Each year is rationed the same number of days, 365. Most of these days are forgettable. Some stand out more than others, even now my heart awaits with tremendous expectation to celebrate the resurrection on Sunday. However, there are days in my life, where something outstanding happened. So outstanding, that as these dates pass it will remind me of a sequence of events. January 7, 2011. September 7, 2012. Today.
If you have followed my blog through 2014, you realized most posts were lamentations. The lament began today. This day is branded on my mind. I remember the tension and the fear in this day. I will recall it briefly.
After months of pushing for change, with passive resistance came Monday. Mondays were busy, I awake and took a flower to school and then zoomed off to school myself for my first semester of seminary. Sunday, there was a conflict, but I thought it was resolved. I thought it was over. I was angry, but I could keep my anger to myself. I could be functionally furious. I could be angry and do my job well. As, I sat in Dr. Hanna’s class that Monday, I received a text from my boss asking me to meet with her the moment I was done with class. This was a normal request, but filled my heart with dread. As his class concluded, I got in the van and panicked. Prayers jumbled in my mind. I could not get my words straight. I did not know what to pray. I was scared.
I sang. I sang “Order My Steps” and “Great is Thy Faithfulness”. I sang songs of His sovereignty over plans. I didn’t know what was in that conference room, but I discerned it was not good. However, when I entered, I felt peace. Not in the knowledge that everything was going to be all right. I felt the peace of God, whispering deeply into my soul, “Tosin, I am in control.” As, I entered the room and the doors closed behind me, I knew I didn’t walk into that room alone. Like, the three Hebrew boys, Christ was with me. Christ’s presence softened the immediate impact of my forced resignation. He is who equipped me in that room to respond in His grace and His love and not my fear and anger.
As, the next 24 hours unfolded, I told my family and friends and situated a place to stay. I reserved a rental vehicle. I packed away 18 months of my life in Houston. And, I left. Not without painful conversations with coworkers and other staff. My heart hurt to bid farewell to the women I had shared 6 months of parenting with. The most painful of them all was explaining to my kids that I was leaving. I walked them to their rooms for their nap. I held my rose, my duck, and my tiny religion and sang to them for the last time. I went to what was my room and wept.
I drove off my only Houston home rejected and began a 274-day process of drifting. My immediate response to the impact was positive. I busied myself. I would treat myself to coffee as I journaled, about new beginnings. I would spend the whole day looking for jobs and apartments. Within two months, I began working at the GAP. I was able to enjoy that season within a harsher season of time. There was one day, however, where the realities of my peril could not be avoided. Where my hope took a massive blow. I woke up on a Saturday morning to go to work. I was staying with a friend and parked my car on the street. As, I turned the corner, I saw items of mine strewn across the sidewalk. My heart rate increased. Glass, everywhere. Someone had busted my windshield to look through my items and steal absolutely nothing. At least nothing that I would not have simply given to them. As, I drove to work, I frantically called my mother (who did not answer) and my sister who did.
I could barely get my words out between the tears, “Someone broke into my car. Why is this happening to me? I didn’t do anything.” Eventually, I calmed. I walked into work, made a joke of it, and went along with my day. It was easy to avoid thinking of it. Until, I clocked out and went back to my car. I drove to Kroger and attempted to create a trash bag windshield for the time being. As people looked at my struggle, I cried. I asked God to send someone to me. He sent a Samaritan, who did not exactly fix my window, but decided to be present in that moment.
I was only at GAP for a month. By the beginning of July, I found a full-time job at Star of Hope. Even that was chaotic. I did not know exactly what I was supposed to be doing with the teens, but I knew their constant fighting was not it. In time, the teens who made my time there hellacious left, two amazing men came, and work became a safe haven. I would work late because, I knew my office and my car were the only places of true solitude that I had.
I between, those days, and now are a blur. Again, some days stood out more than others did. Twice I slept in my car, once in August and again in September. I had my first intense interaction with the police. I almost watched a teen get tazered. I lived on couches and daybeds and mattresses in living rooms. I contemplated walking away from religion (on multiply occasions). I liked several dudes and cried multiple times.
However, I am now able to look back at my experiences last year and see the merely a fraction of the ways in which God has been glorified in it. And that’s what this post is honestly about. It is about giving God glory and given (wo)men thanks.
Working at Star of Hope has been one of the most complex blessings I have experienced. Not because I am the blessing, but because I have been blessed by those who live here. In my first 3 months, the loveliest times I had were in moments where I shared with parents of teens my housing struggles. In response, they prayed for me. It was absurd at times to think that a meeting about their child getting a written warning would end with us praying for one another. It reminds me that those who believe in Christ and have a relationship with Him are not just guests, but they are my family in Christ. A family who keeps me accountable and lifted in prayer.
In addition, in experiencing a season of displacement and at times homelessness, I believe it gives me a way to empathize with people at Star of Hope. In moments of deep depravity, I would stare at my purity ring. I would contemplate taking it off for the night and trading my virginity for a bed in a room with a door that I could close. That is the story of many homeless women, but especially mothers. I never went through with it, but that is a testimony of God’s grace and my weakness.
I desire reconciliation with my former workplace. Mostly, because I love them still. Even the people who fired me I love them and I am grateful to them. I am grateful for 18 months of motherhood. I am grateful for all the lessons I have learned through them. I am most grateful because working there stretched me to love my teens at Star of Hope. I don’t love perfectly. There are days, I get in my car and sigh and acknowledge that I hurt one of my teens. I replay moments when I yelled when I could have been understanding. I see condescending remarks rather than kind words. There are days where I am selfish with my time and spend more time alone than with them, but I love them. I love them when they are annoying. I love them when they fight. I love them when they are disrespectful. I love them when they don’t like me. I love them for where they are. I love them because; I see God’s creativity in them. I love them because they remain strong, but open. I love them because, I don’t think I couldn’t. I love them with their flaws, while in trouble, and in the midst of meeting in my office. I love them without condition. I love them as a youth minister, a sister, a parent, a mentor, and hopefully like Christ.
I hope they know as I challenge them that I love them. With every small thing I point out, I desire for them to know it is not about criticism, but about preparing them to be ready when God calls them to follow Him fully. Like my kids at Casa, I cannot save them, but I believe that there is a God in heaven who can. I believe God can redeem the years of pain they experienced and make them whole. He has already begun redeeming my year and me.
I think that is what this post is about. While last year brought pain, which I still am working through. If it is what brought me here, with my teens at Star of Hope. Then the sleepless nights, the crying, the fear, the pain, the rejection are all worth it.
God, I have never been more scared than last year. I have never questioned You more than last year. I have never been closer than walking away from You than last year. Forgive me. It seems easy to appear strong after a season of sorrow, but you have shown me how weak I am. I am a house made of sand and when a storm came, I drifted. Lord, it was only Your hand that preserved me. Last year should have destroyed me. If it were not for Your protection, I would have been consumed.
Even now, as I look to Good Friday, I am humbled that You would stoop so low to experience this world in all of its sin and destruction. You saved me. You save me. Why does You love me? I am unrighteous. I am a sinner, but You call me Yours.
God. I am so sorry. I trust You. Let me be a light for Your kingdom. Open my capacity to love You more. So, I can love my teens more. Even now, minister to their hearts. Break down the strongholds that keep them from You. Holy Spirit, You are so much bigger than our present problems. Help us.
Finally, Lord I want to express my love for You. There is no one like you. You are God. You live outside of space and time and my logic and reason. You are my Father. You have been a good Father to me. You have cared for me as a daughter. Where my earthly father falls short, You perfect in your love. You are my Savior. Before, I knew I needed You, You saved me. I have no fear because, You are the one in which I place my trust. You are my Guide. You show me the way I should go. I trust You. I adore You. I love You.
Let me bring honor to Your Name.
“Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces; now he will heal us. He has injured us; now he will bandage our wounds. In just a short time he will restore us, so that we may live in his presence. Oh, that we might know the Lord! Let us press on to know him. He will respond to us as surely as the arrival of dawn or the coming of rains in early spring.” Hosea 6:1-3
In Christ’s beautiful name,