March 26, 2010
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All about the Youth Center
I haven’t really shared much lately–but a lot is going on at Washington and Rural, Indianapolis, IN.
You get out of it what you put in it.
It just takes so much time to put into something—anything—the amount of time to really do it well.
We are looking for a new director. I add in my prayers what I think he should be like (single and good looking would be nice), but the trail of candidates has begun. We scare most of them away after the first night. Oh dear.
There is a Muslim family that has been coming to the center lately. My director is surprised they keep coming. His strategy is to not let them leave without hearing about Jesus. Overdo rather than leave undone. Sweet kids. God must be doing something.
You really should come volunteer at the center sometime. So you can meet some of my characters:
Watch lil’ Reggie dance and jiggle his way off the bus at night.
Get another hug from Nay-Nay, who wrote me a letter that said I was the “best girl I every meated—love you Reachl!”
Doodles, who never listens, but always makes me laugh.
Various, who always picks up the trash—because I stand in front of the x-box screen until he does.
Kenisha, who can text faster than talk.
Cailer, who is seven, but insists on being eight to come to the center—who keeps BEGGING me to come to the girl’s Bible study because he KNOWS it is so much better than the boys’ .
Curtis, who at 15, refuses to let anyone know I blocked his shot at basketball.
Miracle, who’s brother (15) was shot and killed last year, who never believes I don’t have a quarter until I show her I don’t have any pockets.
Airon, who told me to call him Devon, and smiles in appreciation when I do.
I will stop there for the moment. This week we only had minor fights. On the bus, Big Reggie (Big Reggie and lil’ Reggie are brothers. Both of their names are “Reggie H—.” I wonder about the ego of their father) walked past Aaron and wound up a hard first punch. Aaron is three times wider than Big Reggie, who is not big. Do you know how hard it is to pull a big 11 year old off someone else in a little bus seat? I tried, but it didn’t work well until the director stopped the bus and pulled Big Reggie out from above the seat…but his foot. He continued to the door, where Big Reggie’s mom was waiting. Seeing her son carried by the foot did not make her happy. Her choice words were listened to by everyone on the bus as their faces were squished out the left side windows. And they call me “nosey.”
One of the older girls is trying to get her permit. Her name is spelled wrong on her birth certificate. We rode down to change it, but there is some kind of lock, so she has to go to the city/county building to do it. She sighed and said “This is the kinda think I should have a mom to help me with.” I didn’t know what to say to that. We practiced driving around the youth center and the police flashed lights right next to us. It wasn’t for us, but it scared us both enough to have been. She’s yelling “Is that for me? Is that for me?” While I am trying to turn around and find out if it is or not, thinking “This is what I get for teaching someone to drive???” But alas, the police continued on, and so did our breathing. After a minute.
