Kombanwa!
It is the eve of my son's first birthday. I have come home from work, played with him, and I am watching him wander around the house independently with just one sock on his feet. I have tried to urgently keep him away from the oven while baking dinner. I can't help but be amazed though as I look at him playing with my shoes. They are over half the length of his body. I remember how long it took for me fit my own dad's shoes, and now I am in his position. The shoe is on the other foot.
Thing s have changed a lot since those days. It is hard to comprehend everything that has happened since then. I have reflected on a few memories that stood out more recently. These are the things I want to honor and contribute to my own son's childhood experiences as I give my best at raising him to be a good man. This is the father I will always love and respect regardless of anything else that happened. Everyone makes mistakes big and small, but this is the highlight reel I want to post.
1. As a child I spent much of my time memorizing the populations of cities around the world as well as the local small towns. I did this from seven to eight years old. My dad would take me to the edge of different towns until we got to the green city limit signs that had the popultation listed just below the white bold letters of the town's name. We would do a u-turn then and come back home.
2. At about the same age, I wanted to be a herpetologist. I had a lizard, a turtle, and I caught a lot of toads and frogs. What I really wanted was a snake. We lived next to a corn field, and there was a long corn snake that lived near the wood pile in the back yard. My dad went back and caught with his hands, bringing it over Steve Irwin style. He put it inside of my rectangular, glass aquarium, where the unnamed snake spent its few moments of captivity beating its head against the transparent walls without ceasing. I looked at my dad and said, "I don't want a snake anymore." So my dad reached in and grabbed the hostile serpent, taking it back to the wood pile from whence it came.
3. My father was the pilot of our many long-drive summer vacations. Whether it was a Highland Games festival in North Carolina, the Smoky Mountains, Galveston, Texas, Niagra Falls, or even Matamoros, Mexico once, he drove us the many miles to get us to see new places. The best example was going to Wisconsin Dells, where we decided it was too cold, so we turned araound and drove to the opposite end of the country at Perdido Key, Florida. It seemed that no adventure was too far away if it meant a good memory for the family.
I want to encourage my son's thirst for knowledge. I want to enable him to embrace his passions. I want to take him on adventures he will remember for the rest of his life. My father did this for me. I will honor what he did for me by doing the same for my son. I will make my own mistakes along the way as well. However, I will leave him some footsteps worth following too. I just have to be careful not to step in any pits along the way. How does that song go?
"Lord, I want to be just like You because he wants to be just like me."
Que Dieu te benisse!
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Scavenger Hunt
Bom dia!
This morning I had some extra time on my hands at the community center since none of my adults showed up for class. I started off with two kids who rode up to me on their bikes asking if they could get extra training early. I told them to come back in 15 minutes. They did not show up again. I was feeling a little discouraged, but I used the time to check my email since I rarely have time to do so in between teaching time.
One of my co-workers approached me, and we began to talk about the issues of the community like consistency, initiative, discipline, priorities, goal-setting, and the list went on. She works with the families in the communtiy to educate parents on nutrition, child interaction, violence and domestic abuse, health, financial planning, and other issues they confront on a daily basis in the struggle to survive. The conversation ended on the note that we need to go into the community itself and meet with families where they are at. Their kids will come, but if they have no material incentive, the parents will not show up. Abstract, long term rewards do not work well for people who do not have hope in tomorrow.
I have worked with a number of good parents here who prioritize well and plan for their families' futures, but they are the minority from what we have seen. My co-worker suggested going to them if they won't come to us. This reminded me of something from working in Managua. I went to speak on honoring your father when he has hurt you or when he was not there. The message was for the youth of the church. They did not show up. I sat in the church and prayed, and I Heard, "Take the church to them."
I went with a young man up the street, where we found a kid who had robbed me and one of the two gangs involved in a shoot out that closed my youth group a few months earlier. We went up to them and asked if we could share the message. The were drunk, high, and covered in bandages from machete wounds, but they agreed and listened intently. They even collectively hushed down one of them who interrupted with his incessant giggling. We were invited back week after week, and eventually they got involved in churches and got jobs. The gang was disbanded.
So today I went into the Gompers projects trying to take the church to them. I sought out the young man we prayed for a month and a half ago who had been shot four times. I couldn't find him. I went to the last building at the edge of the neighborhood, and he wasn't there. Who was there was a gang of young men staring me down and walking towards me. I felt like I was reliving my experience. I remember the initial fear. I thought they were moving in on me. Then one of them yelled to me, waving emphatically, "Mr. Hamilton!!" It was a former student from years ago. He had come in to lift weights with me earlier in the week and came in late this morning to see if we would train again. This time I got to meet the whole group. One of them recognized me from when I was going through the neighborhood advertising clases a few months ago. I also ran into a lot of the kids I work with. It is always eye-opening to see them in their context, walking through the street or hollering from their doorways.
I did not find what I was looking for today, but I did come upon some hidden treasures. Our director once told me to look to Isaiah 45:3 which says, "And I will give you treasures in the darkness, and hidden wealth of secret places, in order that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name." I know what real wealth is, and these experiences are both lavished and vitalizing. I am greatful to have them, and they come from a morning stroll through the ghetto. Amidst the broken glass and broken dreams there is still hope, and there are still smiles and laughter. There is excitement for a new day. I didn't find what I wanted, but I found what I needed to discover.
Modimo au gaugele!
This morning I had some extra time on my hands at the community center since none of my adults showed up for class. I started off with two kids who rode up to me on their bikes asking if they could get extra training early. I told them to come back in 15 minutes. They did not show up again. I was feeling a little discouraged, but I used the time to check my email since I rarely have time to do so in between teaching time.
One of my co-workers approached me, and we began to talk about the issues of the community like consistency, initiative, discipline, priorities, goal-setting, and the list went on. She works with the families in the communtiy to educate parents on nutrition, child interaction, violence and domestic abuse, health, financial planning, and other issues they confront on a daily basis in the struggle to survive. The conversation ended on the note that we need to go into the community itself and meet with families where they are at. Their kids will come, but if they have no material incentive, the parents will not show up. Abstract, long term rewards do not work well for people who do not have hope in tomorrow.
I have worked with a number of good parents here who prioritize well and plan for their families' futures, but they are the minority from what we have seen. My co-worker suggested going to them if they won't come to us. This reminded me of something from working in Managua. I went to speak on honoring your father when he has hurt you or when he was not there. The message was for the youth of the church. They did not show up. I sat in the church and prayed, and I Heard, "Take the church to them."
I went with a young man up the street, where we found a kid who had robbed me and one of the two gangs involved in a shoot out that closed my youth group a few months earlier. We went up to them and asked if we could share the message. The were drunk, high, and covered in bandages from machete wounds, but they agreed and listened intently. They even collectively hushed down one of them who interrupted with his incessant giggling. We were invited back week after week, and eventually they got involved in churches and got jobs. The gang was disbanded.
So today I went into the Gompers projects trying to take the church to them. I sought out the young man we prayed for a month and a half ago who had been shot four times. I couldn't find him. I went to the last building at the edge of the neighborhood, and he wasn't there. Who was there was a gang of young men staring me down and walking towards me. I felt like I was reliving my experience. I remember the initial fear. I thought they were moving in on me. Then one of them yelled to me, waving emphatically, "Mr. Hamilton!!" It was a former student from years ago. He had come in to lift weights with me earlier in the week and came in late this morning to see if we would train again. This time I got to meet the whole group. One of them recognized me from when I was going through the neighborhood advertising clases a few months ago. I also ran into a lot of the kids I work with. It is always eye-opening to see them in their context, walking through the street or hollering from their doorways.
I did not find what I was looking for today, but I did come upon some hidden treasures. Our director once told me to look to Isaiah 45:3 which says, "And I will give you treasures in the darkness, and hidden wealth of secret places, in order that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name." I know what real wealth is, and these experiences are both lavished and vitalizing. I am greatful to have them, and they come from a morning stroll through the ghetto. Amidst the broken glass and broken dreams there is still hope, and there are still smiles and laughter. There is excitement for a new day. I didn't find what I wanted, but I found what I needed to discover.
Modimo au gaugele!
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Back in the Neighborhood
Guten abend meinen freunden!
So it has been over two years since I have written here. I have dearly missed the cathartic experience of writing. I have a good many stories to tell from my absence, and there are new ones being written in my quotidian routine. I have had a son, traveled to several new countries, fought numerous more fights and tournaments, been robbed, caught chikungunya fever, moved from Nicaragua, etc., etc.
I have another fight coming soon, and my son will be a year old soon. There will be a lot to update, and I will even be publishing some poetry here too. I have to say that in spite of some Everest highs and Mariana's trench lows over the last couple of years, I am left with just two words: praise God! The road is very winding right now and there are certain to be many obstacles, ecstasies, and mundane moments ahead. I welcome them all as well as the lessons they bring. No vayas por el camino que te lleva, sino ve por donde no hay camino y deja huellas.
I am back in East St. Louis with more skills and knowledge to prepare leaders there. Now we have people from around the world who Skype the kids for them to practice their language skills. I have to thank all of the people who have poured MMA techniques and wisdom into me in my excursions throughout Central America and to Katayama-san in Osaka for the boxing tips as well. It is great to be able to share them with my students here. I have more kids consistently kicking butt than in any class I have taught anywhere.
I have to say though that my return has been somewhat bizarre and sad. Many of the business' in East St. Louis have shut down. Shootings have gone up. While visiting one of the projects, I ran across a young man who had been shot four times. We went up to his room to pray for him, and we could see the bandages on his arm and his stomach. He could stand up, but he is confined to his room. He makes me think of this city: seriously wounded, but alive and breathing. There is much to be done here. The school district is on strike as well. Many kids are losing out on what education they get. The timing is right for this season in my life to work here again.
There is so much more to share, but this is just to break the ice. I will be putting time into this periodically to keep everyone updated as to what is going on on the frontline, and I will also be putting up some of the stories from my "sabbatical" from this page. Have a great day, and keep fighting the good fight!
Daiwan jaini mai mumbia!
So it has been over two years since I have written here. I have dearly missed the cathartic experience of writing. I have a good many stories to tell from my absence, and there are new ones being written in my quotidian routine. I have had a son, traveled to several new countries, fought numerous more fights and tournaments, been robbed, caught chikungunya fever, moved from Nicaragua, etc., etc.
I have another fight coming soon, and my son will be a year old soon. There will be a lot to update, and I will even be publishing some poetry here too. I have to say that in spite of some Everest highs and Mariana's trench lows over the last couple of years, I am left with just two words: praise God! The road is very winding right now and there are certain to be many obstacles, ecstasies, and mundane moments ahead. I welcome them all as well as the lessons they bring. No vayas por el camino que te lleva, sino ve por donde no hay camino y deja huellas.
I am back in East St. Louis with more skills and knowledge to prepare leaders there. Now we have people from around the world who Skype the kids for them to practice their language skills. I have to thank all of the people who have poured MMA techniques and wisdom into me in my excursions throughout Central America and to Katayama-san in Osaka for the boxing tips as well. It is great to be able to share them with my students here. I have more kids consistently kicking butt than in any class I have taught anywhere.
I have to say though that my return has been somewhat bizarre and sad. Many of the business' in East St. Louis have shut down. Shootings have gone up. While visiting one of the projects, I ran across a young man who had been shot four times. We went up to his room to pray for him, and we could see the bandages on his arm and his stomach. He could stand up, but he is confined to his room. He makes me think of this city: seriously wounded, but alive and breathing. There is much to be done here. The school district is on strike as well. Many kids are losing out on what education they get. The timing is right for this season in my life to work here again.
There is so much more to share, but this is just to break the ice. I will be putting time into this periodically to keep everyone updated as to what is going on on the frontline, and I will also be putting up some of the stories from my "sabbatical" from this page. Have a great day, and keep fighting the good fight!
Daiwan jaini mai mumbia!
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