Today’s day 29, which means we’re in the home stretch of 31 Dreams From the Street.

(Can I just say a little Hallelujah?!)

I’d like to to step back and share some random thoughts and observations I made as we proceeded through the series.

No need for delay. Let’s get right to it!

Humility

I lived in humility this month. Ego was OUT. THE. DOOR. If you want to practice humility, commit to interviewing random strangers for a whole month. Or commit to doing something, anything totally out of your box. Then go make it happen. It’s an exercise in courage and humility, wrapped into one. Perhaps being brave makes us humble, too.

Trust

One thing I sensed deeply this month is that human beings have trust issues. I addressed this in yesterday’s post, but I’m pretty sure that half of the people I approached for an interview didn’t trust me. I find myself to be a fairly benign, non-threatening person. And I wasn’t asking that much of the people I interviewed. Yet, I was still rejected by 20. I recognize that being approached by a random stranger is totally out of the ordinary. I understand why elements of trust and distrust were inherent to this series. I just wish we lived in a world that was more trusting. Our walls are up. Our guards are up. We don’t always trust human beings. It’s hard to be authentic and develop meaningful relationships with others when we don’t trust. Trust is crucial to connection.

Hope

Couldn’t we all benefit from a little more hope? When we reveal bits, pieces and chunks of our hearts, we become vulnerable, we become wiser, we stir a little or a lot of the hope that’s inside us. When we hope for something better, when we dream bigger, we present ourselves differently to the world.  We’re a living example of what hope looks like, lived out in real time. We can hope for a better tomorrow. We can hope for the things God’s placed on our heart. Hope is worth the risk.

Image

There were a couple days this month that I literally wanted to strip off ALL OF MYSELF. I wanted to strip off ALL OF ME. I wanted to strip off every ounce of my image. Because I sensed something between me and those 20 rejections. Something sat between me and the hundreds of people I passed and didn’t have the courage to approach. One suspect might be image. My instinct told me that if I’d have been able to strip myself of my image, I would’ve had fewer rejections and greater courage to approach more people. But here’s the truth. Stripping our images is nearly impossible. We all come with a “face,” an outward image that people perceive and make judgements about. I wondered if people would have responded differently if I was a man, if I dressed differently, if I presented myself differently, if I was younger, or older?

Dreams

Chasing other peoples’ dreams is exhausting. Chasing other peoples’ dreams for you is exhausting, too. So chase your own dreams. And encourage the dreamers running alongside you. For we all need a little encouragement.

Dark & Light

The street can be dark, lonely, cold, and hurried. Slow down, be a light, and bring joy to a world that needs it bad. Sometimes, we need to get off the fast pace of the street, both literally and figuratively, and step into spaces where we can develop relationship and be known. Life is better when shared. Life is better when we’re connected. Life is better wherever we’re moving towards light.

Work Your Spaces

We’re not meant to be everywhere and be everything to everyone. Be a light in the spheres God’s assigned you to. Stepping outside of the box is good, but if you step too far away from your gifting, you might just find yourself in the wilderness.

Security and Insecurity

The world can make you feel secure as quickly as it can make you feel insecure. Live a life that you love. Hold firm to your beliefs. Know you’re masterfully designed by your creator. Know that you matter. Believe that your life counts. Regardless of what anyone says or how anyone makes you feel. The value of your life has nothing to do with what others think of you. The value of your life is inherent in you. Because you are you. You are called and made, beautiful.

Smile

Smile to someone on the street. Why not? One day when I was out interviewing for this month’s series, I’m pretty sure only one person smiled at me all day. A weight lifted when that person smiled at me. Like someone actually saw me, noticed me, decided it was worth a second to smile at another human being. You never know what kind of day someone’s had. Smile. Please. You’ve got nothing to lose. And you might just feel a little happier yourself, because you made someone’s day a bit brighter.

Broad & Shallow vs. Narrow & Deep

I’m not in this writing gig to push out content. I’m not in this writing gig to go broad, big and shallow. I’m in this writing gig to go narrow and deep. I’m in this writing gig to share my heart. I’m in this writing gig to connect, to love, to hear you out. I’m in this writing gig to share your story, to share my story, to share God’s story weaved through all of us.

Identity

Before we discover who we are, we have to find out who we’re NOT. This month, I learned a lot about who I am. But I learned even more about who I’m NOT. That lesson was invaluable. Now, I’m ready to move on. Now, I’m more prepared than I was, to embrace who I am with wild abandon. This learning who we are and who we aren’t is a tough lesson, but one I wish for everyone. Because we’re not created to be everyone. We’re created to be ourselves.

Time

I mentioned this in Darlene’s post, but we need to take more time with people. We’re missing the boat when we dismiss people, when we merely pass them by, when we barely acknowledge, when we think others better or less than ourselves. What if we took time? To sit. To be. To live in community with others? What if?

Money

I’ve decided once and for all. In the end, money won’t matter at all. In fact, the only power it holds over any of us is that it’s a currency. It’s a way of living. It’s a way of surviving. But living for money is no way to live. So we see money for what it is. A currency to sustain us. But it doesn’t have a hold on us. It doesn’t have us pinned down. It is what it is. Money. Currency.

So don’t be deceived, dear one, be assured. Your best life doesn’t hinge on money. Your best life hinges on faith, relationship, and finding purpose so you can leave a legacy when all’s said and done. So discover and live in your sweet spot. Because when life gets tough, when life’s down and out, all the money in the world won’t help a bit. Faith will sustain us. Relationships will sustain us. And if we discover, embrace, and walk boldly in our purpose, we’ll leave a legacy of hope.

There’s more to life than mere existence.

There’s more to life than money.

Let’s live like “we’re rich.”

For “The simple things in life are the only things that really matter.” Judah & The Lion

 

 

 

*This post is a part of a month-long 31 Days series titled Dreams from the Street. If you’d like to read more from my series, click here and you’ll be brought to the series landing page where all 31 posts are listed and linked! You can follow me on Twitter at twitter.com/AmyBPederson where I’ll tweet links to all 31 posts using hashtag #write31days, and I’d LOVE to connect on Facebook at facebook.com/AmyBPederson! I’m so glad you stopped by. Make yourself comfortable and take a peek around the place. You’re welcome back anytime.

It wasn’t nearly as easy to gather interviews for this month’s series as I originally imagined. When I conceived 31 Dreams From the Street, I assumed most people would be all in, that most people would jump at the chance to answer a simple question that allowed them to dream big.

But I was wrong.

I told you up front that I expected to be stretched outside of my comfort zone. I told you up front that I’d experience some level of rejection.

But I had no idea I’d experience the level of rejection that I did.

Apparently this question was loaded, more than I knew.

“If you didn’t have to worry about money at all, what would you do with your life?”

This month, I successfully interviewed and featured 25 individuals. All 25 individuals answered my question. All 25 individuals shared their first name and allowed me to take their photograph. All 25 individuals gave me permission to feature them on my blog.

This month, I unsuccessfully approached an additional 20 individuals. (Yes, that means that when all is said and done, I had to get extraordinarily brave 45 times this month!)

Here’s a listing of the 20 rejections from the street:

Non-English Speaking

• A mamasita wearing a beautiful headwrap
• A man collecting aluminum cans in a grocery cart

Chatted Up A Storm, Gave Me Their Full Name, but Refused to Be Interviewed

• A window washer who took my blogging business card and said he was going to hire me to take pictures for his daughter’s wedding, because if I “have a camera like that, [I’m] a professional.”

Straight-Up Rejections

• A mom and her little princess in the Disney store
• A hipster guy on a bike
• A dude selling hair straighteners
• A blue-haired girl in Hot Topic
• A construction worker
• Another construction worker
• A guy watering mums
• Manager at a bank
• Assistant manager at a bank
• A woman getting her shoes shined
• A young lady working the Taco Bell drive-thru

Allowed me to Conduct a Full Interview, but Refused Name and Photograph

• A woman with multiple piercings who just wanted to move to Tahiti and surf all day
• A rico-suave Jewish Orthodox dude who worked in a beauty store and would worship God all day
• A family guy and his son who’d “have a happy, healthy family”
• A man who was laid off from General Motors after 21 years of employment, then laid off from a die cutting company after 11 years of employment
• A dude who’d “be worry free”
• A woman who’d open a clinic and shelter for women who have escaped sex-trafficking

When I conceived the series, I should’ve expected to run into a few non-English speaking individuals. It’s happened before when I’ve approached random strangers for the blog. All I can say is…maybe it’s time to learn Spanish?!

But all the other rejections? I didn’t quite understand.

I knew rejections were inevitable. But the frequency at which I was rejected was much higher than I anticipated.

At least, I’m a fairly benign person. At best, I’m a friendly, approachable person. There’s not much about me that comes off as threatening as far as I can see. And to be completely honest, I don’t think I was asking for a lot. I was asking for an answer to one question, a first name, and a photograph. I would’ve taken an alias name if needed. Heck, I would’ve even taken the photograph from a distance, or pictures of hands, feet, anything just to get a picture that represented the interview.

Still, I was rejected 20 times.

I wondered why so many people rejected me straight up. “Not today,” was the most memorable answer from that group.

Trust is the issue, I suppose.

I wondered why many people talked to me and even answered my question, sometimes at length, but wouldn’t share their first name and/or wouldn’t allow me to take a photograph. My favorites from this group were two gentlemen I interviewed who also shared their FULL NAMES with me, but wouldn’t allow me to take a photograph.

Privacy is the issue, I suppose.

Trust and privacy.

Trust and privacy.

Trust. And privacy.

To be completely honest, I’m not sure why I’m sharing these rejections. I haven’t made any brilliant conclusions that will change the course of history and humankind from here on out. But the rejections prove we’re all human, don’t they?

All I know is that I was shocked at the number of rejections I got.

Some people are highly vigilant about privacy. I get it. Some people have trust issues. I get it. But I wasn’t asking for the world. I wasn’t asking for every detail of their private lives. I wasn’t asking for last names or middle names or maiden names. I wasn’t asking for anything except an answer to one question, a first name, and one photograph.

I wondered if some people thought I was an undercover reporter and was going to flash their photograph and story all over the television screen.

After wanting to quit the series mid-month, my approach rate reduced significantly. I no longer assumed people would say yes to my interview. So I only approached when I had a good hunch they might say yes. I didn’t want to experience more of this rejection, whatever form it took.

None of us want to be rejected. None of us want to be taken advantage of. None of us want to be played, or used up by another human being.

But I find it curious that in order to build and restore trust, in order to develop relationship, in order to live our lives fully, in order to make peace with issues from the past and embrace the dreams we have for our future, we have to get a little vulnerable and take a chance on the unknown.

So do we trust? Or do we not?

Are we willing to engage others simply in order to live more authentically? Or not?

Do we want to connect? Or not?

Are we open to taking chances in life? Or not?

We each decide, don’t we?

After writing this post, I’m feeling a little torn about what I think. I’m not 100% clear as to what I was supposed to learn from those 20 rejections, except that we have issues with trust and privacy in our culture. If I had approached you randomly on the street, would you have answered? Why or why not?Let’s chat. I’d love to engage in some dialogue about this!

 

 

 

 

*This post is a part of a month-long 31 Days series titled Dreams from the Street. If you’d like to read more from my series, click here and you’ll be brought to the series landing page where all 31 posts are listed and linked! You can follow me on Twitter at twitter.com/AmyBPederson where I’ll tweet links to all 31 posts using hashtag #write31days, and I’d LOVE to connect on Facebook at facebook.com/AmyBPederson! I’m so glad you stopped by. Make yourself comfortable and take a peek around the place. You’re welcome back anytime.

I came home and cried that night. Cried to my husband for a world that’s cold, a world that’s harsh, a world that isn’t welcoming all the time. Cried because I didn’t want to do this anymore, this 31 Days. Cried because I wanted to quit.

Earlier that day, I’d spent a few hours in the hustle and bustle of the street. It was my third journey out and about gathering interviews for my series, 31 Dreams from the Street. The interviews were exhilarating and adventuresome at first, but draining and exhausting by week three.

I spent three and a half hours wandering the street and a whole assortment of locations that day. My goal was to gather seven interviews, enough to last the whole week to come. But I only gathered five that day. I tried and tried for six and seven, but continued to come up dry.

Now that I look back, there was good reason I never gathered interviews six and seven that day.

You see, two hours into that day’s adventures in interviewing, I came up against a wall. An invisible wall constructed by a fellow human being who happened to be in my vicinity, who happened to find herself in my path when I was out and about interviewing.

I won’t share details of this encounter, because honestly? The memory is fairly traumatic, like the kind of memory that will stick around for a lifetime whether I like it or not. But I am choosing to share the experience vaguely, because I think there’s something to learn from it.

So this encounter. I didn’t expect it. It came out of nowhere. Had I known it was going to happen, I would have evacuated the vicinity immediately, long before it even happened. But I believe all things happen for a reason, that God works all things together for those who love Him. And He will work this, even this, together for my good.

She was there, in my presence, while I was interviewing another.

She asked what a blog was. And then she proceeded to laugh when I told her what I write about. She laughed in a casual and dismissive way, as if my blog and writing were the stupidest things she’d ever heard of.

I continued with my interview.

At that point, I’d only had my new camera for a couple weeks, so I was still trying to learn all the settings on it. The lighting in the space I was in was notably different than the space I’d just been in. So when I went to take a photograph of the person I was interviewing, I had to take THREE or FOUR shots in order to get ONE that worked. The lighting was really tough to manage with the all manual settings I was attempting to use on my camera. (Let it be known, this had never happened before. I was totally caught off guard and felt like an idiot the way it was. Because I would’ve gotten that shot on the first try had I been a professional and/or fully acclimated to my new camera.) Anyway, before the last shot, she made a snarky, sarcastic comment that really got under my skin. I will never forget her words. They couldn’t have been more rude and belittling. It wasn’t until later that I realized I should’ve responded to her comment differently than I did. But these are the battles you face as a nice, people pleasing person, even when you’re belittled straight to your face.

I continued with my interview.

When I was about to leave the space, I handed a blog business card to the person I was interviewing so they could check out the post later if they chose to do so. This was standard operating procedure for the month. A business card was quick and convenient, with all my information in one place. But when I handed that card to the person I interviewed, the woman laughed. Right there, right in my face. As if me having a blog business card was the lamest, stupidest, most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen.

Having been knocked down not once, but three times during this interview, I was ready to bolt from the scene as quickly as possible.

So I did.

As soon as I handed off that blog business card, I thanked the person I interviewed as kindly as I could, and I bolted. Far off. Straight away. As far as I could go.

Because I’d been made to feel like a fool, like an idiot, like a tiny, tiny girl who didn’t matter one speck.

At that point, I’d gotten five interviews for my series. I had two more to go to meet my goal for the day, but for the next hour and a half, I wandered aimless.

I never did get two more interviews that day. Because I was scared. I felt hollow. Defeated. Low to the ground, like a nothing, a nobody. This series I’d conceived? It suddenly felt like the most lame and ridiculous thing in the world. This writing, it seemed like worthless dream chasing.

I wanted to quit.

This 31 Days had officially eaten my insides alive. It wasn’t worth this. At all.

As far as I was concerned, my encounter with this woman was a 31 Days worst nightmare. Not only that, it impacted my ability to be fully authentic with the person I was interviewing. When someone is subtly and not-so-subtly criticizing you in front of another, you have to wonder about the negative impact it has on everyone.

So I came home. And later that night, I cried. I talked it out as best as I could with my husband. And we agreed, I’d write my thoughts and feelings about 31 Dreams from the Street during the last five days of the series. But I never did tell him about that woman. Because it was simply too embarrassing and belittling. I never will tell anyone the details. They will remain in me, lifted to God, as He’s the only other who saw, really saw, what happened that day.

Over the course of the next four days, I lifted it up. I handed it over. I decided I had to be brave, to keep going, to finish this series just as I’d planned. I needed to get through these interviews, brutal or not.

Four days later, I ventured out. My husband freed me with his words. He said, “Commit to a certain amount of time. Decide that whether you get one interview or ten during that period of time, you’ll be done interviewing after that.”

I got four interviews that night. They all went well.

A couple days later, I got another interview.

And a day after that, I stepped out of the interview box and offered a guest post to my daughter.

On the airplane to the writing conference, Darlene offered to be interviewed when I told her I was wrapping the series and needed another interview.

And on day 26, I decided I just couldn’t do another interview. I gave myself grace. It was okay. I’d already learned the lesson. I’d moved on from the trauma that was.

I don’t know why this happened.

I do know I wanted to quit that day.

I do know my interactions with that woman were traumatizing, forever and unfortunately etched in my memory.

But God calls me to go, anyway. God calls me to continue, anyway. God calls me to write, anyway. Because NOT everyone is going to like me. NOT everyone is going to like what I do. NOT everyone is going to like what I have to say, or how I present myself in this world. If you are that person who doesn’t like me, that person who doesn’t like anything about me? Okay. So be it. The people pleaser in me surrenders. To you. You don’t have to like me.

So I will be brave. I will continue. I will follow this call. I will write, anyway. I will be me, anyway. I will, anyway.

Because I must.

So as I wrap this series, I accept the fact that I don’t write for everyone.

I write for GOD. Because He made me and He called me. Because He knows the most traumatizing things that happen to us, and loves and heals us just the same.

I write for ME.

And I write for YOU, you who have taken time to read one, two or twenty-seven days. For all of you who care, for all of you who understand, for all of you who get it, even a little bit? Thank you.

Cheers. To not quitting because of someone else’s belittling.

Cheers. To the 31 Dayers who have been bold and beautifully brave despite how hard any day’s been.

Cheers. To you.

 

 

 

*This post is a part of a month-long 31 Days series titled Dreams from the Street. If you’d like to read more from my series, click here and you’ll be brought to the series landing page where all 31 posts are listed and linked! You can follow me on Twitter at twitter.com/AmyBPederson where I’ll tweet links to all 31 posts using hashtag #write31days, and I’d LOVE to connect on Facebook at facebook.com/AmyBPederson! I’m so glad you stopped by. Make yourself comfortable and take a peek around the place. You’re welcome back anytime.

I never got her name and I didn’t get her picture. But that doesn’t mean she’s any less important.  

As I walked down the street in downtown Minneapolis, I noticed her coming towards me on the sidewalk. She wore a bright colored jersey coat with a number on the front. She carried nothing. And she was walking fairly fast, with somewhat of an urgency.

God prompted quickly – approach this woman.

The question of the month flashed through my mind.“If you didn’t have to worry about money, what would you do with your life?”

As quick as I recalled the question, I knew, without a doubt, that it wouldn’t be appropriate for this woman. So I’d decided I wasn’t going to stop her for an interview.

But there was good reason I’d been prompted to approach this woman.

Before I knew it, SHE was approaching ME.

She asked, with all sincerity and with all that was in her, “Ma’am, I’m really hungry and I’m really sick. I don’t have any money and I really need to get some food in me, now.”

Listen, people. I’m cautious. And I’m not ignorant of all the possible realities.

I’ve heard it all. I’ve heard the stories of fakes and fraudulents on the street begging for money when in reality they’re raking in thousands. I’ve heard about people who beg and then go spend the money on drugs and alcohol. 

And I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen what wasted looks like. I’ve seen what high looks like. I’ve seen what overdose looks like. I’ve seen what the worst of mental illness looks like. I’ve seen. it all.

And let me just say? This woman was none of those things.

This woman was hungry.

This woman was weak.

And this woman was sick. Physically sick.

There was an urgency about her, a desperation that I couldn’t ignore.

The woman shared that she had diabetes and was out of insulin. So not only was she hungry, but she was feeling very ill, too.

I knew she was telling the truth. This wasn’t a lie. So I dug in my wallet, grabbed a $5 bill and gave it to her so she could get some food. She thanked me profusely, gave me a hug, said “God bless you,” and took a few steps in the other direction as if she was going on her way.

Just as she’d taken a few steps in the other direction. And just as I was verifying…

“Do you need any help? Are you going to be able to get some food nearby? Do you need help getting your medicine?”

She turned her back to me, bent her head down, and hung her head over a roped off area where we’d been standing. She was quite literally spitting up a little bit because she was so sick. And she appeared to be sweating. This was not a well woman.

“Are you okay? Is there anything else I can do to help?” I said, as I broke out another $3 from my wallet. Common sense told me this woman needed food NOW and $5 wasn’t going about to cut it in downtown Minneapolis.

I passed her the extra $3 in a hurry, feeling like these $8 dollars were the least of the help she needed in that moment, feeling like there was something else I should be doing for this woman. But she assured me she was on her way RIGHT NOW to get some insulin.

This was all so urgent, and all so surreal.

She hugged me again (this time even longer) and said “God bless you” again, as we parted ways.

So what can we learn from this woman?

Wow. Where to start.

Can I say that sometimes we just need to follow our gut instincts? I think God placed those instincts, those natural reactions, in us for a reason. And in this case, I needed to know whether I should protect myself from a potentially harmful situation, or whether I should help the woman in need.

My initial gut instinct was to approach the woman. My instinct told me that my question would be inappropriate for her. Right again. My instinct told me this woman was the real deal, that she was really hungry and really sick. And my instinct told me this woman was genuinely grateful for my help because of the way she hugged me not once, but twice, and the way she said “God bless you” not once, but twice. There was an urgency and a sincerity I sensed that couldn’t be contrived.

Some time later, after we’d parted ways, I started doubting my response. I wondered if I’d just been played. And I had to decide that I hadn’t been played. I had to decide this was real. This was reality. In my face. As in, respond to this need NOW or NEVER. So I responded.

This woman brought up vivid memories of my time in Haiti, particularly the whole day I spent with our two sponsored children. I remembered how I quickly learned that I had to get them food FIRST, before we could do anything else. Because when you’re really hungry, and in this woman’s case, when you’re really hungry AND sick, you can’t think of anything else except eating and getting well.

So what would this woman do if she didn’t have to worry about money? The question was completely irrelevant at that point. She just needed to get some food in her and get well. All dreaming was down the tubes. This was a matter of survival.

So I challenge you, is there someone in your life who’s in survival mode, someone who’s completely UNABLE to dream because they’re merely surviving this day? What are some ways you could send them a lifeline?

 

 

 

*This post is a part of a month-long 31 Days series titled Dreams from the Street. If you’d like to read more from my series, click here and you’ll be brought to the series landing page where all 31 posts are listed and linked! You can follow me on Twitter at twitter.com/AmyBPederson where I’ll tweet links to all 31 posts using hashtag #write31days, and I’d LOVE to connect on Facebook at facebook.com/AmyBPederson! I’m so glad you stopped by. Make yourself comfortable and take a peek around the place. You’re welcome back anytime.

The earliest of autumn’s crispness set into the evening air. Most likely, this was a one-night phenomenon, with many long, hot days to come in-between here and the shorter, colder days of fall.

Still, mama knew.

Change was coming. Change had already come.

And uncertainty was most certainly all around.

Mama just heard of a great actor and comedian’s passing. Suicide they suspected. And she couldn’t get over it. She couldn’t let it go. Because this great artist, this human being of a different kind made mama laugh, made mama cry. His portrayal of a great physician in Awakenings awakened her to life not once, but many times over. It was one of her favorites, a gentle-spirited movie about waking up to your life, capturing moments while they’re still in your grasp.

She was a little distraught about this passing. But she bathed her babe anyway.

The days since babe’s last bath had passed in a flash. After one glance at babe’s dirt-filled fingernails and brown-stained feet, mama knew it was time for that bath.

“My got my diaper off! My ready!” shouted babe as she waited for mama to fill the tub.

Mama turned on the water. Not too cold, not too hot. She threw in the bath toys – puppy dogs and fish-catching nets, wobbly-weebly people made for miniature yellow boats.

She watched as babe lathered up soap on a washcloth and scrubbed her body, her baby doll, her wobbly-weebly people, and even the bath ledge clean again.

Don’t we all walk ledges – longing for better days, opportunities to start over, desperate for someone to see us for who we are instead of the mask we’ve been? Don’t we all sit on ledges – waiting to feel clean, whole, restored to brand-new condition, free again?

Mama thought hard as babe scrubbed the bath ledge. She wondered how it could be that a celebrity, a comedian, a great artist of our time could be so desperate, so filled with pain, so wanting to leave this world.

The pain fell like a curtain. She felt all the pain of the world in that moment. And she wondered why moms and dads take their lives, why babes suffer beheading, why kids cross borders alone, why Ebola strikes ebony and threatens to spread like a deadly wildfire.

Babe continued to wash the bath ledge new.

Dad and son watched the Matrix in the other room.

And mama thought of Jesus. Jesus on the cross. His pain. His suffering. His crossing every border because of us. His name that spread. Like wildfire.

So mama decided. She couldn’t push away the joy because of the pain. And she couldn’t push away the pain because of the joy.

Babes take baths. And babes are beheaded. Children frolic in sprinklers. And children watch parents fall ill and pass in a matter of hours. Children are safe and sound in the comforts of home, and children are sent afar, alone, to cross borders in search of freedom. Children experience lifetimes with mommies and daddies, and children live orphaned because mommy and daddy couldn’t bear the weight of this world anymore. All under the same sky. All under the great canopy provided by God himself.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t grasp the purpose of this pain. She couldn’t fathom the point of it all, couldn’t reconcile this good and evil under the same blue sky.

So she asked, yet again, one of the greatest questions she’s ever asked God. Why must babes, innocent children suffer? And why is it that some humans sneak by with mere inconveniences, while others are bathed in blood, pain, trauma, poverty and the like?

Mama had to let it go. She had to release it to Jesus who suffered the greatest pain of all, to God who created it all. For us. For all of us.

So mama washed babe’s hair and smiled at her big. Because babes need encouragement if they’re to live upright in a culture that can feel completely hopeless. If we’re going to fight this fight, we musn’t give up. We must prepare our generation, the next generation, as armies of brave warriors. Warriors armed with belts of truth, breastplates of righteousness, and swords of the Spirit. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

She bundled her babe in a plush pink towel, and pulled out those pink pajamas with the frog on front. She read babe a book about the animals of the world. And she brought babe a glass of water before turning on the white noise.

Downstairs she went. She felt directionless, like her cares were nothing compared to the weight of this heavy, heavy globe called Earth.

Mama got out the vacuum. The floor was a disaster. Then she got out the mop. Because the vacuum hadn’t cut the grime. This mopping wasn’t as easy as it looked. She pushed hard, and while the floor was still dirty, she couldn’t bring herself to finish. Because it still seemed pointless compared to the world’s greater state of disaster.

It was then that she really heard, really noticed the girls out on the front porch. There were six of them, to be exact. Binders and bows, brushes and blow dryers laid on the table. A big bucket of clean water served as their source for making all things new in regards to their hair. They’d created a hair salon and were busy bees prepping and primping one another.

Mama addressed the first thing any mama would think of when it comes to homemade hair salons. Don’t share brushes. The girls already had that taken care of. They’d already gone home to get their own.

As mama lingered with the girls for a few quiet moments, she continued to have a hard time reconciling all this innocence with all the world’s tragedy.

She asked the hard questions. Again.

Why do these beauties have the privilege of creating a hair salon on a porch, while others equally as beautiful sit on a mountain top afraid for their lives?

Why do these beauties get to primp and play, while others equally as beautiful walk miles to cross borders into the unknown?

Why do these beauties have a clean bill of health, while others equally as beautiful suffer death?

Why do these beauties wonder whether their daddies will arrive back home at 5:00 or 6:00 tonight, while others equally as beautiful discover their daddy’s decided it’s the last night he can hack this world?

It’s hard to understand why God would allow all of this.

Hard questions don’t have easy answers.

But by the supernatural grace of God, powerful words came to mama’s mind.

For God is not a God of disorder but of peace.  1 Corinthians 14:33

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.  Romans 12:21 

 You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.  1 John 4:4

Then, mama decided she simply had to trust. That He’d take care of it all. That the world’s weight wasn’t hers to bear, but His.

So she let it go. As much as she could. She gave it up. To the One and only One who knows the purpose of all our pain, who knows the story He’s writing.

Two girls danced in the driveway with caps on their heads to protect the beauty they’d made. And one little girl came to mama needing help with her headband. Mama helped the little girl put on hope in the form of a butterfly, and sent the six beautiful warriors on their way.

The bikes swished and swooshed down the street.

Mama stood alone with the bowl of clean water.

Truly I tell you, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to the Messiah will certainly not lose their reward.  Mark 9:41

Mama couldn’t help the world, but she could help those she was called to help. For tonight, the gift had been water. The washing of water over a warrior babe in a bathtub. A glass of water before bedtime. A bowl full of water for warrior girls who know that it’s glimpses of beauty, glimpses of gratitude, glimpses of the Divine in the daily that make the world go round.