Living at Joshua Station is truly a joy. Alli and I have quickly accustomed ourselves to the roar of the highway, the dated exterior, the industrial neighborhood, and the fact that we’re living in a transitional housing program. We cherish the relationships we’ve built with our neighbors and truly have come to enjoy living in this converted roadside motel more than we enjoyed our hip downtown apartment where we resided previously.
Life at Joshua Station is not without its challenges, however. The most saddening aspect is the lack of dependable men in the lives of the 50 children who live here. Of the 28 resident families, there are remarkably 26 single-moms. Many of the fathers are in jail, several have restraining orders because of past abuses, and nearly all of them have completely failed their children.
A few weeks ago, we were babysitting two girls, age 5 and 6, for one of the residents, a single mom. While playing with the girls, the older sister asked, “Chris, can I call you daddy?” This was probably the saddest question I’ve ever been asked. And I honestly don’t even remember how I answered her. The truth is, I cannot fill the void of having an absentee father. And sometimes I’m not sure how much of an impact I can actually make here. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a fatherless home. I’ve never lived on the streets. There were never any doubts growing up that there would be food on the table.
In the midst of those personal insecurities, I know Alli and I have been called to be here. And we’ve been called to faithfully reflect Christ’s love to these families through small acts of tenderness and encouragement. We can’t heal the wounds that so many of these children have. We can do the little things. Alli and I hold hands when we walk to the car, make stove top popcorn together when neighbor kids drop-in and are quick with words of affirmation with children who so rarely hear them.
(Chris)
What a beautiful thing. God’s love in action. You guys rock.
Wow. That’s quite a story. And great reflections and “little things” responses. Thanks for being faithful.
Reading your story after hearing it in person led me to this question. I’m not sure where to go with it yet, just thinking about it.
But how sweet is it that those kid’s natural desire for a Father reflects so deeply how they are made in His image? For it is that very same Father, the source of their desire, who looks at us longingly and asks, “Can I call you child?”
My guess is we are often as dumbstruck in response to His question as you were in response to those kid’s questions.
The intimacy that is expressed/longed for in those questions is really hard to respond to.
This is one of the most uplifting, thought provoking, and inspiring blogs that I read in my blogworld travels. I love the fact that God leads His children so perfectly. Not our perfectly…but His perfectly. This latest post is so thrilling to me, because not one single person I know could have worked out the details of each one of your lives, to have you end up where you are right now, doing what you are right now, and caring like you are right now…except a Soverign, Loving, All-knowing Heavenly Father. I marvel at His leading, and it blesses my soul so much to read every word you wrote, knowing it is written from your heart. I love you guys! Keep on keeping on. It will be worth it all.
Chris – what you are Alli are doing is so amazing. I’m sure those kids love you guys! 🙂
Thanks for the story, Chris. It brought a moment of enlightenment for me. The other day I was reading on the front porch and 6 of the neighbor kids came over to talk and ask questions and tell stories and two of the boys asked if they could rake my yard. Michaela and I chatted with them and made kool-aid and had a great time. It’s not unusual for the neighborhood kids to venture into our yard with their games, but for an hour and half our house was grand central station and then as soon as we started making dinner, they went to another yard to continue their games.
I realized that each one was looking for affirmation, for someone ‘important’ to say “your story is really interesting, tell me more” or “your raking is really helpful to me.” We all need to hear that we matter and I’m sure even in “fully functional families” those words and actions are often left out.
We are also trying to show the real concern of Jesus to neighbors that are not as marginalized as your neighbors, but who still need to know they are worth more than their salary or popularity or classmates say they are.
Cheers!