Dimples

I remember the day I was pulling onto my block and found a big orange construction cone in the middle of the street.  I reached for my door knob when he ran over and told me to stay in the car and moved the cone out of my way with a smile. Not too long later I needed to leave again and that big orange cone remained in the street.
"I can't annoy this kid again," I told myself ready to move the cone but before I could get there he moved it with a smile.  Every time I drove in or out of my street that day he moved the cone happily.  I never knew his name but he greeted me every time I saw, with a smile.

Then I got a text from my housemates telling me a kid had been shot on our block.  His face instantly popped up into my mind and I prayed to the Lord it wasn't him.  I frantically began searching facebook until I saw his face, RIP was written under a photo.
"No no no," I cried. I was at home in Wisconsin when I got the news and I couldn't even tell my family what had happened.  Part of me couldn't tell them because I was afraid that if I said anything I would burst into tears, part of me knew they wouldn't understand because they don't live in a world where teen boys get murdered in front of their door step, and the part of me didn't want them to know just how close the violence has been getting to my home.

When I returned to Chicago that weekend I burst into tears when I saw the memorial made of alcohol bottles for him and saw several young men sitting in their same spots doing exactly what they were doing before he was murdered.  My instant emotion was anger.  Did they learn nothing?  They're friend is dead and they're still out here?  I must admit I was angry for days.  I wanted them to leave, to get off our block and get out of the life.  As time went on however my heart began to break for them.  I thought about this young man and what his life could have been.  He was only 19!  When I was 19 my life was just beginning, I was away from home for the first time and going to college.  I was living in the city and going out dancing with my friends. I was dreaming of all of the adventures that were to come.  That's what this boy should be doing but his life was cut short.  He didn't even have the chance to experience any of that!  I began thinking about how I passed him nearly every single day and yet never once stopped and asked him his name.  Never once did I ask him about his family or what his dreams of the future were.  Never once did I take the time to ask him what life events led him to being out there and what would make him leave.  I lost my opportunity to do any of that and it haunts me!  Losing him put a renewed passion in my heart to pray over my block, to pray over the guys who continue stand out there, and to invest in my community.

His body was barely even buried when they returned, this time they opened fire at 6pm as I held my friends baby in my arms.  The shots were so close that I covered the baby with my body as I leaped from the window. Suddenly the air was filled with screams for an ambulance to be called.  Within minutes police covered my block and yellow crime tape closed us in.  Both men shot were okay but everyone was shaken.  I couldn't be alone and sat with my housemates processing what had just happened. Ever since I've lived in this neighborhood God has given me His peace and He still does but I would be lying if I said I'm not scared some days.  There have been times I have had to run my kids inside because bullets are flying, there are times when I've had to drop to the floor with the kids as we loaded up the van after Kids Club.  Its terrifying.

We sat around the large table as we finished up our meal as we do together every Monday night and God put it on my heart to share with my friends about how I was feeling. All of us live here or are involved in this community to some capacity and I just needed for us to talk about where we were all at.  I never imagined the conversation that proceeded, a conversation from people who come from so many different backgrounds but all share this commonality.  We were able to be honest about the fear and anxiety we were feeling but were brought to scripture and God's truths as our encouragement to continue on.  Soon the conversation turned to our different callings in this place and what we could do to make a difference.  I left that conversation feeling so encouraged, so hopeful and reminded of how God loves this community.  He is fighting for our community.

The next morning I entered the school with a renewed passion.  I can't go back in time.  I can't rewrite that young mans life and change the parts that lead him to those streets in the first place but I can play a role in stopping other boys from heading in that direction.  I sat down across another beaming smile.  His dimples take over his face as he excitedly guesses all the wrong answers.  He's in second grade and can't seem to learn the alphabet.  If someone doesn't intercede he may not learn to read.  If he doesn't learn to read, school will be impossible.  If school is impossible, he may just give up and he may believe his only option is to be on the street. I refuse to let this happen.  I refuse to see his dimpled face smiling at me from that place.  We will fight for this little boy so that he will get the chance that my other smiling friend never got.