All of This

She stood in my doorway, confidence on her face but clearly not as comfortable as the other kids as she did not attempt to invite herself in. Instead, she planted her two feet completely on the green carpeting of the porch, studying my face for a sign of invitation. I smiled and gave her my usual, “What’s up?!” and stepped out on the porch to join her.

Families are in and out of the park with an average frequency of fast -- most of the time, you get to know them only to find their home empty shortly after. While it happens often, it also feels surprisingly gradual. We did not realize the number of families we have seen leave in our three years here until we recently sat down and made a list. We were shocked to see how many there have actually been. I spent that day praying for those families, praying that the seeds that were planted would grow. Trusting that God can use us in the short window of time we are given. 

But the girl standing on my porch had been around since day one. Over three years, we have had friendly waves from across yards, we’ve kicked a ball back and forth a few times, and helped her pick out some new clothes at our clothing events. But interactions were always short and there was always a distance, always a yard or a street or an invisible wall between us.

It was only a few days ago, prior to the porch scene, when the distance began to shrink. She got thrown into one of our larger events unexpectedly. I think it was unexpected for both of us as she was pretty quiet on our way there, probably trying to process how quickly she ended up in my car sitting next to two boys she didn’t know. I watched her closely that whole night and I thought she had fun – there were smiles and laughs, and when I took her home, she thanked me very politely before hopping out of my car. That was the longest period of time she had ever spent with us but, knowing our past history, I figured that was cool. I hoped a seed had been planted, but that was it -- I’d see her again in a few weeks and wave to her from across the yard. Our usual dance of distance.

Except now, she stood in my doorway.  Staring at me expectantly.

So, there’s me giving my usual smile and “What’s up,” trying to act normally even though everything in me screamed NOT NORMAL at the sight of her standing on my porch.

She matched my smile and, through an ear-to-ear grin, said, “I want to be part of this.”

“Part of this?” I asked her, not knowing exactly what this meant.

Then she spread her arms out as wide as they would go and said, “All of this.”

All of this.

She does not have words to categorize what this is. All she knows is she experienced something that led her to move from across the street to standing in confidence on my porch. Truthfully, I don’t know the words most of the time either.

This is chaos and headaches.

This is water balloons and ice cream.

This is a prayer wall and a circle of neighbors.

This is tears and laughter.

This is hellos and missed goodbyes.

This is lemonade on a green carpet porch even though it is way too hot to be outside.

This is three years of watching something unfold from a distance.

This is what it looks like when small seeds start to grow.

This is a different kind of love.

This is the church and this is what Jesus does to you and I: He calls us in. All in. He calls us to not just be part of this or that, but all of this. Even when we aren’t sure what exactly all of this is going to look like.

-Brooke