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Chapter 2 - My New Favorite Place
I have new favorite place. It's a row house in York city that also serves as a crisis shelter for kids up to age six. It is a safe place for kids that don't always come from safe places. My time there has been (and continues to be) an incredible experience and I thank God that he lets me be part of the team serving these kids. Many preconceived notions I had of the families served (97% of the families live below the poverty level), have been stretched and altered. Because of the center I am much less judgmental of other's situations.
I remember one of my first weekends working; I was playing with a group of 3 and 4 year olds. I jokingly scooped one of the kids up in my arms, expecting him to laugh and try roll out of my arms. Instead he stopped laughing and snuggled in close. I held him a little tighter. The room grew quiet. I looked down and the other kids had stopped playing and were lined up waiting their turn. At that moment I realized that, more than anything, these kids wanted safe arms to hold them; someone to say "your special and safe with me". I also realized that the line of kids in front of me represented a long line of kids; a line that would run down the steps, out the door and around the corner. In a larger sense they represent all of God's kids marginalized by society, all the kids that only want a safe place to sleep and calm arms to hold them. I am grateful to God that He occasionally lets me be those arms.
My time serving these kids has made me more aware of their situations. One morning I was serving the children breakfast. I brought out the plates of eggs, toast and bacon and sat them in front of the kids. As I got to the last child I, jokingly, sat down and put her food in front of myself and pretended like I was going to eat it. She folded her arms and put her head down. She was prepared to sit through breakfast and not eat. I was hoping she was going to laugh but her silent acceptance was more heartbreaking then if she would have cried. I quickly gave her the food and tried to convince her I was joking. The child who never cries is more troubling than the one that always does. At least the one crying has some expectation of their needs being met.
Another conversation went like this:
Little girl: "Mr. Dan, I'm sad my Daddy is in jail (again)".
Me: "I'm sorry"
Little girl "At least I can still see you"
I was speechless. I just picked her up and held her close for while. At nap time the same little girl said "Mr. Dan, you will be here when I wake up and you will love me." My shift ended while she was sleeping but, of course, I stayed until after she woke up.
Sometimes it bothers me that I can only protect and nurture these kids for the time they are with me. When I question if I am really making a difference I think of the words of Doc Childre when he said "An aware person loves all children he or she meets and interacts with for you are a caretaker for those moments in time." Knowing these kids caretakers, for many reasons, often let them down makes me more aware of my influence during the "moments in time" they are with me. When they leave the center I want them to leave knowing that someone thinks they are special and loves them unconditionally
Occasionaly, God lets us get a glimpse that we do make a difference. I was meeting with the mother of a child that had just spent a few days with us. The girl had spent time with us before. The mother said that the girl talked about me at home and then shared this conversation:
Girl: "Mr. Dan is at the center crying"
Mom: "Why is Mr. Dan crying"
Girl: "Because he misses me"
While I don't want kids to think I'm sitting around crying, what I try to do is leave each child with this feeling -- that someone cares about them and misses them when they aren't there.