[video:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mu0efgKBYVQ&eurl 320x240]
I live in the south suburban area of Chicago. I work on the southside of Chicago. The two areas are not different in any way. It sickens me to have to admit that this video clip resembles the life of many young people with whom I know and service. I was trying to get away from it. All I want to do is write. I hate to turn the news on at night for fear I will see a face of another young person gunned down or beat to death by his or her peers. I leave work early everyday in order to pick up my twins to comfort my own heart. ...and who really cares?
I can't imagine the pain of the mothers of these children. I can't even begin to imagine the dread of their mornings when they have to remember not to wake their child for school. I can't imagine what it is like to go home from work to prepare one less plate for dinner. It is inconceivable that a mother's child is gunned down in streets, at school, at the bus stop or in the park. This hurting mother will not see her child walk across the stage of a college. She won't be able to beam with pride as she watches her child grow into a productive man or woman. Her thoughts will be haunted by an imaginary image of her child caring for his or her children. She has to live with the picture embedded deeply into her mind of her child lying in a casket turning into dust of the ground.
It is inconceivable that another mother's child could think they had the right to take another life. What about that mother? She has pain too! Her child killed another. It was her child too whose life is also wasted. Her child is also a victim of the streets. It is her child who rots in a jail cell contending with who knows what. She is looked down on, frowned on, isolated, ostracized, and snarled at. Who will show her pity? Who will have compassion on her other children? How is she to deal with it? ...and who really cares?
There were over 30 young people killed due to street violence last school year and as of today, April 10, 2008 the numbers are up to 22. Some mornings I dread going to work because the young people I service need so much, some want so little, and many live in utter lack. Many lack love, guidance, financial means, and spirituality. My collegues and I around this country who work with inner city youth have limited and usually limited time. ...and who really cares?
I looked into the eyes of number 20. Now he is a number. Now he is an empty chair. Now he is a deleted record. Now he is blended into the imagination of all who knew him. It is more difficult knowing who he was and was his goals were. He made me hopeful that our young people could turn their lives around; that they could infact transform their lives and improve its quality. We smiled at each other as I analyzed his transcript and he could see clearly that his graduation could be near. I had the opportunity to show his mother kindness. I felt the gleam in her heart as she too saw hope for her son. I watched him turn over a new leaf and get to school on time. I watched his teacher's delighted smile as she hung his completed work on her board. I listened to his teacher encourage him. I smiled with her as she said good things about his work. I fear the demise of yet another one. ...and who really cares?
However, I remain optimistic that I and my colleagues will be able to touch some with patience and kindness. I am optimistic that our time with some will be beneficial to them at some point in their lives. This video, though a click of a fictitional movie, is an accurate depiction of the life many young people actually lead everyday. I cry for our children. Help me pray for them. Touch one while you can ...and who really cares?
