Its early morning and I stretch real big when I wake up. I look up and see the sun is shining- that’s good, mom’s always nicer when the sun is out.
I climb out of bed and shout “Good morning sun!” but there is no response, so I get ready for school. Today, I think I’ll wear the blue jumper. That lady from the church gave it to me.
Mom said that it’s too big and it looks stupid on such a skinny girl like me, but I don’t care. That lady said she thought I’d like it- and I do. Even though it’s old and it kinda smells.
I go down the hallway and see mom sitting over the toilet again. So, I get her a towel and help her get in the shower. She hates it when I talk, so I hum her favorite song as I brush my hair and put it in my favorite head band that that lady gave me too.
Mom gets out of the shower and yells at me to hurry, cause I’ll be late for school. If I’m late again she said I’d have to go live at someone else’s house like my brother. I love my mom; I don’t want to live with anyone else.
When I look at the clock it says 6:30 AM. And the bus doesn’t come until 7:30AM. But mom says she’s gonna whoop my ass if I don’t get going. So, I grab my bag and walk to the bus stop. I don’t mind really. The sun is shining today and it’s springtime and warm here in my town. At least the winter is gone and I don’t have to wear my brother’s old coat anymore.
My stomach growls and I realize I didn’t get my bread this morning. Well, at least lunch today is a good one- my favorite- Mac and cheese and hotdogs!
When the other kids get to the bus stop, they start making fun of my clothes- so I always wait behind the tree across the street; so I can see when the bus is coming. But I don’t have to talk to the other kids.
Except today one of the kid’s moms is passing out muffins for the kids to take if they want. And my stomach is growling something fierce. And she looks nice. But if I go over there the kids will call me names and maybe throw something at me. I’m afraid. So I don’t go.
The bus is coming down the street and the kids look so happy. I know the truth is that they are all mean and ready to have fun – with me as the favorite target. I have prayed before that god would stop the bullies from hurting me. But it never works. And the bullies only get bigger. I wish just this one time that the bus would come and the kids would forget about getting on it.
I like school. I like learning; I even like the homework that the teachers give me. I just don’t like the kids. The teachers never help either. So there’s a wish, a school with no kids or teachers.
Every day I walk the hallways and wonder what kind of pain is coming. Am I just going to get made fun of or am I going to get punched for my lunch ticket? Everyday someone else finds use of me for their amusement. Did I use that word right? Yeah, it was one of our spelling words. Amusement. Funny that that word isn’t fun to me.
I guess if the other kids got treated like this maybe they would stop. But nope, find one and use her. And guess what – I’m it.
The bus finally arrives and I have to get across the street and on it before it leaves, but I have to time it just right. Too early and I get pushed to the ground and dirty before the day starts, too late and I miss the bus. I run and wait just behind the bus and I get on just behind the last kid. Good. Maybe I can find a seat by myself and not get picked on. Nope. One kid in every seat. Now what?
I look at the back of the bus and the kids back there are daring me to come back there… but at least I’m too smart for that. The bus driver screams at me to sit down so I choose the closest seat to me. And then the names start.
Twiggy, stick girl, zipper, thin slice and my least favorite- invisible girl. Like no one can see me and no one cares.
I have often wondered what it must be like to be in a home with both a mommy and a daddy. To have a brother at home. To have someone love me. Maybe I am invisible girl.
Does anyone see me? Does anyone care? What would happen if I just didn’t catch the bus next time, and I found a ride to someplace cool, like California or… I know! I could go to Disney World!! They would see me there right?
If I stood up on this bus and screamed would anyone hear me?
I climb out of bed and shout “Good morning sun!” but there is no response, so I get ready for school. Today, I think I’ll wear the blue jumper. That lady from the church gave it to me.
Mom said that it’s too big and it looks stupid on such a skinny girl like me, but I don’t care. That lady said she thought I’d like it- and I do. Even though it’s old and it kinda smells.
I go down the hallway and see mom sitting over the toilet again. So, I get her a towel and help her get in the shower. She hates it when I talk, so I hum her favorite song as I brush my hair and put it in my favorite head band that that lady gave me too.
Mom gets out of the shower and yells at me to hurry, cause I’ll be late for school. If I’m late again she said I’d have to go live at someone else’s house like my brother. I love my mom; I don’t want to live with anyone else.
When I look at the clock it says 6:30 AM. And the bus doesn’t come until 7:30AM. But mom says she’s gonna whoop my ass if I don’t get going. So, I grab my bag and walk to the bus stop. I don’t mind really. The sun is shining today and it’s springtime and warm here in my town. At least the winter is gone and I don’t have to wear my brother’s old coat anymore.
My stomach growls and I realize I didn’t get my bread this morning. Well, at least lunch today is a good one- my favorite- Mac and cheese and hotdogs!
When the other kids get to the bus stop, they start making fun of my clothes- so I always wait behind the tree across the street; so I can see when the bus is coming. But I don’t have to talk to the other kids.
Except today one of the kid’s moms is passing out muffins for the kids to take if they want. And my stomach is growling something fierce. And she looks nice. But if I go over there the kids will call me names and maybe throw something at me. I’m afraid. So I don’t go.
The bus is coming down the street and the kids look so happy. I know the truth is that they are all mean and ready to have fun – with me as the favorite target. I have prayed before that god would stop the bullies from hurting me. But it never works. And the bullies only get bigger. I wish just this one time that the bus would come and the kids would forget about getting on it.
I like school. I like learning; I even like the homework that the teachers give me. I just don’t like the kids. The teachers never help either. So there’s a wish, a school with no kids or teachers.
Every day I walk the hallways and wonder what kind of pain is coming. Am I just going to get made fun of or am I going to get punched for my lunch ticket? Everyday someone else finds use of me for their amusement. Did I use that word right? Yeah, it was one of our spelling words. Amusement. Funny that that word isn’t fun to me.
I guess if the other kids got treated like this maybe they would stop. But nope, find one and use her. And guess what – I’m it.
The bus finally arrives and I have to get across the street and on it before it leaves, but I have to time it just right. Too early and I get pushed to the ground and dirty before the day starts, too late and I miss the bus. I run and wait just behind the bus and I get on just behind the last kid. Good. Maybe I can find a seat by myself and not get picked on. Nope. One kid in every seat. Now what?
I look at the back of the bus and the kids back there are daring me to come back there… but at least I’m too smart for that. The bus driver screams at me to sit down so I choose the closest seat to me. And then the names start.
Twiggy, stick girl, zipper, thin slice and my least favorite- invisible girl. Like no one can see me and no one cares.
I have often wondered what it must be like to be in a home with both a mommy and a daddy. To have a brother at home. To have someone love me. Maybe I am invisible girl.
Does anyone see me? Does anyone care? What would happen if I just didn’t catch the bus next time, and I found a ride to someplace cool, like California or… I know! I could go to Disney World!! They would see me there right?
If I stood up on this bus and screamed would anyone hear me?
FEAR DESPERATION ANXIETY
HOPELESSNESS!!!
___________________________________________________
Everyday a child somewhere within your reach is thinking and crying just like this little girl. Her heart is screaming for someone somewhere to tell her she is loved. Even if one person reaches out with a hand that says you matter, one more child’s life could be saved.
I’m hearing more and more of children- yes children thinking suicidal thoughts. Thinking that if no one cares – who cares? I have seen with my own eyes the empty, hollow, pain filled eyes of KIDS wanting someone to care.
In juvenile halls kids are feeling safe for the first time. Boundaries are set and they thrive- take them out and they mess up on purpose to be back in that safe place.
How did our world get so messed up that we allow our children to be raised in juvenile halls?
My passion is to have every child within my reach and within the reach of my family and friends to know – really know that there is someone that loves them. And if everyone here on earth forgets- He never forgets.
I want them to know that God loves them. Not the “I love you” from valentines cards from kids that were forced to pass them out, but real love. The kind that is there to listen to the names and soothe where the blisters are. To be the voice in the stillness that whispers comfort into the hearts of the broken.
I want them to know that God collects their tears and He counts the hairs on their head. He thinks about them so much that they couldn’t count how many thoughts are in His head.
I want them to believe – I want them to know – I want them to relish in this God that created them. I want them feel the hug from God’s arms around them and I want the juvenile halls to be empty.
I crave that every arm of every child know just once what it is like to be hugged- with a bear hug of love. I desire and dream and wish and want only to pursue to be the arms, legs, mouth and eyes of Jesus to every child that I meet.
When they cry – I cry and Jesus cries. When they starve, my heart and stomach ache with brokenness. When they are weak- I wish I could be their strength.
“My eyes fail because of tears, my spirit is greatly troubled. My heart is poured out on the earth because of the destruction of the daughter of my people, when little ones and infants faint in the streets of the city. They say to their mothers where is the grain and wine? As they faint like a wounded man. In the streets of the city as their life is poured out on their mothers bosom.” Lamentations 2: 11-12
I know that Jesus cared for little ones, over and over he used them to* illustrate in his teachings. I know that if he were on earth today our children would have him wailing in pain. And the anger he displayed in the temple I’m sure would be displayed in the plains of Africa; Orphanages in Asia, Europe, South America and in homes across North America.
God has me wired as a protector of these little ones. Passionate that they know love, that they know the Author of love and that they are cared for in every definition of that word.
I have yet to figure out why God has wired me so. I wonder if it’s for just one child, or if it’s for thousands? If it’s for the purpose of spurring others on in the care of the children around them or if I will have the pleasure of having the slimy, gooey hands on my clothes just before dinner? Will I be a mother- or the encourager of mothers?
The talents and abilities our Father has given me baffle me. I know that they are for a purpose, and I wait anxiously to find out how they can be put to work. They mean nothing if the tools aren’t in the Master’s hand.
Sign language, writing, singing, teaching, praying, children, crafting, painting, loving, prophesying, administration, computers, smarts, all of these are dung unless the Master is using them.
Although my heart is SCREAMING to be used in a way other than answering phones, I AM going to wait patiently and all the while learning to be content- where I’m at- so that God can be glorified even now.
The Father knows how and why he wired me like he did… I’m just waiting to find out myself.
*Matt. 18:1-6, 19:13-15, etc.
M. Ruth Smith
Spring 2008
___________________________________________________
Everyday a child somewhere within your reach is thinking and crying just like this little girl. Her heart is screaming for someone somewhere to tell her she is loved. Even if one person reaches out with a hand that says you matter, one more child’s life could be saved.
I’m hearing more and more of children- yes children thinking suicidal thoughts. Thinking that if no one cares – who cares? I have seen with my own eyes the empty, hollow, pain filled eyes of KIDS wanting someone to care.
In juvenile halls kids are feeling safe for the first time. Boundaries are set and they thrive- take them out and they mess up on purpose to be back in that safe place.
How did our world get so messed up that we allow our children to be raised in juvenile halls?
My passion is to have every child within my reach and within the reach of my family and friends to know – really know that there is someone that loves them. And if everyone here on earth forgets- He never forgets.
I want them to know that God loves them. Not the “I love you” from valentines cards from kids that were forced to pass them out, but real love. The kind that is there to listen to the names and soothe where the blisters are. To be the voice in the stillness that whispers comfort into the hearts of the broken.
I want them to know that God collects their tears and He counts the hairs on their head. He thinks about them so much that they couldn’t count how many thoughts are in His head.
I want them to believe – I want them to know – I want them to relish in this God that created them. I want them feel the hug from God’s arms around them and I want the juvenile halls to be empty.
I crave that every arm of every child know just once what it is like to be hugged- with a bear hug of love. I desire and dream and wish and want only to pursue to be the arms, legs, mouth and eyes of Jesus to every child that I meet.
When they cry – I cry and Jesus cries. When they starve, my heart and stomach ache with brokenness. When they are weak- I wish I could be their strength.
“My eyes fail because of tears, my spirit is greatly troubled. My heart is poured out on the earth because of the destruction of the daughter of my people, when little ones and infants faint in the streets of the city. They say to their mothers where is the grain and wine? As they faint like a wounded man. In the streets of the city as their life is poured out on their mothers bosom.” Lamentations 2: 11-12
I know that Jesus cared for little ones, over and over he used them to* illustrate in his teachings. I know that if he were on earth today our children would have him wailing in pain. And the anger he displayed in the temple I’m sure would be displayed in the plains of Africa; Orphanages in Asia, Europe, South America and in homes across North America.
God has me wired as a protector of these little ones. Passionate that they know love, that they know the Author of love and that they are cared for in every definition of that word.
I have yet to figure out why God has wired me so. I wonder if it’s for just one child, or if it’s for thousands? If it’s for the purpose of spurring others on in the care of the children around them or if I will have the pleasure of having the slimy, gooey hands on my clothes just before dinner? Will I be a mother- or the encourager of mothers?
The talents and abilities our Father has given me baffle me. I know that they are for a purpose, and I wait anxiously to find out how they can be put to work. They mean nothing if the tools aren’t in the Master’s hand.
Sign language, writing, singing, teaching, praying, children, crafting, painting, loving, prophesying, administration, computers, smarts, all of these are dung unless the Master is using them.
Although my heart is SCREAMING to be used in a way other than answering phones, I AM going to wait patiently and all the while learning to be content- where I’m at- so that God can be glorified even now.
The Father knows how and why he wired me like he did… I’m just waiting to find out myself.
*Matt. 18:1-6, 19:13-15, etc.
M. Ruth Smith
Spring 2008
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