As another school year came to a close, I asked our Micah House volunteers to reflect on their experiences. I thought I was asking them about the children. Instead, they ended up teaching me something.

As I read their responses, I realized they weren't just telling me about the students, they were teaching me something about God, about service, and about what happens when ordinary people faithfully show up.

We often talk about how Micah House changes the lives of children. And that's true.

Volunteers shared stories about students like Emily, who quietly watched from the sidelines before slowly finding confidence and friendships. They remembered Reynard and the beautiful way other children learned to welcome and encourage him. They talked about Manuel's eagerness to learn, Airamm's spiritual maturity, Miryam's strong spirit, and so many other children who have left fingerprints on their hearts.

These weren't stories about perfect kids. They were stories about children growing, belonging, being loved, and discovering who God created them to be.

But something else caught my attention.

Nearly every volunteer ended up talking about how they had changed.

They wrote about growing in patience. Learning to trust God with situations they couldn't control. Seeing children through God's eyes instead of their own. Becoming more joyful, more grateful, more humble, and more compassionate.

One volunteer even shared that serving at Micah House changed the direction of her career and opened her heart to working with children in the future.

God wasn't just transforming our students.

He was transforming the adults who showed up to love them.

Of course, our volunteers also shared the hard parts. They spoke honestly about challenging behaviors, balancing the needs of multiple students, and wishing there were enough adults to give every child the attention they deserve.

That last one especially stayed with me.

The need is real.

Every additional volunteer means another child who feels seen. Another student who receives help with homework. Another encouraging conversation. Another trusted adult cheering them on, praying for them, and reminding them that they matter.

And the beautiful surprise is this: while you may come thinking you're volunteering for the kids, you'll likely discover God has something for you too.

If you've ever wondered whether you could make a difference, I hope you'll consider joining us next school year. You don't have to be a teacher. You don't need special training. You simply need a willing heart and a couple of hours each week.

One volunteer summed it up perfectly with a quote hanging in her kitchen:

"A hundred years from now, it will not matter what kind of car I drove, what kind of house I lived in, how much money I had in my bank account, or what my clothes looked like. But the world may be a little better because I was important in the life of a child."

I couldn't agree more.

Our students need caring adults who will show up consistently, listen well, laugh often, and point them toward hope. If God has been stirring something in your heart as you've read these stories, I'd love to invite you to join us this fall.

You may come hoping to make a difference in the life of a child and you will, but don't be surprised if God makes a difference in yours too.