Resilience is Powerful

Often in this first year of counseling I have been slammed with emotions. Constantly trying to find the balance between empathy and detachment. Somedays I really struggle to leave the kids at work, metaphorically speaking. I know the boundaries in this work are important. I need those lines for the sake of my own mental health.
Yet I get so frustrated at my limitations. I can't adopt every heartbroken kid. Or even my favorites. I can't take that girl to her appointment even though I have a working car and her mother does not. Lines of poverty cross at every turn of this work. Despair too can overwhelm me if I'm not constantly letting go. And even when I do, it can still take me over. I am human after all.
I am finding though, that the struggles I see are not the end of the story. I am finding empathy in these little broken hearts for others in similar situations. I am finding future dreams strong enough to fight for.
A gang kid explaining how he's found friends that don't do drugs and instead make music. Unaware of what incredible progress that is, what a beautiful step towards health that is. A girl who has been through so much explaining how she wants to raise money for kids with cancer using her talents of art and writing.
I am learning that there is more than one way for someone to become more of who they really are. I am learning that these kids remember that one person who loved them well in their lives, a grandmother, a teacher, a pastor, a friend's sister or mother. I am learning the power of looking someone in the eyes and telling him or her that he is totally capable. That the words he writes, and the things he says matter.
I no longer feel alone in this work. If any of you have ever loved a child, you are a hero. You could be the link. That safe place where a kid feels loved and able to dream. I see so much pain, but I am beginning to see the most beautiful little seeds of hope sprouting. It's not the end all success story, but it's enough.

Plans

Before spring break, people in various places in my life inevitably asked what my plans were. I would internally glare at them. Who told them to ask that question? How did they know I had no plans at all?
Although I tend to be easy going and open to new adventures, not having plans often makes me feel like some sort of social outcast. Plagued by shows like Sex in the City, I feel that these glorious single years were supposed to be spent in some fantastic New York loft with expensive pink drinks every night and a handsome new escort every weekend.
Instead my life is just a touch more modest than Hollywood. And my week without plans still turned out to be full of everything I needed most.
Learning new skills at the climbing gym with a friend turned instructor for the day. Deep conversation with new friends. Reconnection with old friends. New unexplored hikes. Old familiar trails too. A day at the slopes with my favorite sister. A dinner with my dad and whole family to celebrate his birthday. Lots of rest and time spent reading. Lots of journaling and time to dream.
The minute I allowed my preconception of what it should be shatter, it became exactly what my heart actually needed.
I wonder if most of my discontent comes from what I think things should be like, instead of enjoying what is. Because the truth is, that life is full and good. Even in the hard rocky places, joy can bubble out in the most unexpected cracks. But if I only look at the rock, I miss the beauty of the stream.
So here's to plans that don't work out, and looking for those streams right in front of me.