All I have to give

I have always hated the term "mission trip". If you take the two words on their own by definition, you get a combined definition of a journey taken for the purpose of a task or activity. But when you dig a little deeper, you find that "mission trips" have traditionally been short term vacations with a purpose including time set aside for designated projects & activities that all make us feel super good about what we're doing for these poor people, complete with a photo montage so that you too can feel good about what I'm doing. Don't we all feel so good about what we're doing for God now? I bet he is just waiting to congratulate us. If only my arm was a little longer I could scratch my own back instead of merely just patting it. - Ok, so I added that last part for myself but seriously - look at what we in the western church call "mission trips".
So please, please, please do us both a favor & don't put me in the awkward place of telling me face to face that you're going on a mission trip. My questions would probably start with - So, how are your neighbors doing? What do you know about the culture in the place that you're going? Did you know that there are folks in our own hometown who sleep outside & that you don't have to go to _________ to "minister to" them? What does "ministering to" people even mean? When will you return to that place? Are you investing in each other's lives or merely going to "save" theirs?
Now, before you begin to get offended & start pointing fingers, please finish hearing me out. Eight years ago, I went on my very first, and last, mission trip. Eight years ago, God knew I needed a safe place & he took me to Garland, Texas to find it. In an old Gold's Gym, God met 8 heart broken adults & 9 kids in the body of one of the spunkiest little white haired ladies I've ever met. Through her, Jesus loved on us. Through the other staff members, God has taught me what the church is supposed to be like. Through the kids that would come to eat at the state's free summer lunch program & the teenagers that came to serve community service, God reminded us again what unconditional love looked like by splashing it across their faces. That summer, I had nothing to offer them. Nothing. They gave me so much more than I could have ever given them. Ever.
And so, year after year, we have returned to Garland, not on mission trip, but to reconnect with our friends, our brothers & sisters, who live here. I've got at least 4 years worth of duct tape name tags stuck to my bathroom wall as a daily reminder to pray for my boys. It's so humbling to be in a place where these elementary aged boys have people shuffle in & out on a weekly basis & yet they remember me. "Miss, didn't you have a mustache last year?" (I dressed up like King David everyday.) "Miss, didn't you put gummy worms in chocolate pudding them dig them out with your face that one time?" "Miss, can we make slime again this year?"
So when it came time to begin preparing for getting to visit with my boys, there were a lot of questions I had to ask myself. Can I go & trust that God is in control with everything that's going on with Gma P & Aunt S? Will I be able to physically do this? How can the schedule be arranged so that I can teach both the boys & the girls? But there was one question I dreaded most of all - What will you do when there's no call Wednesday night from gma asking how things are going & then praying over speaker phone for not only those of us who drove 4hrs to get here, but those at home, those who walk here, those who came to eat lunch, those who didn't AND what will you do when she's not there to take down the list of boys names & pray for them this next year?
In a room with 7 children & 3 other adults, I admit I cried myself to sleep last night. You see yesterday, we talked about how God can take our broken hearts & fix them into something new. Just about the time that those 30 boys were about to get rowdy, I smashed a beautiful red plate with a hammer. They were shocked. I asked them if anything had ever broken their hearts & watched those very active bodies sit still as I sat down on the floor in front of the stage where they were seated & told them about my gma. I told them how my heart had broken & how sometimes it still felt broken. I told them how gma loved them even though she never got to come meet them. I told them how she prayed for each of them by name everyday. It got really quiet. "But Miss? You'll see her in Heaven again one day, right?" I smiled. "Yes, and so can you. She'll love to actually meet you there."
Yesterday I realized, these boys have people who come through all summer long & want to convert them into little tiny Jesus lovers. They know all about Jesus & his 12 friends that went everywhere with him. They know about a short tax collector & a tree....which incidentally wasn't part of anything I had prepared....but anyway.... I have nothing more to offer them but myself. To be silly with them & wear a mustache. To fake the "Eww...gross" when we make slime on Friday, which also wasn't in my plan. To ask them & listen when they tell me what was for lunch. (I wish I could run downstairs & play soccer with them, but that's just not in the cards for me this year.) And to ask them again on Friday for their duct tape name tags so that I can pray for them again this year. I'm sure my momma will pray with me since gma's waiting for us.
These boys & girls don't need somebody announcing their wonderful plans to take a purpose-driven vacation. They don't need somebody to come in & re-invent the wheel of Bible school. They really don't even need me to tell them about Jesus - they have heard about him. They just need me to love them like Jesus would and that's all I really have to give them.
There are faces that I miss incredibly this year - some who have aged out, some who have moved on, some who are out of town for a while. But this is NOT eight years of mission trips for me & our birth children - this has been eight years of being completely invested, giving everything I am & everything I'm not. Eight years of boys. Eight years of laughter & tears God has given me. Eight years of watching them grow up a week at a time. Eight years of God writing their names on my heart. Eight years of spending a short week with our friends from a different town. Eight years of watching God grow & use the many staff members we've come to treasure & love. Eight years of being fully committed to loving & praying for them year round.
Until God tells me otherwise, I will continue giving them all I have to give, which is just myself. But because of Jesus, myself is just enough.