John Griffith was in his early twenties. He was newly married and full of optimism. Along with his lovely wife, he had been blessed with a beautiful baby. He was living the American dream. But then came 1929—the Great Stock Market Crash—the shattering of the American economy that devastated John’s dreams. The winds that howled through Oklahoma were strangely symbolic of the gale force that was sweeping away his hopes and his dreams. And so, brokenhearted, John packed up his few possessions, and with his wife and his little son, headed East in an old Ford Model A. They made their way to the edge of the mighty Mississippi River and found a job tending one of the great railroad bridges there. Day after day, John would sit in the control room and direct the enormous gears of the immense bridge over the mighty river. He would look out wistfully as bulky barges and splendid ships glided gracefully under his elevated bridge. Each day, he looked on sadly as those ships carried with the...
A year ago around this time I sat with a Youth who became very angry and volatile at the drop of a hat. One evening she came to sit in a space with me to "cool off." Honestly, I was anxious about it as soon as I got the text she was coming! Even though I knew this was the job I had signed up for, I was tired of being yelled at and sworn at for no apparent reason. It was a harsh reminder of what happens when kids in care have lives of not learning love, not learning trust or true family and blame those who try to give them glimpses of anything different. If you are a group home worker, social worker, foster parent or youth worker reading this I know you know what I'm talkin' about :) High fives to you when you do your job well--for caring long hard hours and enduring such emotional stress! I pray your heart stays tender with a "thick skin" that gives you courage to continue to do your work well! I also need to give a few fist bumps to you i...
Sent to me by this 'brother' and drawn by one of his students It was just a year and a bit after I had moved across the country. It was a warm sunny Sunday morning in August and I had hopped on my scooter and gone to church. From the outside no one could tell that morning I had been in a deep pit of wanting to give up. I wanted to pack up my little apartment and move back East. I was tired of ministry, tired in my body and tired of being alone. I went through the motions of church that morning. No one really stopped me to reach out, but neither did I reach out and ask for a listening ear, prayer or encouragement. In my scooter wheel chair I scootered out the church door when it was over and was on my way home. I got to the side of the parking lot that allows me to cross the street and there was a man I had never seen before enjoying the day. He was a stranger on that day, but years later has become one of my most precious "big brothers" and...
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