It's what they call home

Dark echoing hallways that used to be beige but now are just covered in dirt marks and smudges. The smell is not a pleasant one, it’s a musty or almost stall air lined with the smell of weed and other drugs. The apartments themselves are dark, cluttered and simple and yet there are the tiniest of small reminders of the creativity of those who live in these homes. Small gardens along their fencing, a colorful welcome rug by the door or a table set with a colorful umbrella, simple little things that cheer up the surroundings. The atmosphere in this community is a tough one and as we walk our group of kids home at the end of the day you can never be quite sure what it will be like. Some days it seems like a quiet little community with kids running around playing tag while other days there is a really heavy atmosphere felt upon walking into its perimeter. Over even just the last few weeks the walks homes have varied in such extremes from one week laughing and taking, sitting listening to leaves falling and having a crab apple fight to cautiously being aware of our surrounds and the others around us. From laughing and playing the whole way home to arriving at their door and in that difficult situation of having to leave them in some times tough unfair situations.

The other day we left the church in the pouring rain to get the kids home, it was one of the best walk homes I have been on due to how much I have seen my kids grow and how this walk home showed such evidence of the fact. It started with little girls whining about their hair getting wet and then seeing my sweet little gentlemen giving up their hats, holding their bags or umbrellas over their heads to keep them dry. The little girl’s smiles were deep, they were being cared for, treasured and being treated like they were the precious little girls they were made to be. The little boys were thriving from the smiles on the girl’s faces and the affirming words that they were being such good gentlemen to the ladies and that I was proud of them. As we arrived in the community and were walked away from the first little girl door I called out that I loved her as I walked away. A moment later she was hugging my leg as she said “I love you too” before she ran back to her door. Our trip continued as one by one we brought the kids home. As we neared the last door where my little gentleman who gave up his hat lived he looked up at me and asked if I would please tell his grandmother what a good gentleman he had been. I assured him I would proceeded to along with the other leader boast very highly of how amazing he had been. The sad part of this is that he was given no recognition by his grandmother but was only scolded and yelled at for not having worn a jacket.

As we walked through the community back to our camp the beauty and the hardship of this community clashed in my head and hear.It was such a beautiful time with our kids and yet the hardship of bring them back into the community and homes they are from is sometimes the hardest thing to do. There is such a brokenness that dwells over so many of their homes that constantly remind me of the desperate need we are all in for a Savior who has control over ever kind of evil!

Pray for the communities our kids come from, pray for the protection of the people and families who live there and most of all pray that the presence of the Holy Spirit would be what reigns within and over that place.