There are lots of poor kids in our neighborhood. I only know the name of one of them. And he’s unsupervised…not thought to be a good influence on our protected children. Maybe your neighborhood is like ours: we have too many drug bags, too many guns, and so we isolate kids as much as we can.
Most of what I know about poor kids is professional and comfortably distant. I work with them as grown-ups in prison, I work with their mothers, and I live in their neighborhood. I see their mommas walking the street with a particular turn of the head that says, “Sex for sale.” I see them in the park across the street from our house…the church yard that’s full of noise from dawn till dusk with rough and tumble, full-of-energy kids. Some of them come to me at the park, a candidate for a “settle” mother… a foster mom for a minute, or for a lifetime. Some of them hang on the fence at the rooming house one house away…salivating to jump on our trampoline and play with our dog. Kids ask for what they want. It’s not easy to say no, but I do.
I have traveled a lot, having brief encounters with children who are open to strangers. In Central America, they are glad to show you around, watch you journal, appreciate a pen or a piece of candy. Open for adventure, they are less guarded than mine. School is almost always out for the kids, so they scrounge for firewood on rickety bikes. They wave at buses. They entertain themselves with tin cans and string, with rocks and sticks. Captivated by blowing bubbles or tossing balloons, these kids are easy to enchant. Whether it’s candy corn from the USA or magic tricks, unsophisticated and delightful children throng for something to break the monotony of their simpler lives. I still treasure the small basket given to me by a girl in Burundi…I, a stranger on a brief sojourn, received something it took her 7 hours to complete. These children have been generous and open to me: opening their hearts, their homes, and giving me their enthusiasm and smiles.
In my office, I hear the stories of poor kids. Some have come through the foster care system with wrenching tales of being burned, raped, neglected. One mother walked her children into the social services office to give them away. Another mother dropped off the kids while getting gas, leaving them alone in the Texas desert. Poor kids know abandonment. Too much to cope with, children are very demanding of energy and resources. Sometimes they know they are a burden to poor parents. One mother lamented her promise her children would not have to have used clothes and shoes like she grew up with…”Now they have new sneakers, but no mother,” she said.
Poor kids often have the TV on 24/7. It blares, no matter what’s on or where it is. It is background noise that dulls the noise of the apartment corridor or the street. TV is a friend that is always available, even if your cable gets shut off; TV to go to sleep; TV to wake up. It also drowns out the silence. Problem is, it keeps you inside and makes you want STUFF. Makes you feel like you ain’t nothing if you ain’t got that stuff that’s being advertised. (Ron Sider is right: we need to sit in front of the TV shouting, “Who are you kidding???”)
Poor kids have unusual tastes in food, at least for some of the rest of us. Dill pickles and chili chips for breakfast. Potato chips to go to sleep. Coke with extra sugar in the baby bottle. Spicy, deep fat fried, macaroni in a can…pungent, wake-up tastes. Without early bedtimes, they need something to jump start the day. Extra sugared cereals, yes! Chocolate milk, yes! Organic fruits and vegetables, yuk!
The poorest poor kids I’ve known I met working in an American family shelter. They were financially poor, emotionally poor, and they were spiritually poor. One toddler spoke his first words there: “F*** you.” Children learn what they live. Just a parrot, his words were a wake-up call to all of us.
We, as the church of the Risen Lord Who also welcomed children, must call these children “children of God.” And it might be a good idea also to know their names. They are each gifts of God to become the people of God. They are sometimes difficult gifts to receive. It is costly to journey to and with them. It is heart-breaking out-reach to hear their stories, especially without the safe distance of professional roles. Many are the orphans of today with living parents…just otherwise diseased or addicted. The Gospel calls us to practice the “pure religion” of caring for them, not just when they’re cute toddlers, but especially when they are difficult gang-invited youth. I notice that most programs for youth in my area end at age 12, just when they most need somebody. “Come unto me,” says Jesus, and bring all those kids with you, too. Tough work, but fun and rewarding and vital…Of such is the kingdom of heaven. Amen.
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Rosemary Hensley-Weir Poughkeepsie, NY |