Baby toys.

It's Holy Week and so I don't have school. 

Yayyyy!!

I have come to my friend Annie's house for these five days.

Yayyy!!

Part of being home with Annie involves seeing all the people that she loves here.

Maggie. Mom. Dad. Buddy. Izzy. Kevin. Ashley. Sarah.

those are the lucky ones who have seem us so far.

more will come.

lots more.

Let's talk about Kevin.

Kevin is the youth minister at a retreat house Annie spent time at in high school.

He has two daughters of his own and a bunch of other unofficially adopted kids like Annie.

So we went to visit Kevin at work yesterday. We sat in his office and talked for I don't even know how long. Kevin is hilarious and intense and thoughtful and loving and ohmygoodness. Talking with Kevin yesterday reminded me of talking with one of my campus ministers (Jude) in high school. It made me miss her a lot. 

Kevin shared stories of different one-acts and prayer services that he has put together for retreats, and let me tell you I was covered in goosebumps. :) Many of the things he shared touched my heart where it is at right now that's a tricky thing to do. But one, in particular, got me hard. Baby toys. 

Here's the gist: all the retreatants came into the chapel and took a seat. They were college kids and so many of them were deep in the college-life cultures--drunkenness, casual sex, mixed up priorities, etc. They were asked to think about their walk with the Lord and how the decisions they were making/the lives they were living fit with that or with what they wanted that to be. Then, one by one, the retreatants walked up to the altar and picked up a baby toy. Attached to each toy was a short blurb of a story about a baby who died, a child who never got the chance to live. 

This got me thinking. Every day there are tons of babies who die--from abortion or even natural causes--but for some reason, when I was born, I lived. I continue to live. What's with that? Why me? What makes me so special? 

yeah, that's me. yeah, i still have that bear i'm holding.

I don't know how to answer those questions, but I do know that it isn't fair for me to live this life as an entitlement. 

Life is a gift. 

End of story.

I have done nothing to deserve life. In fact, I have done many things that deserve just the opposite, yet, I continue to wake up each morning. There's gotta be something to that. There has to be some reason that I was chosen to be one of the babies who didn't die. 

Nonetheless, there are babies who did die. Those babies are people who never got a chance. I was given a chance. The whole point of the exercise was to get the students to see that their actions may not show their appreciation for that gift.

Mine certainly don't. I may not be getting drunk every week or doing that which is 'typical' sin of a college student but I am a mess. I am a hott mess of sin. Believe it or not, I am not perfect. Not even close. I make mistakes. Lots of them. Lots and lots and lots of them. Stupid ones. Ones I know are wrong. Sometimes I make mistakes and don't care. Fail.

I was given a chance. I need to care. 

Even if I don't care for any other reason, I need to care because there are plenty of other babies born on May 20th, 1991 that would have loved to take my spot and live it better than I am. I need to show that I want this spot in life that I've been given.