As most of you know, I live and work in the inner city. Yes, me...raised a country girl and still one at heart if truth be told. When I first came here and rolled up my sleeves to apply some elbow grease to the task at hand, oh my was it daunting. For every hungry child I fed, it seemed three more appeared. For every child I comforted another one seemed to be the subject of a news cast , the tragic victim of abuse, neglect and even death. While great changes were taking place within the community where I lived, a few minutes on the bus was all it took to show me how much more needed to be done. My sons were harassed by two White police officers who wanted to know why two white boys wanted to live in this community. The children in the neighborhood had to deal with watching their parents being shot at, one child was left at my house for three days over Thanksgiving with no warning or explanation afterwards. It could get so overwhelming. In fact it could get paralyzing to the point one just felt like throwing their hands in the air and giving up. It seemed so impossible at times.
In spite of all of the emotion and passion that I felt for what I do, eventually I had to learn to let go. I had to learn that regardless of how things look to me, God is still on the throne. I had to learn that I am not called to do everything, ...just what I can. I'm not called to nurture every child in the world...just the ones I can. And I had to learn that even one life touched and altered is a big thing. I had to learn about the ripple effect. But most of all I had to learn that I am not Mission control. I am not the little Dutch boy standing with my finger in the damn afraid that if I make one wrong move all will be lost. I've learned how to let go and send my SOS to the one who is really in control.