Wednesday, May 07, 2008


Last year, if someone would have told me that I would be skulking around the west side, picking up 15 year old girls, two blocks from their house, to drive them to the dr.s appointment I made for confirm their pregnancy,I would have laughed.
If someone would have told me the emotional toll that this job would take on me, I would have re-considered.
As I sit here, eating my supper of hot tamales and a slurpee, with a side of potato chips,I am supposed to be preparing for a budget meeting. Instead, I am trying to figure out the words I need to use when I have to return a phone call of a girl who wants our centre to pay for her to go to Edmonton to have an abortion, because she is past the allowable cut off date in Saskatoon. She doesnt care that I am a Christian. She doesnt care that we honor the sanctitiy of life. She just needs her problem
I hear people talk, about how this job was meant for me, how I am sooo good at it, and yet, everyday, I feel like I fail. Every day I know that when I talk to these girls, it is God who talks and not me. I cannot fathom what I would say to them, and yet, the words seem to come...and they seem to soothe. Somedays, I cant even tell you what I have said, it is merely God speaking....I am like a dark haired puppet for Jesus.
Now, if I could only figure out how to deal with this emotional crap.

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