Tag: Love

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Priceless Insanity [DSS Update Aug. ’14]

 “Have you lost your freaking mind Cassandra?!”

Those are the words I heard on the other end of the phone from several people when I turned down the job opportunity of a lifetime a few weeks ago. Well, the opportunity of someone else’s lifetime to be more exact…

Editor for the Denver Bronco’s publications team

I stared at the e-mail for quite some time before clicking it closed and calling to decline the offer for an interview– an interview opportunity that was literally dropped in my lap without me ever pursuing a job opening.

This summer, just a week after deciding not to move to Texas, said e-mail came to my phone. With just one tap of my finger on my iPhone screen, visions of a cushy full-time desk job with a generous salary, benefits, bonuses, and a ridiculous amount of free NFL swag started to flash before my eyes.

But before I could even entertain what living off of a salary double what I currently am making would look like, I had other pictures come to mind.

Pictures of my Denver Street School kids– students who have been incorrectly labeled by society as “troubled” or “delinquents”– laughing while “talking” to each other on their banana-telephones in my classroom after school…

Bananaphone

Pictures of the sweet babies and teen parents that I will get to work with this upcoming school year…

Megan6Chrisdad

Pictures of the laughter and deep joy that comes from being a part of a team of teachers that is anchored in the truth of the Gospel…

12-13 Staff

Pictures of generations of DSS students who have come to know the Lord and are not only following Him personally, but who are raising their own children to know Him intimately and passionately…

Generational Hope

Pictures of students’ birthday parties in my backyard and baptismal celebrations on Sunday afternoons…

DejasBdayCoreys Baptism

Pictures of students from different sides of town, with different stories, learning to love each other as Christ loved us… as a family.

Ranchsummer14

Pictures of students finding academic success for the first time in their lives and finally understanding the movie-like joy of throwing their caps in the air on graduation day…

classof2014

Everyone knows that cheesy saying, “A picture’s worth a thousand words.”

Well, in my case, all of these pictures are priceless.

No amount of writing will ever accurately capture the emotions, prayers, or love that each of these photos stirs up in my soul.

So, maybe it makes me insane, but no one could ever put a price tag on my job. No amount of money or free Broncos gear could ever buy me away from these beautiful young people that God has placed in my life.

After quite the season of wrestling with whether I was supposed to be at the Street School for this school year, I now know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is exactly where God has me.

However, I also know that I cannot do this alone.

God, in His infinite Goodness, has designed the Street School to be a community supported ministry. And one way that the community is able to support the school is through helping our staff to raise support for our rather small salaries.

Over the last several years I have watched God provide in extravagant and honestly, miraculous ways and I believe that He will continue to do so, but I need your help!

If you’re reading this, I am asking you to pray for me.

  • Pray for guidance and wisdom on how to spend my salary in ways that further His Kingdom.
  • Pray that I would learn to wait patiently on the Lord in times of need and want.
  • Pray that I would have my daily bread, no more and no less… and that I would want no more and no less.

I have been blessed with a beautiful home full of loving, Christian women who adore my students and long to see our house used as a tool for ministry, whether that be through advocacy dinners, Bible studies, or birthday parties, but that doesn’t lessen the fact that there is rent to be paid and food to be purchased for said ministry tools.

So, if you’re interested in supporting me financially, you can make a small one-time or monthly donation by clicking on the Donate Now tab at www.DenverStreetSchool.org. Simply designate your donation as “Faculty support for Kacy Leyba” in the comment section.

If you are “old school” and own a checkbook, you can mail a check payable to:

Denver Street School
PO Box 140069
Denver, CO 80214
And just write Faculty Support for Kacy Leyba in the memo line.

[The school is a government certified 501(c)3 non-profit and all donations are 100% tax deductible & secure, I promise!]

Whether you are able to support me in prayer or financially, I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.

No, this isn’t an easy job by any means, but it is my honor to laugh and cry with my students everyday as they walk through the valleys and on the mountain tops and learn what it is to be loved by our King.

Thank you for your generosity and for allowing me to pour into the lives of Denver’s at-risk youth for another year!

Blessings always,

Kacy ESign

P.S. As always, I will be logging my journey here on my blog and via newsletters throughout the year, so be sure to subscribe to my blog in the right column or send me your e-mail so I can keep you updated on the amazing things that God is doing here in Denver at the Street School!

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Love personified

I love Jesus.

(Okay, I’m sure some of you just rolled your eyes, but hear me out on this one.)

I love Jesus because He is everything that I am incapable of being.

Jesus was patient; when a pharisee was out of control, Jesus didn’t slap him. He just calmly said what He needed to say and went about His loving way.

Jesus loved everyone, even when He seemed weary. In Luke 18, we see the disciples try to keep people from bringing their children to Jesus because they were afraid that He was tired. Instead of turning them away, He opened up his arms to he wee ones and compared them to the ones who would inherit the Kingdom.

Jesus was joyful; He had plenty of opportunities to gripe in the face of adversity, yet He chose not to. Instead, He fixed His eyes on the Father and went about His merry way.

Jesus understood what was being asked of Him and He sacrificed his life for Love.

As I lay here in my hammock, a part of me wishes that I could have lived in the times of Jesus so I could experience His great Love first hand.

And then I am reminded that I already have.

This last Sunday, I got news of the tragic passing of one of the most formative people in my spiritual walk, my Papa Dean.

Papa Dean was not my blood relative, (Who is in my family anyways? Sheesh, talk about a mish-mash of people!) but He was family none-the-less.

I first met him as an uneasy, socially awkward 8th grader at Aurora Christian Academy. At the time I was sure that he was a teacher of some sort, even though he was clearly in his late seventies. But as time went by, I came to find out that he was just a volunteer at the church school that I attended.

At seventy-something years old, he would play kickball with us, (He was ALWAYS the pitcher because he was positive that he had an amazing curve ball), tutor us in classes we were struggling with, and help serve lunch. Famous for dancing his way through the hallways of the elementary and high school, and making off the wall comments that made everyone laugh, he became everyone’s grandpa and friend.

From sitting through just about every volleyball, basketball, cheerleading, and soccer practice and game, to being the star of all of our pep rallies, (Forever riding into the gym on the back of Coach Tschetter’s Harley wearing a tiny leather coat and bandana) Papa Dean was the life of every school and church event.

As time went on, he remained involved in the tiny ten block community around Aurora Christian Academy, even after the school closed and our church eventually moved away.

When I got a job at Starbucks my senior year of high school, exactly one block between ACA and his apartment, he quickly became one of our regular customers, visiting three, sometimes four times a day. By this time he was well into his eighties and therefore had to use a cane, but that never stopped him from giggling to himself as he did his shuffle-jig through the drive-thru and into my store every morning.

When I was old enough to move out and get my own place, Papa Dean became my neighbor and would walk my dog with me early in the morning and sometimes late at night. On those walks we talked about everything from Frank Sinatra to crafting, but his favorite topic always stayed the same: Jesus.

Oh man. Papa Dean was CRAZY about his Jesus. And his joy was simply contagious.

When he danced, he danced for the Glory of God.

When we would sit in his tiny apartment cluttered with his crafts (typically rubber ducks duct taped to some random unrelated object) he would talk about how weary his body was in his old age, but how he simply longed to live the rest of his life for God and tell others about His Love.

Papa Dean had seen more than his share of heart break and pain. After recovering from the pain of losing his wife years ago, he lost his beloved daughter three years ago unexpectedly. He longed to live in heaven with the ones that he loved, but he understood that God had him here still for a reason. Living here, with us… Being our angel on earth… That was his sacrifice for Love.

Papa Dean was hands down the most patient, joyful, loving, and sacrificial person I have ever met– a nearly perfect picture of the love of Christ. And while I am saddened for myself (mostly because I know that I won’t be getting anymore random voice mails where he accidentally forgets that he’s on the phone with me and begins praying, only to end the voice mail with a Christmas tiding in March) I can’t help but smile, knowing that he is dancing for his King in heaven right now.

I am thankful beyond words for this crazy old coot. I might not be able to hop in a time machine and experience biblical times, but I have met a man who knew and loved Jesus so much that it was nearly impossible to see where he ended and where Jesus began.

His name was Dean Jones and he was the true Blue Angel of the Aurora Christian and Alameda / Ironton community.

Rest in peace Papa Dean. Just like the nights when I would sing Frank Sinatra while you played the organ, I’ll be loving you always.

PoppaDean

 “For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” (1 Corinthians 2:2)

 

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Butterfly season

I seriously believe that every person who has been in ministry work for a while has had the “I quit” moment.

This moment comes when our work begins to feel pointless: So-and-so relapsed back into drugs. That kid got thrown into jail. My favorite woman at the shelter decided to run back to her abusive husband. The orphan I had been nurturing back to health for months died in my arms. These are all real stories that I’ve heard come from the mouths of my friends in ministry, and regardless of your ministry platform, I can guarantee that if you’ve seen these things, or things of that nature, that you’ve had that I quit moment.

Serenity is the 21 year old house mother at a home for women trying to escape homelessness, drug addiction, and domestic violence in Oklahoma. She spoke about her experience last weekend at Nomads saying,

I’ve had women break my heart. In fact, the first woman that I took into the house was also my first heartbreak when she chose to prematurely leave the program and return to life on the streets. I wanted to quit then, but I continued on. A few weeks later, I had a woman pull me into an alley and dig into every insecurity that I’ve ever felt. You’re too young to do this. You think you can run a home? You couldn’t even finish college. You’re stupid. You’re worthless. You’re… You’re… You’re… That day is the day that I tried to quit. I got into my car and instead of driving back to the [mission agency] headquarters, I started driving to Arkansas, where I’m from.

But as I was driving, it hit me. I was leaving everything and going to nothing. I had sold everything I owned. There was nothing left in Arkansas for me. My home was here now. My support system was here. And so I turned around and drove to my friend’s house at the headquarters, sat on his sofa, and cried for the afternoon. Eventually my ‘I quit’ turned into ‘I quit for the day. I don’t quit, but I can’t go back today.’

You see, I can’t quit. I can’t go back to living my old life. I am broken for these women now and there is nothing that could ever fill my heart like the calling that God has given me to live in this home with these women, even when they break me in turn.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve had my fair share of “I quit” moments. Things around the school seem exponentially more difficult than they have during any other fourth quarter I’ve ever seen. And I know that it’s spiritual warfare.

As a staff we are intentionally praying for and with our kids more. More of our kids have come to know Christ than I’ve ever seen in one school year and even more still have begun to seek Him. Students are asking for Bibles to read at home and asking to attend church with us.

These kids are thirsty for God.

And in turn, the devil is pissed.

It’s not something that I can put into words, but I can feel it in the depths of my soul whenever the ish hits the fan.

Part of our jobs is to be close with our students. And I’m not talking “I know each of your academic goals and reading level” close, but the kind of close that happens when you get crying phone calls at 2 am from a teenager and end up on their sofa eating Popsicles and processing life together.

My kids are my life and in turn, they know about my life.

They know my insecurities and weak places. They know where I struggle and stumble, and therefore they know just where to stab me when they are angry.

Because of this, I’ve gotten fairly wounded by the ones that I love as of late. I’ve spend my fair share of time crying in the hallway or in my coworkers’ classrooms.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that my students are the ones attacking me; to be honest, I don’t think they mean to hurt me. But I know the enemy does.

And so with every stab wound, he throws in some salt– the same salt every time. No one likes you. You’re stupid. You’re a b****. How did you get to be a teacher? You’re worthless. You’re too young to do this. God? He’s not using you for anything. You should just give up.

Last Thursday, as I sat in my empty classroom after school and sobbed, I was close to giving up and letting the darkness win. But God has created me to be far too stubborn for that nonsense.

So instead, I quit for the day and after work I bought a floppy sun hat, a pair of gardening gloves, a shovel, and absolutely went to town on weeding the garden of the house that I am currently staying at.

As I yanked plants out of the ground and cried, I also prayed. For my kids. For my coworkers. For my sanity. For protection from all of this insanity.

As I was nearing the end of my weeding mania, I sat against a fence post and took a break. Right then, a gross looking lime green caterpillar crawled onto the fence beside me.

I don’t understand how something so funny looking and gross can turn into something as beautiful as a butterfly. And then my English-teachery brain made a connection:

I love my students, but sometimes they are gross kinda like the caterpillar. No, they don’t ever look that weird (thank goodness) but because they’re still growing into butterflies, their actions and words are weird and gross sometimes. Sometimes they’re pokey and hard to hold onto, just like the creepy wormish thing crawling next to me.

But eventually that weird worm will turn into a butterfly and will be something that will take my breath away. And I know that God will do the same thing with my kiddos.

The darkness will not overcome us. They will grow into the magnificent young men and women that God is planning for them to be and I will be able to say that I survived working with a bunch of gross caterpillars while I sit and bask in the sunshine that will be butterfly season.

Like Serenity, I can’t quit. I love my weird little worms far too much. And in the most beautiful way possible, they’ve ruined my life. I can’t go back to living life without a parade of teenagers following me everywhere. I can’t go back to “normal” because God has called me to something so much more beautiful.

 

*Ps. Prayers are seriously SO appreciated right now. I know that God is bigger than all of the devil’s tomfoolery, but the onslaught of it is annoying. Prayers for protection and the mending of relationships within the school is also much appreciated. xo, Lou

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Wake up call

Easter Sunrise“Babe, wake up. Look at the sunrise! Come on, Kace… Wake up!”

For a year, I woke up to these words at least once a week. My ex-boyfriend, who I endured the slight misadventure of sharing an apartment with, was a morning person… and well, I am not.

Every Saturday morning he would beg me to wake up and watch the sunrise with him. Me, being the extreme romantic that I am, would roll over, smash my pillow over my head, and tell him to shut up and go back to sleep.

When we split a few years back, nothing really changed in regards to my non-morning-person-ness. Don’t get me wrong, I think morning people are wonderful, but try as I might, I just have never had that streak within me. If my job allowed it, I would sleep in until 9 am every morning and stay awake until 3 am every night.

That being said, this time last year when my friends and I had the bright idea to wake up and have our own little sunrise Easter worship service at Lookout Mountain, I was a little bit less than excited. I knew that it would be an amazing morning adventure, but I wasn’t incredibly jazzed about the idea of waking up at 5 am.

The night before Easter, I set five alarms on my phone out of fear that my anti-morning brain would over sleep. As I fell asleep I remember laying in bed dreading my early morning wake up call and thinking about all of the times I told Mr. Wrong to leave me be or let me sleep.

Just four hours after falling asleep, I sat straight up in my bed in my dark apartment– an hour before my alarm. Instead of my usual slightly grumpy / pre-coffee morning attitude, I was stoked for the day and wasn’t able to fall back asleep.

I hopped out of bed, turned off my alarm, took a shower, made coffee, and got dressed. (And not just in sweats– I’m talking “did my hair, put on a nice sundress, and managed to get some makeup on” kind of dressed.) I walked the dog and if I remember correctly I even had some quiet time with God that morning… All things that I hardcore struggle to do before 9 am, even on my most alert mornings.

Around 5:30, I hopped in my car and headed off to my friends’ house to load up and head to the mountains.

Wide eyed and bushy tailed we arrived at Lookout Mountain that morning just in time to watch the sun start to peek out from behind the Earth. That morning, with five of my closest friends, I sat on the mountain side and worshiped my King to the harmony of an acoustic guitar and a harmonica.

In that moment, everything was beautiful.

I didn’t mind that it wasn’t even 6 am yet, that it was still relatively dark, or kind of chilly.

In fact, as I sat there and watched the sun crest over my city, I felt God whisper in the depths of my soul. I woke you up to watch this sunrise with Me. You are my beloved and I am redeeming you.

And that He did, and continues to do so every single day.

A year later, sunrises still aren’t my favorite times of the day, but they no longer bring up the bitterness of a time of personal brokenness for me.

After all, isn’t that part of the beauty of Easter? Our Father sent His Son to reconcile our relationships with Him and His Spirit to dwell within us and begin to heal the wounds in the depths of our souls.

He is a wonderful Father and Lover, a beautiful Redeemer. He is my King and today we celebrate His risen Son.

In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace, which He lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight, making known to us the mystery of His will, according to His purpose, which He set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in Him, things in heaven and things on Earth.”

(Ephesians 1:7-10)

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Practically Peter

Easter Lillies

Easter is easily one of my favorite holidays and seasons. I mean, it’s full of cute baby farm animals, bacon’s red-headed step-child (ham), and flowers. Those things alone would make the heart of this sunflower rancher’s daughter burst with girlie joy, even if those were the only wonderful parts of this season… But they’re not.

This season is centered around God and his beautiful recreation of the world: the way that His redemptive power was personified through the death and resurrection of His Son, the unimaginable love that He showed for His people through Christ’s sacrifice, even the way that he continues to use imperfect people to build up a church to serve a Holy King. It all just makes my heart burst with joy!

As I sat and reflected on John 18 this week after Gospel Community, John’s account of Peter’s denial of Jesus in verses 15-27 struck something within me.

Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he entered with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, but Peter stood outside at the door. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to the servant girl who kept watch at the door, and brought Peter in. The servant girl at the door said to Peter, ‘You also are not one of this man’s disciples, are you?’ He said, ‘I am not.’ Now the servants and officers had made a charcoal fire, because it was cold, and they were standing and warming themselves. Peter also was with them, standing and warming himself. Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. So they said to him, ‘You also are not one of his disciples, are you?’ He denied it and said, ‘I am not.’ One of the servants of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, ‘Did I not see you in the garden with him?’ Peter again denied it, and at once a rooster crowed.”

Just hours earlier, Jesus had predicted that Peter would deny Him three times before the night was up. And what do ya know; Jesus’ prophecy came true.

Weird, right? It’s like Jesus knew Peter’s deceitful heart ahead of time and still loved Him despite it.

After re-reading John 18, I feel like I can relate to Peter the most out of all of the apostles.

Peter was a go-getter. An absolute hot mess of a go-getter.

I mean, if we look back in the first few verses of chapter 18 of John, Peter cuts off one of the ears of a guard who has come to arrest Jesus. He was well intentioned, but he got a little too excited in trying to defend Jesus and cut off the dude’s ear. (Oops.)

And then there was that time at the Last Supper when Peter told Jesus, “Though they all fall away because of you, I will never fall away.” (Matthew 26:33) Peter was absolutely in love with Jesus. He openly stated that He was willing to go anywhere, even to his death for his King.

Then this whole denying Jesus three times thing happens hours later and I’m left scratching my head thinking, Where the heck did the ever-devoted Peter go? How could he just abandon Jesus like that?

Aaaaaand then I remember who I am.

I am a woman who seeks after God in her own spastic, go-getter fashion. I love Him more than I love everything else in the world combined and I know that I would go to my death for my King.

And yet I am still an anxious, control-freak who tries to play it cool, yet always ends up cutting off someone’s ear (okay, it’s usually my own ear) in a moment of indiscretion.

I have a big mouth and if it’s not closely monitored, my God-given wit can be sharp and biting.

I am a passionate person and when I don’t use my passion for God and good instead of evil, (See look, I make pop culture references sometimes…) I easily fall into the traps of lust.

All of this to say, I am a hot mess, and yet God is using me anyway. Just like He used Peter, and just like I’m sure He is using you.

God has built His church out of screw ups and sinners… Screw ups and sinners whom He loves and is redeeming.

Peter went on to be one of the pillars of the early church and yet there he stood, just hours after His King had been arrested, and essentially spit in His face by denying Him not once, not twice, but three times.

I think that we often fall into the lies of “I’m not good enough to be loved by God” or “There’s no way that God could love me after I have [insert your supposedly unforgivable sin here].”

Yet He does.

He sent His Son to die for us because He is a forgiving Father who constantly redeems our stories.

He forgave and redeemed Peter, one of the people closest to Him on this earth, after he denied Him three stinking times.

God continues to forgive and redeem me when I put my foot in my mouth or when I figuratively cut off an ear in my own zealousness.

That truth is what this season is about. Easter isn’t about little chickens, candy, or visiting a creep dressed up in a rabbit costume at the mall.

Easter is about God and indescribable the way that He loves us, even when we spit in His face or trip and fall flat on our own faces after denying Him.

God is seeking to use you.

Will you let Him love you? Will you let Him use you in His Kingdom? Are you willing to let go of your shame and brokenness and let Him guide and redeem you?