June Newsletter

Hi friends and family!

It’s June, and you know what that means—Summer Camp!  South Street Ministries’ Summer Camp started this past week (June 17^th). Up until now, my job as the intern has been to become integrated with South Street. During this time, I have attended Bike Shop and Urban Gardens, two youth programs that South Street runs. Bike Shop is a program that offers youth of the neighborhood an opportunity to earn a bike by working at the Bike Shop a certain amount of hours depending on their age. Responsibility, integrity, and work ethic are the learning outcomes of this program. Urban Gardens entails the up keeping of two neighborhood gardens. The youth meet two times a week to water, plant, weed, and harvest the produce of the Gardens. At the end of the summer, the youth will have a sale of the produce and split the profits, learning how to manage their earnings.

        

Summer Camp

I’m incredibly excited for Summer Camp to start moving through the upcoming weeks. This last month has been a time of brainstorming to prepare for camp. We’ve thought of Mayhem Mondays (play), Tactile Tuesdays (create), Wondrous Wednesdays (explore), and Thankful Thursdays (reflect). These names remind us of the holistic vision to maintain for Summer Camp. My desire for Summer Camp is that the youth would leave empowered, encouraged, and know that they are supported by summer’s end.

The Elephant in the Room   

There is an elephant in the room that I’ve found myself having to address the past month as I’ve been in South Street and the surrounding areas. My cultural lens comes from one who identifies as white and has life experiences in a middle class, financially stable environment, and a stable home life. The kids I am working with this summer are growing up in a cultural lens of identification as black, and a primarily lower-class environment. Beyond that, I don’t want to make generalizations, as each child’s situation is different, but I have seen instances of unstable home lives and financial situations among the youth. I don’t know what it’s like for the girl who wishes her mom had a car. I don’t know what it’s like to grow up in an area that many label as “dangerous.” I’m far removed from these youth’s experiences based on my own life experiences.

       Because of this, I have been wrestling with my position in light of my cultural reality. What right do I have being a co-leader for a camp when I am so far removed from the experience of the youth that I am interacting with daily? Before entering this summer I knew there were huge cultural differences, yet the reality of them is only hitting me now. As I’ve been wrestling, I find myself coming to the same conclusion—love covers all. My love for the youth I am interacting with daily covers my unfamiliarity in regards to our different life experiences. It is what enables me to sit down next to that same girl and actively listen to her when she talks of not having a car. Love is what is driving me to truly empathize and understand the reality of the lives these youth lead.

May your summer be filled with joy in the midst of pain, perseverance in the midst of trials, and love at the center of all.

For more information on South Street Ministries: www.southstreetministries.org

Watch a video I created for the ministry during last year! http://youtu.be/q03OY_VNMTA

Stagnant before Summer Camp

South Street Summer Camp starts today. Today. As in less than four hours as I type this. I’d like to say that I’m calm, cool, and collected, ready to start the day, but that would be a bit of a lie.

For the last three weeks I have been preparing for this day—brainstorming, having meetings, pondering, reflecting, creating programming, disciplinary tactics, structure. In theory, I thought the preparation was pretty much perfect.

Perfect. A disgusting word that has lured me again and again down dark paths of performance based ethics. Somewhere between “I tried my best” and “I didn’t try at all” I choose this extreme of 110%, then finding myself struggling to keep up with my own self-set standard.  

And then eventually I find myself in a place where I am today—burnt out, stagnant. Weighed down by perfectionism, I stand paralyzed, unable to fail and unable to move forward.

In my life, it’s not Pride and Prejudice, it’s Pride and Perfectionism. 

In Luke 18 Jesus tells this parable that hits me in the gut every time:

The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: 

“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ 

“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

 

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

 

So many times I find myself saying the words of the Pharisee and not the tax collector.

A great example---today.

 

I'm thankful that He humbles me when I choose to exalt myself and my abilities and ideas and me me me, even when the humbling process is a difficult process. (Which means it is even more needed.)

I'm thankful that I don’t have to be perfect, an impossible attainment, because One has already come in Perfection.

I'm thankful that forgiveness covers ALL sins, especially self-righteousness. 

Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.

Today I go to Summer Camp as the imperfect person I am, choosing to fail forward, confident in the power of the Grace that holds me. 

And so we go.  

The Young Woman With the Flowers

Lately I’ve been thinking about her,

About the young woman with the Flowers who was shocked into reality.

I’ve been thinking about what I would do if I could go visit her.

How I would go to where they were keeping her,

Sit right next to her and lay her head on my lap and

Hold her in an embrace to keep her together.

I imagine us sitting on a porch, swinging.

I imagine the birds singing outside flying about over our heads to a nearby nest.

In actuality, we would be enclosed in four white walls

With sanitized air and the hum of a heater.

I’ve been thinking about what I would say

As I held her swaying back and forth,

Scraping her hair off of her face.

Much needed peace.

A much needed rest.

Sitting there, I would thank her for letting me be a part of her journey,

For letting me sit next to her and embrace her tightly.

I would commend her for her courage that looks like weakness at the time.

The courage to recognize one’s limits before it’s too late.

I would tell her that it’s okay to not be okay, that many people never fully understand how not okay they are until way later in life.

I would embrace her tighter, and reassure her that she’s in good hands.

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We would sit there for a while, just like that,

Me swaying back and forth with her in my arms.

Two sisters journeying together.

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Sitting there next to her I would know that this week would change her life.

That from this experience she would blossom and grow, slowly but surely.

That the next year of her life would be a story of redemptive love

And of the deep darkness of depression in the same breath.

I may whisper this to her, letting her know that all will be well.

But I would know that many have said this to her before.

It has fallen on deaf ears.

When all is not well for so long, even if it’s the truth, is hard to believe.

This I would know.

I would want to tell her about the upcoming year of her life,

How she’s going to do a lot of self-discovery and analysis.

I would assure her that it’s going to be difficult but worth it

And that loneliness will come at times.

I would tell her to continue pursuing Truth.

(She doesn’t know this yet, but that’s what got her here in the first place.)

I would disclose to her that pursuing Truth is the single most important journey a person can make.

I would remind her that change is painful, and she will persevere through change time and time again,

But I would quickly confess to her that this perseverance will not be of her own strength.

I would state to her that she is going to live the next year of her life imperfectly

And that this will be beautiful, and normal.

A nurse would come by and tell me that visiting hours were over,

And I would have to say my goodbyes.

“Goodbye, Amber,” I would say.

She may panic at this point, feeling like a burden to me, but I would quickly assure her.

I would communicate that tomorrow I will come back and be with her.

That I want her to see love and affirm her in her perceived failures.

That I want to let her cry and weep without judgment and

Let her speak whatever is on her mind without apology.

I would tell her that I will come back tomorrow and care for her.

I’ll be quiet if needed.

Talk if needed.

Listen if needed.

She would nod her head and stare at the ground, not believing my words as they would seem to good to be true.

I would give her a hug, stand up, and walk down the barren hallway, leaving behind me the young woman with the Flowers.