Interrupted

It was a monumental moment when a local government funded agency approached us about providing The Dream Campaign in one of its local neighborhoods. We never expected that we would get the opportunity. We short changed God that HE could get us into anywhere he wanted. We worked on that project for almost a year. Meetings and paperwork. Waiting and Dreaming.
When we submitted our proposal we were very clear about the fact that we were a faith based organization. We submitted a sample of our lessons which is based on biblical leadership principles.
Everyone was accepting and excited. We moved our stuff into the community center, had sign ups and waited. And waited. And waited...

We were waiting on an MOU for the building use agreement. I was quite dismayed when I opened the attachment to read that we could not pray, have devotionals, talk about God, etc. It essentially said, "come offer your program, but don't do your program." The only thing that had been mentioned to that point was that we couldn't put bible verses on the walls since the building may be used for other things. I emailed them back and said, "I can't sign this...I can't be something I'm not and I've been upfront from day 1."

They scheduled a conference call and with great regret and heartfelt apologies owned the fact that there was an oversight in the process. They assumed since parents were signing off their childs participation in a faith based organization it would be acceptable. The legal team that handles all of their paperwork informed them otherwise..."Separation of Church and State" stands.

There was sadness that this project we had invested so much time in had abruptly ended with absolutely no warning, but without knowing, it was actually an interruption that ushered a greater opportunity for us. 

What we did not know was that the ministry in our own backyard was going to double in size during the course of our "Wait." We did not know that the following week we would have 60% growth in students and a 150% growth in volunteers. Had the expansion of our ministry to an additional location happened when we were expectating, we would not have been prepared for the growth right where we are on a daily basis. We would have been stretched too thin and struggling to train and duplicate at a rate that would prove beneficial.

I say all of that to say that sometimes the interruptions in our life serve a much greater purpose than we can even fathom. I am a dreamer. A visionary. A creative. I am always looking forward and planning for the NEXT thing. Sometimes what God is doing is right where I am with what He has given me in that moment. Maybe there is a greater quality to what I can be doing now before expanding. Maybe the kids in our neighborhood need to be able to knock on our door on Tuesday and Thursday and know someone will answer...not be somewhere else. More is not always best. We are almost in a position where we can offer an after school program where we are. That was never on our radar, but our increase in activitiy and the need to personally reach each student personally almost makes it necessary. Sometimes growth means going deep before going wide.

Is there an area of your life that needs to go deep before going wide?

Do you seek for the opportunity in interruptions?

Learning to love the here and now,
Morgan

Breaking the Silence on Ferguson: It Starts With Me.

For the past ten days, I have been watching the stories coming out of Ferguson, MO. I have watched the news stories, the live news feeds, read the blogs, followed #Ferguson on Twitter, paid attention to status updates on Facebook regarding the heinous things that are happening. I have done so silently. I typed a blog during the first few days from a place of anger but never hit publish. That anger turned to sadness, sadness to confusion, confusion to introspection, introspection to realization and the realization to finding my voice. I do not think I am alone in this. I have watched so many of my friends so wonderfully articulate their feelings in a call to justice while I sat numb, feeling like my voice had no place. This morning, my friend posted a rally cry with a collage of twitter updates asking the Caucasian community to speak up. They were all inviting and asking for our voice in the conversation. I'm breaking my silence.

I'm ashamed. 

I'm ashamed that after all these years racism is still alive. It is not only alive but it is rearing its ugly head in some of the most heartbreaking and infuriating ways. The side by side pictures that are surfacing of years past vs this past week look identical. This is the type of history that should not repeat itself. I'm ashamed that as a human race we are still having to learn lessons on respect, love and just down right dignity.

I'm angry.

I'm angry that the color of ones skin can directly affect and dictate the type of treatment they receive. I have wrestled all week with the phrase, "white privilege." I hate it. As much as an African American person hates being judged for their darker skin, I absolutely HATE the assumptions that come with my lighter skin. However....just because I hate it does not make it false. It angers me so much because there IS truth in it. It is a reality that devastates me, but one that I must leverage for good.

I'm sad.

I have looked at numerous pictures online and there is one of a lady looking at a camera and she is wearing the exhaustion and heartbreak on her face. It is an image I have not been able to shake. I am sad that a small number of people are choosing to respond with violence and looting. It is heartbreaking to see police using tear gas, tanks, batons, shields and guns. THIS IS AMERICA! There is no FREEDOM in those images. I'm sad that there are children holding signs that say, "Don't Shoot." Children. They are growing up with this as their reality and it is formative in these young minds.

I'm aware. 

I have started paying more attention to what people say or do not say regarding race. I have immersed myself in a community and a culture that is 95% African American. I can go an entire day without seeing another Caucasian person in my neighborhood. I have worked so hard to be accepted by my neighbors and for the most part, I think that I am. I am also aware that no matter how hard I listen, learn or try to understand. I will never be able to understand 100% the thoughts, feelings and issues they face due to their race and it's a gap that I feel every day. I have listened to peoples concerns for mine and my husbands safety because of where we live. Deep down I know those concerns would not be the same if we lived in a neighborhood filled with people of our same race.  I know that some people reading this will say, "Oh that's not true," and if that's you....sit on that for awhile. Think about it. Examine it. I had to as well.

I'm hopeful.

I was sixteen miles from Ferguson last week visiting a friend in St. Louis and I attended a community prayer gathering. It was one of the greatest pictures of Heaven I have ever seen. There were people from all walks of life and different races who came together in unity to pray for our communities. One of the pastors talked about how in the midst of such chaos we need to remember "the God who sees and will set everything right." That brought such comfort to me. Not only does God see what is happening as a whole, He sees each person individually where they are. He knows the depth of our sadness, anger, confusion. He sees the unanswered questions and the aches and groans that feel too deep for words.   I'm hopeful because I see peoples of various races coming together united in the midst of division. I see an invitation extended and people accepting. I see the church coming to the city and people standing on the front lines in a cry for change and justice. I'm hopeful because I see this starting to happen in our city as well. Families crossing neighborhood lines and watching children of different races playing together. This gives me hope. 

I'm learning.

Listening is something we all need to be doing right now. There are voices that need to be heard. There are books, blogs, stories that we all need to read. I want to know what is actually happening and how people really feel. I want to be able to take part in the conversation without appearing or actually being ignorant. I want to know the issues that my neighbors face. I want to go deeper in knowledge and in self reflection. I need to have an opinion. I need to educated in things that I do not understand. 

It is my problem.

This is not just something happening on the news somewhere else. This is not someone else's issue. This is my neighborhood. My community. My town. Any of the boys I work with could have been Mike Brown and I have a responsibility in making sure that does not become a reality. I can not change the thoughts and opinions of people in our entire country. My place is not at a peaceful protest in Ferguson, MO. My place is in a small neighborhood in Savannah, GA and a member of a large predominately caucasian church. I live in a city where I see segregation every day. I have a voice and I have an audience. You have a voice and you have an audience. What are you saying...or not saying?

I came across this quote  that sums it all up for me:

"Everybody thinks about changing humanity, 

nobody thinks about changing himself."

Leo Tolstoy

It starts with me.

When Home Isn't Home

I am thankful that I grew up in a family in which I always knew I had a home. It did not matter what I went through in my life, good or bad, I knew I could (and did) go home when needed. I was reminded today that is not the case for everyone.

We came to Chicago for Glenn to be nationally certified in gang intervention and prevention and gangs in K-12 schools. It has already been a phenomenal training and networking event but due to the cost, I could not attend with him. I thought that during the day I would work on some things for The Dream Campaign or sight see around Chicago. I have never really been anywhere like it. There are giant skyscrapers and people EVERYWHERE. Yesterday, I was walking back to the hotel from meeting up with Glenn and just scoping out the area for things to do and places to see. Our hotel sits in the middle of an area known as the Gold Coast which upon further research I discovered is one of the richest neighborhoods in the nation.  As I rounded the corner, I happened upon a young girl holding a sign, visibly homeless...tattered and dirty clothing. She held her sign in front of her with white knuckles so focused on the feet that walked by in front of her, not daring to make eye contact with those who probably had opinions of who she was and why she was sitting there.  I don't make it a habit of giving anyone money, but I did not have anything else on me and I felt a peace about giving her a few dollars. I knelt down beside her and said "Hi, I'm Morgan. What's your name?"  She replied very cautiously, "I'm Allie." She thanked me after I gave her a few dollars and I went on my way. The image of her sitting with thousands of people passing by her as if she were not even there stayed with me.

I decided to try and find the Walgreens this morning for a few needed items and took a different route than where I met Allie. On my way to the store, I passed by two homeless men. There is literally a homeless person on every corner in the area. I felt the uncomfortable feeling as I approached the cross walk and the ability to excuse myself to keep walking was quickly met by the hand telling me to stop. There I was right next to the man calling out for change. I felt myself becoming just like everyone else...."Don't make eye contact." I started to come up with reasons that I should not feel bad about acknowledging him. He seemed totally out of it. Maybe he was drunk or high. I did not feel good about giving him money like the day before. I felt his eyes bearing down on me and my eyes stayed fixed on the blinking hand. My feet promptly moved across the street at the first sign of "go." I did not get more than 2 feet into the street when I heard, "Morgan, what if that was Jesus?" Remorse and guilt enveloped me as I realized I had just done what I speak against to everyone else. How easily I blended in to my surroundings. That same voice said, "give a cup of cold water."

I put my needed items up on the counter to check out and added a few extra bottles of water. I went back to the man on the corner and said, "Hello sir, this is for you." He looked at the bottle of water and slowly reached out to retrieve it from my hand. He looked shocked and glanced up at me as he said, "Thank You."
I walked to meet Glenn during his lunch break and passed another man with a sign that said he had been homeless for two months.  Another well dressed man held a cardboard sign expressing that he needed work as a handyman. I felt like I was moving in slow motion suddenly noticing the need surrounding me. I approached the intersection where I had met Allie the day before and there she sat, head down, any ounce of dignity drained from her face. I called out, "Hey Allie!" She looked up scanning the crowd until her eyes met mine. I wondered how long it had been since she had heard her name called out loud. She smiled. I told her I was going to meet up with my husband but I would be back shortly. I assured Glenn over lunch that I was not going to bring her back to our hotel or follow her anywhere. He made me convince him. He knows me well.

I had not read her sign the first time I met her but this time as I walked up I read the words scribbled out on the cardboard, "Homeless. Stuck in Chicago. Vegetarian." along with some other things. Next to her was a little pocket book with the words, "Trust in Jesus" written across the top. I decided to start off our conversation by asking her how long she had been a vegetarian and why she took that stance. She told me all about how she loved animals and hated how they were treated so it was more out of a conviction for their well being. She told me she was 20 years old and I asked her about being stuck in Chicago.  I asked her where home was and she replied, "Cincinnati, OH..but things at home are not good...it's not really home." I told her about how Glenn and I met working at a homeless shelter and she seemed to relax a little more. I asked her if she was here with anyone else and she told me about her boyfriend and how they sleep outside next to the church around the corner. I asked her what she really needed. She said, "What do you mean?" I explained that I realize people may give her change here and there but if she could walk in a store right now and get something, what would it be? She immediately said, "shampoo and conditioner" as she started stroking her hair...."Especially conditioner." I asked her if she needed socks and she said, "OH YES!" and whispered, "and underwear." She explained that a bus pass would be really nice but the card itself was $5 she had not gotten one. I told her I would be back in a few minutes.

I passed by the bus tour kiosks on the way to the store and watched the double decker buses drive by filled with tourists taking in the sights. That had been the one thing I wanted to do while I was here but I knew that money would be better spent helping a young 20 year old girl feel seen that day. I walked through the aisles trying to pick out things she would need and a few things she would want. I grabbed a few fresh fruit and veggies as a treat for a vegetarian. I passed by my new homeless friends on the way and said hello and I could see Allie smile as I started my way across the street. I knew that it was more than just a bag with some needed items. It was a someone doing what they said they were going to do. Seeing her. Hearing her. Her boyfriend had joined her and I introduced myself and shook his hand. He was very kind and appreciative. She looked through the bags and kept saying "Thank you." I handed her the bus card loaded with enough money for them to have 10 trips. You would have thought it was Christmas morning. I felt myself choke up a bit and she and her boyfriend exchanged smiles and conversations about what that could mean for them. I told her I'd be in town a few more days and would come back tomorrow to hang out and chat for a bit., I plan to ask her what her dreams are.

Some may read this and think that I'm talking about "what I did" for someone today. It's quite the opposite. It is more of a confession of the fact that even in the midst of what we do for a living, I can find myself putting on blinders to the hurt around me. It's easy to walk by and ignore. It's easier to come up with excuses or reasons why someone does not need or deserve your help. I just want to ask the questions, "What if home wasn't home? What if you hit a hard time and the very people you thought you could turn to weren't there? How many of us could be Allie?"

I'm thankful that God gave me the reminder today that my selfishness still needs work and that He Loves.
I pray that God continues to prune me and break my heart for what breaks his.
God, help me to see and to always be willing to give a cup of cold water.
Help me always stop long enough to look someone in the eye and call them by name.

Would you remember Allie and Frank in your prayers tonight?

The Aftermath

There are very few things that get my heart racing more than to get a news alert of a shooting on a street where our students live a couple of miles away. My fingers rapidly fly to discover more information and to make sure that everyone is safe. Last night was one of the worst.

I had been in a missions meeting and did not get cell phone service until I reached my car. My phone dinged with news of a triple shooting. Crime has been up in our city. This made 14 shootings in the beautiful city of Savannah. There has been much talk of heat playing a role and although the heat makes me feel crazy, I don't believe it is capable of pulling a trigger. Sadly, statistically it is true. 

Once I confirmed that our students were all inside and ok I began researching what happened and exactly where. The news stations all had different information. The only thing I really had to go on was that the live news report was given in front of a memorial (from a previous shooting victim) right across the street from our students house.

Today we took the students out to lunch to process and talk through things. As we pulled onto their street we noticed that an often active and present community had taken on the form of a ghost town. No one outside and it was eerily quiet. As we approached the front of their home all that remained of last nights events was a small crumpled up piece of caution tape left behind in a yard. 

The second the students got in the car they started talking a mile a minute. My head was trying to keep up with all of the information they were throwing out. There was an altercation between men right in front of their house. The next thing you know there were gun shots.  A stray bullet hit the metal frame of the living room window only missing the window pain for kids were on the other side watching television on a hot summer afternoon. Chaos filled the living room as everyone ran for cover. One teenager was down the street when he heard the shots and watched as people who were shot tried to run from the shooter. One of the victims fell nearby as the shooters sped away. As we left the neighborhood they were trying  to point out where there was still blood on the street and sidewalk.  My mind was foggy as I tried to process the information. 

As we were walking into the restaurant the 10 year old nudged her way under my left arm and I pulled her close in a hug. When we sat down at the table, she wrapped her arms around my arm and put her head on my shoulder. She simply wanted to be held. She told me about how she was scared to go to sleep after the shooting. Cops and news crews filled her front yard for hours. Collectively, they expressed their fear to live there.  A family member said, "if we have ONE more shooting, we're outta here." I could not help but pray that it would not take one more. This is the second shooting that has taken place in front of their home in the past year. They have become prisoners of their own home for fear of what happens outside their door. I'm sure they will reconsider sitting in front of a window in their own living room for awhile. A time of simply relaxing and watching cartoons is now met with the lingering thoughts of bullets possibly invading their space. There are no counselors coming to help the neighborhood kids and families process these things. It is fear that plants a seed in them. Fear makes you angry. Fear makes you nervous. Fear keeps you from sleeping. It is the exact opposite of what children should be experiencing. 

Last night as I was reading comments under the news report on the local stations Facebook page, I became so frustrated at people's reactions to chock it up as "another one bites the dust" and "let them just kill each other off." There were more than enough "if we had better police patrol" comments.... Pointing the finger at any possible object of blame. 

I can't help but feel like the problem is actually ours. This is not a certain neighborhoods problem. This isn't a race problem. This is JUST a police problem. It is a "love thy neighbor" problem. 

The places where crime is high are the places where we need to be standing in the gap and I don't just mean in prayer. We need men to challenge men and women to encourage women. We need adults to mentor these youth who are watching this and following in the footsteps of a life of crime. Yet, these are places we avoid and cast off as someone else's problem. Crime is selfish. These people causing the problems.... are selfish. There are a lot of kids just like the ones we spent time with today that are living in the aftermath of violence with confusion, fear and the need to seek protection (which often comes in the form of gangs).... because this is real life. Who has their back when the bullets fly? It sometimes keeps me awake at night to think we may lose them to the streets where they become a part of the problem. But what if they were surrounded by a community of people who rallied around them, challenged and supported them to choose a different path? What if the kids in these homes became the ones to break the cycle and become people of peace? We have to think beyond the current status of our overflowing prison systems and look to the future.

When you see the news or hear stories like this I would encourage to think beyond the headline and consider the aftermath. Don't stop there. I would challenge you to answer the question," Lord, how could you use me?" Or simply "how does (or should) this impact me and how can I play a role in the solution?" If nothing else, please do not become part of the problem of casting blame but rather advocate for or step up as a voice of truth. 

Is it a scary question? Absolutely, which is all the more reason to ask it.

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye to Yesterday

We have lived in our neighborhood for just over a year. It has been a season of "learning" the community. Who are our people of peace? Where is most of the drug activity? What is the rhythm of the week? Where are the kids?  There are definitely days when something just feels off. It will look like a ghost town when it comes to kids. Eerily quiet. You'll see more guys out on street corners with their cell phones. Those are the days when your our radar is peaked. We are not scared, we are just more "aware."

There is another "awareness" that comes with learning our neighborhood and that is knowing when families are about to move. We suddenly start seeing less and less of them. There is almost a detachment that comes. In some cases, we kind of know what to expect but in others.....they are here today and gone tomorrow.

Last week we noticed one of our neighbors packing up a pick up truck several different times. One of our volunteers asked him if his family was moving. She said he kind of gave her the crazy eye and said, "No." Words and actions never match up in this regard. His kids showed up on our doorstep a few days later. I answered the door excited to see that they were still here. The little boy greeted me with, "Bye Miss Morgan, " while the older girl acted like she had no idea what he was talking about. She said they "would" be moving in the future because they were building a house somewhere. She also said that she did not know where they would be living in the meantime but that it was not any time soon. I wrote down my telephone number and email address and asked the girl to please hold on to it.

Two days later, Glenn and I watched as their landlord,  with a police escort,  knocked on the door. (Most likely to serve eviction papers). We were not surprised to find out that the house was completely empty with only a few scattered remains of unwanted items that never found their way to the garbage can.  No goodbye. (This was the young lady who had knocked on my door to ask for prayer before her test and had started reading a devotional and asking questions about God.) No more conversations.
I was expressing my sadness about their move last night to Glenn by saying,  "We'll probably never see them again."

Today I decided to go to the grocery store I loathe, just to grab a few quick items. I swung into an empty parking spot, turned off the engine and looked to my right to grab my purse. That is when my eyes locked with hers. The former neighbor girl and her little brother were in the backseat of the car next to me. There was a grin from ear to ear on both of their faces followed by an excited, "HEY MISS MORGAN!" Their mother, who never really seemed fond of us, kind of blew me off.  I managed to get in a quick, "I miss y'all," before they drove away. The smiles faded as they drove out of sight, hands waving goodbye from the back window of the car. I wondered what all had transpired since that conversation in my living room just a few short days before that moment. I had a feeling there was no house being built and maybe the reality of their transition had been a little more intense than they were expecting.

The neighbors next to us had almost ten kids in their house for awhile while another family member lived there. Their kids would be in our yard almost every single day. One of the little girls used to say, "HEY MISS LADY!" every time she would see me. We worked with them every day on manners and being polite and respectful to adults. When I got back from my Poland trip, one of the little boys came tearing across the basketball court and wrapped his arms around my legs in a super hug. Glenn said he asked about me the whole time I was gone. I went on a trip to Texas shortly after that and was very much looking forward to that same welcome home, except...there was no hug or welcome home. They moved the day after I got home and I have not seen them since. I often wonder if that little girl is still saying "Please" and I'm still longing for one more of those incredible "welcome home" hugs from her brother.

I think the hardest part of what we do is not knowing what happens to the kids who come and go. A friend was reminding us tonight that God calls some of us to plant seeds. Sometimes we get the gift of watering them and even seeing the growth that only God can provide. So often we only get to plant the seed and  that comes after a long period of tilling the soil. I often find myself asking the question, "Am I ok with being a seed planter? Will I give the same amount and go out of my way knowing that I may never see the results?" I know the answer to this question is not only yes, but exactly what God called me to be.  He has comforted me in the difficult times of "no goodbye's" by reminding me that planting the seed is actually one of the most awesome responsibilities. Every beautiful plant  starts with someone knowing what a little seed can become.

Let's plant a beautiful garden.

Jumping the Tracks

Have you ever felt like the track your on ends and you have to make your own way? Have you ever felt like the whispers of your heart suddenly were being screamed through a megaphone? Did you listen and as a result experience a life changing moment?




Today my blogging prompt is about a choice that changed my life. My problem is not thinking of "one" but of "which one" had the most impact?

 (Forgive me if I have shared pieces of this in previous blogs).

When I was a sophomore in college I chose to spend my summer as a summer missionary in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. I thought I was going to give outdoor concerts around the city as part of a praise band. Two weeks before I left I received a phone call in which I was informed that my location would be the same, but my assignment had changed. I was told that instead of singing my heart out for tourists around the city, I would be teaching English as a second language and working with a street ministry to drug addicts and prostitutes. I chose to keep my word and say yes to an adventure.

One evening as we were walking the streets of Downtown Vancouver around Hastings Street, I heard that whisper loud and clear. The area we were working in was known to be have the highest rate of drug use in North America. It was 10:30 pm and my team mate and I had been passing out hot chocolate and doughnuts to people on the street. Many of our interaction included carrying on a conversation with a person shooting heroin as they talked to us. Sometimes it meant talking to a prostitute until the invitation from a business man driving a jaguar (probably with a wife and kids at home) had a far greater value than a cup of coffee. On this particular night we had one cup of coffee and one doughnut left and I was looking for the person who needed it most.

I just knew there was someone who was in tattered clothes who was cold in the vicinity. As I passed by a nicely dressed man on a park bench that internal whisper became loud and clearn,  "TURN AROUND and offer that man what you have left." I wanted to keep walking because he did not fit the description of who needed it most in my mind. I was frozen. I could not take another step. It was as if God put a wall in front of me that forced me to turn around. Confused, I approached the man and offered him a cup of coffee. What transpired over the next 45 minutes has never left my mind. We discovered that this man was contemplating suicide. He was in the process of heading back to his apartment to end his life when a friend passed by and told him to sit on the bench. She would be right back. We sat with this man and honestly just encouraged him and spoke hope over his life. He ended up not following through with his plans and a friendship with him formed and continued for months past my time in Vancouver.

Choosing to stop. Choosing to jump the tracks and go off course. Choosing to trust my gut instead of what "made sense" changed my life (and his).

It was that same gut choice to go off the track and not finish college but instead take a job I had always wanted. It was silencing the voices of expectation for a person my age to follow the status quo. It is not a bad plan. It just wasn't the right plan and time for me.

The same screaming whispers encouraged me to choose to quit that dream job years later and work for The American Red Cross after Hurricane Katrina and teach people about disaster preparedness. I went as an Americorp,  leaving the best salary and benefits I've ever had to pretty much volunteer. My dad could NOT wrap his head around that one. It was only the beginning of highly nonsensical choices in my life.

I have spent my entire adult life choosing to take an adventure and follow a unique path that many do not understand. Thankfully, God introduced me to a man with a similar desire for unexplainable adventure.

Together we chose to start our marriage by moving to Atlanta for no salary and almost 3 years later, we are still walking that road. The choice to walk by faith and not by sight and say "yes" to the things that do not make an ounce of sense to many has been the greatest, life changing choices we have made.

Listening to the whispers until they turn into screams.

Taking risks.

Saying yes.

Adventure.

Feeling alive.

Knowing me.

Jumping the tracks.

Pardon the Interruption, But....

I just crossed off the #1 thing on my dream list!!!!!!

I'm sorry for blowing up your social media news feed, but I do not think I can even put into words the amount of relief that I experienced today.

My blogging prompt today is "what I need."

I need people to know that this is not just a little piece of paper and some small thing. The simple piece of paper that I received today stating that we are an official 501c3 tax exempt non-profit is the thing that has kept me awake at all hours of the night with worry. It was the source of many a tear stained pillow . If tree huggers knew just how much wasted paper I spent crumbling one draft after another and tossing it into the garbage can, they would be picketing on my door step.

This was my Goliath. It was the thing that I feared. It was wondering if I could really do it. It was the closure on an "idea" and the "hope" of future dreams come true for others. In some ways it was my measuring stick. I think I put it on the top of my list because when I made this list over two years ago....that's all it was.....a dream.

I read books, researched, met with people, received life coaching on the subject and at some point said..."I've done all I can do." When we put the final application in the mail with the big check that went with it, Glenn and I laid hands on it and asked God to put it on the desk of someone who believed in what we were doing and would approve it without further inspection or delay.

I felt a sense of relief that day, but then came the waiting. Everyone now and then I would check the IRS website to see what month they were one. The three month window of "you're approved" without further work passed. I slowly started preparing myself for the worst as I had just read an article last week about the delay in determination letters and how now it can take up to 1.5 years.

Today, when I checked the mail I saw "Internal Revenue Service" on the edge of the envelope as I opened the P.O. box. I swallowed hard and my hand trembled as I tore open the envelope. Just a single sheet and a pamphlet. I felt my heart sink as I was certain such a monumental effort would be returned with a similar size packet for acceptance. After all, this was my Goliath. It was BIG.

As I unfolded the paper, my eyes danced across the words, "you have been approved." My breathing was shallow and tears threatened to fill my eyes. I kid you not when I say I bolted out of the post office and I RAN to my car where I had left my phone. My hands were shaking something fierce as I attempted to dial Glenn's number to share the news. When he answered, I could do nothing but sob. Lord knows what he thought was wrong. I finally was able to squeak out..."It came. We got approved. We're tax exempt." Cue more ridiculous sobs. I called my mother and as soon as I told her, she started crying too. These are people who have been THROUGH this process with me.

I've looked at that sheet of paper a hundred times since I opened it. It represents so much more than a technicality. Hopefully this will open the door for us to get more funding.

When we get more funding....

• More kids get opportunities to discover their dreams through programs and outreach.
• We can eventually get a paycheck (which we have not had in almost three years). 
• We can hire other people to expand the program in other areas. 
• We can get on insurance which will allow Glenn to get the knee surgery he so desperately needs.
• We can look at expanding our space and the impact we can have in our community. 

What do I need? I need everyone to celebrate what this means on so many levels.

I feel a little ridiculous making such a big deal, but if you have ever been there or have been a witness to this in our life, you know I'm not exaggerating.

Tonight Glenn said, "Of course it went through. It has been God's from the start and thousands of people have been praying over this." It is true. So many different people have played a part in this coming to fruition through prayers and finances. THANK YOU for standing in the gap and supporting the dream God gave us. I am so excited about what is ahead.

On a challenging note, what is your Goliath?

Don't give up. The next stone may be the one to bring him down. You can do it. With God's help and a whole lot of determination, perseverance and strength....you can slay the giant.