overheard in the women's locker room

girl getting dressed: "So yeah I taught my mom how to text."

girl combing her hair: "Why?"

girl getting dressed: "I dunno. Thought it would make my life easier, I guess. But now... she's like, all thinking she's cool and shit. And she sends me these texts that say, like, 'Hi! What's up?' Jesus."

girl combing her hair: "Oh no."

girl getting dressed: "Um, yeah. It's hella annoying."

girl combing her hair: "Tell her to stop."

girl getting dressed: "Well I would but she pays for my phone and shit."

girl combing her hair: "Gawd. That bites."

girl getting dressed: "It hella sucks."

Sunday

So we have started 'church' at Dakota House.

My hope is to have very unchurchy church, where real prayer happens, and people are just themselves... and God is very big and makes subsequent and meaningful appearances in the homes of the neighborhood folk who are brave enough to walk through the door.

Last time we met, I was thoroughly astounded.

In the middle of Brad's talk--we take turns leading--a young woman we know and love burst through the door. Her eyes searched the room for someone she knew, and they fell on me. She ran to me and buried her face in my chest and cried that her brothers might be going to jail.

Now, we know her brothers. They are probably our two most consistent Dakota House kids. We LOVE these boys. There was a crazy incident that was basically about flared emotions and a paranoid parent... an all too familiar story line.

Emily and I left the service and went across the street, retrieving babies we were implored to take for fear of C.P.S. intervention.

We return to the church service and--as I am too revved up to just sit and listen--request prayers for our boys. And singing. For us.

In a little while, here comes our boys--not hauled off to juvenile hall--looking scared and schooled.

And soon thereafter, a parade of uncles, and aunties, and cousins....and more babies. Our living room is suddenly filled with neighborhood people who have never been to Dakota House. And they want prayer. Because they have a court date, or can't pay rent, or want to stop using.

Most of them approach individuals and ask for prayer. But one woman boldly addresses the small crowd and tearfully tells us that she wants her 7 month old baby back.

And so we pray. We put her baby in God's hands and ask Him to deliver the child back to her mama.

Two days later I am at Dakota House and I hear the news. The baby is returned. After months of no hope, this mother is holding her child once again.

This is what that mother says: "It is a miracle! God is so powerful. When do we get to have church again?!"

Sunday.