This neighborhood is a transitional one.
Nearly 60% of its residents are renters.
That means they move a lot.
Fortunately, they often move to different homes or apartments within this same community, and we're able to maintain connections with those families and children. Sometimes, though, they move beyond our feasible reach -- to North or South Phoenix, to one of the suburbs, to Mexico, or to California -- and you hope and pray that another ministry in that locale is poised to reach out to them.
I know that life is short and precious, that time on this earth is a limited commodity. I know that the Psalmist uses such descriptions as "
a shadow....fleeting....a few handbreadths....a mere breath" when illustrating the
"measure of [our] days."But even with this knowledge in my possession--of humanity's frailty and brevity--I too often live with the attitude that there's all the time in the world. I take it for granted that tomorrow will look like today, and yesterday, and the day before, that doors will remain open, that if we said "hello" today, we'll get to say it tomorrow, too.
I forget how transitional life is.
Yesterday two of our Kids Klubbers boarded the van with a Big Announcement. They're energetic, fun brothers around the ages of 6 and 9. In the 5+ years I've lived in Phoenix, they've lived in the same house, on the same street, with the same parents, with a bird and a dog or two. I remember when they bricked their whole front yard, with the exception of a few circles surrounding some trees. I remember when their younger sister was born, and I was invited inside the house to take a peek at the little one. I remember the excitement of the older brother when he went off to camp at Youth Haven Ranch, and how his pronunciation of it sounded more like "Youth Heaven."
Now I remember when he made the Big Announcement.
Before he boarded the van yesterday, he stood right outside my open window and announced matter-of-factly:
"We're moving. This is the last time we're going to church. The living room is packed.""Where are you moving?" I asked.
"Far away," was his response.
"To an apartment. We'll go to a different school."He clarified why the sudden, out-of-the-blue move:
"My mom and dad are fighting. We will come see our dad on the weekend."My heart sank. These little guys are caught in the middle of their parents' separation. They'll have to make new friends at a new school, settle into a new home, and adjust to ping-ponging between mom and dad. Will there be a church nearby that will invite them to come? How will they fare when their mom has to get a job to make ends meet? What scars will they bear, or do they bear already, because of the brokenness of their family?
This encounter with the Big Announcement, while unexpected and unwanted, has been a good reminder to seize
"such a time as this," or in a similar vein,
carpe diem. It is not promised that tomorrow I can share Jesus with Juan or Angel or Cassandra. However, there is the moment that is
now, and how is He asking me to spend it?
Mr. Miller brought eggs with goodies inside. 
Tonight is another celebration of Easter....off I go to gather some children!
More pics to follow when I get them uploaded....Happy Monday!
Then, it was off to classes to learn about Jonah & the big fish!
I think nearly every class had some type of craft project.
There were some intense fish decorators.
You'd think that gently warmed, pureed turkey would go down smooth as Jello. However, I think these good sports would slightly disagree!
Jacob, visiting from Indiana, received an unexpected lip makeover, while Brittany and Sheila, former interns visiting from Ohio and Iowa respectively, were called upon to join the fun, too.
The makeovers were of the outlandish variety, but Caleb's lesson Friday evening was not. He asked those in attendance, "Are you happy with who you are?" He then shared from Genesis how God called His creation "very good." Very good even without three coats of mascara or Van's shoes or expensive jeans from the mall. It was a timely message, especially since the culture screams at youth (and at any age, really) that you must measure up to an often impossible standard of beauty to be accepted and desired. 
The highest auction item, a "Puff Quilt" made by Ida Anna Miller of Phoenix, sold for $2,100. It's pictured below, the second quilt from the left. The proceeds from that quilt and other items will be used to make Aim Right's final mortgage payment on the property. Praise God that He's provided the means for us to reach that milestone!
