Thankfulness When It’s Easy

I was sitting in a car (breastfeeding my baby girl of course) outside a group home for troubled youth. (My mother works a lot with drug court kids, so she’s surrounded with at risk youth, side story). We had just picked up a young man that my parents and family had been helping who was coming out of treatment, and were dropping him off at this group home.

As I was sitting in the car, waiting for my mom and grandma to sign paperwork and get this young man settled in, tears filled my eyes. My heart broke for this young 17 year old boy, who I treat like a little brother, who I love as family. A boy coming from a broken family, an abusive father, a mother who has ran, a grandma with a crack house, and brothers who have been in and out of jail for drugs and drive by shootings. A boy who has never felt like he’s had a family or home. A teenager that has seen more violence and sadness then I will probably see in my lifetime. A young man who has been in and out of homes.

My mom was frantically trying to find him a place to stay for 5 weeks before he leaves for job core. She didn’t want him in this group home, but not many are willing to keep a at risk youth. I cried as I kept replaying in my head what he said at the PO’s office…”No I am not going to another family. I don’t wan’t to keep being passed around. It hurts too much. It hurts to have to leave again. Just take me to the group home.” I wanted so bad to say “Come stay with me.”

As I looked at his eyes filled with disappointment and pain because he couldn’t stay with us, my heart broke. He was trying to be tough. Granted he made choices that got him where he is at. He’s been given chances. I realized I have so much to be thankful for. I didn’t come from a broken family. Growing up I didn’t see how fortunate I was. Why? Because I didn’t know how other’s lived. I didn’t care to believe some children are homeless. Sure I knew it was bad for children in third world countries. I knew that there were kids in the city with abusive, drugged out parents.

But until I actually surrounded myself with those who were less fortunate, I never fully grasped how much I have to be thankful for. Until I volunteered at rescue missions and did outreach with the homeless, began to give to missionaries and go to crisis centers, did it really sink in that I have much more than I need.

I have realized that in America we are thankful when it’s easy. What do I mean exactly by this? We are thankful only when we surround ourselves by those less fortunate. We are thankful after going to a third world country, after volunteering at children’s hospitals, or rescue missions. It’s sad that we can’t be thankful outside of those situations. We rarely see all we have when we are surrounded by it every day. We are thankful when it’s easy to be, when we see other’s lack.

I always feel thankful and grateful after listening to missionaries and being around the poor. I rarely ever feel thankful when I am in the warmth of my own home. Rather, I complain I don’t have a big enough space. I am thankful when it’s easy. I am not thankful when eating out at restaurants or driving in my car, but I should be because many don’t have a car or money to dine out.

As I tried to dry my eyes before my mom and grandma came back to the car and the young boy came to say goodbye, I realized I can’t do this. I can’t sit and be silent. I can’t watch this hurt around me get worse. I can’t watch these kids be rejected. I don’t want my children to grow up being thankful only when it’s easy. To never know how much they really do have.

I have always had a heart for the broken, at risk youth. I have always wanted to adopt those children in third world countries who have been rejected and the outcasts. My heart can’t stand to see them in pain. Lately I can rarely drive through the city without my heart breaking when I see the orphaned, homeless youth.

I told this young man, my little brother from another mother (that’s what we say to each other), that I love him. That he has choices to make, and a family that’s waiting for him. That I was praying for him and know he will do great things. He will overcome. The sparkle and hope in his eyes, was enough to make me feel I had done something. Even if I couldn’t take him home and felt like I wasn’t doing enough, hearing him say I love you and call me his sister, gave me hope too. It made me feel that I was playing my part.

He’s helped me realize that I had become complacent. I have sat back and made excuses for far too long. I was thankful only when it was easy. I was too comfortable, because I didn’t want to hurt. I didn’t want to become to attached to some of these youth, knowing they could be gone in a moment’s time.

I know this isn’t a typical post, but it’s been weighing on my heart. I want to be thankful not just when I am reading horrific stories or watching the crisis in Israel with Isis, but when I am with family, paying bills, running. I also don’t want to ever give up hope. I don’t want to think these kids are in hopeless situations and will never get better. I am thankful ALWAYS!!

Until Next Time Be Whole and Be Fit