The football field you see in this clip is the one that I see every morning when I come out of my house, and when I come home at night. The team that this young man was a part of was the team I see practicing every day. The halls of the school are the halls that my neighbors walk down each afternoon.
Why did this make me cry when I watched it, while for others its just another sad news story about the West Side? Because it is familiar. That school, that field, that neighborhood. It is not something on the news - it is something in my life.
I read a quote once that said something to the effect of this: "I ask God to break my heart daily, because if my heart is not broken, I cannot be moved to action." This embodies much of why I have chosen to do what I have done. How can we be moved to action if our hearts are not broken? And how can our hearts be broken if we run from brokenness becoming familiar?
On September 10, our 15 year old neighbor boy downstairs was jumped by 7 kids in the back alley while taking out the trash. He had to have stitches and root canals on two teeth that were knocked around. We sat together in our living room - my roommates, his mom, sister, and her new born baby girl. As his mom was venting and crying, he walked in - dazed, lips swollen from the stitches and the beating. All of the sudden, I felt a sense of the Holy. I felt that something was happening here - something rare and beautiful. Something where race and money and differences had been left at the door and where we were nothing but neighbors sitting together, leaning on each other in our confusion, struggling with the sadness and helplessness of the situation.
It also happened to be my 29th birthday.
A week later we threw a going away party for the boy, since his mother had decided that she had no choice but to send him to live with his uncle. (This was the 3rd time these same kids had jumped him, despite her talking to the cops and the teachers at Marshall High School about it) I fried 5 trays of chicken (after having dreams about it the night before - its no small task, being a vegetarian and all) while my roommate decorated the house and made a card with his little sisters. The 3 floors of neighbors gathered together to eat, laugh, and celebrate the love that existed within all of the sadness. At one point during the dinner, the mom turned to me and said "We have no family here-no family. But now we do. Now we have family here. Now we have family here."
So are we going to let brokenness be familiar? Because there is beauty there, too.
and then, god...
was present.
