just being christian

The transient nature of the urban core can be frustrating. Kids that we work with are always moving outside the bounds of our influence. I hate it when kids I work with bounce from one ‘hood to another. We spend upwards of 15 hours per week supporting and developing them, and then they are thrown into a new situation without one of their main support systems. It’s one of the more disheartening aspects of my job.

I got a call a couple of weekends ago that a family we’ve worked with for a number of years was moving. Like, the next day. Honestly, it was nice to have a little bit of warning. I’ve had situations before where kids will call me from a new location, or I’ll swing by their house and the place is just deserted. I even had a kid’s mom call me one night to tell me she had moved that day, and could I bring her son home to this new address. He had no idea they were even planning on moving.

So with this family we at least knew they were going and where they were going. When my coworker called to break the news, my first reaction was frustration. When I asked where they were moving, she named a town in Missouri I’d never heard before.

I hit the google to check it out, and it turned out the family was moving to a town of 3,500 people between KC and STL.

That changed things for me.

In The Tipping Point, Malcom Gladwell talks about how it’s better to be from a bad family in a good neighborhood than it is to be from a good family in a bad neighborhood. Quite frankly, neighborhood’s don’t get much worse than the one I work in. And while this family would still have issues to work through in small-town Missouri, there is a lot they will be getting away from.

One of the tensions of my job is the fact that the kids I work with would be much better off if they weren’t in a position to be in the program I coordinate.  If their parents didn’t want them somewhere that ate up 15 hours of their week.  If they didn’t need all of the tutoring and the mentoring.  If they grew up in a school system that was actually functional and could effectively educate kids.  If it wasn’t so important to get them off the streets for their safety and well-being.

It’s sad that I don’t get to work with this particular family anymore.  But it’s not about me.  It’s about them.  And I’m glad those kids get to spend some time in a place where they don’t have to worry about catching a stray bullet.  I hope they make the most of their new school and enjoy not having to wear uniforms.  I can only imagine they will be able to relax a little more and savor their childhood in a way that isn’t afforded to kids in the urban core.

Renew and Restore

Technically, I shouldn’t be thinking about work.  To quote Ross Geller, “we’re on a break”.  I can’t help it.  You’re never truly away.

Last week we had our year-end celebration.  Thus, I’m doing the family thing this week.  But we had an urgent request at work that required me to weigh in, so I did.  The gist of the debate was whether or not we wanted to accept a group’s offer to host an event for our kids.  My feeling was that I didn’t because we had a lot of work to do this summer in preparing our kids for what will be a very big year for them starting in the Fall.  Adding a 3-day event was going to take away a lot of kid hours.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I have a lot of work to do.

I’ve been at my job for three school years now.  I know the group of kids we have well.  The kids know me.  I’ve had a core group of boys in my class for two years now, and next year most of them will be in the 8th grade.

As we debated who should get the most prestigious awards at The Hope Center last month, some of those boys were nominated.  Each time I had complimentary things to say about the boys, but would end my remarks with a common refrain.  “He’s close, but he’s not quite there yet”.

My class was the adolescent leadership development equivalent of the Portland Trailblazers.  A group of promising young men with gobs of potential who need just the right guidance to realize that potential.

This is the point where I swallow hard.  Realizing what is at stake, I freeze for a moment.  On the one hand, this is exactly what one wants.  An attainable challenge that could reap huge dividends.  On the other hand, if the whole thing goes south then I have a lot of explaining to do.

It’s good position to be in.  But also one that requires a lot of personal, professional and spiritual preparation.  I need to be ready to put in work.  I need to be sure I’m in a good place to react with grace and dignity in the moments when the boys don’t seem like they are going to reach the ideals I have for them.  And I need to find that balance where I have high expectations but where I don’t get too down on myself or the boys if we fall short on those expectations.

One of the things that makes urban ministry difficult is that you feel like there is no room for error.  In the suburbs, middle school kids have room to make a mistake or two.  They can experiment, they can try new things.  If they make a poor decision, they can typically bounce back because there are good community safety nets.

Not so much in the inner city.  We’ve seen a lot of kids (especially 8th grade boys) fall by the wayside.  Either the pull of the streets is too strong, or they make a bad decision that they cannot recover from.  Each of the past two years, I’ve had one 8th grade boy not make it through.  Both immensely talented, but unable to navigate the crucial years.  Personal decisions played a factor, but so did environmental factors.

Ultimately, I can’t control everything.  But I can search for that place where high expectations, accountability and grace can exist in the appropriate proportions to help kids grow.  That’s what we’ll shoot for.

Starting Monday, of course.  Because until then we’re on a break.

I finally got out to see the Royals in person for the first time this season.  The nice 1pm matinee was good because I got to take a couple of boys who are on spring break this week.  The weather, the new stadium and the hope of a new season made for a good afternoon.

So did having conversations with middle school boys.

One of the luxuries I had as a kid was having a dad who taught me a lot about sports.  We spent a lot of nights in Memorial Colosseum watching the Blazers tear it up.  We also took in a handful of minor league baseball games, countless high school sporting events, and a lot of sports on TV.  I learned a lot about the wild world of sports in the process.

My boys don’t have that same opportunity.  They know very little about sports, because they don’t have dads around to take them to games and explain to them what’s going on when they do watch events on TV.

This was evident yesterday when one of the boys started observing his game experience.

Boy: Man, this is weird.  Nobody’s talking.  Like, when you watch the game on TV, you always have people talking and telling you the stats and stuff.  But today, it’s just quiet.

It’s hard to respond to a comment like that off the cuff without making the other person feel kinda dumb.  So I resorted to giving a somewhat quizzical look, until he finally realized I was having a hard time answering him.

Boy: You don’t get what I’m talking about.  See…

Me:  No,no,no.  I get what your saying.  It’s just that when you watch a game on TV, there are announcers.  They sit in the press box, and they say things that only people watching on TV or listening on the radio can hear.

Now it was his turn to be confused.  Fortunately, our tickets have a nice view into the press box so I got to point out to him the dudes wearing the headsets and then explain their jobs with the help of the visual assistance.

Renew and Restore

I’ve really been enjoying my Hope Center boys lately.  I’ve been around long enough where we now have established relationships, and they are getting old enough where we can joke around with each other.  They are at that golden age of adolescence where they also say really funny things and walk themselves right into jokes.

Last Friday three of the boys were off from school so we had ourselves a little Chick-fil-a/Petsmart/Grocery afternoon.  One of the big topics of conversation lately has been my new car.  It’s nothing flashy.  A 2008 Ford Taurus X that we purchased because our old car busted and we needed something to haul kids and dogs around in.  The boys tend to like it because it has a slightly better factory stereo in comparison to my previous vehicle, so we can really bump GRITS and Lacrae.

As we were walking out of everyone’s favorite fast food joint this side of Burgerville, the boys noticed that a brand new Corvette was parked right next to my car.  It was bright yellow, and pretty stinkin’ fly.

Kid 1: Hey.  Which car do you think is better.  That yellow one, or Mr. Christian’s.

Kid 2: The yellow one.  Definitely.  Mr. Christian, you should have seriously got one of those instead.

Yeah.  Good call. I’ll give them this: technically speaking the ‘Vette is a better car.  But seeing as though it has just two seats, it doesn’t exactly meet our needs right now as a growing family.  Nor would it allow me to mob around town with a handful of middle school boys.

Now that I was feeling bad about myself and my station wagon, I was a little on edge.  To make matters worse, one of the boys was going on and on about how much he just loves the Missouri Tigers.  Pfffffffffffffft.

Boy: Man, when I get older, everything I have is going to be Mizzou colors.  Black and gold all the way, man.  Black and gold sheets.  Black and gold clothes…

Me: Black and gold teeth…

Boy:…Dude.  Mr. Christian.  That’s not funny, man.  That’s cold.

Renew and Restore