my water bottle is hurt.

14 weeks down. 90 to go.

If I were my water bottle, I'd be thrown 50 feet into a tree.
If I were my water bottle, I'd be kicked repeatedly.
If I were my water bottle, I'd be covered in dirt.
If I were my water bottle, I'd be kidnapped and buried.
If I were my water bottle, I'd be dented and disfigured.

I'm glad I'm not my water bottle, but in so many ways, I feel like I am my water bottle.

I watched Clash of the Titans last night and found myself oddly relating to Zeus. In no way would I ever really compare myself to a god or supreme being or creator, but here I go:

Zeus's people--the ones he protected and cared for--rebelled against him and declared war on him after years and years and years of love, protection, and sanctuary. He then had the option to set Hades free over his people in an effort to win back their worship. Zeus was said to have loved humans too much.

To have loved them too much.

This morning I walked into the juvenile division of the courthouse and pressed assault charges on one of my campers, and as I walked out of the courthouse, I asked myself, "Have I loved them too much? Is that why all of this is happening?"

I feel powerless and helpless right now. The storm has yet to settle, and it feels like my campers have cut off my hands and feet. Some of my campers just don't get it. They don't get that for some of them, it's their last chance. They don't get that someone somewhere saw something within them that could bring hope and change into a damaged life. They don't get that there are individuals who have pushed pause on their own lives to live with them and give them 24/7 attention and help them walk through problems. And for some of these kids, they choose to continue on with these self-destructive choices without considering the consequences.

So here come the consequences, and it breaks my heart to think that the chances are greater that he'll repond negatively and end up in a facility that won't care about whether or not he succeeds.

I'm just not sure what else it takes to save this group. It's not as simple as riding out the storm. It's about finding the right way to fight at the right time to wake these kids up to see the consequences without bringing down the iron fist. It's about tough love. Unconditional love, but it's about realistic love. Love that still experiences consequences and pain and struggle and victory.

Have I loved them too much? No.
Have I loved them the right way? Not yet.

This program should not have to exist. This type of experience should never be lived. I should not be here.

But I am, and we're living it, and it does exist. And there are kids that benefit from this program. I watched one graduate this week and cried as I told him how proud I was that he took hold of this opportunity, and I know there are others like him who need this place, who get it, and who want this opportunity. I just hope I can figure out who they are before it's too late.