fluidity.

Life is different here every day...  Survival is based on your ability to live a fluid life.

Ministry on the streets is different always...  It's almost impossible to plan anything more than a few hours in advance, and weekly schedules are pretty much impractical.  Even the kids who are borderline-off the streets... their lives are so full of mini-crises that it makes weekly schedules next to impossible to keep.

People come and go... backpackers, volunteers, missionaries...  You learn to love people and enjoy the time you have until life sends them elsewhere and new folks arrive. And if you let your guard down a little, the beautiful medley of people who pass through here, who've experienced life from a different angle, will enrich and refine your worldview.

This all works well for me. I thrive on change and find myself dreadfully bored with consistency.

A work update:

I've been spending more time out on the streets lately...  The group of kids that I've been working with for about 3 years now has scattered all over the city.  So I'm now visiting groups at different bridges and parks all over town...  It's so much more work...  I've been bringing a couple of Canadian girls along with me a few days a week.  They're both thinking about the possibility of coming back to live at Casa Koinonia early next year to join me in working with the street kids.   

The couples with the babies are doing okay...  Not good or bad, just okay.  They come to the house several times a week...  I spend a lot of time counseling them because there seems to be a new problem every week.  But every time I plan a Bible study/discipleship thing with the girls, something comes up... a fight, a sick baby, a family crisis...  It's so clearly the devil fighting against us...

My cleaning lady and teenage daughters are going through some really difficult times.  They moved into Casa Koinonia in February, and I've been helping to support them.  They needed to get away from a horrible husband/father, but the situation continues to get more complicated...  The girls are dealing with pretty severe depression...  Miriam is fighting hard to adapt to a new and more independent life, but it's a serious struggle...

So everyday is different, and it's so hard to measure progress.  I'm trying to set small goals... to have something sort of specific to be working towards.  But people's lives are messy...  I think it's really just a matter of being able to go with the flow while staying connected to the leading of the Holy Spirit...  Without his guidance, the street kids would end up running my life.

(Have you seen the photo albums on the right side of this page???)

night owl.

I keep thinking I'm going to sit down and catch up on all the things I should have been blogging about over the past few of months, but I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm just never going to have time to do that...  So I'll just write about yesterday.

I've been staying up and out way too late recently, but it's been surprisingly conducive to hanging out with some night owl street kids that I don't see during the day.  Nighttime street work is a whole different ball game and another reason why I need some male volunteers (hint, hint).

Last night, I had left a restaurant and was walking with a friend through the pretty, tree-lined street of el Prado lost in conversation about faith and life when I ran into 13 year old J again.  He's a sweet and pleasant kid with a smile that will melt your heart...  It's definitely melted mine, and although I care about all the kids, J is really special to me...  I've known him for about 3 years now, and we've spent lots of time chatting over ice cream and hanging out.  He gives me great big bear hugs every time I see him.  And because he's super little, he always jumps on my back and begs me to give him piggyback rides... which I do.  (I get some weird looks for that, by the way, walking along the busy avenue with a filthy street kid on my back...)  I've tried everything I can think of to get him away from the street, but he always goes back.  Clefa, the glue they sniff, is psychologically addictive, and he's hooked big time.

J had been back visiting his family but left earlier yesterday evening because his family situation is a mess.  This time, he brought his younger brother, M, with him to the streets.  They bought 2 little bottles of glue and took off through the city...  That's when I ran into them in el Prado at 1am.

We sat on a park bench and talked for a while...  A wave of older street guys seemed to pass by, some of them asking for money and then stumbling away muttering death threats when I told them I was out of coins.  I didn't stay too long, but I left J with my phone number again and made plans to take him and his brother out on Saturday for his 14th birthday.  I had them promise to call me for any reason whatsoever at any hour of the day or night.

I walked away, continuing the conversation I had been having with my friend, but I haven't been able to get J out of my mind.  He was in my dreams last night.  I'm worried.

In the past, I've lived here in an unhealthy, perpetual state of worry.  It didn't matter how much I prayed for the kids and tried to surrender the concern to GOD knowing that He cares more about them than I ever could...  my heart and emotions were overly involved in their lives, and I always had inside of me a little sliver of worry and fear about what would happen to them.  They were like my children on some level.  My heart would jump every time the phone rang.  And after the many times that the kids showed up at my front gate at 4:00am with emergencies or news about someone's death, I was full on terrified of my door bell...

So I'm praying for J... because I feel that little sliver of ice cold dread and worry building up inside...  I wish I could just bring him here...