This is hell

I’ve been busy. Almost too busy. I’m currently hitting my 14th hour of today’s work day and it might extend until its 15th.

The kids had their first test and I took them to a nice local restaurant afterward as a final farewell. It was tough. It was the first time all of them had eaten at a real restaurant. Imagine going your whole life seeing restaurants left and right, but never having the money to actually go into one. That same kind of unfamiliarity also made the event very interesting. Imagine having five kids at a restaurant. Then imaging having five who have no idea how they’re supposed to act in a restaurant. It was incredible though. I loved it. They loved it.

We got to talking on the drive back. I asked them what it was like to live in Capricorn. They opened up to me in a way I will never forget. Michaela started smoking at age 5. Yes, five. She’s been smoking ever since. She started doing “tick” (or speed) at age 9 or 10. Her friends talked her into doing both. She stopped doing tick when Living Hope came into the community and hasn’t done it ever since. She told me stories of how she prays to God each night to help her quit smoking, but she just can’t. She said she would go to a friend’s house a few years ago and everyone would be smoking and everyone would be “ticking” and drinking alcohol and her friends would be high and start to cut each other with knives because of this incredible anger that came over them. Then to calm each other down, they’d just offer each other more drugs. This would go on night after night after night. She’s twelve. 12-years-old and a recovering drug addict, but still addicted to cigarettes. And that was just one of the five’s stories…

And in four days I leave. Tomorrow I will see them and again I’ll see them on Tuesday, but then I have to go. The five of them said they would cry when I leave. I said I would too. They said they would quit music school. I had to fight back tears and just tell them that if they did that, they would hurt me. And the last thing they want is to hurt me because some of them have already compared me to their mothers and to Jesus. I’m no Jesus, but maybe they see Him through me, through my love. They understand. They truly understand this whole academy and why I came. I told them I’d send email letters each week that Amy and the other teachers could read. I promised them that I’d do everything that I could to come back. I had to. They begged me. And then I lost it. As soon as they got out of the car, and I drove through the dark, alert and scary streets of Capricorn, I lost it. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t think. I drove away not realizing I was even driving. I just wanted to scream. Why is this world so cold? Why are we so oblivious to such pain? Even being over here, I stay in a warm home in a nice suburb, and they’re just minutes away living through hell.

And that’s not even throwing poverty into the mix. That’s not even throwing in sex and AIDS. That’s long before the living conditions and the food situations. That’s even further before you reach the whole economical and political and historical and cultural and social side of it. The last place I want to be is in a comfortable apartment in Nashville. What is it going to take to convince this world to take a chance, and go out on a limb, and give up a little comfort and safety so that others can raise to the slightest glimpse of self-dignity. How long will it take to actually do it? What is it going to take, and how long will it take to convince you?