I get upset when kids going home over the weekend without food till Monday.
I have an issue with safe teachers that consider themselves gods compared to their rebellious classroom.
I'm not okay with cops stepping over boundaries cause their badge gave them some sort of pass.
I have an issue when my kids feel like the only way to avoid and forget about all the shit that is happening around them, or to have fun, is to get high.
It bothers me that when there is an event to support non-violence in the community in memory of Zae, somehow, no one is safe even then.
I have an issue with gang members taking peoples lives and thinking they are above all moral conscious.
It breaks my heart when little girls are left to raise their own little girls alone.
Ebb and Flow
This is the cycle
Again and again
Gun shots
Sirens
Sirens
The smell of bud or liquor on every corner
Lifeless Bodies
No one knows their stories.
No one knows their hearts. What they love to do, what they wish to be.
But I know. Because I have listened. I cared enough to ask.
They wish to be alive.
"It's hard to get all A's Chloe."
It's hard to get all A's when the resources aren't there to help you anyway. But it is really hard to get straight A's when you have to look over your shoulder all day. Or when you don't know if mom is coming home that night. Or if your home is actually a shelter with a bunch of other moms and kids who have been abused and unloved like you. Or you haven't eaten anything for 3 days. Or maybe you can't get straight A's because your brother, daddy, cousin were shot and killed last week and people brush it off like "they knew better."
The streets are ruthless, heartless, and cold.
Territory. Protection. Identity.
All of these things can be sought after and achieved in other ways.
It is the easiest and most difficult thing to do. To sign your life away.
But every now and then I am greeted with some of the brightest smiles, biggest hugs, "I love you too's" and all of those things fade away long enough for me to remember why I am here.
Why I chose such a god forsaken path down graffiti covered walls and littered sidewalks.
It's the hope that those little glimpses of light turn into forest fires in their souls. And the dark parts of their lives will be snuffed out by their light.
Staying up late into the night this weekend, listening to them, had to be one of the most filling, and exhaustively saddest things I've ever done.
I was excited to be let into their lives this past year.
I had no idea it would lead to feeling like this.
They are my family.
This is our city.
When they cry, I cry.
When they bleed, I bleed.
And when they get accepted to college, or denied the job, or welcome a child into the world. I am right there with them.
Because I know that is what Jesus would do.
And maybe, just maybe, with enough prayer, faith, and challenging, that ebb and flow can start to look a little different.
No one knows their stories.
No one knows their hearts. What they love to do, what they wish to be.
But I know. Because I have listened. I cared enough to ask.
They wish to be alive.
"It's hard to get all A's Chloe."
It's hard to get all A's when the resources aren't there to help you anyway. But it is really hard to get straight A's when you have to look over your shoulder all day. Or when you don't know if mom is coming home that night. Or if your home is actually a shelter with a bunch of other moms and kids who have been abused and unloved like you. Or you haven't eaten anything for 3 days. Or maybe you can't get straight A's because your brother, daddy, cousin were shot and killed last week and people brush it off like "they knew better."
The streets are ruthless, heartless, and cold.
Territory. Protection. Identity.
All of these things can be sought after and achieved in other ways.
It is the easiest and most difficult thing to do. To sign your life away.
But every now and then I am greeted with some of the brightest smiles, biggest hugs, "I love you too's" and all of those things fade away long enough for me to remember why I am here.
Why I chose such a god forsaken path down graffiti covered walls and littered sidewalks.
It's the hope that those little glimpses of light turn into forest fires in their souls. And the dark parts of their lives will be snuffed out by their light.
Staying up late into the night this weekend, listening to them, had to be one of the most filling, and exhaustively saddest things I've ever done.
I was excited to be let into their lives this past year.
I had no idea it would lead to feeling like this.
They are my family.
This is our city.
When they cry, I cry.
When they bleed, I bleed.
And when they get accepted to college, or denied the job, or welcome a child into the world. I am right there with them.
Because I know that is what Jesus would do.
And maybe, just maybe, with enough prayer, faith, and challenging, that ebb and flow can start to look a little different.
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