I don't know when it happened, but it was a miracle.
Somewhere between the showers breaking and the fifth day of fast food something shifted. The buildings seemed smaller than when we arrived. Crosswalks were now a norm. We were no longer scared of the bus on the 16th Street Mall and now were catching it.
The people at ACTS resources were no longer strangers but knew a couple of our names and we joked about the bi-polar weather of Denver.
Picking up trash and graffiti removal in the neighborhood still seemed like a chore, but secretly we felt good after it was done.
We could now run in the thin mountain air without getting winded and sleep in our beds while the city was boisterous with sound at night.
Worship at night was no longer stiff and awkward but vibrant and alive.
Going to the skate park was like taking care of new friends rather than watching a show of skate-acrobatic brilliance.
We were no longer "the project leaders" and youth were no longer "the kids".
Somehow, God had make us see that we were all connected. All of us had become family in such a short time. We now cared for each other more like a family does.
And, by some mircale, God bonded us by His blood.
