Commotion and Connections

This morning, Leah and I went to get her braids taken down.... and put right back in.

Because I don't know of a shop that does toddlers' hair close to where we live, we go to Hyde Park (my old neighborhood) to get it done.

I love Hyde Park.

It's aesthetically beautiful and there is a richness in culture that I adore.

While I was waiting (three hours) for Leah, a woman and her 10 year old daughter arrived at the store.

The mother was irate.

She claimed that the store had burned and subsequently ruined her daughter's hair.

The mom was loud and demanding.

I could tell the manager wasn't sure what to do.

But mama bear wasn't leaving.

During one of the manager's many trips to the back of the store, I started talking to this angry mother.

Not about hair ..... but life.

She softened and asked me about my daughter (who we couldn't see).

Mind you, this is an African-American salon.

There ain't no white people there.

And then there's me.  :)

We started talking about my kids and I showed her a picture.

She asked where they are from.

(Naperville and Uganda)

In a tender moment, the not-so-angry woman said,

"God bless you"

and grabbed me to give me the biggest hug.

And she didn't let go.

When the hug ended, she had tears in her eyes as she shared that she knows there are so many children who need families and understands why adoption is important, but her plate is full with six biological children.

And then she continued.

Her 18 year old was murdered just a year ago.

Yes, murdered.

Can you take that in?

Another of her sons was shot 18 times (yes, you read that right) in June and is now in jail.

He survived, but with what wounds?

This sweet, broken woman then started talking to me, cheerfully and lovingly.

She told me from the mundane (how to care for Leah's hair) to the serious (how dangerous it is "out there.")  Somewhere in there, we both became human.

I wish I would have asked for this woman's contact information so I could follow up with her.

I wish I would have prayed with her.

I wish I could have done more to encourage her.

Because there is more to be done.

I have been spending some time at Breakthrough Urban Ministries lately, helping with little projects.

Driving from my suburbia home to Breakthrough is an eye opener.

Just today, I saw a man, sitting in front of a store sign, by the street.

Clearly homeless.

Animated. 

Talking up a storm with his hands to himself (or anyone who would listen).

In the neighborhoods surrounding Breakthrough, the poverty is breath-taking.

People are desperate.

Not for the next video game, but for the next meal.

And for peace in their neighborhood and an end to violence brought on by financial desperation, drugs, and gangs.

It is so easy in my peaceful neighborhood to forget those who sit just a couple of miles from us.

The need is here and I want to be part of the solution.

Lord, show me how.

In the meantime, I am thankful for my trips to Hyde Park with Leah where I can get pulled out of suburbia and remember that we are so blessed and are commanded to give out of that blessing.

"Lord, thank You for helping me to keep it real.... even without traveling to Africa or another distant land.  You are Lord of all.  Help me to follow Your steps better.  Amen."

Conflicted Ramblings

There's a lot going on in my little brain these days and I thought it might help to spell it out.  Help me, anyway.  :)  Be warned that I don't have the nicest or most appropriate things to say.  I apologize in advance if I offend.  It is certainly not my intention. 

We were at Breakthrough on Saturday as I mentioned in my last post.  It was a great event.  Really.  But part of it made me sad too.  Huh?  Let me explain.  

While we were eating a snack, a boy named Jeremiah came and sat with us.  We noticed him because he had a box of new Converse shoes and a basketball.  Jeremiah explained that he had finished all of the sports and received his reward -- new shoes!!!  He was also thrilled to get his *second* basketball.  Jeremiah went on to tell us that his mom dropped him off at 9 a.m. that day -- a full hour before the event started -- because he wanted to make sure to have enough time to get through all the sports and win his shoes.  And she left.

Sigh.

I don't know Jeremiah's story but I wonder if he's ever had a pair of new shoes before.  NEW.  They cost forty bucks (I had to look it up) and to him, they were GOLD.  Keith explained to him that they were "All Stars" (which was very important to Jeremiah) but also that they were signed by a big basketball star who played years ago.  Jeremiah had no idea.  Then I was struck by his circumstances.  His mom dropped him off.  For the whole day.  I asked when she would be back and he said "at 3."  Um, Jeremiah is eight years old.  Alone at a big inner city high school for six hours.  My heart sank for him.  Not because I was judging his mom; I have no idea of their circumstances.  But because of all of it.  The shoes, the basketball, the aloneness.  He's eight.

And while we are all so concerned about children in Africa, we have kids just a couple miles away from us who are effectively orphaned by their circumstances.  And we ignore them.  No, I am NOT advocating to take a child like Jeremiah away from his parents.  Of course not.  But I am asking what we are doing today, now, to help children who don't have regular parent interaction or consistent love who will grow up to be unemployed or frustrated.  What are we doing?

Then, I start to think of the kids in Uganda.  There are orphans but there are also many children living with families.  We look at them with pity and think, "They have nothing.  They live in mud huts without electricity or plumbing.  We need to fix that."  But do we?  Why are we imposing our OWN values on them?  The people of Uganda are across the board so much more joyful and fulfilled than we are.  With less.  MUCH less.  How dare we impose our "mine is bigger than yours" mentality on them.  Shame on us.  While we sit over here in our lavish homes trying to build the tallest building or the most *obnoxious* football stadium ever for a billion dollars (see Dallas), Ugandans are joyful.  Instead of rescuing or saving Ugandans from their "miserable" life I think we have a thing or two we could learn from them.

Case in point, this morning.  I ride the train to work.  Metra.  I got to my stop and they announced our train had broken down and we would have to get a different train.  And be late.  While we piled into the already full train, we rode downtown safely and efficiently.  Once we arrived at Union Station, I got off the train just in time to hear a spoiled suburban man explain to an innocent Metra worker how pissed off he was to be seventeen minutes late.  (Yes, he said 17.  Not 15 or 20, but 17).  Um, really?  He was yelling at Metra and, frankly, further delaying his arrival at what must be a very important appointment that he missed by 17 minutes.  The Metra worker simply kept saying that the train broke and what were they to do?

Sigh.  Okay, not sigh.  GRRRR.

Seriously?  Have we lost sight of what matters?  Clearly!  And I include myself in that.  Even this blog can become an idol.  How many people are following?  From where?  How often?  How can I get more "readership?"  *Bleck*  That's why I made changes to my blog recently.  My blog is not FOR that.  It's for my kiddos, my family/friends, and me.  None of the rest matters.  To God be the glory for great things HE has done.

Lord forgive me for losing sight of what matters and help me to get focused on the only thing that matters . . . You and your Son.  Bring this country and this world to its knees in submission to You alone.  Save us from ourselves.  In Jesus' name, amen.