The high schoolers plan a pre-retreat night, and I am not sure how to capture the everythingness of it in this concrete form that we call words. Because, it wasn't perfect. And, they weren't perfect. And, we weren't perfect.
But, it was good.
It was good to come together in the midst of Advent, to remind each other of the Holy that is coming, the Grace that surrounds us now.
To bring what are essentially three different youth groups together and find the tension - and hopefully the Divine - in our unique ways of existing and overlapping. Because, we each know the feel of our own version of this thing, and it is good, for a moment, to step into anothers' shoes. To hear the stories that come out of it. The ways that we strive, as a story telling people, to make sense of it all.
The kids in the back of my vehicle laugh at crowded spaces as they double buckle to fit an entire team, "This is just like Haiti! At least no one is sitting on any soccer cleats this time!"
It is cold. December. We're wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and jeans. Running a scavenger hunt that they put together. Shuttling less than five minutes from the church to a coffee house.
But, it is just like Haiti.
Sort of, in that story telling way that draws out connections and meanings. A crowded van. Packed full with energy and trepidation, frustration and excitement. People they knew and those they had just met. Working together. A team.
Unexpected plot twists and community despite it all. Protests on the edges of our consciousness. Hope and pain carried with us like precious cargo. Uncertain footing but a certain God. Parallels that we feel, even if we couldn't put the words to them.
In some strange sense, this is "just like" Haiti.
The Gryffindor kids in the back of my van tell stories, draw connections, let each other in. The Ravenclaws go back over the scavenger hunt, what they've done, what they have yet to do, how they can best finish quickly.
Several of the Slytherin boys give up on waiting for the shuttles altogether and simply run the short distance instead.
Fearless. Grace filled. Brave.
They started planning this thing with the youth pastor, finished it without him, and this brave is a stubborn choice that they are making. A choice to jump into the jumble and the mess together, to keep moving forwards even when things don't go quite according to plan. To tell stories and to trust that there is a bigger picture.
And, as the room clears out from these eighty-five teenaged bodies, the leaders linger to tell our own stories. Stories that stretch back through youth pastors and well over a dozen sets of kids. Years of doing this, loving this way, watching them grow and learn and stumble and hopefully get back up again.
Unspoken, it is a promise.
A stubborn choice that we are making to stick it out through this thing too. To join the kids in the midst of their brave and hurt, their energy and trepidation, frustration and excitement. To do our level best to ensure that, no one has to do this on their own.
Because, we're getting ready for retreat. Looking to the other side of Advent. Preparing for moments where we paint community in bold strokes that they can look back on all year. Living out stories as we get ready to create dozens more. And, the theme is a steady reminder that, although we might not know who is going to be coming we with us, we do know Who will be there.
We know that we have an identity that can not be shaken, an unchanging Creator, a shelter in the midst of any storm.
We know that this is Just. Like. Haiti.
And, just like Haiti is good.
To bring what are essentially three different youth groups together and find the tension - and hopefully the Divine - in our unique ways of existing and overlapping. Because, we each know the feel of our own version of this thing, and it is good, for a moment, to step into anothers' shoes. To hear the stories that come out of it. The ways that we strive, as a story telling people, to make sense of it all.
The kids in the back of my vehicle laugh at crowded spaces as they double buckle to fit an entire team, "This is just like Haiti! At least no one is sitting on any soccer cleats this time!"
It is cold. December. We're wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and jeans. Running a scavenger hunt that they put together. Shuttling less than five minutes from the church to a coffee house.
But, it is just like Haiti.
Sort of, in that story telling way that draws out connections and meanings. A crowded van. Packed full with energy and trepidation, frustration and excitement. People they knew and those they had just met. Working together. A team.
Unexpected plot twists and community despite it all. Protests on the edges of our consciousness. Hope and pain carried with us like precious cargo. Uncertain footing but a certain God. Parallels that we feel, even if we couldn't put the words to them.
In some strange sense, this is "just like" Haiti.
The Gryffindor kids in the back of my van tell stories, draw connections, let each other in. The Ravenclaws go back over the scavenger hunt, what they've done, what they have yet to do, how they can best finish quickly.
Several of the Slytherin boys give up on waiting for the shuttles altogether and simply run the short distance instead.
Fearless. Grace filled. Brave.
They started planning this thing with the youth pastor, finished it without him, and this brave is a stubborn choice that they are making. A choice to jump into the jumble and the mess together, to keep moving forwards even when things don't go quite according to plan. To tell stories and to trust that there is a bigger picture.
And, as the room clears out from these eighty-five teenaged bodies, the leaders linger to tell our own stories. Stories that stretch back through youth pastors and well over a dozen sets of kids. Years of doing this, loving this way, watching them grow and learn and stumble and hopefully get back up again.
Unspoken, it is a promise.
A stubborn choice that we are making to stick it out through this thing too. To join the kids in the midst of their brave and hurt, their energy and trepidation, frustration and excitement. To do our level best to ensure that, no one has to do this on their own.
Because, we're getting ready for retreat. Looking to the other side of Advent. Preparing for moments where we paint community in bold strokes that they can look back on all year. Living out stories as we get ready to create dozens more. And, the theme is a steady reminder that, although we might not know who is going to be coming we with us, we do know Who will be there.
We know that we have an identity that can not be shaken, an unchanging Creator, a shelter in the midst of any storm.
We know that this is Just. Like. Haiti.
And, just like Haiti is good.
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