Sabrina

she's all of 12
and says she's 14
she's got a fight
scheduled
at school tomorrow

she says she's not scared
she says she doesn't care
if she gets hurt
or
is sent to juvy

she doesn't know that
her eyes betray
she's just a little girl
wanting
to find security

she wants to know she's heard
and know she's loved
and told she doesn't
need
to be so strong

i tell her she's too precious
to mess herself up like dat
i know she's
listening
despite ignoring me

she's desperately hungry
God, be WITH her!
keep her closer to
Your heart
than i can, tonight


I first met Sabrina at Lancaster Bible School when she was a frizzy-haired ten-year-old. Anti-social to the other kids, she didn't talk me until I had spent a while pushing her on the swing and looking at the animals. Animals. They were one thing to which she showed affection. She was fiercely protective of the puppy she held, pouncing in anger on the unsuspecting boy who ran with it to put it in its pen. Something about her engraved her on my heart.

A year later, I was sitting in a circle of girls at Kids' Club, teaching a lesson... or, more accurately, trying to harness a galloping conversation... on how much God loves each of us, unconditionally. Sabrina came up the stairs, plopped down as far from the circle as possible, and glared directly ahead, clutching her skinny self with her crossed arms. Wanting to welcome her to clubs, I invited her to join the circle. Her reaction suprised even the other girls. The most flambuoyant fell silent as she, like an erupting volcano, swore and violently relocated. As the talking proceeded, God answered my prayers and granted us His loving Presence. One by one, lights were lit in eyes around the circle as they... GOT it. Sabrina was curled in a fetal position, hugging a pillow. Later, someone found a baby bird that must have fallen from its nest. It was almost dead. I tried to make the bird feel as safe as possible while Sabrina vented her anger on me for not doing more. I so badly wanted to heal it. I so badly wanted to heal her.

Now, a year even later, I am back at clubs. Sabrina is there, thank God. I know there is a reason for both. She's grown into a girl who can work her world. She's so hard, and yet so fragile. Last week, she was planning her fight at school. She was desperate to prove to me that she had her life in control, that she wasn't scared. She knew I knew better. I told her I wasn't going to tell her how to live her life, but that I have friends who live like that... and I don't want to see the same things happen to her. I tried to help her think about the consequences, about how little it would prove, but, more than anything, I wanted her to hear that I cared about her and wanted her to know she was worth too much for that. She pretty much ignored anything she didn't want to hear, but I could tell she was listening. That was a week ago tonight. I don't see her until next week. Maybe I'll stop by her house tomorrow on my way home from work. For some reason, I can't stop thinking about her tonight.

Please, would you pray that Sabrina will know the love of God, the God who isn't intimidated by her anger, but cares for her hurting heart?