about 8 years ago I met a man who was on a journey much bigger than himself. he had left his home, family, and a city full of kids that still talk about him to this day. he went to the one place he told God he didn't want to go.
he used what he had to play, teach, and invest in this new city full of kids. I was in 6th grade when I decided I would do the same one day.
fast forward, that man called us 7 out to be uncomfortable, to never be average, and to be the salt and light of this earth. we're not perfect. we fail. but we are a family.
hot summers where we developed our own camps & made memories under the street lights.
school years full of helping kids read & using our fingers to count.
moving away. college. change.
pain. heartbreak.
joy. celebration.
the call has always been there, in the distance. Every move I've made laced in the thought that it won't be a dream one day. It will be real. It is real.
the years have passed and that man has remained. the dream never fading.
patience.
so much patience.
he began calling us his own.
in the victories and our less than elegant moments.
when the news came that the dream was forming into a structure, with cement, flooring, windows, wood beams... goosebumps covered me and his eyes were just as glassy as mine.
here we are.
8 years removed from the introduction, even more from the birth of the dream.
we are looking at Gods provision.
we are looking at why that man called us out the way he did. so that one day... there will be more like us.
there will be more encouraged to believe that 6th grade dreams can be made real. and more will see that waiting for God to be God, is so, flipping worth it.
and the story continues...
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