End of the third week working new job. It’s been a trial by
fire. Feeling like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Allow me to start at the beginning.
Shadrach:
The journey west was wild; first day Josiah throws up twice.
Late that night I get lost in the
backwoods of Tennessee with two visibly black children and me – who could be anything racially – but most
attractive to the enemy: a woman alone.
In the dark, no network connection, no street signs, to direct the way. Long story short, 911 call leads me to
Shelbyville, TN.
Wake up in the least seedy
hotel Shelbyville has to offer with what looks like a huge bug/spider bite
under my arm. Turns out to be staph infection.
End up spending four expensive days and nights at a hotel in Mississippi. When I am finally well enough to set out on
the road, have to turn around 30 minutes later because we left Rio’s backpack
containing my $200 camera and the DVD player that is supposed to be entertaining
Josiah for the next five days on the road.
Meshach:
Once we get out of Mississippi, things get better. (There’s
a historical joke in there somewhere, but I’ve used up my sense of humor for
the week.) Make my first visit to the
Grand Canyon. Make a mental note to see
it again without kids so I can fully enjoy the awe. Arrive in my hometown on the coast of Oregon
to spend a few days reprieve with my sister, mother and good friend from
elementary. Feeling somewhat rested, I
head up to Portland to my cousin’s who has graciously agreed to let us stay
with her my first week of work until my house is ready. Her house is 40 minutes away from work each
way, still it suits me fine. It’s a beautiful, mountainous, spring green drive,
so I don’t mind. And the Lord knew I
would need it.
Within the first week there were two fights, a large group
meeting with two families and their students regarding theft and threats of
violence – an extensive conversation made longer since it all had to be
translated in Spanish.
The second week, we had another altercation involving a male
student and two female students from another campus, one of whom is pregnant. Then I had several students playing with BB
guns outside the school, painted black with spray paint and nail polish to look
like real guns. The police arrived (and
the media of course.) If not for a
student leader who announced “Their BB guns!” we might have had another Tamir
Rice (Cleveland, 2014) or Andy Lopez (California, 2013) situation.
Abednego:
By the third week, I’m feeling like “I got this” and the
days go by relatively – and it is definitely compared to what was at Metanoia,
i.e. here there is excessive use of profanity, blatant disrespect, intense
drama and constant conflict/tension. I
now feel a deep sense of loss at having left a faith based community
organization, but I am encouraged because when I call upon Jesus, my staff say Amen!
My daughter is making friends, Josiah is at a school with an
African-American male teacher – a blessed gift – his transition has been
smoother than I could have imagined. In
fact, he’s doing better at home now than when we were in South Carolina.
Which brings us to today.
I get a message from my daughter claiming responsibility for doing
something wrong, but she doesn’t give me the details. The e-mail from her teacher
is more comprehensive. The consequences of her actions could include no computer, no use of my phone and revoke of
promise to buy her a phone, no visits to new friend Lindey one house down the
street for at least two weeks, double child care/chore duty, and an old-
fashioned, southern style whoopin’.
She catches the school bus to the Boys & Girls Club, a
block over from where I work, a wonderful convenience, but when I find out
there is no club today, I realize she is probably at home alone. Fortunately, I think, she has a key to the
house so she should be good. I speed
through the five minute drive from my job to my house to find her homework
scattered all over the front lawn, pencil laying just near the front door like a
clue for the next Criminal Minds.
I charge in the house.
No Rio.
I check the park across the street. No Rio.
I pound on Lindey’s door (her new friend from school, one house down.) No Rio.
Did she run away in fear of her punishment? Did some sick bastard snatch up my baby? (The day prior, I heard a mother from Sudan speak about how her daughter was taken by some woman in a white van claiming to be a nurse. Her daughter was missing for three days.) I go back to the house and check every room and closet. Still, no Rio. I call Lindey’s mom. No, Rio is not with them.
I check the park across the street. No Rio.
I pound on Lindey’s door (her new friend from school, one house down.) No Rio.
Did she run away in fear of her punishment? Did some sick bastard snatch up my baby? (The day prior, I heard a mother from Sudan speak about how her daughter was taken by some woman in a white van claiming to be a nurse. Her daughter was missing for three days.) I go back to the house and check every room and closet. Still, no Rio. I call Lindey’s mom. No, Rio is not with them.
I pray. I see the front door open to at house between
mine and Lindey’s. It belongs to a female
couple – very kind neighbors who offered memory foam so I could be more
comfortable on the foam pads we’d been sleeping on for a week.
I pound on the glass door and ring the door bell at the same
time. The woman answers. Rio follows behind. I breathe.
I want to scream. The
woman sees. She understands my
panic. She smiles gently, knowing.
Rio calls to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I left my key inside this morning.” But I asked if you had your key before you left - you said “yes!”
I can’t even get this thought out of my mouth.
I walk down the block.
Rio collects her homework and pencil from the front lawn.
Rio calls to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I left my key inside this morning.” But I asked if you had your key before you left - you said “yes!”
I can’t even get this thought out of my mouth.
I walk down the block.
Rio collects her homework and pencil from the front lawn.
I return and write a list of what she needs to do while I am
away so I can...breathe, alone. Gather a moment’s peace to do what brings me the most
tranquility. Writing.
And a double shot of scotch, neat.