Last Sunday we got to share about Haiti and missions with the 4th and 5th graders and then help them to write letters to the Play it Forward soccer teams at HCM. (Yep. We've talked about missions a lot with them this year, but there are a few that eat. it. up. every single time.) You can tell them that you went on your first missions trip when you were twelve, and their eyes light up, already counting the months until ten-years-old becomes twelve.
You give them a list of five things that they can do now to get ready for a future trip and they all watch, trying to second guess what comes next, but one or two of them perk up in their seats, gaze glued to you, keeping track on their fingers so that they don't forget.
One of whom happens to have been one of my kids since he was in Kindergarten, which kind of makes my insides do a little happy dance!
Over the last year they've heard about justice and missions and miracles and the love that only the Holy Spirit can bring, and each time I get a chance to talk to them (each time the crew of not-normal-presenters gets to talk to them) they listen with a few fewer walls up, because, when we say that we serve an awesome God, they are starting to believe us.
*On a funny side note: One of my boys from last year flat out refuses to verbally communicate with me in the hallways, but, almost every week, I will find him standing just behind my elbow, waiting for me to grab the back of his head and bop my hand through his hair. His eyes dance and he smirks up at me like I just gave him a free I*pad... and he runs away before I have a chance to get any farther than, "Hey, you!" He just wants to make sure that I still know he exists.*
And...that evening, we spent the entire night of youth group hearing about ministry trips that people went on and camps that they served at.
It was just a missions-y kind of a day.
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