We were on our way to church--Desi, my kids, and I. We passed a makeshift memorial that is all too common in our inner city--teddy bears and balloons attached to a tree or a light post, whichever is closer to the spot in which the (often) young person died.
This memorial was obviously rather new, and the flowers, cards, and stuffed animals were on full display...we knew. So I asked. I asked how he feels when he sees that. "Sad," he said, "because that's the place where he died."
The "he" in that conversation was a no-name to Desi, but today, he told me another story, one that hits closer to home.
We were sitting on our front porch, and she walked by, the mom of an old friend of Desi's. They chatted briefly about which of his brothers is in jail for what, and off she went. When I asked who it was, he told me that I knew her and reminded me that when we first moved to the neighborhood eight years ago, she had lived down the street. Her kids used to come to our house to hang out and play games, especially on our Sunday evening game nights that we used to have each week.
But now her son is dead. Shot accidently by his friend after they had been messing around with a gun in their basement. One friend gone; the other friend in jail. He's been there three years so far with more to come.
Before telling me, he made sure I was ready for the story. "You sure you wanna hear it? You sure?" So he told the story, and when he was finished, I asked him how he felt telling it. "Like I don't wanna talk about it." "Sad?" I asked. "Like I don't wanna talk about it," he repeated. That was all he could say as a description for how he felt.
They can mouth the words to the graphic lyrics about it. They can watch movies about it. They can play video games that play pretend it. But death--and violent crimes in particular--is common here. And when it comes to the reality of it, they don't wanna talk. Who can blame them?
Oh, Jesus, how will they know about You unless they are told? And how will they be told unless someone is here to tell them? You want to give life when all around them, life is taken.
For Desi....I'm crying out for Desi's life...and for all the lives of the young men in our city...
This memorial was obviously rather new, and the flowers, cards, and stuffed animals were on full display...we knew. So I asked. I asked how he feels when he sees that. "Sad," he said, "because that's the place where he died."
The "he" in that conversation was a no-name to Desi, but today, he told me another story, one that hits closer to home.
We were sitting on our front porch, and she walked by, the mom of an old friend of Desi's. They chatted briefly about which of his brothers is in jail for what, and off she went. When I asked who it was, he told me that I knew her and reminded me that when we first moved to the neighborhood eight years ago, she had lived down the street. Her kids used to come to our house to hang out and play games, especially on our Sunday evening game nights that we used to have each week.
But now her son is dead. Shot accidently by his friend after they had been messing around with a gun in their basement. One friend gone; the other friend in jail. He's been there three years so far with more to come.
Before telling me, he made sure I was ready for the story. "You sure you wanna hear it? You sure?" So he told the story, and when he was finished, I asked him how he felt telling it. "Like I don't wanna talk about it." "Sad?" I asked. "Like I don't wanna talk about it," he repeated. That was all he could say as a description for how he felt.
They can mouth the words to the graphic lyrics about it. They can watch movies about it. They can play video games that play pretend it. But death--and violent crimes in particular--is common here. And when it comes to the reality of it, they don't wanna talk. Who can blame them?
Oh, Jesus, how will they know about You unless they are told? And how will they be told unless someone is here to tell them? You want to give life when all around them, life is taken.
For Desi....I'm crying out for Desi's life...and for all the lives of the young men in our city...
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