I love my internship. Except for the hypervigilant and somewhat paranoid supervisor of me. 

But I love it. I love the kids, and the idea of an after-school program.
So, here they are. Here are (some) of the kids that have changed me significantly.

I help kids with their homework for an hour, then play with them/monitor them for the next two hours. Except for Fridays. Fridays are Fun Fridays. Fun=No Homework.


And so it begins

Intake Assessment.
(way too early)
(and I'm up way too late for that)
The first step.
This counselor's about to get counseled.


Spirit of Fear, you will not control me...much

Maybe you don't know this. I do my best to hide it.
I guess if you've read very much about me you probably do though.

I get scared a lot. A LOT.

But fear is not my Lord. Not anymore. Well, not as much.

I have been afraid to cry (because I am vain and I think I look really gross when I cry). 
I have been afraid to be angry (because I know my potential to cause pain in others).
I have been afraid to be honest (because I don't want to be left alone).
I have been afraid to be alone, and of being left alone (because I don't think anyone would really love or even like me if they really knew me).
I have been afraid to be really known (because all I know of myself is the flesh-failure side).

And I have been afraid to seek counseling (because I am pompous and felt like I knew what the counselor would tell me anyway). Well, afraid or not, I'm doing it. Right?...yes. Yes I am. 

Because some things I need help with. Sorry Independence, looks like you're independent now. It's a bittersweet parting. Bitter because getting help means being known, which means maybe being left alone, which means anger and honesty and crying. Sweet because relief, life, and restoration will (hopefully) come. 

Jesus is my mostly Lord now. I want him to be my always Lord. Instead of Fear. 

I miss freedom and life. Fear restrains and drains. I'm just skin and bones now but I'm fixing to let God put the meat back on. 

So. Student Care office, here I come. Please don't meet my cynical expectations.
(shoot, there's that fear again.)

Here's what my hair looks like from the back. Be warned. It's crazy.


98 Degrees

Yes, the band. I loved them (maybe I still do), and they had a song called "The Hardest Thing".

Yesterday I did one of the hardest things I've ever done. And for part of it I felt like I was lying (because I wanted to be lying).

I wrote a letter to my mom explaining all of the things that God showed me about our relationship last Thursday night. I cried pretty much the whole time I was writing it. First on my computer, then by hand. I was up until 4 am writing, and I was exhausted, but relieved to have it out.

I'm really nervous about how she took it. I left it near her work stuff for her to read today sometime, but she didn't say anything about it this afternoon. Neither did I. It was a little awkward (and I don't like using that word). I didn't talk with her about it because I knew I'd start crying and not be able to get everything out that I needed to get out.

I just hope she didn't take it as an insult or me being selfish.

Last Thursday I went to Rend, a small student-led prayer thing at Liberty, based on Isaiah 64:1
"Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you!"
Instant community. Instant sense of the Spirit. I knew that I was supposed to be there. I know that I will be going back. I met a few people, two of whom stayed with me until God rent my heart and drew out everything. Well, most everything. One of those people has kept me accountable over break to do the things I said I would do. Awesome. She is lovely.

Update on the dreads? Might as well...They're still there! Frizzy, messy...most of them are lockin' up nicely, but some are loose as regular hair. Those will soon be covered with hemp. Add some color anyway. I've just about given up on having neat dreads, at least for a long time. I just didn't put in the initial work needed to accomplish that. So, eventually they will shape up, after my hair gets longer and the lengths even out. 

Update on other things: I'm going to Look Up this weekend (woohoo!) with some girls from my home church (Good Shepherd Baptist) who were dying to go down there for a visit. I surprised them with the fact that, yeah, I could probably set that up for them. They are so excited, so very very very excited. 

I am too.



Somehow or other I forgot to tell you about this wonderful lady I met a couple weeks ago.

Her name is Ella. And she shines.

I met her while I was volunteering at Amazement Square. This place is so fun. Indoor zip line. Glass walls where painting is encouraged. Slides. Fun educational exhibits, and more. Wonderful.

Ella was a vendor during a women's event being held there. She was offering discounts on tickets to musical and operas. She was dressed in a classy long black dress, wide red belt, red 1950s era hat, and red lipstick. 

She stopped me to talk to me about my hair. She asked how old I was, and after having found out, she told me a story. A short summary, but a story. She said that when she was my age, she took a bus to Juneau, Alaska, hitchhiked another 500 miles into Alaska, lived in a tent, and worked at a fish cannery. I had no doubt that it was true.

All that, just to tell me: "And I braided all my hair and put beads in it. Enjoy it while it lasts."  
There was a light about her, and come to find out, she's a believer. Oh for joy!

She is now 35. She made such an impression on me, just in that 10 minute conversation about freedom and adventure and beaded hair. She said that things for her had changed, but the same spirit and the same Spirit was still there. 

Lord, let that be true in my life. Keep your Spirit vibrant and free-flowing into my life.

I hope I see her again. I want to hear the whole story. 


One word.

And that one word for me last week was my name. Stacy. Not "you" or "hey" or "dreads" or "white girl."

That one word came from the mouth of one of the girls at my internship. She is habitually critical, mean, and sarcastic and bluntly so. (I am two of those, but less blunt about it. Usually.)

That one word means that I have established a relationship with her. That she comes up to me and starts conversations. Asks me to hold things for her. Help her with her homework. Listens to me most of the time if I ask her to do something.

That one word spoken became a moment of joy and exhilaration for me that has carried over for the rest of the week. And this week. I see a marked change in her toward me.

Now I'm concentrating on her and another girl who is much like her, only with documented behavioral problems. She's starting to come around. Both of these girls are very influential with their peers.

Hopefully pictures of the kids at (and more info about) my internship, which I adore, will be coming soon. I don't know why I haven't written about it already.

Also, I started a Flickr account. I don't really know why. It's another one of those "well, why not?" moments in my life. Here 'tis: stacy-face. A lot of these pictures are on my Facebook, but some aren't.

1 Thessalonians 5:14 {And we urge you, brothers, warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone.}