It’s an eerie feeling to sense a child’s cry for help by merely looking into his eyes. When I looked into the eyes of the students with whom I worked, while serving at the Wyandotte County Juvenile Detention Center the summer before earning my first degree from Kansas State University, I could sense their desire to want something better, to do better, to be better. They weren’t crying out for help verbally; it was written all over their faces, as their eyes spoke with a heart-pounding hopelessness. I could clearly feel the Lord prompting me to do something about what I experienced that summer, but instead of extending my hand to help, I flared my arms in the face of God and refused to move back to Wyandotte County. Returning for one summer to work at the juvenile detention center was enough — there was no way I would ever return there to live.
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