God has called me to a place where: I spend some days sitting in waiting rooms for hours so that children can recieve the medical or psychologocial care they have been without for too long. "Progress" may look like a youth yelling and screaming about the pain in her life...finally. Grocery shopping takes two Wal-Mart baskets, two hours, and well over two (sometimes three) hundred dollars. That is for the week. I respond to alarms at 1:30am because she's afraid of the dark and is having bad dreams, but I can't just let her crawl into our bed and fall back asleep. A single ounce of pain from the life of a youth is heavier than all the pain in my life put together. In some ways, I am younger than the girls here. I am a minority. I don't usually like the music, I don't understand all the slang. The way I relate is certainly new to most of the youth here. Getting to the core issue is harder than it used to be; there are so many layers. Telling them to p...