Mission Trip = opened eyes + opened heart

well i've actually been back since Saturday, but i've been busy. what can i say? i had to make up a week of school, plus registering for classes, which has been a pain, and take placement testing. which is not going to be finished until the 23rd. a mere 3 days before i turn 18 and enter the adult world for real.
yay?
well lets start with the craziness. my last post was the day after my scariest babysitting job ever. and since then i have turned down a babysitting job. to soon. sorry parents, but that was f***ing scary. (i feel that was a good and appropriate use of the f bomb)

since then i went to SF on a mission trip and you know, changed my life, heart and some cool stuff like that.

i can never look at a homeless person the same way. i can never look at the "ghetto" the same. i can never forget the little girl and boy rejoicing that they will see their dad for the first time in years because he's getting out of jail. i can never forget "huggy muggys" or dyrke who is hurting and acts out against his teachers and single mom at 4 years old, hard of hearing without working hearing aids.
my heart is changed.
i'll never forget walking in the Tenderloin. seeing broken lives, but not broken people, around me. i'll never forget actually stopping and talking and listening to find out their stories.
i'll never forget any of it.
my heart aches.
but i've been blessed to see it.
i'll never forget counting how many times that one man came to get a tray of food from me at the free dinning hall of St. Vincent De Paul (i stopped counting after 10, many others were just like him)
i can't forget finding out the average age of a homeless person in SF is 9 years old. 9.
i can't forget the smile from the young man i handed a granola bar to, as he told me he hadn't eaten since the day before, and that was an apple.
i'll never forget Joe, who told us we had nothing to be worried about on the streets. or Ramen as he hoped on his princess scooter and joined us for a bagel and juice.

i can't forget it. i just wish i could better share it with everyone. i wish i could share the pain of hearing that children, ages 0-5, know how to drop to the floor just in case there is a drive by shooting at their school. i wish i could show you the pain of hearing that the girl who comes to the afterschool program in Richmond? she's dead. shot. gone. and i wish you could be punched in the gut by the poem that was written in her memory.
so this is how i'm going to share. right here. my heart hurts. it's broken. i fully intend on going back to SF, not to pier 39, but to the inner city. to hand out meals, to just sit and talk. to go back to Richmond and hug those little girls i may never get to see alive again. i've never felt a feeling like that.
no this trip wasn't all pain. i loved talking the elderly to the Asian Art Museum. and it was pretty fun to watch Mary lean forward in her wheelchair to poke Kristen in the butt and then giggle. it was also pretty funny to watch her try to "run away" in the same wheelchair.
but that doesn't heal my heart. i'm convicted.
i want to go back.
and i want others to go with me...

random fact
chicken and waffles are amazing. but what makes them more amazing is being surrounded by a family that adopts you for who you are. broken and beautiful.
emilie