Rodent Girl

There is a little girl whom I have taken to calling Rodent Girl. I won't mention her name, just in case she learns to read one day and might find reason to doubt my love for her. She's a monster sometimes, a downright monster. But when she's not a monster, she is one of the most adorable human beings I've ever met. She has bouncy, dark curls and a round baby-doll face. She is four.

One day at lunchtime, she asked for more milk. We only serve milk once, then water after that - so I said no. She proceeded to scream at me, demanding that I give up my menacing ways and hand over her well-deserved milk (She used slightly different words, of course). I bent down so I could look her in the eye, and tried to talk things through. She slapped me in the face. I grabbed her hand, and she proceeded to slap me with the other one. I grabbed that hand, and of course, stupid me, she began to kick me. ... Hence the birth of the name, "Rodent Girl". Well deserved, non?

It seems to me, that as I am working with toddlers, I am faced with the bruit force of what human beings are naturally inclined to do. Unlike us "educated" folk, preschoolers haven't yet learned to cover up their character - they haven't yet learned to mask their sin. Little boys scream in my face, demanding that I hold their hand. I try and understand why a child would expect me to want to even be in the same room as them, while they're screaming at me, but, this, is the human nature. Little children only wish to serve themselves - and even though us adults have learned to pretend otherwise, last I heard, we were little children once, too.

The other day I was reading in ...Okay, I can't remember which one, but it was in one of the Gospels - I think Luke. I came to a parable that Jesus was telling, and I didn't quite understand how it applied to me. Jesus asked the people, if a servant came in from working all day and began demanding that his master begin waiting on him, would that be right? Well, I didn't get it. So the next day as I was reading, I came to the story again... and, it hit me.

I am a servant of God - not the other way around.

It seems I'd gotten into the habit of asking God for things constantly - it says in God's word that we should be paraying and asking God for things all the time, but still - that's different than what I've been doing. When the paperwork that would enable me to go to Japan wasn't working out, I was upset with God that He wasn't making things go more smoothly. I was frustrated that things were not going accoring to my plan, that God wasn't doing as I had asked of Him, and I even felt justified in my feelings. Eeesh...shame, much?

Another day this week, I was writing each kid's name on their craft in a bright blue marker. Rodent Girl asked so sweetly if she could write her own name (even though we both very well knew she doesn't know how) and so, once again, stupid me, I said yes. She took the marker from my hand, and with a menacing grin, jumped up, and ran away from the table. I followed, and as I got close, she turned around, and with a giggle, proudly drew two lovely lines on my jeans. Thanks a lot, Rodent Girl.

It seems to me, though, that I am Rodent Girl. And, well, so are you.

God has incredible, magnificent, infalliable, perfect plans for each part of my life. Yet, every once in a while, I decide that I can play God's role in my life, and I "ask" Him if I can give His plans a try. He very lovingly allows me to. ...and I don't think I have to elaborate on how that story ends. God and I both know that I am not even the least bit capable of spelling my own name - of playing out my own fate - but I only think about me. I am human, I am but a small child, trying to do things the way I think is best for me. I, am rodent girl. ...and when I screw up, sometimes I even scream at God, demanding why He isn't there, holding my hand.

(The truth is, God is there. I just pushed Him out of my sight. So don't think God isn't there when you're screaming at Him, either. He's better than we are at holding tightly to His spoiled children.)

In You, O Lord, I have taken refuge;

let me never be put to shame.

Rescue me and deliver me in Your

righteousness;

turn Your ear to me

and save me.

Be my rock of refuge

to which I can always go

...for You are my rock and my fortress.

..For You have been my Hope,

O Sovereign Lord,

my confidence since my youth.

From birth I have relied on You;

You brought me forth from my mother's womb.

I will ever praise You.

Psalm 71:1-6

Photos.

Let the morning bring word of Your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in You.

let everything that has breath, praise the LORD.

the sun is beautiful, even in a worn out, family cottage.

Waiting For the Bus

I placed my backpack on the muddy sidewalk and sat down with my book. I'd missed my bus yesterday when it came early, but two days in a row? It's a pain, but there isn't much I could have done about it now. I've had a lot of experiences in my life, but this one's new - and at the same time, it's old. But the good kind of old. I had originally planned to set up this blog so I could write about my grand adventures in Japan, but I hadn't accounted for this new job - a job that has opened my eyes to a world that is now so obviously worth writing about.
On my first day of work we were at the park and I watched as a woman not much older than myself staggered across the yard, completely and absolutely strung up on drugs. She fell all over the place, tossing and turning and muttering to herself. She pointed all around, calling out to things unseen - I could only sit and watch, praying for this lost and broken young woman. "It's sad", Amy said, as she sat next to me. Yes, my friends, it is sad.
I, work at daycare. we have about twenty kids who come every day from the roughest neighbourhood in the city, and heck, do I ever love them. We wipe noses and share crayons and tell stories about secret tunnels in the alleyways and read that book about the boy stuck in his snow suit, and all those normal daycare things. But one of the privileges - if you'd like to call it that - I have in this job, is that each day after work, I wait for the bus. I stand in the hot sun and watch the kids and youth and grammas and grampas walk past me on the sidewalk. They don't look up, the don't smile, they don't give me a chance to love. These are broken people - no more lost than you or I, but broken just the same. Then I go back to daycare the next day and I can't help but think to myself, that here before me sits Canada's Next Top Gang Member. But heck, do I ever love them. Today as I walked to the bus I was walking behind a homeless man. Yesterday I had to go back to the park because we forgot one of our boy's jackets, and I hurried along, sure that a mentally challenged/drunk man was following behind. Tuesday as I waited for my bus I made sure I was capable of jumping the fence behind me in case I needed to run from any incoming attacker. You know, I really thought I was tougher than this. I thought I was this courageous kid who could take care of myself..yet I walk the streets and too often "remind" myself that I'm not afraid. I, am a chicken. But ya know, it's ok. I'm a pretty dedicated chicken. And even when I'm not as dedicated as I should be, well, God is.
You know that song "Jesus loves me"? It hit me yesterday, so hard. There are kids in my group who don't want to go home at the end of the day. I can only imagine what awaits them in their sad homes, and I sit, I wait for my bus, praying. Praying for these hopeless kids who have behavioral problems coming out the wazoo, (I never quite figured out what that meant, but it seemed appropriate here) and WHAP! my head got hit by God Almighty...not physically, of course. Jesus Loves them - individually, even. Like, it isn't like God just looks at them and sees a project and loves them but keeps his distance a bit because they're a little hard to deal with. He loves them, the same as He loves me. He has the same hope for each of these kids, the same as He's had hope in me. I'm far from perfect and I mess things up more than enough, but I'm in His hands. And God has that same hope, that same compassion the same ability to work in each of these kids hearts and lives, as He's done for me. I'm now gonna leave you with these two things: Hope, my friend. And love, of course. This job will never be just a walk in the park, but I'm sure thankful God's walking me through it regardless. Rest in His love. "We love Him because He first loved us." (1 John 4:19)