daughter, sister, mom, intern, friend, student, volunteer, urban youth worker, Christian, etc. 

All I know is whatever God wants me to be - I will be. It will be hard - cause it already is! Getting calls that he is in trouble again hurts and makes me mad and I have so many questions. Watching the news acuse a culture and not the guilty disappoints me. 

And I am reminded again and again why I love this life so much. Why when I get random messages from kids who are grown now tell me they are proud of me! Or that I am their role model. I never asked for that, it just happened. Because I chose to do life with them years ago. And never gave up. They haven't given up on me after all my faults and failures - so why should I give up on them? 

I was recently asked what my highlight of the summer was. And I couldn't pin point one because the whole summer has been an amazing journey and full of lessons and laughs. One that keeps coming to mind though is driving to the baseball game with a full van - windows down cause the AC is jank - blasting Ariana and Iggy - dancing and signing so loud everyone at the stop light caught a glimpse at my daily life of crazy - the business suit clad man getting off of work joined right in - sang and danced right there at the stop light. Add it to the list of Martin girl stop light parties. It's our specialty. That is joy. That is my family. Despite all the journeys through hell this summer and their lives in general - we still know how to love each other and have fun in spite of the crap this world has dished out. 

The summer is coming to a fast close, but unlike many internships, or mission trips, my job doesn't really end. Being a sister doesn't end. Love doesn't stop in August. Or at the end of the semester. Or after graduation. The relationships I have with these kids, their families, and those neighborhoods, continue to grow and teach me things. 

I'm so freaking thankful. And I continue to look forward to the days still to be had.