Hi world! Chris here. Sorry for the untimely update. I had the terrible misfortune or parting with a beloved dog last month, and it really dampened my desire to post anything. Then I had the amazing opportunity to be in my best friend’s wedding, so I was too busy to post anything.

However, I really didn’t want to leave you all hanging, so I decided to post twice this week to make up for it. Yes, that means there will be a regular post this Friday too.

In the meantime, enjoy this personal essay I wrote when I was a freshman in college. It won an award at my school that year, and was printed in the English booklets for the next round of Freshman to read in class.

I had kind of forgotten about it to be honest, but I was looking for my old resume on my mom’s computer and stumbled across it. Thought it might be nice to share something uplifting in these strange and kind of frightening times.

The child’s name has been changed for his safety! 🙂

Just a T-Shirt

I didn’t even bother to fold it when I tossed it in my suitcase before we left. A sickly and putrid kind of green, I knew I wouldn’t be wearing that T-shirt again. Nobody, no matter how good looking, could pull off that color or the ugly, choking neckline. The back was stained with numbers and names in permanent marker, scribbled hastily under the big black letters SHRMP. It was the reminder of a long and terrible week spent in Norfolk, Virginia. I was meant to go on a mission of service to God, but I just ended up being miserable. I was ready to move on to the rest of my summer, so I eagerly shoved it, and the memories it carried, in the trash bag of unwanted clothes. The folds of fabric obscured the words people had written, every name was blotted out but one. It stared at me accusingly, forcing me to remember the promise I made to the little boy that changed my week for the better and my life forever.

My youth pastor had promised we would have fun. “It’s a life altering experience,” he said, persuading me and thirty other members of my youth group to spend a week of our summer running VBS for kids in Norfolk, Virginia. By the first day, we knew he was lying. Bad food, harsh adults, disobedient children, and sweltering temperatures destroyed our spirits. By the end of the week, nobody wanted to talk or play. We all felt a little dead inside and were ready to be home. The kids on our sites did not feel the same. If anything, they were even wilder on that last day than they had been all week. It took at least thirty minutes for me to be able to gather my group at our station. As the teacher started their lesson, one little boy pulled me away from the group yet again. He’d been asking to talk to me for most of the week, but I was always too busy chasing down runaways to have a moment alone with him. Now that there was some peace, he tugged on my ugly green shirt until I complied.

“I’m free to talk now Jamie. What is it?” I sat in the grass next to him, finally offering some relief to my aching feet and legs while the rest of me was left aching to be off the trip. I was ready for the day to end. Even my half-deflated air mattress bed was a more appealing thought than being there. This kid was the last thing standing in my way before I’d be free again, and yet there he was hesitating to answer my question. It was only then I noticed how nervous he was and how he eyed the salvation bracelet they’d given us back at the church.

“Can you tell me about Jesus?” he finally asked. The air mattress in my mind completely deflated. I forgot my feet. I forgot about leaving tomorrow.

“Oh. Of course. What do you want to know?” I asked.

Jamie shrugged shyly. “I wanna know how to be saved.”

I pulled the bracelet off my wrist and handed it to him. It was banded with different colors to represent different stages of accepting salvation. The first band stood for the sins we have committed that set us apart from our God. The red band after that was for Jesus’s blood that he shed on the cross to save us from these sins. Next came the blue band for the act of baptism to publicly profess your faith in Jesus Christ. The white band represented how God forgives us and makes us pure. The green band meant that we should grow in our faith. Lastly, the gold band stood for our reward in Heaven. I pointed to each one as I explained them. Jamie listened with the curiosity of any child. He even asked questions and I gave him examples of living a Christian life. “I wanna be saved,” he said when I finished.

I showed him the Lord’s prayer and gave him an example of what I prayed when I accepted Christ into my heart, but I left it up to him to do it. It was everyone’s decision to make on their own and I couldn’t do it for him. Even so, he asked me to stay with him and listen while he prayed. “Of course, Jamie. I’ll stay with you.” We held hands and I was reminded of how young and small he was. All week long, he had been the most obedient and eager to please of all the kids I had worked with. Kneeling by him in the grass, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride in him. I had seen him reading with the younger kids at the book station, running after the leaders at the game station, and now I saw him opening his heart to God instead of leaving for the food station with the other kids. He came from a family that had so little and there he was giving up more to have Jesus.

I looked back on myself in shame. I had given up my sense of fashion and my freedom for one week and all I had done was complain. Jamie was small, but already more mature than I was. It made it impossible to doubt how heartfelt his prayer was. Especially when he looked up smiling as he finished. For a moment, the sun didn’t seem as bright compared to his gap-toothed grin. My feet weren’t even sore when I stood back up to hug him. In one simple moment I was reminded of what the week was meant to be. It wasn’t for me, it was for all the kids like Jamie. They were the ones who deserved the little luxuries I craved from back home. Instead, all I could offer him was the chance to sign my ugly green shirt. For him, it was more than enough.

He hugged me and thanked me before I left. I hugged him too and promised that I would pray for him. In my heart I promised to pray for all the kids I’d met that week. Their names were etched on my shirt as a reminder, alongside my youth group members who I decided to pray for as well. They all stared at me together from the bottom of the trash bag.

Shaking my head, I reached in and pulled it out the same way Jamie had pulled my week out of the gutter I had put it in. Instead, I left it neatly folded in my drawer. I knew I still probably wouldn’t wear it again, but at least I would have it close. Jamie was the first person I lead to Christ, and I did it during what I thought was one of the worst weeks of my life, wearing that T-shirt.

I hope you enjoyed this little story. If you have the time, say a prayer for Jamie. I hope he’s still doing alright. The same goes for all of you!

I’ll see you next week. Until then, stay safe out there!