The One I Tried to Avoid Writing

***WARNING***WARNING***VULNERABILITY ALERT***WARNING***WARNING***

This is one of those that I need to write mainly for myself, although I know that many others can probably relate in different situations. It's one that I hate to write because I detest vulnerability (in myself) and yet I somehow know that I benefit from transparency. It's a strange paradoxical state, the world inside my brain. ;)

I got home on Friday from Royal Family Kids' Camp. It's a ministry my church does for kids age 7-11 who have been abandoned, abused, and neglected. Most are in foster care currently, though we do serve some who have been recently adopted. This was our 17th year and I have been blessed to be part of this ministry from Day 1. I did miss the year I got married and the two years I had babies, but it's been an integral part of the fabric of my life since shortly after my high school graduation. Kraig has been in it since the beginning with me, we coordinate many fundraising activities for this ministry, our girls are as involved as they can be until they are old enough to be counselors, and we both serve on the leadership team. The staff over the years becomes like family. Many of my biological family members, former students, and closest church friends are also deeply involved. I say all of this to provide background for what I am about to say. You should know that, of all ministries and activities I participate in, this one has my heart. This one is the one I am most involved with and the one I love the most.

I would be hard-pressed to think of a time in my life I have ever felt more like an outsider than this past week at camp. More so than my first day as a new faculty member at CHS, more so than traveling to DC to be part of a group of Holocaust teacher fellows in which I knew NO ONE, more so than in SE Asia where I am one of precious few tall, overweight Caucasians ;) .... It makes absolutely no sense, I know that. And this is not one of those posts about how people exclude people and the church needs to get it right, either. This year at camp was probably the most peaceful and supportive and encouraging staffs we have ever taken. It is not at all the fault of a single person. It was just me. And no matter what I did or what I told myself, I could not shake the feeling.

It was grating and constant and made me feel all itchy inside. It wasn't like sadness or anxiety or anything at all like that, just like I was the wrong size puzzle piece and I was the only one who knew it. Or maybe everyone else knew it too. I laughed at the wrong places in the story, heard the silences in conversations when it should have been my line. I was the kid at the lunch table who desperately wants to be liked but yet somehow can't ever offer the right key to unlock the group. I felt displaced and replaced and out of the loop. It unnerved me and scared me a little because there was very much a sense of, "What if this is the rest of my life? What if I have somehow lost what it takes to connect with people? What if I'm all poured out and used up?" because if I don't fit here in what has become a sort of home for my soul for the entirety of my adult life with people who are and feel like family, then where will I ever fit in?

Throughout the week, I was living it, so there wasn't much time for introspection and reflection. Since I have been home, I have reflected back on those feelings and possible causes. The very strange thing was that, no matter how much of a disconnect I felt with the people, God was so very present for me this week. There were multiple situations that were nothing short of miraculous answers from Him, circumstances in which His hand was the only possible reason that certain pieces of the week worked out.

It was sometime on Saturday that I had a thought. I wish I could say that God revealed to me that THIS, THIS was the answer to the entire week and that my feelings were straight from Him to make this point, but I can't say for certain that was the case. What I can say for certain is that this thought shed new light on my camp experience this year.

{I have typed and retyped the next part multiple times because I want to be so careful what and how I say it. I think it's so important for people who have truly lived easy lives not to ever imply that they "know what it's like" for anyone in true hardship situations. It's the same reason we teachers of Holocaust education avoid any type of simulation. I NEVER want my students to leave saying, "Oh, I know what they felt like, being in that railcar" because YOU DON'T and never could. In the same way, I have NO IDEA what it feels like to be a child in foster care and I NEVER COULD, no matter what. So please don't misunderstand what I am about to say.}

I think my feelings this week gave me a tiny taste, a fraction, a moment, of what those kids feel all the time. They live lives of displacement, rejection, feeling discarded. They are accustomed to having little to no information about their circumstances, to feeling like no one is ever happy to see them. Many of them, when it comes to potential adoptive situations, know what it means to feel "too old", "too shy", "too many siblings". They hear other kids talk about holidays and family events and vacations and all of those things and many of them just don't have much to offer to the conversation. There often isn't time to make friends because the next new school is just around the corner. At some juncture, it isn't just a matter of no time but rather feeling like there is no point. Although looking at them, you would never know they are in different circumstances than other kids, they always know. They always feel like that puzzle piece that never exactly fits.

What I hope is that they also know and were reminded this week that, no matter how few things they are able to fit in their little suitcase or trash bag to take to their next placement, there is One who goes before them who is so much bigger than their little lives. I hope they remember that, because of Him, they can be strong and courageous, not fearful or sad, for He is with them. It's always hard at the end of camp week for the staff because of the uncertainty. We know many of them are in great foster homes and group homes, some are in wonderful adoptive homes, some will go back to improved situations with biological parents at some point. But we also know that the future for so many of these kids is so uncertain and shaky and it's hard to spend a week loving on them, then watching them walk away seemingly alone. I loved the song we did all week and it's such a great reminder that they aren't walking away alone. The God of Angel Armies is always by their side.