When God closes an Africa shaped door...

I've sat here staring at this blank page, trying to figure out what to say, for days. I began writing this a week ago, and left it in edit form, until I finally went back and finished it this weekend. Trying to break through the many questions I had... some being, where do I begin? How do I express the heartbreak I feel inside? If you know me, then you know I have a heart for Africa and the people groups that make up that beautiful continent. Also, you probably know how every summer I go to stay at an orphanage in Kenya to live life with 230 of the most precious children I have ever encountered. Along with loving on the kids, I get to work hand in hand with the teachers that teach these kiddos at the school on the compound. The relationships that have formed and the racial reconciliation that has so beautifully unraveled (only through Jesus) has been so humbling to be apart of. Every summer I have known where I will go-- without question-- KENYA!

Unfortunately, do to certain restrictions that prevent our leaders from going, our trip was cancelled. Reading the email I felt like I had the air kicked out of me. For the last 5 years, I have spent weeks with these babies that not only showed me a clearer picture of Jesus, but also allowed me to be filled up while I was pouring out. The Lord ALWAYS taught me something while in Africa. One year He taught me about my fears... and how staying in my fears will cripple and diminish truths I have learned in my walk with Him. One year, I learned how to trust when things were scary. I left to go when things seemed uncertain. I walked away from my parents at the airport who looked at me as if I was never coming back. And, I was going into a country that didn't share in the same religious freedoms I was born into. It shook me-- HARD. But it also allowed brokenness and caused reliance on a Father who knows more and goes before me. Most importantly, every year the Lord has softened a different part of my heart for adoption. He not only showed me what adoption means to my life... I was chosen, brought into His family; but He also showed me what the importance of adoption is (because of my vertical adoption I am being called to horizontally adopt here on Earth). He cultivated a love for the Fatherless that will filter into my own family in the future.

This same God that went before me and calmed all those fears and worries all those years ago, showed up immediately after I read the email. A peace that was so calming washed over me and I knew that even though this hurt terribly.... this was for my good! Whether it was for my protection or those kiddos... He whispered truths of His will to my heart. Familiar promises like "I am the Alpha and Omega... Beginning and the End.", "I have plans to help you and not to harm you... to give you hope and a future.', "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding...", "Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed, says the LORD, who has compassion on you.", and lastly "I am leaving you with a gift-- peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don't be troubled or afraid." All of these truths that were straight out of the Word came flooding into my heart and mind. I was still upset. I was still sobbing. But I was sobbing with hands opened, on the floor of my bedroom singing "You give and take away... blessed be Your name!" I was crying out "You're a GOOD GOOD Father... it's who You are! And I'm LOVED BY YOU.... it's who I am!"

The future for us is unknown. Will I ever see these children again? I'm not sure. Will I ever get to whisper "Nakupenda Sana" into their ears as I hug and squeeze them? Maybe not. But I have to remember something... these kids will be okay. Not because I visited them all those years. Not because I sponsored them. Not because I took time out of my life to go see and love on them. No... these children will be okay because they have a Father who loves them deeply, dearly, and fully. He knows the hurt they've felt. He was with them through the abuse and neglect. He sent His Son to be crucified as a replacement for their precious lives. These kids are not going to be okay because some Mzungu showed up back in 2011 and fell in love with them.... they're going to be okay because they are loved by our Beloved. The Lord didn't NEED me to accomplish anything at this orphanage or in these kiddos lives... but I sure am thankful He allowed me to be apart of it!

**Thank you for all the love and support you have given me this year (and all the years before that). If you helped me this year financially I will be in contact with you to let you know how a refund can occur or (as some have asked already) how I can use your gift to still bless these precious children! Love you all so much!*

The Categories of Motherhood

Mother's Day. A day when we celebrate the women who have sacrificed so much for their little ones. When we praise the ones who care for and deeply loved us when we didn't know how to love and care for ourselves. It's a beautiful day. It's an important day. It's a day that is deserved. But for many women out there... it's a day that hurts.

It's a day that reminds them of the child that was lost. Whether that child took a breath outside of the womb or didn't... it was a life gone too soon. A life that was called home earlier than we could understand. A life that was considered a life from the moment they were conceived. A life that was now made whole and beautiful and complete in the arms of our Savior... in the midst of sadness and weeping and brokenness down here on Earth.

It reminds them of the child they will never have. That for some reason or another their bodies can't make or hold a child. That for some reason, something just wasn't working the way it was suppose to. Some have struggled with it was months or even years. Many sweet women in my life have allowed me to walk through this hard circumstance with them. Interceding on their behalf. Crying out to the Lord in confusion and sometimes anger. Pleading with the Lord to remove that barrier and allow those ladies to become mommies. All of those prayers have been answered... unfortunately, some of the answers have been "no".

It's a day that--even though filled with good things-- can feel like a constant reminder of the desires of their hearts that are not being answered. To the "mommy want to be's" who simply are not in that place of life. The women that have a strong yearning to be a mother. To nurture, care for,  love, give selflessly, and feel their heart outside their chest. It's to the women who try to be joyful in those extreme times of loneliness. Desiring a husband and child and sit and watch all of their friends pass them by. It's the women who have to choke back tears as their friends scream "we're pregnant with our THIRD baby" while they are weeping to the Lord silently "Jesus... Gosh, Lord. I just really want this. Your will be done, however, Lord!" The women who are reminded (probably not intentionally malicious) that their "clocks are ticking away" or asked "do you not WANT a baby?". Questions that sting and can easily cause doubt and lies to creep into their minds. It's a day that seems like another year of disappointment.

However, and more importantly, it's also a day of promises. It's a day that tells us that we are called to love others well. That we are called to care for people in a way that allows them to see a Father. A Good Father. One who provides and loves even when it is hard to see... we are called to radiate that. Whether that is to a child, a student, a teenager, a peer, an orphan, or your own parent.... the Lord has entrusted His sheep to His disciples.

I am not a mother. I get called it about 15 times a day by my students, but I do not have a child of my own. I have never given birth or adopted (yet). But, I have been called to love others. I have been called to encourage others. I have been called to uplift, affirm, come along side of, pick up, and speak truth into others. And I don't know about you other ladies... but that sure sounds like the qualities of a mother to me.

So know I spent some time praying for all the different categories of women: the ones who have lost, the ones who have, the ones who will never have, and the ones who don't have yet. You are important. You are equipped. And you, my sweet, strong, bold women... in these seasons... are loved and worth it.

The Faces.

Daniel. Daniel was the first child in Africa that grabbed my heart. He was shy and sweet. He lingered and wanted to be noticed but was fearful to be too known. Scared of the strange mzungu (white person; foreigner) but also somewhat intrigued. He became the son I never had. He was all I would think about. All I would pray about. All I would dream about. Leaving him that first year felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. I loved this child more than any other child I had ever met. He was "my Daniel" and I knew that my life was forever changed by this 8 year old child...

Shem. Shem is one of the youngest at Fiwagoh. The first year I met him I was won over. His personality was hilarious. He was bold and brave and silly. He wasn't scared to crawl up in your lap and demand your attention and love. It didn't take much demanding on his part. I fell... head over heels. This child whose mother had given him up in the market place because she could not care for him and all his other brothers and sisters... chose to let go of him. When seen out in town the first few months after giving him up she was asked if she wanted to come visit him and see him... she didn't want to. It broke my heart to hear that... I can't even try to imagine what she must have gone through to want to give him away and never want to cradle him and kiss his squishy cheeks again. All I knew was that he was given an opportunity to be loved so I would do my best to remind and reassure him that he was dearly loved and precious everytime I saw him.

Sammy. Sammy is the most joyful child I have ever met... including in the states. Sammy is full of life and silliness and smiles. Everytime you call his name he will look at you and laugh and smile ear to ear. You would never know that he is fighting HIV. It doesn't change his mood. It doesn't change his view on life. It doesn't cause him to shrink back into the shadows. He walks around with an outlook that convicts and challenges me to my core. He is precious and has changed my heart more than I can ever express.

These are just a few. These don't include every child I have prayed over, cried with, held, and sobbed as I left. The Lord turned my heart to Kenya, Africa years ago and I know now it's because of these children (plus 220 others). These children have shown me a beautiful picture of what trusting in Jesus looks like. They have pointed me to the One who loves the least of these... and has a plan for His children. These babies have reflected how I should look as a believer. They have shown me how to have faith when the world tells me that I am being ridiculous. I have learned to love fully and wholly and in a way that my Savior loves me (without expecting anything in return). It has been humbling and hard and heart wrenching. I don't know what the future holds... I don't know if I will ever get to hold these babies again. I don't know if I will ever get to travel back to the continent that stole my heart.... but I am going to try. And I am thankful... I am thankful for the four opportunities I have been graced with to live life with these beautiful children and for what they have been used, by Jesus, to work into me. 

Come.

As I am sitting in my living room making lists and thinking of all that needs to get done in the next few weeks-- some before my upcoming surgery (trampoline parks are no joke, people)-- it's easy for me to get overwhelmed. Turn paper work in, call doctor back for the 4th time this week, make sub plans, deep clean my apt so it'll be nice when I come back home, make my design for Africa and get in contact with my shirt guy, pay all my bills, etc. etc. etc. I was told today by someone "You are ALWAYS doing something... like, you never stop!" I laughed because it was true.... but then I thought about why I do this. I like control. I need it. I don't like asking others to help me because I feel I should be able to do this on my own. I almost get offended when people say "let me help you" or try and take something from me. In the past week I have had really hard convos with myself about things I hold onto so deeply. They were as little as not wanting to give up my math planning for my team while I am out recuperating from surgery.... or having a death grip on my money because this is a really tight season financially... to not wanting to be vulnerable with people because I am terrified of getting used or hurt-- again.

This week-- really month-- okay so like this past school year so far... has been really hard. Just a difficult season that seems to hurt and be filled with stressful days, lonely times, painful situations, scary circumstances, and quiet in the middle of the swirling waters around me. But as I begin to doubt I hear, "Come." (Matt. 14:29) Jesus is beckoning me out of the boat like He did to Peter. And man, am I like Peter. I start going to Jesus and things are great... and I am trusting... "look at me, walking towards Jesus in the middle of this hard time". Then I get distracted by the wind... and I notice the water rising up... and there I go, I start to sink. Fast. And I panic. But here is the difference between Peter and me-- it says that when Peter noticed he was beginning to sink that he called out "Lord, save me." I don't do this. I flail and doggy paddle and grasp for things that are not firmly planted. I attempt to reach for the things that are not solid. THEN I go to Jesus. That has been super convicting lately.

I don't trust. I am faithless. I look like I usually have my junk together but it is all a facade. The humbling thing about Jesus is what follows Peter's cries in Matthew 14. It says "Jesus IMMEDIATELY reached out His hand and took hold of him, saying to him, 'O, you of little faith, why did you doubt?' This cuts me deeply. When I read this passage I hear a sadness in His voice. Not because He was mad at Peter, or frustrated He didn't realize the power that was before him. But, I think, because He genuinely loved Peter so much-- and He wanted Peter to recognize His love/affection/desire for him-- and was saddened he couldn't see and be satisfied by that. Man... the Lord loves us all so much and desires us to recognize how big that really is. It's not a conditional love. It's not a temporal love. It's not a misleading lust that looks like love. It's a love that can never be added to or diminished by ANY circumstance or situation. And the beautiful thing is-- that Jesus will respond to me THE EXACT SAME WAY as He did to Peter even though I took the detour before calling out to Him and asking for Him to save me. His response isn't sarcastic, or prideful, or bitter... He will IMMEDIATELY reach out and grab me and say "O, Stephanie... you of little faith. Why do you doubt me?" Our Beloved loves us so richly. May our hearts be captivated by His beautiful pursual of us and may we not, as believers, be distracted or seduced by lesser lovers.

The Lies We Believe

Disclaimer: A ugly, raw, and real view of a sinner's heart is about to be displayed. Thank goodness for grace and the blood of Jesus that covers me fully and washes this Pharisee white as snow.

During a time of the year where there is extra emphasis on being thankful for what you have, or more aware of what you have been blessed with, I feel I have become more aware of my sin. A sin that is stated in the Ten Commandments...a sin that, in this day and age, has almost become accepted. Covetousness.

"Oh my gosh... I wish I had her life!!" "She just bought a new house? Gosh-- I wish I had a job that paid more than this. I struggle going from pay check to pay check... Must be nice to have extra money to do that!" "She is getting married? Ugh. Why can't I find a guy that loves Jesus like that?" "She is so pretty and fit.... If I could just lose ______ amount of weight maybe people would find me attractive and worthwhile as well."

The thing about this sin is that it can be displayed in many different facets. From being disappointed that a former interest is no longer available (and not just that but headed towards marriage), to having a friend announce she is pregnant with her third child, to someone simply having a new exciting thing happen in their life that you don't have. All of these things cause envy and jealousy in my heart... this is sin.

The fact that I feel I deserve something or am entitled to something is not biblical. The fact that I get upset, or my feelings get hurt when I am not granted the same gifts others are, shows an ugly picture of my heart. When I look at others as being "loved or blessed" and look inwardly at all I am not receiving... that shows an incredible amount of immaturity and misunderstanding of our Father. We have a Good, Good Father. Just because we are not receiving certain gifts that others are does not mean that we are less loved by our Beloved. We don't have the capability of seeing what we need or when we need it. Our God loves us fully and deeply and richly... and that, in no way, is displayed by the amount or the size of the gifts we have received. When we look at His love in relation to our gifts we are missing the ENTIRE picture!

C.S. Lewis says, "God cannot give us happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing." Meaning... if I am upset about not being a wife and mom at 30, or living in an apartment, or not looking different... then this shows a clear look at my heart. If I am not happy or don't have a peace about my life... that shows that I am not looking to the Father to satisfy and consume me with His goodness. If I look to these temporal things as worth then I am so far off track. Are these good gifts? Yes. Are these things that my heart desires? Absolutely. If I never get these things will that change the way the Lord sees me or shows His love to me? No... not even a little bit. Because here is the thing... this entire life that I was created to live is... get ready for it-- it's quite shocking... NOT ABOUT ME! Gasp. I know right! Crazy. It's not about me. It's not about my happiness or success or fulfillment in Earthly things. It is about Him. It is about His kingdom work that I was created for. And it is about bringing Him all the glory and honor and praise and making His name famous. Jesus did not come to make Stephanie Marie Daniell a top notch wife and flawless mom with a great job, zero school loans, and a perfect body.... He came to forgive sins. He came to give freedom to captives. He came to give hope to the hopeless. He came to save us.

"The Gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared to believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared to hope." -Timothy Keller

Lord, let me seek righteousness. Let me seek Your face above all else. Allow me to have a grasp of truth and when I lose sight of that, draw me back in. Continue to pursue this heart that believes lies, flees when frightened, and fails over and over and over again. Allow me to be a woman that reflects Your character humbly. And if to do all of this means I am single, childless, and living pay check to pay check so I must rely on You daily... Give me Jesus!!!

Zablon

I have been home from my annual Africa trip about a week now and am just beginning to process things. This year was different than most… we didn't have a huge list of to-do's... which allowed for a lot of intentional time with the kiddos. We got to truly know them… hear their stories… live life with them… and invest in them. It was actually one of the most rewarding and difficult three week spans of my life. When you jump into life with someone you see the good, the bad, and the ugly. After hearing some of these stories my heart broke in ways that I never knew possible.

One specific child impacted me in a way I was not prepared for. His name was Zablon and he had only been at the orphanage a few months. He was noticeably timid, shy, and pulled back. We were the first team he had ever met-- and maybe the first mzungus (white people) he had ever had contact with. This child, though unsure at first, was constantly by my side early on. Whether I was at the school, down at the field, or sitting with the kids at supper time, Zablon was there. I remember vividly one night we were tucking in the younger kiddos. We would go from bed to bed, tuck them in tight, whisper Nakupenda Sana (I love you so much), and pray with them. On this particular night I decided to go to the boy's dorm. Many of the children that have stolen my heart at Fiwagoh are little boys, so I chose to go over there and spend some extra time with them before they went to sleep. After hugging a few of the boys I walked up to the bed of Zablon. His head was down, his covers were up around his face, and he was pretty still (not like the other crazies running around the room). I tucked him in, whispered I loved him, and tried to look at him. He wouldn't budge-- and in fact-- he put effort into not letting me see him. I giggled and said, "Hey-- Z… why won't you look at me?" and that was when I saw them… tears. A lot of tears. All over his sweater, his mattress, his covers, and now my hand. Becoming worried I asked him, "Baby, what's wrong?" He said something that was unrecognizable due to the heavy crying that had taken over his body. "What? Say that again-- I couldn't hear you!"…. "I don't have a mom and dad. They are dead. I am all alone."

Silence. Stillness. I felt like I was watching this interaction in slow motion- with all the wildness going on around me- and was at a loss for words. I know many of these kiddos are orphans. I can comprehend that most of them have gone through difficult situations and circumstances…. but this. True, excruciating pain… coming from a 10 year old little boy who was broken. He was hurting. His heart longed for comfort, rescue… and all I had were words. I scooped him up to me and did the only things I knew to do in a moment like that…. I prayed over him and wept with him. I wept for the hurt he was experiencing. I wept for the mom and dad that he missed. I wept for the loneliness he felt in a sea of children. I wept for the fear that- I can only imagine- would come with moving to a new city, home, and environment where you know nothing or no one. Everyone was leaving to go to the next dorm but I wanted to stay. However, I left. I reminded him I loved him, kissed his forehead and cheeks, and walked out of the dorm. 

The lump that was in my throat was suffocating. I wanted to run away. Run from this hurt. Run from this pain. Run from this responsibility that was so weighty. But I couldn't. I walked to the girl's dorm… hugged and kissed many of them-- not lingering long enough to think-- and eventually left the other hugs and kisses to my team members and walked upstairs. I smiled and hugged older kids along the way… walked into my room… and fell to the ground. The weight of this sorrow completely took over my body and I couldn't escape. I wept in a way I had never wept before. Every emotion flooded out of me and my body was inconsolable. My leader walked in to ask me something and I unleashed all of those frustrations and emotions on her… "I don't understand this. Why is this happening? How is this fair? It's too overwhelming… it's too big! What can be done?" She reminded me that when dealing with orphan care it is hard. When dealing with orphan care, it hurts. And when dealing with orphan care… we have to look at a smaller picture because if not we will get too overwhelmed and defeated. I cried myself to sleep that night… thinking of the little boy, just down stairs, that had done the same.

The next days became opportunities for intentional words of affirmation. Encouraging friendships, pointing out good qualities, and reminding Zablon of gospel truth. He is not alone (Joshua 1:9 "Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."), He has a Father (Psalm 68:5 "A father to the fatherless…"), and that he was loved (John 3:16 "For God so loved the world-- For God so loved ZABLON-- that He gave His only Son; that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life!"). We looked at the stars-- the most beautiful display of stars I have ever seen-- and I reminded him that when he looked at the stars and he was feeling sad, or lonely, to remember that just like we can't even begin to count the thousands of stars in the sky…. that is how it is with God's promises for our life. We cannot even begin to imagine how much He has in store for us and our lives. Again, we prayed and I still had a hard time believing what I was saying. This child had been through more pain and abandonment in his life than I have ever experienced (I found out later that week that he never knew his dad and that his mom had taken Z to Nairobi, dropped him off on the street a couple years before, and left him. Abandoned him. Just walked away…a good samaritan found him, had mercy on him, and took him home. She grew to love him and care for him-- but her children got jealous and began abusing Zablon until a neighbor took him out of that situation). He was hurt over and over again and I couldn't help but feel that next day I would be adding to that rejection. I would be leaving him… would he understand? Would he comprehend why I had to leave? Or would he feel that once again someone had let him down. After I took him to his room, I went back out and prayed. I prayed for answers. I prayed for the Lord to reveal His plan. I urged the Lord to show me what small way to help these millions of orphans as one single woman from Texas-- with a teacher's paycheck.

As I was talking over some things with my leader later that night she mentioned she had just received a new list of the kiddos that needed sponsorship-- and Zablon was on there. "I want him!" I heard myself saying… it was such a beautiful revealing of God saying… "here's how you can help. Start with just one!" That next morning I got to explain that I would be his sponsor. I would pay for him to get to stay there, have food, go to school, have a uniform, and stay healthy. I would get to write him letters, send him pictures, and stay in contact with him from thousands of miles away. I would get to continue to be involved in his life and remind him of how loved he was even though I was leaving." He smiled bigger than I had ever seen him smile on that trip… and it had nothing to do with me. I truly believe the Lord allowed me-- messy, sinful, screwed up me-- to be a reflection of His love for Z. He allowed me to be apart of this beautiful story of redemption. 

I look at these kiddo's pictures daily. I miss them. I love them-- more than I have ever loved anyone. And yet, I can rest easy because I know that God is continuing to spur them on and draw them closer to Him. He is writing their stories and preparing their hearts for great Kingdom work. He doesn't need me… but I am so humbled He has chosen to allow me to be a small part.

Zablon and Stephanie

Z and the boys (and me) being silly.

The day I told Zablon I was going to sponsor him (the last day always looks the roughest bc of all the crying)

My sweet boy

I must decrease so He can increase.

I am not a humble person by nature. I have deep, sinful, pride that seeps out of every part of me. Pride that is jerky. Pride that is hateful. Pride that is sarcastic-- and not a funny, playful sarcasm that I appreciate… sarcasm that is meant to embarrass. I hate this about me. I hate that I get so angry and lose my cool.

I also hate being wrong. I hate having to apologize for my mistakes. It is hard for me to do. This goes back to my pride issue I just talked about. This is my temporal earthly exterior that is fighting with the goodness of the Gospel that has awakened this dead heart. I am in a constant battle between my comfort and my will. I try, earnestly, to portray Jesus in all that I do. I desire to point others to Him with my actions, words, and choices. Yesterday, however, I did not do that.

Anyone that knows me, knows this has been a very difficult year teaching for me. I have had a really hard time enjoying it. It isn't only the kids. A HUGE part of it, I truly believe, is my heart in it. I am a sinful, prideful person that wants my way to be the right way. Yesterday…. I saw that in getting my way, I may hurt others in the process.

Setting: My classroom

I had been monitoring the STAAR test a couple days so I had been out-- we finished all of the weather activities that were planned for the week so at the very end of the day, because it had been raining all day and because my kids had followed directions and been good for the sub, I decided to "graciously" allow them to watch an instructional film over weather. They enjoyed it…. until the end.

Student A: "Miss Dannnnniell…. why didn't we do Flashlight Friday today?"
Me: "Because we ran out of time… watch this film… it's really good!"
Student B (5 minutes later): "Miss Dannnnnniell…. what are we going to do after this?"
Me (pausing the film): "Guys-- there is just a little bit left in this and then we will move on. This is a privilege… pay attention to it, please. I have something we are going to do after this but you need to listen to this first so the activity can be done! Listen!"
:: At this point my blood pressure is beginning to rise. I was GENEROUS enough to allow them to watch this video. My OTHER classes always enjoyed watching this. Why can THEY not sit and be quiet?::
End of the film.
Student B (again): "Miss Dannnnnniell (they always drag out my name-- haha I don't know why)? Why couldn't we go out to recess? I just went to the bathroom and saw 5th grade on the concrete… (and here comes the words that turn Miss Daniell into the raging Hulk…) IT'S NOT FAIR!!"

Well…. let's just say that our class had another (we've had a few) come to Jesus talks. We talked about being respectful. We talked about being thankful. We talked about being ungrateful. I mentioned it wasn't everyone-- but enough to make it seem like everyone. The kids sat. They listened (better than they've ever listened before). And they were silent. I thought-- "Yes-- maybe I got to them. Maybe NOW they will understand." Then-- the climatic part of the story occurred. One of the sweetest children in my class-- who rarely gets in trouble, is always joyful and helpful and smiling-- came up to me. She shyly says, "Miss Daniell? I wish we didn't treat you so disrespectfully." And turned around fast. I didn't hear her at first and said, "What?" She turned back around… lip and voice trembling… and said, "I'm sorry our class isn't better."

This kicked me in the throat. I said, "Baby-- thank you. But you don't need to apologize." She tightly hugged me and began sobbing. I broke. My hard exterior shattered and I began crying. What was I doing? Who had I become? I let my comfort and pride become so inflated that I had caused a child to sob-- for no reason. She hadn't made a bad choice. She hadn't caused pain to another child. She hadn't deserved to be reprimanded. And one of the sweetest girls in my class was broken… because of me. The one who should provide affirmation and encouragement. The one that should provide guidance and wisdom. The one who should provide the feeling of love and safety…. had failed. Big time.

I took her out in the hall and apologized. I reminded her of my love for her. I said I was sorry for hurting her feelings. I hugged her and tried to restore the pain I had caused. After about 5 minutes she calmed down and said she was better. I even ran to catch up with her before she got on the school bus and hugged her again said "Love ya-- have a great weekend!" I called her mom and told her what happened. I apologized to her. I thought-- "you are good, Steph! You have faced your sins and asked for forgiveness." But then as I laid down for bed last night and the events of the day replayed in my head… I again, was broken. I sobbed. I prayed. I was so distraught about what I had done and become this year. And I knew what I had to do. On Monday, before we start our rotations, before we split up into reading groups, before I present the spelling and sight words… I have to apologize. I have to stand before my children and ask for their forgiveness. It sounds silly-- but it has to be done. How can I expect to lead these children the next 6 weeks and pour into them if they are hurt or feel scared? I have to show them what it looks like to humble myself and ask for forgiveness. It may be hard-- I may cry. But it must be done.

I share this with y'all to show that we as teachers, or parents, or friends, or human beings can so easily get wrapped up in our own selves that we can forget about the damage it can have on one another. I hate being wrong. I hate apologizing. But above my happiness and comfort-- I want to be sanctified. I want to be humbled. I want to take up my cross DAILY and love others like Jesus. I don't want to be someone who is hateful and tears others down-- but rather someone who reflects Jesus and builds others up. I will fail many more times… probably even this week. But-- I pray that the Lord continues pressing on my heart and burdening me to become less so that He may become more. I must decrease, so He can increase.