12/09/10…The clock nears 10:30 pm. My son and I sit opposite from
each other. The kitchen light brings a trace of lumination in my darkened
living room. Still we sit in silence. Both of us are trying to process a night
on the streets. For Avery, it was his first time. For me, I lost count but
every time feels like a first time. Finally after much silence, I ask Avery
what he is thinking about? His response, “Dad, we don’t have it so bad.” The
tone of his voice reflects an awakening.
At fourteen years old, my son is in the middle of his teenage
years. As all of us know, this is not always an easy time in life. In fact,
life in our teenage years generally centers on us. Our world is colored more by
the here and now and unless exposed to the world, we become insulated in our
thinking. Our hormones are racing and God has wired us to break away from the
nest. This need to hold on to the security of our parents and yet become
independent causes a lot of conflict in our lives. We easily get caught up in
our own drama as well as our friend’s drama. This spills over into gossip about
others. High school can be a tough place as we seek to fit in. Cliques are
developed. Outcasts dot the periphery. Everyone is trying to find their place
in this world and figure out how they really fit in.
Against this backdrop, Avery over the course of his life has been
involved in helping others probably more than a lot of kids. For this, I am proud
of him. But tonight, something happened to him; an event possibly shifting him
towards a new kind of awakening. Around 8:30 pm we meet up with Bob and Kristi,
and their daughters Ally and Kayla, at their church. As normal, we go to a room
where we collect some donated clothing, bath supplies, and food. We climb into
the van and Bob F. proceeds to drive us towards the city of Jackson. In our van
there are eight of us this particular night. As usual there is friendly banter
as we drive about 20 minutes to the Eudora Welty library. The friendly banter
is always tainted with a deeper meaning as we spiritually prepare ourselves for
the unknown. We never know what will happen. And since Avery is with me
tonight, I also can’t help but as a parent, feel protective of him. I have come
across prostitutes, crack addicts, mentally unstable people, violence in words,
and people who are high or drunk. Before hand, I caution him that although
nothing has ever happened in the street ministry, we must still be cautious.
We arrive at the Eudora Welty library. Downtown Jackson is quiet.
Only an occasional car passes by. Soon, at least three other church vans
arrive. People gather in the parking lot. Malcolm, who is one of the defacto
leaders of the ministry, gathers everyone in a circle. As usual he asks if
there are any first timers. Avery raises his hand. Malcolm reminds the first
timers although nothing harmful has ever happened in the dark streets, we must still
be cautious and not wonder off. He also advised them not to give money because
generally it will go towards buying drugs or alcohol. With that said he lets us
know we are here for our friends on the streets, to help them with nourishment
and with comfort.
We bow our heads and Malcolm leads us in a quick prayer. A unison
of amen’s occur at the end. We raise our heads. The regal outline of the First
Baptist Church of Jackson towers over us. Strangely there is no one from their
church represented.
Hours later we are back home sitting in a half dark living room.
Avery’s face reflects the standard look all first timers have at the end of the
night. I experienced the same look my first night. Processing is occurring.
Paradigms are facing rejection. There is an inability at first to speak words.
Soon though, a few choice words do come out. There is humility in my son’s
voice. The depth is striking.
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