If there’s one thing I love, it’s middle schoolers. I can already see your nose scrunched up in disbelief. Did she really just say she loves middle schoolers?
Yes, really. I think they’re hilarious.
As a teacher, I saw a wide range of middle schoolers–girls who were surprisingly mature,
boys who would make silly jokes, and both boys and girls who liked to put me in my place
(doesn’t 13 years of life experience mean that they know everything??).
I have such a soft spot for these kids. That’s why, when I was asked to serve on the St. Louis Legacy Retreat®, I asked if I could facilitate the middle school (tween) age group.
During my time with IoH, I’ve had the honor of facilitating group sessions multiple times. While each retreat is a powerful experience, there was something extra special about this group.
During groups, facilitators offer valuable tools and resources to help teens navigate the emotions that come with having a terminally ill parent. Through games, hands-on activities, and engaging discussion, children learn how to acknowledge emotions while discovering that they’re not alone in their journey.
It’s never lost on me that one of the most impactful experiences for these teens is connecting with others who “get it.” The teen years can be lonely, but for three special days on a Legacy Retreat®, they can look around the room and realize they’re not alone.
Connections always form, so what was so special about this specific retreat?
The boys.
I had the joy of co-facilitating with my friend, Lexy. As we made our pre-retreat game plan, we expected the girls to feel fairly comfortable with conversations around emotions. We also expected some common behaviors from the boys: arms crossed to communicate their skepticism and speaking only when strongly encouraged.
But what happened shocked us.
As the kids filed into the conference room, they were directed to sit in a large circle on the floor. A box of fidgets (which we normally keep hidden to prevent distraction), was discovered and quickly distributed among the boys. Lexy and I wanted to start on the right foot, so we decided not to take the fidgets away.
As activities and discussion began, I quickly noticed that while the boys appeared to be
preoccupied with the fidgets, they were listening. When asked a question, they answered and
reacted to the responses of others.
That’s great! I thought. But we’re still just doing introductions. I doubt they’ll be as ready to
share their feelings.
When we asked tweens to sit at a table of their choice, the girls gathered at one table and the
boys at another. Chairs were pulled up to make room for everyone. We considered
adding a third table to avoid crowding, but we sensed something special was happening, so
we let it be.
Our first activity was “Color Your Heart,” where tweens use various colors to represent their
emotions. We encouraged them that emotions are not “good” or “bad,” but rather “pleasant” or “unpleasant.” After choosing their colors, they shaded their hearts in proportion to the intensity of that feeling. For example, I might choose red to represent anger and purple to represent peace. If I feel mostly anger, I shade a large part of my heart in red.
Though the boys remained focused on the fidgets, I eventually saw colored pencils being
used. After a few minutes, we called everyone back to the floor circle.
When invited to share, every participant shared the emotion in their heart. I was pleasantly surprised. Not only did the boys share, but some of their emotions were incredibly profound. Though I thought attention was directed at their fidgets, they listened to one another and responded. I was thrilled. They were connecting! Even writing this now gives me goosebumps.
The relationships that started in that group continued and deepened through every
activity that weekend. I’ve never seen a group of middle school boys connect like this group
did. They worked together, built off of one another in conversation, and even challenged each
other to share their thoughts.
Outside of groups, I rarely saw them apart. If I saw one, I knew the others were not far behind.
And no one was on their phone. This allowed for genuine friendships based on connectedness, activity, and quality time.
When the retreat ended, Lexy and I remarked on how moved we were to watch friendships form between the members of our group. The most impactful part for me was seeing their hearts slowly open to one another as they built trust and earned each other’s respect.
What was the secret? Why was this group such a success?
I believe there are two reasons.
First, I’m reminded of what my friend Spencer once told me: “Jensi, girls connect by talking. Boys connect by doing stuff together.” Remember the fidgets? While the girls were comfortable with eye contact and deep discussion, the boys did things with their hands. It helped them listen and connect. I thought allowing the fidgets to be discovered was a mistake, but it may have been the key to unlocking their attention.
Second, and more importantly, was prayer. IoH’s prayer team faithfully prays before and during Legacy Retreats®. I also asked my friends and family to pray. It struck me during the retreat that what happened in our group was more than “the right mix of kids.” There was a deep richness that was impossible to cultivate in such a short amount of time. Our God is a God of relationships, healing, and community. And let’s be real: He also knows middle school boys and was probably behind the fidget discovery. He knew what they needed.
Dear friends, this is my encouragement to you: never underestimate what the Lord can do
through the faithful prayers of His children. Consider the people you pray for. He loves them
more than you and can work at a depth unseen by our human eyes. I also encourage you to let
Him do the work. I cannot take any credit for the magic that occurred in our tween group. I have
learned to surrender my plans and agenda to Him. When we release our plans, we give Him
the space to work in mighty ways. I entered the retreat asking for Him to move and returned
home singing His praises. May we encounter each day with expectations of the same.
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