Every Memorial Weekend, my family goes camping in this incredible camp with fishing, swimming, boating, archery, and more. It's so much fun, and this is the first year I didn't get to go. I had to work instead.
I was sad at first, sad and stressed. Fri-Mon, I worked 40 hours total, and needless to say, I'm exhausted. BUT.
Oh God, BUT.
We talked about self-injury, we talked about addiction, we talked about PTSD and depression and anxiety and relationships and how to deal with all of it and how it's okay to ask for help and it's okay, really, truly okay, to not BE okay. I watched teenagers' eyes light up. I watched them show their scars, share their stories, cry and laugh together and encourage one another. I watched them start to see things from other points of view, and I watched hope start to form.
When I go back in a few days, most of these kids will be gone, back into the world. But before I left today, I had three of them tell me that I changed them, that what we talked about gave them hope and made them think maybe there was more to this world, to this life, than what they had known so far. It choked me up, and I'm getting a little teary-eyed just writing this.
Memorial Day is for remembering soldiers and battles. I think from now on, I'm going to use it as a day to remember the children I have been honored to challenge and learn from, because they're soldiers too, and their battle is life.
And I like to believe that they are going to win that war.
