We have lived in our neighborhood for just over a year. It has been a season of "learning" the community. Who are our people of peace? Where is most of the drug activity? What is the rhythm of the week? Where are the kids? There are definitely days when something just feels off. It will look like a ghost town when it comes to kids. Eerily quiet. You'll see more guys out on street corners with their cell phones. Those are the days when your our radar is peaked. We are not scared, we are just more "aware."
There is another "awareness" that comes with learning our neighborhood and that is knowing when families are about to move. We suddenly start seeing less and less of them. There is almost a detachment that comes. In some cases, we kind of know what to expect but in others.....they are here today and gone tomorrow.
Last week we noticed one of our neighbors packing up a pick up truck several different times. One of our volunteers asked him if his family was moving. She said he kind of gave her the crazy eye and said, "No." Words and actions never match up in this regard. His kids showed up on our doorstep a few days later. I answered the door excited to see that they were still here. The little boy greeted me with, "Bye Miss Morgan, " while the older girl acted like she had no idea what he was talking about. She said they "would" be moving in the future because they were building a house somewhere. She also said that she did not know where they would be living in the meantime but that it was not any time soon. I wrote down my telephone number and email address and asked the girl to please hold on to it.
Two days later, Glenn and I watched as their landlord, with a police escort, knocked on the door. (Most likely to serve eviction papers). We were not surprised to find out that the house was completely empty with only a few scattered remains of unwanted items that never found their way to the garbage can. No goodbye. (This was the young lady who had knocked on my door to ask for prayer before her test and had started reading a devotional and asking questions about God.) No more conversations.
I was expressing my sadness about their move last night to Glenn by saying, "We'll probably never see them again."
Today I decided to go to the grocery store I loathe, just to grab a few quick items. I swung into an empty parking spot, turned off the engine and looked to my right to grab my purse. That is when my eyes locked with hers. The former neighbor girl and her little brother were in the backseat of the car next to me. There was a grin from ear to ear on both of their faces followed by an excited, "HEY MISS MORGAN!" Their mother, who never really seemed fond of us, kind of blew me off. I managed to get in a quick, "I miss y'all," before they drove away. The smiles faded as they drove out of sight, hands waving goodbye from the back window of the car. I wondered what all had transpired since that conversation in my living room just a few short days before that moment. I had a feeling there was no house being built and maybe the reality of their transition had been a little more intense than they were expecting.
The neighbors next to us had almost ten kids in their house for awhile while another family member lived there. Their kids would be in our yard almost every single day. One of the little girls used to say, "HEY MISS LADY!" every time she would see me. We worked with them every day on manners and being polite and respectful to adults. When I got back from my Poland trip, one of the little boys came tearing across the basketball court and wrapped his arms around my legs in a super hug. Glenn said he asked about me the whole time I was gone. I went on a trip to Texas shortly after that and was very much looking forward to that same welcome home, except...there was no hug or welcome home. They moved the day after I got home and I have not seen them since. I often wonder if that little girl is still saying "Please" and I'm still longing for one more of those incredible "welcome home" hugs from her brother.
I think the hardest part of what we do is not knowing what happens to the kids who come and go. A friend was reminding us tonight that God calls some of us to plant seeds. Sometimes we get the gift of watering them and even seeing the growth that only God can provide. So often we only get to plant the seed and that comes after a long period of tilling the soil. I often find myself asking the question, "Am I ok with being a seed planter? Will I give the same amount and go out of my way knowing that I may never see the results?" I know the answer to this question is not only yes, but exactly what God called me to be. He has comforted me in the difficult times of "no goodbye's" by reminding me that planting the seed is actually one of the most awesome responsibilities. Every beautiful plant starts with someone knowing what a little seed can become.
Let's plant a beautiful garden.
Morgan, I just can't help being amazed by what you do. But as someone who often moved (though for much safer reasons) when young I am sure that all the people you never get to say good bye to do live on in your memory. Kind adults, good teachers, whoever they may be, I remember them even if I last saw them over forty years ago. And they planted seeds. And I do remember.
ReplyDeleteWe live in low-income and there is a lot of coming and going here and few explanations. There's some definite heartbreak surrounding it. My daughter makes friends easily (as do I,) and it's hard when they suddenly stop showing up and you don't know how to keep in touch. But yes, planting seeds is what love does. So while it's hard, it's worth reaching out, many times over, for the sake of the children that pass through our life and home. Thank you so much for sharing this.
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