Adam

I met with a kid during chaplaincy visits a couple weeks ago who we'll call Adam. Mine and Adam's time together started off as most of my visits do. We talked for a bit. He shared some of his frustrations and explained why he hated being locked up so much. Adam had a lot of anger, not towards me, but just a lot of anger in general. He was angry about the way people treat him and their lack of accountability for it. Adam recognized double-standards in a unique way, and it was infuriating for him.

When our conversation ended I asked Adam if he wanted me to pray with him. He said yes, so I did. When I finished I was about to stand up and walk him back to his room, but he wasn't standing up yet. Then he asked, "Your name's Jessica, right?"

Then something happened that has never happened before in my meetings with kids there: Adam started praying for me.

He asked God to be with me and to keep me safe.
He prayed for my family and my loved ones.
He prayed that God would help both of us make the right decisions in life.
He asked God to help me keep coming back there to talk with kids.

There's no way that Adam could have known how profound his prayer for me was-- especially the last part. Even though I love my time at Juvenile, it's terrifying for me. I'm not afraid of the kids there, but I'm afraid of so many other things. It's intimidating to interact with the guards. It's scary to have no idea what sort of things I'm going to hear when I walk in. It's unnerving to realize the responsibility I have to hold the stories of broken kids in a loving, faithful way.

Adam ministered to me that day. He gave me a gift that I didn't even realize I needed. It's easy for me to remember that these kids need my prayers, but sometimes it's hard to remember that I need theirs.

Thanks, Adam.