Saturday, May 3, 2014

Sunshine and a Chain Link Fence

The City is awakening.

The birds chirp and chatter their merry conversation, tulips open their hearts to the sunshine, daffodils nod their heads cheerily.
A gentle shower falls on the lawn, the garden hose waving back and forth in the woman's hand, a toddler by her side poking at the grass. Music flows out windows and open doors as you pass one house and then another. People are on the streets, pushing strollers, walking dogs, carrying groceries.

The City has come alive.

It's exciting, to see the people about, to pass children and teens, recognizing some of them as part of ICI. But as the weather heats up and draws everyone outside, so will the relations between people. Summer is a violent time in Chicago.

A part of me is afraid. I don't do well with anger, it frightens me. It runs rampant in the city, spreading like a disease. I've seen it in the eyes of a group of men on the street corner and in the eyes of a group of girls at ICI. When the anger is stored up inside it doesn't take much for it to spill over.

Another part of me becomes bold, all the more urgently wanting to spread the gospel of peace and forgiveness.

And yet, as I think of how I want to impact the people of Chicago once I start at ICI, I realize I haven't even met my neighbors across the street.

Or even next door.

I saw him today and spoke to him for the first time, this neighbor to the south of me. He said "Hey, how's it goin'?" I shot him a quick half-hearted smile and an automatic "Good, you?" He threw me back a distracted "Good" and called to his little girl toddling in the shadow of our two houses. We were separated by a chain link fence and miles of thought. I was focused on getting to the office before 1:00 pm and he was focused on getting his daughter. A second and a half later I turned back to introduce myself, but by then he had turned away and was walking towards his front steps. I met his wife, once, months ago. She has dark hair. She probably told me her name, it might still be in the dark recesses of the unused portion of my brain.

I have no trouble reaching out to those who are assigned to me as "ministry," but those naturally around me? It's so easy to be intentional in one area but not the other. But even when I try to make eye contact or look for an opening with people, they seem distant and aloof. I want to break this barrier that isolates us. Maybe as the sun warms up the city it will thaw the barriers between people, so that as anger increases on the street, compassion and love and friendship (or at least neighborly camaraderie) can as well. I
want to bring Christ to both - the kids I intentionally seek out and those I pass every day.

And that starts with a simple "Hello."

 Hopefully next time I'll add, "I'm Cristina."  


The person I used to be.

“We all change, when you think about it. We’re all different people all through our lives. And that’s OK, that’s good, you gotta keep movin...