His words have been haunting me the past few days. Words shared by a good friend as we talked about yet another young man being killed in our neighborhood.
My dear friend Heather has opened my eyes to the realities of young men in our neighborhood. Fear and anxiety surround them every moment of everyday. Simple trips to the corner store could cost them their lives and it does. Just this week she's lost two of her youth. "He was the hilarious, good-spirited one. And now he's dead." My heart aches for her. She loves these boys with her whole heart and it crushes her to continue to lose them to the streets.
Every time I talk with Heather I get a renewed sense of urgency to hold my boys near and to pour everything I have into them. I look at their precious smiles and watch as they are learning to shed their layers of protective walls enough for them to play freely. My heart deeply fears them growing up.
"Ms Samantha I need to leave! I've got four boys! You don't know how hard it is to raise boys here," A mother confides. I am only now starting to understand her fears. We live in a place where mothers desperately cling to their sons as the temptation of the streets claw them from their arms.
"Ms Samantha why you never have boys groups?" One of my young boy asks in frustration when they hear I am starting another girls group at the school.
"Cuz I'm not a boy!" I laugh in response.
"So? Doesn't matter!"
"Well I don't know anything about being a boy!"
They are relentless and reply, "It's okay we will teach you and you can like teach us about David or other guys in the Bible."
I couldn't argue with that. They're hungry for attention, to be seen, to be loved, to belong. The thing with these kids is that they don't really care about what you're doing, they just want to be with you. I've had boys plead with me to let them come over and clean my car! I'm crazy about these little guys and so it breaks my heart when they're looked at as a nuisance or not worthy of someone's time. They want them pushed out, contained, to sit still, to be seen but not heard. They snap orders at them and scowl with burning eyes and sadly those are often the only words exchanged. Do you know how many people have made jokes that fall on ears that are not laughing as they tell me they're thankful for me because they'd never want to work with my kids.
I'm not laughing because inside I am crying.
They don't understand.
They must not see what I see.
How could they see my precious, image bearing boys and turn their backs?
They shove them to the side, complain about their behavior and then sit baffled by the young men with cold eyes standing on the corners.
What do you expect? They've found the ones who will give them their time.
But it may just cost them their lives.
