Healing

"You're a Christian, aren't you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because the Christians are always the nicest people here. They really care."

That kid had me pegged within an hour. I, obviously, couldn't deny or agree with him, even though his statement was true. At the time, I was new, maybe only a few weeks in, and still unsure with what I could or could not share.

I was born and raised in a Christian, two-parent household with a stay-at-home mom and a dad who made enough that we were comfortable, and occasionally able to splurge. Not too much, not too little. I have an abundance of siblings and pets. My parents are still deeply in love with each other. They actively encouraged us to go deeper with our faith, to ask hard questions, to really LOOK at why we believe what we believe.

There are pieces of my past that are blank. That might not be a bad thing, in truth. But that is not the focus of this post.

My faith became my own when I was 14. At the time, I had a lot of serious losses happen at once, and I sank into a very, very deep depression. I hid it fairly well,  but I was lost and hurting. And yet, not hopeless. I would pray, cry myself to sleep praying, begging God to send me a friend.

And he did. God granted me a friend who was a few years older, who had experienced what I was going through, and could encourage me. After high school, we parted ways, but by then, my moods had stabilized.

Continually throughout my life, I find that God has granted me my prayers. Not always, but often, often enough that I know that it's Him. Many times, they are granted in unusual ways. Sometimes, because of where I work, I am questioned by those who have never experienced a psych ward how I can keep my faith even with all the terrible things I see.

The truth is, I don't see terrible things. I see children laughing, joking, playing, thinking. I see staff that truly care, both for each other and the kids we work with. I see joy, happiness. Of course, there are days when the kids lash out, or experience flashbacks, but they will come and talk to us, share with us what they are going through. What an improvement!

I'm sure there are those who would work where I work and say that it's devastating, seeing the ghosts of these wonderful children's pasts. But I don't see it that way. I see kids who, yes, have experienced trauma and hardship, but are soldiering on. I see them slowly improve, to see more of themselves than just their scars.

Where others see pain, I see healing.

And for that, I praise God.