I'm sitting in class in Boston and the class is number 3 of a 6 part series (who knows if I'll ever finish it all) and everytime I go to these things I'm super-charged. This is the place that focuses me because in all the hussel and bussel of school and all that there are times that I loose sight of what I really am working for.
Well, this class is all about aftercare. Models that work, intake and assessment, and how to affectively work with kids that get out of lock up. It's really cool because in the classroom with me are 26 different classmates, we represet a variety of states from east to west coast (literally) and we work with as chaplins, residential care providers, minstry workers (yes, one YFC person), former convicts, former juvenile delinquents, a whole sort of characters. And the beautiful thing is all these people that i'm stting in the room with brings different htings to the table and we just give and take what we have, pooling our resources, and getting better results.
We talked yesterday about collaboration. This is collaboration. Straight Ahead Ministries (SAM) has a great model that was fedearlly funded/studied for three years with nearly $700,000 in funding. They have reduced recidivism (repeat offending, in this case juvneile offenders) from 85% to 15% and brought the murder rate down to less than 5 per year in six years. This is in a city of 89,000 and 2,000 gang members from four rival gangs (Bloods, Crips, Soldiers, and Latin Kings - I think that was the fourth one). Its really cool because they have success with nearly every single kid they work with.
So, back to my life... the last class I went to (in January) there were a few people who really encouraged me and one thing that was said more than once to me was, "I could see you starting your own ministry...your own program...". I don't know about that but...I'm sure I could.
Okay, so I'm fulfulled. It's great to be fulfilled (and yes, I have my B coffee cup with me) :).
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
B Happy
It’s 8:05am and class has started. Don bought me a coffee…my first one in about a month (I know, down from my weekly addiction…but I’m a grad student, funds are low). I got to the front of the line and ordered my Tall, Skinny Wild Zebra (with whipped cream on top) and a bagel (sliced, toasted, with butter) to go. And the lady at the counter said, “The guy behind you is buying drinks today." I thought she meant for his work…like he’s taking ten drinks to his office. So when she said, “It’ll be $1.67” I replied with, “Are you going to charge me for the drink?”
I know, it wasn’t even 8a at that point. I walked down the counter and asked the lady making my drink, “Who is that guy?”
“Oh, that’s Bob. …The co-founder of Biggby.” He’s also the CEO.
That made my day. Don was going to buy me a coffee but heck, when the co-founder of your favorite coffee place buys my coffee, Don takes a back seat. Sorry hubby…you can have the front seat on the way to the airport Sunday.
I blog because that made my day. I would have loved to stay and chatted with Bob but I had to get off to class…man, this class is definitely getting in my way! First, the wedding, now this… (Note to self:) I guess I should take a hint that summer was never meant for classes.
Bob has a blog: www.behappylounge.com. He also told me there are tons of drinks not on the menu. Why not? I’d probably venture outside of my norm.
Thanks for the Coffee Bob!
Oh yeah, I got a 95 on my Group Therapy Paper that was due yesterday. Thanks for your prayers!
Monday, May 25, 2009
What a Grand Adventure!
I went to a wedding this weeknd. My roommate from college got married yesterday. We arrived there Friday abot 4:30p and from the 48 hours after that were the most jam-packed 48 hours I have ever gone thru! ...Even more so than MY wedding (being the bride)!
Within minutes on arrival, the bride (Jo) had the dress that she hated on and we were already planning on what we were going to do to the dress. We had less than a short hour to get an attack plan before we left for the rehearsal. She tried on her back up dress...better but not the dress she wanted. She put the first dress back on and said, "We can't do any damage to it!" We agreed on a plan and a time to start on it the next day, packed up our stuff and headed out to the rehearsal.
So Saturday morning we were at Jo's having breakfast at 8:30a and we were working on the dress by 9a. We broke for lunch at 2:00-2:30p and were done about an hour late which ended up being 4:30p. During those hours all I did was sew...by hand! We did everything that we could possibly do: gave her a waist, adjusted her straps, added decorative details, removed and replaced darts, fixed seems, let out, took in, and that didn't include what we had yet to do Sunday after we got some supplies from - of all stores - Walmart!
We left Saturday getting everything we could possibly get done that day because we had negative time on Sunday. Sunday though, I had to cut some threads and do a bussel. This is the funny story: I put the bussel in (two hook and eyes, one on each side of the zipper - which was one place we had to replace/reinforce a seem) and I announced the last little snip of my thread to mark the end of the altering and everyone got out their cameras (remember, this is after seven and a half hours of altering) and took pictures. Jo fit the dress one last time and we couldn't get it on. I took it off, looked at the back of it and alas, I gasped. Jo freaked, "what's wrong?!?" I burst out in loud laughter: "I sewed it shut!"
A couple of snips and a re-do and it was good as gold...or at least as good as it was ever going to get. I asked Jo Sunday morning (the day of he wedding) on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the best, where was this dress and where is it now? I wanted to know how much she had liked it and if she was satisfied with the work. So much negative emotion went into this dress already and there was tons of stress between packing to move, packing for a honeymoon, and getting details settled for the wedding, she didn't focus much on the work...she just went with the fitting and let the three of us (Rita, Melanie, and I) make the decisions about the dress.
"Negative 8 to a 5." She didn't even let me finish the question.
The wedding came and went and the "design team" got together and all agreed, "This was a great adventure that we never want to do again!" I caught up with Jo's mom at one point and I said, "I never want to go to Jo's wedding again!"
...973.7 miles later, I'm home and I can finallly rest! ...My poor wrist though, it still hurts...
Within minutes on arrival, the bride (Jo) had the dress that she hated on and we were already planning on what we were going to do to the dress. We had less than a short hour to get an attack plan before we left for the rehearsal. She tried on her back up dress...better but not the dress she wanted. She put the first dress back on and said, "We can't do any damage to it!" We agreed on a plan and a time to start on it the next day, packed up our stuff and headed out to the rehearsal.
So Saturday morning we were at Jo's having breakfast at 8:30a and we were working on the dress by 9a. We broke for lunch at 2:00-2:30p and were done about an hour late which ended up being 4:30p. During those hours all I did was sew...by hand! We did everything that we could possibly do: gave her a waist, adjusted her straps, added decorative details, removed and replaced darts, fixed seems, let out, took in, and that didn't include what we had yet to do Sunday after we got some supplies from - of all stores - Walmart!
We left Saturday getting everything we could possibly get done that day because we had negative time on Sunday. Sunday though, I had to cut some threads and do a bussel. This is the funny story: I put the bussel in (two hook and eyes, one on each side of the zipper - which was one place we had to replace/reinforce a seem) and I announced the last little snip of my thread to mark the end of the altering and everyone got out their cameras (remember, this is after seven and a half hours of altering) and took pictures. Jo fit the dress one last time and we couldn't get it on. I took it off, looked at the back of it and alas, I gasped. Jo freaked, "what's wrong?!?" I burst out in loud laughter: "I sewed it shut!"
A couple of snips and a re-do and it was good as gold...or at least as good as it was ever going to get. I asked Jo Sunday morning (the day of he wedding) on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the best, where was this dress and where is it now? I wanted to know how much she had liked it and if she was satisfied with the work. So much negative emotion went into this dress already and there was tons of stress between packing to move, packing for a honeymoon, and getting details settled for the wedding, she didn't focus much on the work...she just went with the fitting and let the three of us (Rita, Melanie, and I) make the decisions about the dress.
"Negative 8 to a 5." She didn't even let me finish the question.
The wedding came and went and the "design team" got together and all agreed, "This was a great adventure that we never want to do again!" I caught up with Jo's mom at one point and I said, "I never want to go to Jo's wedding again!"
...973.7 miles later, I'm home and I can finallly rest! ...My poor wrist though, it still hurts...
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Good Ole Summer Fun
So I grew up playing softball. It was great! It was a release of energy, it was fresh air and a little exercise, it was not-overly competitive, it was good ole dirt, sweat, and fellowship. Nothing beat the Wednesay night church league.
Then I went to college. Four years later, I graduated, played that summer I think, then went off to Fiji...a place where you couldn't find even a baseball in the entire country let alone a softball (seven inch preferably). Oh did my heart just cry out! Those warm, humid summer nights just begged for the old ball and glove and a sandy lot to play in. The closest thing tho, my worn out old glove (that had seen much better days as it had no padding left) without a ball to catch on a grassy rugby field - not even close to the shape of a diamond!
And then I came back to good old Grand Rapids where scenes from my childhood (see previous blog) came flooding back. The hope of softball that first spring and summer made time move so slow. When it finally arrived...my hopes were dashed by the fact that Wednesday night now belonged to Juvie. Let down, heartbreak heard miles away, alas, the pitcher would have to go on without the catcher.
Until this summer. Tonight was our first game. Traditionally speaking we always lost our first game. I even got to play with virtually a new team (and the ones who used to play years ago were taken over by age) and we all sat at the same level. Antwionette even got to play! My new good friend/mentee was joining me in something she loved too! How grand could life get?
It was such a release! The blood flowed, the sweat dripped, the knees got dirty behind the plate (my shins even got hit a couple of times). Oh, the smell of the dirt and the sunset in your eyes. Life is good once again. I drove home tho wishing Don had been there to enjoy it with me, my parents too as they were faithful spectators. Oh the grandness of summer time softball.
Perhaps the greatest thing, my life seemed normal, stress free, and totally relaxed. It was like I revisited those days when softball was life was all about. I feel like my sanity has come back - like the years of toil in college, Fiji, marriage, and everything else now, finally, jelled into my life, as if it finally all belonged there and was meant to be there. Like, I guess, like I'm myself again.
I say that because shortly before I left Fiji, I told a good friend of mine all the things that had gone on in the two years since I arrived and her initial response caught me quite off guard (because everything that had happened was normal up until she said this). She said, "Do you need professional counseling when you get home? ...Beyond the standard debrief?" Shocker to my system...mentally! But I finally feel, after that first game, that it all belongs and it is completely a part of who I am.
I really don't know if this makes sense to anyone reading this...but I don't really care if it does. It's out there and all I wanted to do was share it with the world. That once again, life is good and coming closer to normal sanity.
Then I went to college. Four years later, I graduated, played that summer I think, then went off to Fiji...a place where you couldn't find even a baseball in the entire country let alone a softball (seven inch preferably). Oh did my heart just cry out! Those warm, humid summer nights just begged for the old ball and glove and a sandy lot to play in. The closest thing tho, my worn out old glove (that had seen much better days as it had no padding left) without a ball to catch on a grassy rugby field - not even close to the shape of a diamond!
And then I came back to good old Grand Rapids where scenes from my childhood (see previous blog) came flooding back. The hope of softball that first spring and summer made time move so slow. When it finally arrived...my hopes were dashed by the fact that Wednesday night now belonged to Juvie. Let down, heartbreak heard miles away, alas, the pitcher would have to go on without the catcher.
Until this summer. Tonight was our first game. Traditionally speaking we always lost our first game. I even got to play with virtually a new team (and the ones who used to play years ago were taken over by age) and we all sat at the same level. Antwionette even got to play! My new good friend/mentee was joining me in something she loved too! How grand could life get?
It was such a release! The blood flowed, the sweat dripped, the knees got dirty behind the plate (my shins even got hit a couple of times). Oh, the smell of the dirt and the sunset in your eyes. Life is good once again. I drove home tho wishing Don had been there to enjoy it with me, my parents too as they were faithful spectators. Oh the grandness of summer time softball.
Perhaps the greatest thing, my life seemed normal, stress free, and totally relaxed. It was like I revisited those days when softball was life was all about. I feel like my sanity has come back - like the years of toil in college, Fiji, marriage, and everything else now, finally, jelled into my life, as if it finally all belonged there and was meant to be there. Like, I guess, like I'm myself again.
I say that because shortly before I left Fiji, I told a good friend of mine all the things that had gone on in the two years since I arrived and her initial response caught me quite off guard (because everything that had happened was normal up until she said this). She said, "Do you need professional counseling when you get home? ...Beyond the standard debrief?" Shocker to my system...mentally! But I finally feel, after that first game, that it all belongs and it is completely a part of who I am.
I really don't know if this makes sense to anyone reading this...but I don't really care if it does. It's out there and all I wanted to do was share it with the world. That once again, life is good and coming closer to normal sanity.
Caboodles
I was at my mom and dad's house yesterday picking up some camping gear for the weekend. I went up to my old room - I do that frequently because it's like walking back into a time that was simpler and more care-free. And I walked out with my pink and purple Caboodle.
Now, for those of you that don't know what a Caboodle is, I'll explain it like this: its a tackle box for girls. It contains a mirror, pull out shelves, compartments, and all sorts of little places to put our tackle (you know, earrings, make-up, hair brushes and products, nail products, and just about anything any girl could ever need.
Why did I pick that instead of all the other cool remnants of my childhood? Well, my friend from South Dakota came by a few weeks ago and she was carrying hers. She laughed at herself and said, "Yep! It's practicle and handy so I am doing it. I know, I'm a dork!" And I got to thinking, that would be perfect! So there it is...my pink Caboodle (still in the back of my car because I didn't have enough hands to bring it into our apartment last night) ready to go for the weekend. Its the perfect camping accessory.
So, for all you girls out there who remember when days were simpler and more care-free than today, grab your caboodle, brush off the dust and use it! You'll think you were 12 again!
(and for those of you reading this, anticipating spending a weekend with Don and I, you can bet I'll have my caboodle!)
Now, for those of you that don't know what a Caboodle is, I'll explain it like this: its a tackle box for girls. It contains a mirror, pull out shelves, compartments, and all sorts of little places to put our tackle (you know, earrings, make-up, hair brushes and products, nail products, and just about anything any girl could ever need.
Why did I pick that instead of all the other cool remnants of my childhood? Well, my friend from South Dakota came by a few weeks ago and she was carrying hers. She laughed at herself and said, "Yep! It's practicle and handy so I am doing it. I know, I'm a dork!" And I got to thinking, that would be perfect! So there it is...my pink Caboodle (still in the back of my car because I didn't have enough hands to bring it into our apartment last night) ready to go for the weekend. Its the perfect camping accessory.
So, for all you girls out there who remember when days were simpler and more care-free than today, grab your caboodle, brush off the dust and use it! You'll think you were 12 again!
(and for those of you reading this, anticipating spending a weekend with Don and I, you can bet I'll have my caboodle!)
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