A Risk Worth Taking

I walked out of Henry Clay High School for the last time this semester. 

I had the same feeling with Crawford Middle School yesterday.

And Frederick Douglass High School two days before that.

The feeling of any season coming to an end is always tough for my heart to sift through.

Adding up the lessons learned... the hard way, all of the laughter or tears that were had over time.

Even when I think about the absolute worst days, I get a little emotional we made it to this point.

I'm tougher today than I was on August 16th, 2017.

Several schools had no idea, that when I sat in their offices, and told them what I thought could happen if we joined forces, exactly how big of a risk they were actually taking on. 

But they figured out pretty quick I think. 

We all did.

Through growing pains, new schools, referrals, requests, full moons, and lots of e-mails, we made it through 4 months of crazy. 

And at the end of it all, someone a lot more important than me leaned over and said,

"You are a risk worth taking."

 

And that's how I feel about my kids in these schools. 

The kids that came, were there for a reason.

A reason I can't really explain, I just know.

I don't care about numbers much. 

What I do care about, is what we will do now that we know where we are struggling, and how each of us will move forward in order to be the most successful versions of ourselves.

But we needed to get to know each other this semester. 

We needed to gain trust.

Take a couple losses and celebrate a few small victories. 

I think we did that.

Deep breath. 

The real work begins now.

                                                                              -

Much like how these schools took a risk on me, the 2nd fam took a risk with me too.

In some ways it's full circle.

In other ways... it's a fresh start. 

What I do know to be true is, making disciples is the most important thing I could be doing as a Child of God. 

Loving Him and His people. 

Showing them how to live, leading by example. 

And let me tell you what... there were a lot of moments my example was the worst to follow and they knew it.

Other days weren't all that bad, and we found ourselves asking some really good, vulnerable, tough, questions. 

The family grew, much as families do... even though ours has a tendency to want to stay tight knit and approval based only (I am a guilty of this myself) we handled the growth well.

I honestly can't imagine what life would be like if they weren't in it.

Awful I would assume. 

So I am forever thankful. 

For their annoying, dramatic, loud, attitude filled, big hearted, always laughing, keeping me in check, selves. 

And that when I am all of those things listed above... or worse, they still put up with me too.

Soon, a new adventure begins at 422 Codell.

Where we will take the much needed risk of choosing, loving, and living life with some of our favorite little humans.

But for now, today starts a season of planning, evaluating, and hopefully some rest for all of us!

I Hate Guns

I saw him pull it out from his waist band and point it right at another little boys head.
I know both of them.
I see them in school, the park, the gas station.
I expect a lot of things from those two... but this was something that sent chills down my spine.
The next words that came out of my mouth weren't loud, they weren't shaky... they were soft, stern... more serious then any of us were used to.
Then I drove off.

My mind couldn't get off of what I had seen... what I can't unsee from years past.
So I made my way back through the familiar streets, squinting hard and looking for little silhouettes.
This time there were more of them.
"Aye Ms. Chloe!"
All of them climbed into the van but I meant business so all but the one who knew why I came back hopped out and waited on the sidewalk.
Again.
My voice was softer than normal... but it felt strong enough to count.
He should never have to be told the things I told him about being a young black boy in this world.
It is not fair.
And I hate that this is something I had to be part of.
Bad choices. Unsafe choices. Impulsive teenage games.
Those are amplified 100 times over solely based on the color of his skin, his gender, his neighborhood, his friends and family... I'm sick just thinking about it.
He hung his head and said "okay... I'm sorry."
And he shifted it from his waist band to his backpack before he walked home.
Suddenly I realized I hadn't actually taken a breath in over a minute and inhaled quickly.

All I needed to do was drop a shirt off that got left in my car.
I walked into the house unaware of the discord.
Christmas Tree half decorated, half still in the box.
Family meetings aren't a foreign concept around here... Dalton Court is no exception.
"Ms. Chloe I just don't know anymore... I just don't know."
She shared some hard truths about the ones I've known over half their life.
I wasn't surprised.
Disappointed maybe, never surprised.
I did the only thing I knew how to do... but this time I found my voice get soft again, serious.
I told them two stories about me going to visit a kid in jail and of course... my least favorite. Being young black boys in this world.
Bad choices. Unsafe choices. Impulsive teenage games.
Those are amplified 100 times over solely based on the color of their skin, their gender, their neighborhood, their friends, and family... I'm sick just thinking about it.
They were all quiet, emotional, still.
We hugged and wiped the tears and I told them I loved them.
I walked down the stairs and gasped for air again just like before.

I don't do well around guns.
Think what you want about them... shit you will anyway.
But if another innocent (I say this meaning anyone) is senselessly killed by one of them...
I truly believe I won't be able to properly take in oxygen.

They don't know about the time I saw that man laying in the street bleeding out.
They don't know about the dealer who invited me in with one sitting on the table.
They don't know that I refuse to let my father tell me where he keeps his, or it would be long gone.
They don't know the funerals I've been to.

But they know their own pain.
Their own nerve-racking testimonies of who, where, and when.
The first shot rings in your head forever.
Now we sleep through them like suburbanites sleep through grasshoppers.
Waking up to the news from the street.
Hashtags and crying mommas.

Instagram and lunch time conversations will have you thinking this is the greatest gig out there.
And it is.
But I learned early on that my tendancy in wanting to prove people wrong about my kids and their families, matched with peoples inability to listen to the hard stories, only victories, keeps me from speaking on the poorly lit reality we are in.
Don't tell me you can handle it.
Don't tell me I'm being unsafe.
Because one of those isn't true.

I was recently asked which super hero I would be... I gave a sweet answer at the time, but if we are being honest, I am Black Widow most days.
The one who somehow got chosen to be on the team of fighters/heroes because of her toughness.
A group of people that run straight into the fire.
A girl who can talk down the big scary green guy from destroying everything around him.
She is the one who reminds the rest of the guys to be themselves... heroes, when things get tough.
Not to mention she's pretty badass, with a heart in there somewhere!

I'm well aware these won't be the last conversations I have with my boys about guns or poor choices.
I'm also well aware that I was built to walk into those fires, even if it means I have to hold my breath.
Because I am no super hero, but this is our reality.