An honor and a heartbreak.

I found out that I was headed to Pine Ridge for internship in January this year, so I spent January to August trying to prepare myself for what this year would hold for me.  I researched as much as I could about this community.  I was aware of the poverty, alcoholism, spectrum of traditional to Christian and language differences.  There was an awful lot that I didn't know or I didn't know how to prepare for adequately.  I asked myself a lot of questions and everyone who knew me asked me lots of questions about where I would live and what it would look like.  In fact, in a moment of weakness/anxiety/panic/what-the-heck-am-I-doing??!!, I actually used Google Maps to zoom in on the town of Pine Ridge and look at pictures of the streets that I would become familiar with in this year here.  It may have been a little creepy, but it made me feel better.

Despite all my preparing, I certainly wasn't prepared for the bomb that Karen dropped on me on my first night here.  When Karen was getting ready to leave for the night, she said, "I would stay close to the building when you walk Steve until you get a sense of the community.  There are 38 gangs here and I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

38 gangs...in Pine Ridge.

Needless to say, this bit of knowledge shook me for the first week or so that I was here.  I did stay close.  I continue to stay close at night.  I've adjusted though and don't feel quite so queasy about it.  Despite living in the southside of Chicago for the last two years, hearing that there are 38 gangs in an area so small seems a lot more terrifying.

The most terrifying part of gangs here though is that our kids are involved.

Last night, one of the boys, who's eight years old, I think, said, "Meredith!  Guess what?  I'm wearing all blue, head to foot.  Even my socks are blue!"  Since I had been warned to be aware of groups of people wearing all the same color, to be sure that I don't get caught in the middle of something, I had a sickening feeling about his decree.  I was curious what he would say, when asked why, since he was bold enough to brag that he was wearing all blue.  He sort of mumbled over his words and looked down at his hands.  His whole demeanor changed from pride to shame.

Later in the evening, I heard him say to one of the other boys something about the Crips.  The Crips are known for wearing blue and having a rivalry with the Bloods, whose color is red.  Since I don't really think there are tons of academic, official articles out on the Internet explaining the gangs, here's one I found that seems reasonable.

A tangential story, which if you've been reading this blog for awhile, you know how I love to tell lots of different stories.  When I was younger, I remember learning to spell "Blood" with my fingers, which is the gang sign for the Bloods.  As a little girl in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, I was amused that I could spell something with my hands.  I had absolutely no concept of what it meant to throw up a gang sign like "blood" with my fingers.  I think back to how many other kids or people that I showed off what I had learned and I cringe at the thought.

Back to this little boy though...

We take the Center van around to drop the kids off after Sanctuary time, the time where we provide a safe and holy place for all people.  As this little guy got out of the van, I said, "Please make good choices tonight. I love you and I care about you."  And my heart broke.

If the kids ride their bikes to Sanctuary, we bring the bikes inside so that
they don't get stolen.  I wish we could do that with kids who are being
tempted and encouraged to join a violent organization.

We begin every worship by announcing that we're in the Sanctuary space.  "What's a Sanctuary?"  I yell out. The kids yell back, "A safe and holy place!"  To now know that the Sanctuary time, the one or two hours a day, is a time when this boy, and surely others, are out of homes where they are being taught to join some of the most infamous gangs in the world, is both an honor and heartbreak.