I wonder what the neighborhood must have been thinking while they watched us from behind their curtains or from their porches as we knocked on people's doors. Three white people obviously on the wrong side of the tracks. "What possible reason could they have to be walking down their street? Didn't they know where they were?"
Yes, we did. We knew exactly where we were and we wanted to be there. We made a strange trio I'm sure. A 41 year old home schooling mom. A twenty-something computer programmer wearing a cool, retro style hipster cap. And a 15 year old home schooled teenager who towered over everyone there. We didn't exactly blend in. We must have looked like we were lost or selling something or with the IRS.
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The House of Dreams and the Paddocks at the Free Yard Sale
our group Focus3 helped them with last month.
Some of the residents remembered us from that rainy day. |
We were visiting houses in the neighborhood of the
House of Dreams (
The Dream Campaign) where Glen and Morgan Paddock serve the youth in the neighborhood and the people there with a message of hope and inspire the kids (and their parents) to dream. The neighborhood is a mixture of run down homes most of which wouldn't pass COA regulations if inspected, a few small businesses, and artsy SCAD students. A number of the residents were born in their homes over 80 years ago. Many are the
working poor just struggling to keep the rotted roof over their head. And some are drug dealers and prostitutes. There's the crack house on the corner and the alley where business transactions are made in the light of day just a few yards from the newly installed basketball court at the House of Dreams where the neighborhood kids are starting to hang out.
We had been going door to door asking the residents if we could help them with any tangible needs they had like yard work or home repairs that could be done in an afternoon. Our church is pulling together the necessary resources for
Compassion Day in a couple of months and we needed to find out what the specific needs were. We also were hoping to find 'persons of peace'(Luke 10:6). People in the neighborhood who would be an influence in their community.
Every time we knocked on a door we were greeted with skepticism and suspicion. With a crack house around the corner the law abiding residents had good reason to be concerned when strangers knocked on their doors. But once we shook hands and explained why we were their they very often breathed a sigh of relief. They often didn't know what to say. "How can you help me?" It seemed obvious to my friend Kyle, my son Nathan and me when we looked at their homes but perhaps they weren't used to someone wanting to help them. Or maybe it was that their need is so overwhelming they don't know where to start.
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Miss Sunny was more concerned
for her 98 year neighbor
than for her own home. |
And sometimes they were like Miss Sunny* who was far more concerned that we come back to talk to her 98 year old neighbor who was at church. "Her roof is leaking bad and her grandson is trying to get help from the city." I looked at Miss Sunny and her husband Ray* standing on their decaying porch with the 50 year old asbestos siding peeling off their house because of their water rotted roof and the squirrels living in their attic. She had recently lost her job but was a hair dresser by trade and she knew the Paddocks because the House of Dreams was the only safe place her son could play. This family's needs were shouting at me but she cared more about her neighbor getting help.
We continued on energized by our visit with Miss Sunny & Ray but most people weren't home or didn't answer their doors. It was getting a bit discouraging because we wanted to help the people there but who could blame them for being wary of us.
Then there was Miss Maggie* who's house was immaculate and well cared for. We asked her to keep an eye out for her neighbors needs and to let us know if she thought of a way we could help. Then she mentioned that she had just buried her father the day before. I know what it's like to bury a father. I asked if we could pray for her and she gladly let us. We prayed together on the porch thanking God for her father's life and thanking Him for being our comfort and strength. We hugged each other and as we walked away I felt the eyes of the neighborhood watching us make our way down the street.
A small group of men were hanging out in the middle of the street outside of the crack house. As we approached them I watched an elderly man dressed in church clothes step out onto his porch and watch us warily. He lived across the street from the crack house and looked like he could be one of the neighborhood 'elders'. I smiled at him and we introduced ourselves. Mr. Williams* was very suspicious, almost hostile. "Who are you with?" When I mentioned the Paddocks he softened....a bit. He spoke of the
good work they do and that Glen is the 'real deal'. By the time we said good bye he was smiling but he was still assessing us.
We waved good-bye and went straight across the street to talk to the men outside the crack house. There was an old man sitting on the porch who appeared to be high and two younger men in the street. One man about my age started to walk away and the tattooed young man shifted his eyes and shuffled his feet trying not to make eye contact with me. Mr. Williams stayed on his porch watching us with a serious look on his face. I wondered what he must have been thinking. Did he think we didn't know these guys were drug dealers?
I stuck out my hand to the young man who was probably just a couple years older than my sons, "Hi, I'm Heather." He was clearly uncomfortable and reluctantly took my hand mumbling something. The old man said, "Hello!" loudly from the porch and the other guy started flirting with me as he was walking away down the street. Being a transplanted Yankee I knew how to let that roll off my back and greeted him back with a confidence that must have communicated I wasn't intimidated (even though I was). I explained why were there and asked if they knew of any needs among their neighbors that we could help with. The young guy didn't know what to say but the old man started talking about a church down the street that needed help with it's steeple. "I got baptized there," he told me with a smile as he looked at me through glassy eyes. The irony didn't escape me.Then something incredible happened.
Mr. Williams stepped off his porch and joined our conversation from his curb. He didn't step into the street with us but he started talking about what a great thing the Paddocks were doing for their neighborhood. I got the feeling that this friendly exchange was not the usual interchange between these neighbors. I suspected most of the communication between these men was a hostile tolerance of the other's presence. Mr. Williams became more animated and warm as he talked about the good we were doing and how it was needed. The young tattooed drug dealer became more uncomfortable and the high old man on the porch agreed with Mr. Williams. The entire moment felt surreal. What was happening? And then Mr. Williams stepped past the invisible barrier into the street with us. I realized what was happening, this was a moment of peace. Could Mr. Williams be person of peace?
Our conversation drew to a close and we encouraged the men at the crack house to let us know if they could think of a way we could help their neighbors. Mr. Williams stood there for a moment, smiling, then went home and watched us from his porch. As we walked a way a car pulled up and a business transaction took place between the tattooed young man and the driver. Life seemed to return to normal.
But something had happened in that moment when Mr. Williams crossed that curb and joined us in the street with the drug dealer and his customers. It was as if the spiritual atmosphere shifted in that exchange of peace. Immediately after that encounter we found two more people of peace. Miss Edna* who works in the school system and asked how she could help mentor or tutor the neighborhood youth. Miss Anne* offered to mobilize the women of the street to identify the needs of their neighbors. It was what we had prayed for, that God would lead us to people of peace who would open their hearts to bring His transforming hope to their community.
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Miss Anne's rotting windows.
She wants to tutor youth in her neighborhood. |
We walked back up the street to the House of Dreams waving and smiling at the neighbors we had met. They smiled and waved back. Life went on as it had before we arrived but their was something new in the neighborhood. A seed of hope is growing.
*Names have been changed.
Our family is in a mentorship that culminates with a trip to serve Yemeni refugees in Michigan. Leave a comment if you would like to know more about our trip or if you feel lead to support our fundraising you can go to this link http://www.sccgo.com/give/support-a-trip/ Scroll down to Go Focus, sign in as guest or as yourself (if you want to claim it as a tax deduction), then select my name from the drop down menu. Thank you for helping us choose compassion!
This moment happened on an autumn day as I walked alone up my driveway to the house. I heard a sound, I felt something in my hand and I looked down and there he was, a small child.Time seemed to stand still and then he was gone. Nothing like it had ever happened to me before. It felt like a promise and I wrote it down and pondered it in my heart. Several months later I would learn I was pregnant with Isaac and then he was gone. During my grief I found this in my journal and it comforted me.