Remember the Birds

A youth group sees love and faith in action

             Seventeen pairs of young eyes stared at me with a mixture of excitement and a desire to crawl back underneath the covers that were so comfortable to them.  I rolled my eyes at Andrew, who looked longingly towards the small classroom where his queen-sized air mattress had taken up half of the room that was supposed to sleep the eight guys from our youth group.  My guys were already upset that the girls were given one of the biggest rooms in the building, but they had debated kicking Andrew out of the room all-together.
              “You all will wake up as soon as we get out there,” I said.  They didn’t respond.  There were four other church youth groups on this mission trip with us from all over the East Coast who were looking to make a huge difference in the Atlanta metropolitan area. 
             “Now, here’s a requirement of mine,” our group leader said.  “When I ask you how you are doing at any point in time, I want you to respond that you are “blessed and highly favored”.  You’re going to understand why by the end of the day.  I promise that.   So, how are you doing!”
             “Blessed and highly favored!”  The response was as loud as you can get almost a hundred teens to give in the morning. 
            Seven Bridges was a ministry that dealt with the homeless and struggling in the city.  Their ministry included everything from providing food and shelter to providing counseling and future opportunities.  Many of their workers had been there.  They were formerly homeless or in jail or strung out on drugs; and as we got to meet them, I realized that this was more than work for them.  It was personal.  They encountered people every day that they had been on the streets with back in the day.  My kids were in for a culture shock.  Our group of seventeen wasn’t used to this.  They were the suburban privileged with many of their families having more than one house, more than two cars, and more than enough money to take care of anything they wanted.  And this was why we were in Atlanta.  I needed to change their perspective.   I needed them to see outside of their bubble. 
           “All right, we are going to a food warehouse where we will make meals to hand out to the people we meet today.”
            Our fifteen-passenger van was packed, but with the music bumping in the speakers and breakfast finally hitting their systems, I began to see more life in them. At the warehouse, I saw them interacting with other kids and having fun.  But this story isn’t about them.
             “Hey, can you hand me that bread?” I looked over at a frizzy-haired, mocha-skinned, young girl with her hand out.  She was with a bus that traveled from Florida that was not a part of the mission organization we were staying with.  She smiled at me, but nodded to the bread.  I handed it to her, and she began making more sandwiches.  “Your group is really cool.  I was just talking with the really hyper girl.  You know, the one with the blue shirt that says something about ships?”
            “Julia.  Yeah, she’s hyper all right.”  That was the extent of our conversation for the moment.  Once all of the meals were made, we loaded up vehicles and vans with people and food.  The city had several bridges and areas where a lot of the homeless camped out at, and we were all going to spread out around Atlanta and go to those areas.   
            “Wow,” Julia walked with me as we left our van and began to walk up the embankment on the side of highway and across a gravel area covered with small tents and sleeping bags with trash and cluttered all around them.   She touched my arm.  “I didn’t expect this.”  In fact, all of the kids were quiet.   It was hitting them slowly.  Julia, Andrew, and I walked up to the first tent.  I gave them the nod and nervously, they shook their heads.  Our mission was to hand out meals to people, but we had to pray for every person that we met or talked to.  My kids weren’t ready for that part.   So, I reached out to the dirty-faced older man who simply laid with his head sticking out of the tent looking up at us. 
           “Hey, I wanted to give you this meal, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to pray with you.”  The man’s eyes lit up at the meal offer and started to tear up at the prayer offer.  He didn’t say anything to me the whole time, but his eyes said everything. 
          One area down.  I noticed that my youth group was still a little shocked at what they were seeing, but Julia was watching something else, too.  I followed her gaze and noticed that she was watching the girl I had talked to while making the sandwiches.  The young teen was engaging with every person she met with charisma and complete lack of fear.  Julia wasn’t shy at all, I knew this, and something in her must have seen the other girl and known that there was something there. 
         Our next stop was a bigger area that included some overpasses.   I walked slowly with some of my kids when I felt another presence beside me. 
         “Hey, can I walk with you?”  I looked down at my sandwich making buddy. 
          “Don’t you want to be with your own group?”  She shook her head. 
          “I don’t have a group.  Not really.”  Her arms were full of meal boxes.  “My name is K.C. by the way.”
          “Hey, K.C.  So, what do you mean that is not your group?  You are from Florida, right?” 
          “I don’t actually go to their church or their youth group.  They let me tag along though.”  I started to ask her more, and then we got to another area of tents.  K.C. took the lead, and Julia followed her.  I stood back a little and watch the exchange.
          “Hi, my name is K.C.  I have a meal for you,” she said to the woman. 
          “Child, you are a blessing.  Haven’t eaten in a while.  Got my own child trying to find some food and some sort of odd job or something.  How old are you?”
         “I’m thirteen, and I’m sorry that you haven’t had food.”
         “It’s okay.  I just haven’t been able to provide, and I don’t know what to do.”
        “I know exactly how you feel,” K.C. nodded.  “My dad left my mom and I last year, and then my mom lost her job.  We’re got evicted from our apartment, and we’ve been living in a shelter for a while.”
       My jaw dropped, and I heard Julia gasp. 
       “Child, are you serious?” the woman shook her head.  Tears came to her eyes, and I knew that this woman felt even more humbled to be blessed by this girl. 
      “It’s okay.  God has promised to take care of us.  He said that he watched over the birds; so I know that He will watch over me�"and you.” 
      I don’t remember the rest of that conversation.  My thoughts were still trying to comprehend how this girl who had come with a youth group from Florida and was homeless herself was out here serving.  I asked her as much as we walked to our next place.
     “Why not serve?” K.C. responded.  “Jesus will take care of my mom and I, and He wants all of these people to know He wants to do the same for them.  Why not tell them?”
     Something changed in Julia.  She spread the word about K.C. to the rest of the group, and I noticed my youth starting to change.  They began to interact more, pray with more of the people, and I began to hear stories throughout the day of people they met from gang members, drug dealers, and more. 
       “I just prayed for a drug dealer,” Kaitlin told us in the van on the way back to the church where we were staying.  “He had a brick of cocaine sticking out of his sleeping bag. What they heck!  But he let me pray for him.”
     That night during our devotions, Julia spoke up about what she took from our first day. 
     “I know that her group wasn’t a part of our mission thing, and we won’t see her again; but K.C. made a huge impact on me.  I mean, she was helping the homeless when she was homeless herself.  She gave of herself when she didn’t have much to give.”
      “She had everything to give,” I said.  “She said it.  She wanted the people she met today know that Jesus loved them.”  Julia nodded slowly.
      “That’s�"that’s what I wanna do.   Scratch that.   That’s what I’m going to do.”

Author's Note

written for a contest. would love to hear your stories along the same lines if you have any.

Reviews

[Diane Lockard]

This is a inspiring story; we need more sharing and joining together to help each other. I am part of Salt Lake (City) Community College DiversCIty Writing Groups. There are 14 groups throughout the valley. all ages and all walks of Life. Each year, all the writers can publish their stories in an annual publication, Sine Cera - "without wax." Also, it is amazing to hear their readings. Some, it is their first chance to express themselves.