I must love middle schoolers

If you were asked to look in my backpack right now you wouldn't find the usual college girl items.

There's a binder full of schedules, a handbook, and rules I'm supposed to follow as an Americorps member. Which some of the kids and I like to call #protocol 

Some paper work with kids information.

Brand new expo markers I forgot to put upstairs in the class room, so when my 8th graders ask me for help with their algebraic equations, I can write them on a dry erase wall. 

They need to see things bigger picture sometimes. Visual. Audible. I am in no way a teacher, but I know what it's like to hate math. 

The folder Sam made me, which I love with my whole heart. 

Meant for the service and culture rotation we had this summer. 

Hands holding different flowers. It's perfect. 

ADHD medicine can be found in another pocket. 

Cause 4'o clock is harder for some than others. We don't love them any less. 

However, we do make sure the pill is swallowed and a high five is given.  

A destroyed planner covered with pictures of family. 

Full of assignments due from last year, weekend trips planned, reminders, parties, breaks, etc. 

Oh and a picture of two girls faces from the photo copier!

Now it's August. A new planner is on the way. 

It will find it's home next to confiscated Lego's, takis, extra shoes to play ball, artwork, candy wrappers and other trash I somehow end up collecting, among other things!

This can only mean one thing...

I must love middle schoolers! 

I actually love them so much, I decided to stay at Emerald Ave through the school year. 

Surprise! 

Stay tuned for more victories, big and small. Adventures. Life lessons. Straight up failures. 

The good, bad, and ugly, that comes with being a family at EA. 

Cause being a middle schooler ain't easy y'all. 

Here's to a school year full of "WHAT ARE THOSE?!"

Apartment 8

An open letter to those who get to live in apartment 8 after were gone.

Yes, the door is shut... no it won't close anymore if you lean on it. We kind of like it halfway open like that anyway...

No, you won't fall through that spot in the floor close to the tub... you might have, had our awesome maintenance man not come and fix the leak though. You're welcome. 

You may not smoke, but your neighbors below do. Which is basically the same thing. Candles were our go to, but after awhile you get used to your clothes smelling like smoke and you continue on.

The water heater was fixed about a month or so ago... but if something happens, expect the oven to be in the living room for awhile why our awesome maintenance man fixes it. 

Your neighbors can hear everything. I think that's why people keep their doors open most days... they gave up "being quiet" awhile ago. Plus... who pays for AC anyway. 

Sorry the front closet rack is jank... we don't know either.

The wifi password is actually the length of the Mississippi river.

Oh and if you want to talk to someone at the front desk... just forget that was even an idea. I don't even believe there is a front desk. 

These aren't complaints by any means. This is just me letting you know what we didn't, and eventually learned. Learned to love, and learned to live alongside some really cool people. 

Get to know the people in your building if nothing else. Their stories, hellos, good mornings, and late night conversations, are some of my favorite memories of being in apartment 8. You can't find a more diverse group of people than an east side apartment complex. 

That stoop, and the sidewalk around the side of the building is where I saw God this summer. Where I called home when things were hard, or a victory was made. It was also where I got to play in the rain with my roommates and read a book about stepping into the unknown. 

I'm glad I stepped into the unknown this summer, where I had a place to end and start my days well. 

Be thankful for the leaky shower. Be thankful for apartment 8. And the things you will experience while you live there. Maybe you have a family to take care of. Maybe you're here looking for work and your seasons change faster than others. Maybe you have roommates like us. Regardless, embrace the glorious mess that is your neighborhood. The gardens, the park, the windy streets that have powerful names like Selma and the like. 

As I spend my last days here I can't help but look back on the unknown blessing this place would be to me. The relationships I have with my roommates is something I can't express the thankfulness. Abby, Grace, and Lauren, you three are beautiful souls, game changers, peace makers, kingdom builders, and so much more. I am thankful for the countless cookies made, the prayer nights, adventures, workouts, game nights, late night talks, movie nights, jazz, making dinner together, coffee and tea shared, quiet mornings being encouraged by your devotions or just simple comments made. I could go on and on. This summer was full of crazy schedules, but the time we spent together in apartment 8 is time I can truly "Praise God" for! 

J

I didn’t have to carry those boxes or backpacks.     J could have managed & Granny is tougher than people like me give her credit for.     I helped anyway.    Walked the several blocks from the park to their home.   Even took the cut behind the townhouses.   Granny told us to walk ahead of her cause of “long legs” but we both knew it was her asthma.  

Next came something real special.  

This young man walking beside me was telling me how he’s gonna keep his head in the books this year.   He’s “gonna get good grades, and find a job that hires a fourteen year old black kid.”    It’s unfortunate that he knows somehow that will make a difference.   “I need to save money so I can go to Y and train so I can make the football team… and not be bored.   It’s so boring here.”    I asked him how he thought he would get to the Y and back since it’s not close.   Of course the bus was J’s answer, no surprise there.  

Next question was “If you could, what would you do to make your neighborhood not boring?”  “Well I would want a place to help kids with their homework, and like a pool to swim in… and like a place for kids with disabilities ya know?”   He paused for a really long time.    “Maybe when people need help finding homes I can help them do that too?”

He opened the screen door and I had no idea how we got there so fast.    I wiped the tear that had fallen without permission.   He took the handful of boxes and backpacks I carried, gave me a hug and ran upstairs.    I don’t know how many of our boys will go to college, get their dream jobs, or even out live me. I don’t know if what I say to them, every time, gets through. All I know is that I have to keep loving them, and encouraging them.    J’s goals used to be very different.    Not bad, but now he is thinking of others instead of just himself.   He was thinking about giving back.   Making an impact, a difference.   He was thinking about more than the hoop or the corner.   And you know what?

I couldn’t be more proud.