Yesterday we celebrated Mother’s Day and the drop-in center was filled to the brim! Fourteen years after the official launch of the ministry, I scanned the faces of all who came and was struck by the layers of history and the stories represented.
Weddings, births and funerals. Suicide, alcohol, rape. Redemption. Survival. Growth.
Little ones gleefully ran about making messes. A few teenagers hung around, who if encountered in a dark alley, would be terrifying. But under their hoodies, they were sheepish and polite, soaking up the love that they so desperately need. There were volunteers selflessly, joyfully serving, despite their own dark stories. And I quietly watched staff members flourish in their callings, though still in the midst of discovery themselves.
Some women came in a little stronger, happier, clear-eyed. A few are physically dying, but enjoying their last days as best they can. Others, still suffering, found comfort and respite for just a little while.
It wasn’t all perfect. The music wouldn’t play. I sparked a near-cat fight and innocently massaged the shoulders of a woman who had just been beaten.
But this imperfect beauty is my life, a glimpse of the Kingdom here on earth.
In the midst of grant proposals, planning and meetings, it’s good to stop and SEE what the Lord is doing, to remember that there are real people who make it all worthwhile.
Yesterday was a picture of community, of sharing life together and watching the Lord weave our stories through the passage of time. I am a grateful participant.