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!