"Do you have any video", asked Paulette, the Missions Coordinator when I called on Thursday afternoon after flying for six hours from Orlando. I kicked myself for not thinking to do that, but I was not trying to make this trip about me or Cru. This visit was an opportunity to acknowledge the couragous, faith-full, and generous community of faith known as Fair Oaks Presbyterian Church (FOPC). This family of faith has given more than a million dollars partnering with Cru to make disciples and help fulfill the Great Commission. Amazing. So, the thought was that we would play a video about Cru and then turn our attention on FOPC. I scrambled to create a video, but a mistake on my part did not enable it to be shown. Oh well, we made do, but let me share it with you. Let me know what you think.
I type words onto my screen. A few sentences form. Then I find myself once again stuck. Wondering how to share our journey of adoption in a way that honors everyone in the family. I backspace until the words disappear faster than they came. Usually I stop writing. Because this journey is so long, so raw, still so ache-filled after four years. Then I share with a trusted friend, which I've found are few and far between. Most, we've experienced, haven't enough grace in their well to walk this road beside us. This too, makes it hard to keep words on my screen.
The friend will tell me, "People need to hear these stories. They need to hear the hard reality of adoption."
I think, ours isn't everybody's story. Just yesterday I visited a Facebook page created by our adoption agent that includes over 180 families who've adopted from Ethiopia through them. I read a post by a doting father, "She's the light of our lives..." A picture of a beautiful family with their beautiful Ethiopian daughter. Everybody looking so happy. And I believe that father's post. I don't doubt it for a minute. And I am genuinely glad for them. This is mostly the adoption story I read on the Internet as I desperately search some days for a thread to keep the tapestry from unraveling.
At the same time, as I read his post I was aware of shame creeping around my soul, hungry for an invitation to re-enter the place it occupied for so many years following our adoption. The shame of felt failure as a mom which consumed me. Thinking if I was different, I would bond with my daughters. Connect. Attach. Believing for too long that the gaping space between our hearts would have closed were it not for me. The battle is still fierce.
Though our story isn't everybody's story, it is some people's story. I have files on my computer titled The Stuff I Can't Blog About. Some need to stay locked away and then deleted before my death. Others, however, could have been good posts which might have brought a thread of hope to another in my shoes. So, today I am going head to head with the silence. Digging deep to write of our struggles in a way that honors all the players. This is part of what's stopped me in the past...when the ache is so guttural, the energy it takes to honor everyone in the story has been consumed by survival.
My daughters lived a lifetime before we met. They watched their young mother of 20 years old die of disease. They were then relinquished by their polygamous father to the orphanage in their village, an all boy's orphanage in which they were unable to reside. So they remained with their father and three step-moms in their village. We've learned from Ethiopian friends and strangers, that polygamous children who lose their moms are considered unloved, and often treated like slaves by the step-moms. From the way Mez spoke and related to her younger sister, Kamise when they arrived, we could see imprints of this reality on them, in them. After five years on the waiting children (older orphaned children waiting for families to choose them) adoption page, we chose them.
Perplexed by how we'd choose a child, a few adopted mom's had told me, "You'll know when you see them."
Know they're who God has chosen for our family. And that's how it was. A mystical knowing.
We have progressed in melding together in the past four years. Some of us experience more progression than others. It feels like we've been on the front lines, warring for beauty to win so fiercely that it has taken, and is taking, everything. Everything.
And there is so far to go. I can only hope this to be true. That there's still more for us. Because the relational reality of detachment between my heart and my daughter's hearts feels palpable to me. I watch them excitedly greet and run into the arms of
We are told this is
When wrestling with God over the decision to adopt, I pretty much heard Him yell from the roof tops, "I want your life to be marked by something only I can pull off."
Bingo. This is definitely only something that He can pull off. I believed that going in and I know that to the core of my being still. I am powerless to pull off much of anything in my relationship with them. I've heard people say that adoption helps you better understand the adoptive heart of God.
Not for this adoptive mom. If anything, it helps me understand how completely I cannot understand the adoptive heart of God. My reality of love is on a completely other plane than His, I'm convinced. His heart of love is more mysterious to me now that it's ever been. As I battle to continue to love, to move toward
This morning I ran to Ann Voskamp's blog, A Holy Experience, grasping for a thread. Grateful to find this one wrapping itself around my soul,
"Lent. It's the preparing the heart for Easter. Like going with Jesus into the wilderness for forty days, that we might come face to ugly face with our enemy. Our sacrificing that we might become more like Christ in His sacrifice...
"We renounce to be reborn; we let go to become 'little Christs'. It's about this: We break away to become."
I think I'm in my fourth year of lent. A very loooooooong preparation for Easter. For the day when I will fall into the arms of my Jesus, with His nail-scarred hands and feet, all in His stunning glory, and it will have all been worth it. Worth the cost because I really do want to be formed into a little Christ. I really do ache for the parts of me, which hunger for anything but God to satisfy my deepest parts, to be put in their rightful place. Renouncing control, comfort, and freedom with the hope of formation. Perhaps I am being reborn in a deeper way. Perhaps in my ache I am becoming. A thread of hope.
“Madison, maybe you could study abroad or go on a mission trip to a Spanish speaking country sometime to help you become more fluent in Spanish,” I suggested as we moved Madison into her dorm at Palm Beach Atlantic University 18 months ago. She was a Spanish minor at the time.
“I don’t do mission trips, mom. I’m not a mission trip kind of girl.” She replied emphatically.
If you have young adult children, you know you can’t tell them what to do and making suggestions is risky business. I hadn’t expected Madison to readily embrace the idea, but I hadn’t envisioned her response either. I was fine with it. She takes after her momma with her will of steel.
Six weeks later we vacationed in Palm Beach so we could be near her.
During dinner one night she shared, “I think I’m going on a mission trip to Bolivia over Spring Break.”
Inside, I smiled big. Like really big. I wondered if she remembered the declaration she’d made to me six weeks earlier. I wasn’t about to bring it up at the time. She told us some detail about the trip, the orphans she’d be loving on, the sidewalk Sunday School outreaches they’d be doing in the community. And I was delighted.
I asked her how it had all come about. She said that PBA offered a week-long event introducing their mission opportunities for Spring Break. She had no interest in participating. Didn’t attend any sessions. The following week her friends were talking about places they were hoping to go. When one of them talked about Bolivia, something in her moved. Gave birth to desire. She knew that she wanted to go to Bolivia.
When Madison returned home for Thanksgiving break, excitedly anticipating the Bolivia trip, I asked her if she’d remembered the pronouncement she’d made when we dropped her off in August. She was a blank slate. No memory of that conversation. Sometimes fear is like that. I smiled. She smiled.
She needed $1500 and believed God would provide for her so she could join the Bolivia team. Provide He did. Abundantly. Watching God build your child’s faith in His provision and care is one of the most deeply stirring moments of my parenting journey. Faith flowing out of her which I've battled fiercely for 24 years to access in myself.
Off she went to the mountainous beauty of Bolivia. She played, she held little ones, she shared The love of Jesus to kids through a play on the sidewalk, she grew ill, and she connected. She returned to Palm Beach changed through soccer and games. She told me that she might want to be a missionary in Bolivia. She couldn’t wait to return. So much love spilled forth for the boys in this orphanage of love. The Father captured her heart for many of the boys. But one in particular tugged continuously. Simón was 14 years old.
Over the next months, Madison talked about how she wanted to sponsor Simón. It would cost her $75/month. I explored how the funds would be used with her for this was one of the highest sponsorships I’d encountered. After some conversation I found it to be legit. More than anything, I was awed by the generosity bubbling up in my nineteen year-old daughter. Stunned.
Even though her salary was only $400/month while at school, Madison’s intention to sponsor Simón strengthened with each day. She began to save and by the end of last July, she asked me whether or not I thought she should take the leap and commit.
A small part of me thought to say, "$75 is a big chunk of your salary...are you sure you can handle that?" After all, you're saving for a car, for books, for....
Thankfully, the part of me hungry to know the God of the universe spoke louder, "if God is leading you to begin, then listen and leap."
Welcome to my internal world. These are the conversations warring inside my soul all day, every day. My 19 year-old daughter was leaping into financial generosity in a way I've never leapt. Believing God will continue to provide so she can keep giving away. Grace touching the next generation, releasing something so good. Challenging me to hold looser.
So with a little money in her bank account....she leapt.
We had taught her about God’s heart for us to hold loosely to things of this world so we could cling tightly to Him. How tithing is one way we love God and keep a loosened grip on His provision. But we’d taught her to give 10%. Not 20% or more. Not that she couldn’t give more. We just taught her about the bare minimum. Even when we teach our kids principles of loving well, there’s no guarantee they will choose that path.
How many college students, or people for that matter, choose to give at all? And then choose to give more? According to Relevant Magazine, only five percent of the US tithes. 80% of Americans are only given at 2.5 percent per capita.
My point isn’t to condemn, because I know well the battle to hold loosely to God’s provision. My point is that my daughter is blowing my mind. And that’s not an exaggeration. God’s deposited within her a compassion and love for orphans which has moved her to action. Love always does. Madison would never want me to pedestalize her. In fact, she hates the spotlight. But I couldn’t keep silent about the way our God is moving her to sacrifice on behalf of one who is father and motherless. How beautiful is a heart which reflects His. How beautiful it is when a mother is challenged by her steel-will daughter's generosity.
In March, Madison will return to Bolivia for nine days to love on the boys who live at Bolivia Life Center. I'm thinking it will pretty amazing to have the opportunity to hang out and play with Simón and the other boys as she's sacrificed much for them. I love how God so tenderly moves into the soul, through the steel will. And how powerfully those steel wills impact this world when released from fear to life.
“So what is your secret to be living through 80 years?" I asked my mom at our little dinner party with my sister and brother-in-law. She glanced my way, found her words and said, "Well, you know, my faith." That was that. Simple and firm.
My mom is in a unique place mixing the past with the present, and sometimes adding a little fantasy to keep us on our toes, but she has never wavered in her trust that God knows her and she knows Him enough to enjoy His peace and presence. I am grateful for the chance to celebrate this day with her, and more grateful that she modeled enough of that simple and firm faith that it was easy for me to place my trust in God in the same way.
I love my momma.
She turned 20 on January 8th.
He turned 15 on January 15th.
For 11 years they were our bookends.
She calls him her cuddle buddy.
He pursues her with intentionality.
They both love Dr. Who and a good sci-fi flick.
Celebrating your two incredible lives, Madison and Cole.
December 23 was an ordinary day for you and me, perhaps, but for Vonette Bright, Cru's co-founder, she awoke in the presence of the Lord whom she had loved and served. Tomorrow we will formally celebrate her life in a service, which, if you would like, can be watched online. It will be recorded as well, so if you are unable to watch it live, you may watch it later. Click here if you would like to watch the service live, or later follow this same link to see a recording of the service.
Lisa and I love and appreciate you,
Dennis and Lisa
We sat around our large dining room table, feasting on terriyaki while anticipating our family Christmas celebration. It was December 19th. The week had been full with a catering job, kids finishing school for the holiday break, Christmas shopping, and our intent to celebrate Christmas and my birthday before boarding a plane at the crack of dawn on the 21st.
Kamise and Mez had enjoyed the fare of three Christmas parties that day so were up in their rooms wrapping their gifts to the family and preparing for bed. As the rest of us were finishing our meal, Kamise bounced down the stairs. A few of us caught a glimpse of her and were surprised by her hairdo. Mez had pulled her two-inch long hair into little Pom poms all over her head. There must have been 14 of them. It was a look we'd encountered every Saturday for the first six months after Mez and Kamise arrived from Ethiopia, but not since then.
Hair was an integral part of their culture. They would spend three to four hours working on each other's one to two-inch long hair on Saturdays. But their hair doesn't grow longer than a short afro because of genetics. So it was difficult to produce a becoming hairstyle after all of their labor. We loved their afros and encouraged them to embrace that style over pom poms and such. Pom poms on eleven and nine year-old girls was a bit out of place.
So we were caught off guard when Kamise bounded down the stairs, head covered in pom poms, ready to celebrate Christmas and all of its photographic opportunities. Much to my shame, I voiced my disapproving surprise with a sarcastic comment. Another followed suit. There were sounds of surprise. Some restrained themselves. But I didn't. I was the fool who spoke without thinking first.
And I am her mother.
She stood inside Dennis's arm and took our banter. Then she turned and ran up the stairs. I was covered in my ugliness. The one who's supposed to protect and deposit life in her did just the opposite. I followed her upstairs and when I entered her room, she was removing the bands which bundled her hair. Her new counselor's voice streamed through my mind,
"She is full of fear and anger and doesn't know how to let it out. It's all bound up in her."
She was skilled at blocking the flow of tears of sadness. Skilled at clamping down on them to not risk vulnerability. I looked her in her dark brown eyes as she tore at the bands with her comb.
"Kamise, I was so ugly to you. My words brought death. I am supposed to be a life-giver to you and instead I was unkind and unloving. I feel terrible about what I spoke into you. Please forgive me."
Still tearing at bands, she forgave me. But the battle to forgive myself loomed over me. I walked out of her room and asked Cole to take his turn with his sister. All 6'1" of him humbled before her and sought her forgiveness. When he exited the room, he told me she was crying. Tears were breaking through the tough and I entered back into her room.
She was a heap under her covers, crying. I sat beside her, hovering over her with my body, and apologized over and over for hurting her. As I did so, her whimpers turned to heaves. She wept and wept and cleansed the pain. Fear beginning to give way to trust. She began to form words in her weeping, expressing her fear that her brothers aren't going to like her Christmas gifts for them because she didn't have much money to spend and they're not good. Her shame poured forth and her fear that she would ruin their Christmas. It was deep and guttural. I asked her if she would be willing to share this with them before we open our gifts. To my surprise, she agreed.
Her vulnerability was stunning. It was beautiful. It was so very brave. To forge a path into an established family system is a monumental journey. To be outsiders in a well-oiled family machine must be such a lonely reality. And to be small. And to feel powerless to become an insider. She is fierce and she is a fighter. And our fierce fighter grew even fiercer as she opened her soul to us that night. Even after some of us had shot arrows at her.
Keegan came to her and wrapped her in his arms as she wept out her shame and fear.
"Kamise, I love you whether you buy me a gift or not. I love you. I'm so glad your my sister." He continued to reassure her as she heaved in his arms. She then threw off the covers saying she was hot and leapt into his arms, wrapping herself tight around him. She held onto her 18 year-old brother with all that was in her, sobbing in his embrace.
I was witnessing a miracle. Redemption rising out of the ashes of darkness. My words had crucified, and I was watching the God of the universe bring beauty from ashes, resurrect life from death.
After Keegan left her room, I asked Cole to return. Kamise leapt out of her bed and threw her body around him, holding him as if life depended on it. Her invitational soul surprised him. He wrapped himself around her and listened attentively as she offered her shame and fear once again. Tears filled his eyes then spilt forth. How stunning is the power of a vulnerable soul. Through his tears he expressed his love for her despite her gift; that he's so thankful she bought him a gift at all.
"I love you. I'm so glad you're my sister."
"I love you and I'm so glad you're my brother," Kamise wept.
And there I was, sitting on her bed, witnessing the supernatural movement of souls. And weeping with my children. Tears of ache. Tears of wonder. Tears of gratitude.
When we sensed God leading us to adopt, He whispered the following to my heart,
"I'm calling you into deep waters. I am marking your life with something only I can pull off. You can't pull this off. Nobody can pull this off but me. I alone will receive the glory."
I wanted my life to be marked by Him. To be marked by Him doing the impossible. Yet I waded into the deep waters trembling with fear, knowing I was in way above my head. And we were, and we are.
Yet this Christmas, as we celebrate how Hope broke through Heaven into the arms of an unwed virgin, to offer us resurrection out of His crucifixion....
The stream of his Hope is bursting forth life in the Brockman family. Without a doubt, only He could pull this off.
She celebrated Christmas in the presence of God, alongside her lifelong best friend Bill Bright and many other friends and family. On December 23, Vonette Bright inhaled her first breath of celestial atmosphere and was home. On December 9, I attended a Christmas gathering with some of the leaders at Lake Hart, Cru's world headquarters. Our president, Steve Douglass, spoke with Vonette on the phone and their voices filled our room. We heard Vonette say how happy she was and how she was not in any pain. She was thrilled to enjoy several weeks of many of her earth friends coming by for a visit and maybe a last goodbye this side of heaven. She said she was ready to go. Steve asked her how we could pray for her.
She said, "Well, I don't think you should pray that I would be healed [of acute leukemia]. That would be sort of a downer at this point."
We all laughed. She shared that she remains excited and believes that we are very close to fulfilling the Great Commission.
She concluded, "I think I will watch it unfold from heaven.".
Our founders have gone before us and leave us with continuing the task of going and making disciples in all nations. We are committed to doing so with faithful friends like you.
We were blown away by the talent of the musicians and singers at the Timber Creek High School Christmas concert. We loved seeing our Cole up there singing and sounding like a Straight No Chaser rendition of the 12 Days of Christmas. The students obviously worked hard to produce the sounds we enjoyed. It makes me smile big to know that so many of these special events at this time of the year are inspired by the specific and incomparable gift that God gave us in the unique birth of His son, Jesus. We hope we play a part in enabling many more to revel in this good news through our lives and ministry. Thankfully, we are not alone in this hope.
God bless you and I hope you enjoy all the celebrations inspired by the birth of our King.
Happy Thanksgiving! Lisa and I are so grateful to be engaged in a ministry focused on introducing others to Jesus Christ and that we do it with a community of believers who believe that this is our unique role and that it is our privilege to respond to God's Great Commission to "Go...". I was reflecting on Genesis 12:2-3 where God had promised to Abraham that he would bless him and cause his reputation to grow so that he would become a blessing and an example to others. God is still blessing and I am grateful we can be a blessing to others as well.
With the love of Jesus Christ, I hope you each have a wonderful day reflecting on God's grace and mercy and that you share in a partnership of introducing others to this grace every day.
We love that you are helping to fulfill the Great Commission. This quarterly report is evidence God is moving in many far away places. As we partner and link arms with our brother and sisters literally around the world we are a part of our prayer, "thy kingdom come". This post is much longer than our regular posting, but I wanted you to see our whole report, because as you partner with us YOU are making a difference.
Perhaps you've read Stephen Covey's book 7 Habits of Highly Successful People. It is a best seller and has circulated for years. One of the seven habits is called "Sharpening the Saw." Stephen noted that successful people have a habit of developing themselves in order to keep themselves fit for their tasks. We took two days as a team to sharpen our saw by working our way through a training we call Building Powerful Ministry Teams (BPMT). For me this was the best team training I have ever participated in. It addresses the foundational areas that must function well if you are to be a powerful team. And we want that. You have heard me say this before, and I know you believe this too, because of your partnership with us.
Every day the Cru family (that includes you) awakes knowing that billions of people are deeply loved by their creator, but their sin separates them from knowing Him. We know that we are uniquely positioned to lead them to Jesus, under which there is no other name in which they can be saved. We can introduce them to Jesus, show them how to live with Jesus and train them to make disciples just like Jesus did. Win. Build. Send. If everybody did this we would see the Great Commission fulfilled. For us there is no other option.
We must work well as a team for our task is so great. Thank you for being on our team and helping to fulfill the Great Commission.
Homecoming is a tradition on college campuses dating back to 1911. The tradition includes the invitation to alumni to return to their school for celebrations that often include a parade, banquet and/or football game. High schools picked up the tradition and inserted it after their team's longest "road" game. They normally take place at the end of October or early Novemember. This week Timber Creek High school, the school Cole and Keegan attend, held their homecoming week. It was a week-long celebration, including a pep rally, a football game and a dance. Cole took it all in and had a ball. The pictures are of his "squad."
A few days ago I learned of a "
Our oldest son turned 18 this past week. For his birthday dinner, we celebrated him with giant burgers and homemade fries and spoke words of life into him in celebration of who he is. We could not be more proud of the man Keegan has become. God has graciously taken our diligent, yet "falling-so-far-short" parenting offering and interwoven it with His brilliant colors of grace and is forming a stunning young man. A friend of ours, who couldn't be with us in person, sent Keegan this letter.
I couldn't have said it better.
Gliding over the mountains of Turkey at sunset. Remarkable. Jesus’ words again ricochet around my head in God’s commission to all followers of Jesus Christ, “Go out into all the nations…” We land shortly and then we will embark on a four day journey with 90 others who are gathering together to learn, discuss, pray and look to God to inspire and give us faith to go after the task of telling everyone everywhere about our triune God, his practices and his posture and show them how to obey the commands he laid down for us.
One posture and practice that we will discuss thoroughly is praying for our daily bread. We have to do this individually and we must do so to carry out plans and strategies to be faithful to God’s commission. As leaders in helping to fulfill the Great commission we need fully supported staff, fully supported teams to carry out strategies, offices that have the tools and systems in place to meaningful invite, thank, report and repeat so that others can join us with their gifts, and to be constantly on the look out for a network on generous givers who want and need to be about the task of reaching the world for Christ.
All of our international leaders already are so courageous in embarking on this mission. They live daily so dependent on the Lord to protect and provide for them. Pray for us as we encourage one another to believe. To believe that God will supply what we need to do what He has asked us to do. Our verse that has inspired us to even gather as we have is this:
Pray that we we believe this with all of our hearts, minds and strength.
Go into all the world" He said. I love how you have responded to that commission as you partner with Lisa and I in this mission. It will be more literal this week and next. I leave for Turkey this week to go and prayerfully inspire international ministry leaders to believe God when he says,
Many of them are in challenging areas of the world economically, spiritually, and/or politically, but to mature and become all that God designed them to be and go after the visions He gives them they must learn also trust Him to provide and even fund His plans. By God's grace other countries like ours will have the privilege of helping them, but to be faithful in making disciples, we must also teach them to pray and ask God to supply their daily bread. Many do this already, but they don't know how to expand to believe God for even a larger vision for what He would do in them and through them. We hope to share with them some things we have learned.
WKLM are letters that remind us that partnering with others is a journey and it is more like farming than hunting. We have learned that our donors want to engage and stay engaged through an inspiring relationship.
- W (winning represents asking or inviting (winning) a person to embrace the Great Commission with us.
- K (keep) represents our intent to inspire an enduring relationship together as we obey and "go".
- L (lift) reminds us that staying at the task of telling others about Jesus will require increasing commitment.
- M reminds us that we want to scale our involvement and the involvement of others as we continue to invite and ask others to join with us (multiply).
We have another acronym that captures the people we want to inspire our international friends to trust God to provide and that is L.I.F.E. We hope they will look for and find partners who will share their leadership, influence, finances and expertise in helping them reach their part of the world.
This week and next you and I will be about the work of making disciples literally around the world. We meet for four days. Pray that we can all be great leaders, learners and lovers as we follow Jesus Christ.
A few days ago I was attempting to imagine how radical it was to hike up to that mountain and meet Him one last time? Had I been one of Jesus Christ's disciples, I wouldn't have known what to think or how to act. I would have arrived there on the mountain in
And there He
Then he speaks, "I am here speaking with all the authority of God..." Oh,
Jesus goes on, "who has commanded me to give you this commission..." I begin to kneel.
Here it comes, "Go and make disciples in all nations."
Really, all nations? Samaritans, Greeks, Rooooomans!? "But, I thought we were the chosen ones," passes through my mind.
Jesus says, "Ceremoniously wash them through baptism in the name of the Triune God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit".
I am beginning to get this, but will they? Will they ever believe He is a perfect community--separate yet equal? Do I even get this? How will they get this? You are sending me to do this? Really? These are just some of the many thoughts crashing your brain. I'm almost dizzy with shock, awe, and fear.
I hear Jesus say again, "Then make disciples".
He is sending me to make disciples. I am not a rabbi. I would not even be considered an elder. I am making disciples? How? I wrestle to accept the charge.
Jesus says, "Form them in the practices and postures that I taught you and show them how to follow the commands I have laid down for you."
Practices, postures, and commands... really? Do I know these? Have I even lived out these? Jesus, how? His final words drop into my soul with this promise, "And I will be with you day after day, to the end of the age."
Then he just lifts up off the ground and ascends into the clouds. I strain to see him go. He's left me speechless.
Imagine. Since that day, too many to number have been living Christ's commission to His followers. It is a gift beyond measure to have the privilege of playing some small role in His kingdom partnering with you.
We were all commissioned and we are making disciples. Thank you for your faith and commitment to the task.
Remember moving on campus. Wondering what your roomate(s) will be like. Your head spinning with details with so many new things. Already missing the familiar like family, food and friends, but filled with the excitement of everything being new. A new place, people, routines. There are about 40 million new freshman this year, welcome the class of 2020.
Imagine what it would be like if the first book the freshman got was a bible, or the first friend they made was a follower of Jesus Christ, or their first teacher was a believer, or their first college discussion was about Jesus. You that partner with us have been making that a reality for thousands of freshmen (and
We just began our second year as parents of a college student. We moved Madison on campus this past weekend where she is set to begin her sophomore year.
You may have a son, daughter, niece, nephew, grandson, or granddaughter heading to campus this fall. Click here to discover if Cru has a ministry on that campus. You will also find a letter there from one of our staff titled Every Freshman Girl Needs to Read This. It is excellent. If you read it, I think the Spirit will clue you into all kinds of prayers you can pray for this beautiful strategic class of students.
Don't forget to pray for the class of 2020 during these life-shaping first few weeks of the semester.
We appreciate you!