A purpose, a calling, a mission: that is what inspired 30 high school students to leave the pool, their friends, and oh-so-important technology in the heat of July. We drove thirty minutes. Thirty measly minutes to a place so desperate to be loved, and I can only hope that we filled that need, even if it was only through face painting, wiffle ball, and a giant soapy slip-n-slide. The differences were shocking: Boulder, median income just over $57,000 a year, a primarily Caucasian community, and the outskirts of Denver, median income not quite $30,000 a year, a primarily Hispanic community. When parents struggle to make ends meet, the children of this community do not always receive the opportunities children in Boulder do. It is not so simple to text a friend, go to a movie, or even go on a field trip. Children rely on books and the local park for entertainment, and that does not mean that it is always safe. A young girl about 10 years old (I’ll call her Angel), told me about some local teenagers who frequently visited the park. When she caught eye of them driving up one afternoon in a very expensive vehicle (especially for the area), she quickly whispered, “Those boys steal cars. They left home, took their parents’ cars, and are now living on their own. They come to the park to act tough and scare us or to eat when people are having a barbecue.” Those boys she was speaking of? Well, they were probably about my age. The reality of a rundown community set in at that moment. It seems in Boulder that the worst thing a teenager could do is be caught at a party, but in the outskirts of Denver? No, there is a possibility of going to jail for common teen activities. And not just juvenile detention, either, but years of time. Angel’s dad was in jail, her mom had done time, her older brother was currently awaiting a court date. It shown through her brown eyes: this is normal. It is a place where the cost of keeping the cable on is sometimes prioritized above feeding yourself, where people work multiple jobs and can barely keep their home, and where marijuana is a cultural norm and is smoked constantly--whether they are around their children or not.
We came, we saw, we reached. Going door to door, you see the heart of the community. The love they wish they could have and share. The trust they had when sending their kids to the park with us. We fed them, played games with them, did crafts with them, and most importantly listened to them. It is not every day when you can hear the distress in a woman’s voice as she explains how she does not have enough money to pay rent or to eat in a way that is healthy or to have the kids she desperately desires. And nothing breaks your heart more than to say goodbye to a child like Angel that you have become so close with who says they never want you to leave.
I have been attempting to write this blog for a little over two months now, but haven't found the words. We returned from Urban Immersion late July, and now the sentences have formed to hopefully give you a little perspective into what we experienced while down there. I hope you enjoyed! Thank you to everyone for their continuous prayers over this trip and the people we encountered. Please continue to pray as we set out again in October for another (mini) immersion!
"Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked." ~Psalm 82:3-4
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