Let's get personal.

Two landmarks in my job happened this past week.

One: I had my three month Advent birthday on Wednesday. I am a quarter of the way through my one year commitment, and I feel like I have left the realm of “Advent newbie.” I have my three month review with my supervisor and senior counselor this upcoming week.

Two: I also had my first emotional breakdown on the job. I had to leave the room to cry and then put myself back together again. I feel like I had been holding out on this rite of passage for a while, and in a weird way I’m relieved that I finally let myself do that.

I had a very emotional week and felt like I got hit in several areas that I’m not very strong in. When I told a dear friend about this past week, her response was, “It sounds like Satan is hitting you in the areas where you’re more vulnerable. He’s getting you where it’s personal.” I think that pretty much nails it.

The only area that I feel comfortable sharing on here has to do with a very critical aspect of the job. As a resident counselor, I have the challenge of forming a therapeutic relationship with the clients in which we build up trust and form a safe environment for them to share and grow in, while also providing structure, discipline, and consequences for their actions. I’ve had many moments in which I find myself wishing I were a therapist. I would love to just talk with them and at the most have the occasional verbal confrontation in which I challenge a way of thinking or acting. I know that a therapist’s job entails much more than that – don’t get me wrong, mom and dad – but I would love to be able to get into the gritty portions of these girls’ lives through deep conversation without having to worry about how they will react the next morning when they discover that they are on red for the day because I took points for their misbehaviors.

Losing any aspect of a person’s trust is also something that is incredibly hard for me. Naturally, it’s different within this job, as I’m working with clients whose trust in me is constantly in flux, but it’s still hard. I had to make a report to CPS about something one of my clients had disclosed to me two weeks ago, and then this last week I had to inform my caseworker of something else she had told me and in turn her PO was contacted on the matter. This information could potentially affect her current acting family from getting custody of her. It hurt me to have to report it because she loves this family dearly, and it seems as though they’re amazing people with big hearts. From what I know, I really want them to be able to get custody of her. But there are also no secrets in this job for me. This girl was very openly angry at me the last day I was on shift and basically declared that she can’t trust staff anymore.

This was not the way I wanted things to go.

But how much control do I have over the things that happen in this home? I’ve come to realize that it’s not a lot. In NA terms, I am having to acknowledge my powerlessness. I am responsible for my actions and responses, but the rest is up to the other residents. And God. God is in everything here.

God works in such interesting ways. I had one of the most amazing heart-to-hearts with a new client. She has a very intense, sad, scary history. And she’s a very involved gang member. On paper I was rather intimidated by her report. In person, she’s someone I found I could connect pretty deeply with in a matter of just a few days. What’s funny is that the last gang kid who came to Summit also intimidated me on paper, but similarly, I was able to go pretty deeply with her and truly empathize with her. Never in a million years would I have imagined that I would be able to best connect with the gang kids in the group home. But I am … God, you truly astound me with your ways. Thank you for developing me throughout my life in such a way that this would be the case, even though I had no clue.

His ways are unexpected. But they are beautiful. His path is challenging. But it ultimately forms us. His peace is unexplainable. It is there in even the most painful circumstances.

Thank you for all of your prayers. My love goes out to each of you.

Bring Darkness to Light

I experienced my first run this week.

This last shift was filled with amazing highs and devastating lows. I saw God work a miracle in a girl’s life and experienced the fullest joy I’ve felt here yet. I also watched a matter of secrecy come to light, ultimately resulting in a police investigation and a girl running. All the while, these spiritual urgings and experiences served as a thread, reminding me of what we’re fully dealing with – nothing is simply on the surface.

My heart was broken for the girl who ran. She and I had been building a solid relationship in her short time here, and my heart went out to her in a way slightly different than with the other girls, probably because I could relate to a few distinct aspects of her story. She was able to come to me with a good amount of stuff, even things she was dealing with in the moment, and was the only girl to thank me for talking with her about certain things.

The morning before she ran she had to stay home from school because of the previous evening’s happenings, and when I told her the staff member who would be staying at the house with her, her response was “But Karin, can’t you stay with me?” And my response was honest when I told her that I wish I could have. I truly enjoyed her company.

The girls, the senior counselor, and I went to dinner at Taco Bell Wednesday night. This girl was particularly somber, and as I was trying to talk with her, I sensed how disengaged she was. The two of us sat down at a table, and she counted out how much personal money she had. She then looked up and looked me in the eye. “Karin, I’m leaving” was all she said and then she stood up and walked out the door before breaking into a run.

Her voice, that apology, will forever be imprinted in my memory. Her mind was made up, but I also sensed that she knew this decision would give her regrets in time. The road isn’t easier for her because of this immediate out, and I only wish she hadn’t chosen something that will hurt her. I hate not knowing where she is right now, if she’s safe, if she’s eaten a full meal today, if she had a comfortable place to sleep last night. I hate that I might never see her again. But I know that she’s God’s child, and He knows all of these details. He loves her infinitely more than I ever could, and I just have to give her life over to Him. He holds the pen to her story.

This work is a spiritual battlefield. I forget it so often because there are obvious reasons why these kids are here. Drugs. Abuse. Gang involvement. I forget to acknowledge that so many of them are literally sitting on a spiritual teeter totter: Their lives could go either way. They could embrace light and take on a life free from dangerous inhibitors. They could find real freedom and God. Or they could return to a life focused on themselves and their perceived needs – needs that ultimately limit and hurt them.

I was reminded of this throughout this last week. I consider myself to be fairly spiritually sensitive, especially to darkness. And I felt a lot of this during the last shift, especially with one girl. This might sound really extreme, but I think that the involvement of both God and of darkness is written all over her story.

One of my favorite verses has always been Job 12:22 : “He uncovers the deep out of darkness and brings deep darkness to life.”

God, I pray that you would do that with these girls – bring their deep darkness to light and then surround them with your truth and love. Use the Advent staff in ways beyond what we could ever imagine.