Why College?

Deborah Rodriguez was a beautician living in Michigan. Dissatisfied with her life, she joined an aid team going to Afghanistan.

The rest of her team - Doctors, dentists, and nurses - had obvious parts to play.  But what could a hair dresser possibly do?

As her book, Kabul Beauty School tells, she could do a whole lot. Sharing her skills, she taught classes of women how to do hair, nails, and make up. With these skills, the women provided for their families and earned positions of respect in their households and communities.

With the technical skills of a hair dresser she turned around the lives of hundreds of women.

When I was in Haiti, I met an American woman who went to Haiti to pour concrete.  While she was there, the Haitians asked her if she could teach some kids.

And when I met her, she had been teaching for the last two years with no plans to quit. A high school diploma plus construction experience, and she was doing important work in a place that needed her.

I went to High School Camp a few weeks back, and a speaker came who had traveled the world with YWAM.  22 countries, 6 years, and who knows how many lives changed for Jesus?  He just graduated High School and started going.

So - what the heck am I going to college for?

I really just want to help people, but is college making me over qualified?  I mean, what good is a communications and sociology degree to people who need to learn to make a living?

Or maybe the opposite is true: maybe I'm under qualified.  I don't know anything useful to anyone.

I've been wandering the whirlwind of options for life after graduation: Haiti, , Fulbright, Peace Corps, Masters Degree, Kenya, Masters Degree and Peace Corps, Fiji, Teach for America, DTS, Starbucks Barista...and I can't help but wonder why all of this "education" is going to matter.  

If I wasn't so certain God wanted me in college, I'd be out of here in a heartbeat. But God's got a better plan. I'll try hard to be patient and wait.

Memoirs of a Newbie: High School Camp

I have never worked with high school students before.  Spending a week as a cabin leader this August was like learning a foreign language when you're already in the country, with a broken jaw.

My eight girls arrived Monday afternoon.  I woke up Tuesday morning and groaned, thinking: I'm still here! 

Lesson #1: Always seek advice from people who have been there before.  

Ten minutes of conversation with a 8-year cabin leader veteran told me everything I did wrong the day before. Mentality corrected, I lead the worst morning devotions ever.

Lesson #2: Never stop praying.

So, I started praying.  I prayed during lunch. I prayed during the all-camp game. I prayed while swimming. I prayed during dinner. I prayed during worship, hearing the burdens of some of my precious girls.

Breakthrough.

God took Rachel, Rachel's problems, and Rachel's emotions and set them aside.  When my strong girls broke and their hurt leaked out, my empty space soaked it up.  Helpless, hurting, we waited for Jesus. 

Lesson #3: The Holy Spirit will always come.

Tumbling from my lips in the shape of words, God came to bring hope. 

And the hurt siphoned away. And peace came.  

And for the rest of the week, I prayed.

Except Thursday.  Thursday I spent the afternoon swing dancing and playing on lake toys with a group of people only to happy to make sure I had a marvelous time. 

Lesson #4: God likes to have fun too.

My initial terror gave way, and I had a fantastic week.  No, I am not proficient in grades 9-12.  But God will always be around to build bridges across language gaps, and all will be well for it.