Wide eyed and broken
Jaz' Facebook Note - March 22, 2008
 

I've never had the pleasure of meeting so many wonderful people in one short week. My eyes are open, but my heart is broken...This is going to be long, so if you don't have some extra time and really want to read this, check back...

This past week was my spring break. No, I wasn't on some sunny beach, sipping rum, and playing in the ocean...I was living in a homeless shelter. I wouldn't change that experience for the world. Along with two friends, I sponsored a group of 8 FCA students' who also gave up their spring break to go on a missions trip; we spent the week serving the way Jesus had served. When the opportunity to volunteer for such a thing came up, I was excited, unfortunately for the wrong reasons. But two days before leaving for Illinois, my heart was changed, or should I say, my mind. I didn't exactly want to give up my chance to sleep in and just relax. And things hadn't exactly been going my way and the last thing I wanted to do was something like this. Almost hesistantly, I showed up @ 7:45 Sunday morning, I was cold, tired, and not wanting to deal with high schoolers for the week. The trip wasn't so bad, at first. I was co-piloting, gladly. However, 5 hours down the road, it was my turn to drive. I get in to the "girl" van, because all the guys wanted to be in the same van so they could listen to the basketball game. So far, so good...we stopped for a pit stop and to fill up for gas maybe an hour later, and then we were back on the road. Not even 5 mins on the interstate, something weird started happening....before I really knew what I was doing, I realized that we had blown a tire. Honestly, from the point that we heard the noise, to the point of me getting out of the van (while on the side of the road) I don't remember a thing. I literally can not clearly recall what I did...that was a God moment...and it scared the ever-livin out of me. We were safe, but still stranded on the side of the road with cars whizzin by...there we were, like a sitting duck. I cannot explain to you the images and the thoughts running through my mind, but finally a trooper pulled up behind us and blocked traffic...we got lifted up and a tow truck, also an experience, and moved to the next exit. The tire was completely shredded, and I eventually got the nickname "shredder" for a few minutes. After almost a 3 hour set-back, we got a new tire, and Kirby took over the drive, thankfully. We got to Springfield, got lost, and finally made it to Chuck E Cheeses...oh yeah. We played around for a while, then headed to the Mission.

Breakfast was to be ready by 7:30am each day before the kids got off to school, lunch was around 12:30, and dinner was 5:30. After each meal, we did dishes and cleaned the kitchen, and played with the children when they were around. I will admit that getting up every day during my spring break @ 6:30am was a little disheartening, not to mention harder than you would think. During the day we worked, did whatever the Mission needed to be done, on down time some of us found a quiet spot to nap, but most played with the children. We had nightly meetings which usually ran a little longer than we had first thought, but that's when we learned a lot about the Mission itself, and the people working there, or living there.

A few of us were also given the opportunity to go to two other shelters, Contact and Helping Hands. The difference between them and the Mission we were at, astounded me. Broke my heart. Contact was great, it was more like a hotel or apartment building, very clean and a secure place, but it didn't resemble a family like where we were staying. Helping Hands was more for single men, and to tell you the truth, it terrified me. Just the smell alone of that place made my skin crawl. We weren't even allowed to go more than 5 feet inside the door, for probably a variety of reasons.

Inner City Missions in Springfield, Illinois has probably changed and blessed my life more than they will ever know. They were my little reminder that my life isn't that bad. We heard stories that you would never believe, testimonies that you only think happen in movies. But yet most of the people there, regardless of their story, had smiles on their faces. Especially this 17 year old kid named Michael. I think he really touched the hearts of our group. He just oozed joy and happiness, his face was always bright...my little reminder.

I think that's really what got to me, the kids. The house was full of them! Crazy, loud, obnoxious children. A few stuck out to me, for good and bad reasons, but overall they made such an impact on my life. Imagine the things they have seen in their short lives. Playing dress up with them they just acted out what they have seen in their life, you know? and I had to hold back the tears when two little girls were giving me a "shot" and one put the pretend needle into the crease of my arm, while the other one tightly tied a string around my upper bicep. They were doing something that mimicked what they have seen, heroine use, but they were so innocent, so young. Many of them have had to grow up quickly, similarly to their parents. In the house, the kids were terrors, each probably picked a "favorite" from Manhattan and stuck to them like glue the entire week. Mine was Jazmine, a lil girl with braids, and multi-dolored flower barrets. Boy, did she have an attitude!! I loved every minute I spent with her, she drug me around and treated me like a rag doll most of the time, but she grabbed my heart the minute she looked at me. I think the house was an environment for them, but when we took them outside of the environment...things changed. One day we took all the kids to a park a few blocks from the mission, of course Jaz longed for me to carry her the entire way, but when we started getting closer to the park, her bright little spirit just shrunk and she became very clingy. There were police at the park for some reason, and she was terrified, "I don't like po-lice..." I don't know her families story of why they're there, but the moment she saw that police car her hold on my neck got tighter and she barried her head beneath my chin. Her demeanor changed once again when she realized the police were gone and she saw the swings. Oh, she yelled her little attitude at me, "higher!!! higher!!! c'MON!! I said higher!!!" I finally told her it was the highest I could get her to go!! I was already drained from carrying her lil' butt the whole way there, but then she said something..."I just want to be closer to God....higher!! higher!!" As we were swinging, her childish innocence came out and I saw a different side of that little girl. I think we all forgot that they were still little kids, although they're in a situation that they've all had to grow up a little faster, they still have an innocence about them, and it's beautiful, and full of God's grace.
I've realized that I've taken so much stuff for granted, big and small things in life. My complaints shrink to nothing compared to the lives of the families living at ICM. It was an awakening for my soul, rejuvenating for my mind, and exhausting for my body....but it was all worth it. This group from Manhattan, KS walked in as strangers, but left feeling as part of this wonderful family that is ICM. God was ever present in that place. We made lasting friendships and hopefully made an impact that will continue to make a difference now that we're gone.

I'm so selfish. I get upset over the smallest things, and take most things for granted. I'm sad because I don't have a significant other, thinking it will never happen, thinking that I'm not good enough, smart enough, or pretty enough. I'm sad because there's so much pressure to figure out what I'm going to do with my life once I graduate next year, that it stresses me to the point of a breakdown. I'm sad because sometimes things don't go my way. But you know what? I have a stable roof over my head, I don't have to worry about an ex trying to beat me, or take my kids, I don't have to worry about cutting my life short due to the over use of drugs, I don't have to worry about not being able to eat, or take a warm shower. What's wrong with me? Living at ICM has made me want to completely change my life. They have blessed me in so many ways that I don't think I could ever repay any of them. I'm so glad that at the times that I was ready to give up, I didn't. So many unfortunate things happened to me this past week, but I've come to realize that they were all in order to harden my heart towards the people at ICM, towards the experience as a whole. I don't know how many times I just wanted to get out of there and find a comfortable place to cry, I don't know how many times I wanted to tell someone to kick rocks. But I know where all that came from....Satan. He got that foothold on Thursday before we left, when he realized that my whole heart wasn't really into this, and he dwelled on it until it finally made me a little bitter by even being there. I began resenting people and feeling myself become dark. Try as I might, it was hard to turn it around, but the warmth of the hearts of others in situations much worse than my own, made it so much easier.

I have been blessed through ICM, I will never forget the experiences we had in Springfield, the people we met, and the friendships we made. I hope to one day go back to ICM...
Jaz