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Fun fact: some of my hobbies include knitting, baking cookies, and watching M*A*S*H. I'm aware that based on this fact alone you probably wouldn't guess that I'm 22.

For those of you who don't watch M*A*S*H, you should, it's on Netflix until April. It's a show that ran for 11 seasons about a mobile army surgical hospital during the Korean War. You get to know what life at the fictional MASH 4077 was like. You get to know the doctors, the nurses, the enlisted men, the patients, the locals, and the sometimes ridiculous circumstances that surround these people who are really just trying to survive. Doctors performing meatball surgery in sub-standard conditions so the soldiers can be patched up and sent back out to fight. Everyone has to come to grips with the realities of the war they are living in and try to find a way to stay sane. They straddle the love they have for the people they are working with and the hatred they have for the situation they are in. Besides the actual war that is taking place, they are fighting to overcome the injustices around them like the locals who aren't soldiers but need medical help and the Army officials who are making decisions that are good for their career but bad for those serving on the front lines. What are the doctor's, who are stuck in the middle, supposed to do and what can they do to bring justice and peace to such a complex, foreign, serious situation of war. 

Recently I've found myself able to connect with those characters on some level. 

Here, we are fighting our own war. We are fighting for youth to get to stay youth. We're fighting for our refugee neighbors to have their own voice. We are fighting against stereotypes and societal misunderstandings. We fight for our community to be seen as a community and not a project. In my time in and around Clarkston, I have learned so many things. There might not be bombs going off left and right ...but there is a battle going on. 

Clarkston International Bible Church recently faced damages due to a fire. No one was hurt, but that part of the building cannot be used for some time yet. We relocated tutoring to a house owned by the church down the street. It was cramped, there were no computers or wifi, not enough tables, and we didn't have many of the supplies the girls count on to help get homework done. Homework was done, though. Vocab words were studies. Multiplication tables were practiced. A satire was written. Dinner was served. The girls know they are loved.

As I was taking a van load of them home, the girls were talking about their schedules for the coming week. One said she wouldn't be at school on Friday and not to come get her when she wasn't at the bus stop. She had to go with her mom to work out an issue with Medicaid (this particular girl comes from a family whose native language is so rare she is the only one in the area who can translate for her family). As I listened to these 4 middle school girls talk like adults about how frustrating the system was and how difficult it was to get everything worked out I felt a heaviness in my heart. These kids shouldn't have to worry about such big things. They shouldn't have to miss school to go and make sure that their family is getting all the services they should be getting. The should be allowed to be kids. They should have the chance to focus on learning and growing and making friends and figuring out who they are before they tackle red tape surrounding medical insurance or any other type of service. Please understand, these girls were not complaining about helping their families. They were not putting their parents down for needing them to help with translation or child care or paperwork. They are spectacular sisters, daughters, neighbors, and friends who are generally happy to do what they can to help out. 

My realization in that moment for me was a confirmation that what I am trying to do in Clarkston, along with so many others, is to give these kids a piece of their childhood back. On Thursdays, the girls know they don't have to make dinner. They don't have to babysit. They don't have to help fill out paperwork. They don't have to clean. All they have to do is work on homework and spend time with friends and people who care about them. We provide dinner. We provide and maintain the space. We let them goofy and silly and have fun because it's important to get that opportunity somewhere. 

So no, we aren't Army doctors stitching together wounded soldiers, but we are people banded together fighting for the people we work with to overcome some pretty hard situations. It's not easy. Sometimes we feel like we are crazy for trying to do the things we do. In the end, it's not our sanity or glory or reputation that we are working for, though, it's that the youth in Clarkston would have every opportunity possible to reach the potential that each one of them has. We want to see the youth be all God created them to be.

This week tutoring went much better. There was plenty of room for everyone!