When the good things are good.

Last night was the culmination of all of my end-of-the-year strategizing, and regardless of whether or not it would be big, I wanted it to be good. So I pulled out all the stops--I made 60 handmade, hand-delivered invitations...I carried boxes of craft supplies up three flights of stairs...I recruited six adults to assist...I cleaned up The Mud Hut...I even bought Velveeta.

And I prayed. And I handed out the names of 60 Arlington girls so that others could pray. I prayed that girls who needed to feel connected and who needed to know that they are cared for would come.

An Arlington student finishes off her Scooby Doo coloring project.

As the time drew near for girls to arrive, I was getting nervous. I always get nervous before events, because I never know who will show up, what the group dynamics will be, if everyone will enjoy themselves, and if all the effort will have been for good.

By 7:15pm, when seven students had showed up to greet the seven leaders, I said, "Okay God. To your glory and for your purpose. There are seven girls who are hear to color and make necklaces and hang out. There are seven girls here to hear Carrie's testimony, and may this exceed my expectations."

Seven girls. It was not the number I had picked out in my head...it was small...and I had to fight all of my earthly urges which would tell me to be disappointed. I was rejoicing in one small victory--that Monica--whom I eat lunch with twice a week, and whom I only know in a school context, had shown up by herself with a smile on her face--I knew that this night would be for her.

After an hour of coloring pictures, making necklaces, drinking sodas, and eating nachos, I gathered together our intimate group of 14 to hear the story and testimony of Carrie, a 27-year-old married mom of two from my church. She shared with them her personal testimony of how bad decisions had led her to a pregnancy and miscarriage at age 15, and how she promised God to use this experience for good. The girls were quiet, and they listened intently, and we talked about God's redemptive power...and we prayed.

An Arlington student shows off her Italian soda, which before its consumption, matched her hair.

By the time the girls left, I felt good about the evening--that they had left feeling valued, connected, and cared for--that I had an opportunity to connect with each of them throughout the evening--and that they had enjoyed fellowship, creativity, and substance--that they knew that God was the God of their lives, and that He had a plan for them.

This morning at school, I greeted Monica with a big hello, and she grinned and said, "Heather! I forgot the forms for the kayaking trip last night! Can you bring me some more?" I smiled--Monica, who had attended her first YD event was already ready to sign up for an 8-day kayaking trip...

and then she said, "That speaker last night...she was great. It was the first time I'd ever heard someone who was a good person tell a story about getting pregnant. They're always bad girls...and she wasn't bad...and it was really cool what she said."

Last night was not a night for 60 girls to show up and have The Mud Hut bursting at the seams and pulsating with loud music. Last night was not a night for a big event to slickly polish off my first year. It was a night of intimate conversations, depth, and even new relationships. I praise God that our expectations are not always His plan. His plan is good.