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The sound came in through my bedroom window as I changed for bed. "Gunshots or fireworks?" is always my question. The last one had a whistle to it so I shrugged it off as fireworks. I was about to crawl into bed when the sound of sirens stopped me. I glanced out my window to the street below and saw cops pulling up, then an ambulance, and then the firetruck. Still I was in denial that anything happened but as soon as a cop came out of his car armed with a large rifle I knew something was really wrong. From the living room window my roommate and I could see a body slumped against the wall and the ambulance pulling out a stretcher. I watched the reactions of everyone out on the streets and no one seemed to be panicked or even acting like a terrible event just occured, they just began to congregate around where the cops began hanging the yellow tape. Finally we decided to go out and see what was going on. The neighbors next door shared with us that one of the neighbor boys had just been shot. An elderly Latin man came by rambling in Spanish visibly upset telling us that the cops were dismissing it as gang violence. The neighbors quickly became angry. "Just because he's Latin they dismiss it as gang related!" they fumed, "That boy is not involved in anything bad! He goes to school and comes straight home. His mama keeps a close eye on her boys." All the boy had done was left home for a few minutes to get his mom a burger from the food truck parked on the block and he had been shot in the chest. Some speculated that he was mistaken for someone else and that's why he was shot. No one knew for sure.
As I sat outside I was shocked by how numb I felt. I wasn't panicked. I wasn't fearful. It just felt so normal and everyone seemed to be responding the same. It wasn't until I finally lay in bed that night that what had happened sunk in and I realized I had grown so numb. All the years of pain, of seeing horrifying things, and losing people I loved caused me to create a callous around my heart so that I would not have to feel it all but thats not what I want. I want to feel, I want to be broken over the brokenness of the world. Just as I desire my children to face into their pain so that they can find healing I want to face into the pain so that Christ can bring healing.
So I allowed myself to feel and it hit me hard. I cried myself to sleep. I must not have slept well because I woke up the next morning feeling like I had been hit by a bus. I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed all day. I went about the day in a fog trying to be present but my mind was so so far. I couldn't stop thinking about that boy, was he okay? What was his family going through? What about my boys? Nowhere is safe.
This is my life, this will be my life. Fear, death, violence, its all around. Can I keep going? Not even four years in and I've already lost two friends to gun violence and have been at the scene of two others. I'm tired, so very tired.
I sat in my car, wanting nothing more than to sob but I feared if I did I may not be able to stop. "Jesus I need you, I don't have the strength" I prayed. How would I run Kids Club when I didn't even have the energy to keep my eyes open or think?
But then the children arrived and the fog lifted and suddenly life became clear again.
God called me to Chicago, He called me to serve these children and I love them more than my own life. Seeing their faces light up when they see me and holding them in my embrace; watching the walls begin to fall down as they reveal their hearts to me; and seeing them grow in the Lord; its worth it. They are so worth it. This is my life here and I am going to live it fighting for these children with everything I have to offer.
