In ABK’s neighborhood there is a group home. The group home houses 5-8 teen boys that have had abusive parents, parents in jail, or they have gotten in trouble themselves. The kids are wards of the state, sent to a home for an indefinite amount of time, and destined to a life of controlled structure. Regimented wake ups, lights out, and pee breaks. A life, if you want to call it that, where everything is monitored, quantified, and qualified?

ABK walked past this house on her way to church every Sunday. ABK knew she could do something. ABK went to the pastor of her church and enlisted her church friends to ‘adopt’ this house. To BE the love in lives that lacked it. And, that is exactly what they did. And then they adopted 3 houses, and 9 more homes.

When the boys need something, the pastor tells the congregation, “Hey it is back to school time. The boys need new clothes, school supplies, and shoes.” The next week, the bins are over-flowing.

The kids in the youth group invite the boys to functions, and some come regularly to church. Their first time usually finds them overcome with emotion and balling from all the love that is poured out upon them.

ABK, and elder, related to me that on one particular occasion, she went to pray with one sobbing boy, he said to her, “I just want a normal family. One that loves me.” When she did what she could for that boy, she went to pray with another, he wept, “I just wanna go home.”

That is what ABK and her community are trying to be, trying to be the love. Trying to be a family. Trying to be home. Trying to be what is right with the world, instead of complaining about what is wrong with it.

Who are we to do less?

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