God didn't make me bulletproof...

In 64 days, I start my 5th summer at The Pittsburgh Project.  It's the place that I've worked since I was 14 years old…my very first job.  This past week, I started my prayers for the summer that is to come.  I prayed for the hearts of the amazing staff, the youth, patience, leadership, and the ability to see God's work in each individual's life.  I think of the youth that I've encountered there. The family of 10…all but one can swim in the deep end now.  But that is soon to change. I think of the swimming and diving meet that was hosted at the pool last summer.  The beautiful faces of the middle school men and ladies who braved the swim meet.  The chaos.  The hectic task of organizing.  The proud face of the one parent that showed for a sea of excited youth at their very first swim meet.  The overwhelming joy as they each received their awards for their amazing accomplishments.  For many it was a first, but it won't be the last.  

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; 

only light can do that. 

Hate cannot drive out hate; 

only love can do that.

~ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

And as I pray, I reminisce on the less than amazing times. I am reminded of the little girl riding her bike over the hill. We held on to her for dear life as she slipped further and further down the slopes in hope that the rescue squad would come soon. The gunfire. The shootings of little boys I once taught to ice skate. The sadness in my heart when I had to  permanently dismiss a 16 year old boy from the pool because he tried to recruit an 11 year old to sell drugs for him.  I had taught that 16 year old how to write his name when he was in the 3rd grade.  And I will never ever forget the time that a 12-year old asked me to walk him the remaining four blocks home because he was afraid that he would get shot.  The same boys that I taught to ice skate are the same ones that he spent hours with playing "Hunter" (Sharks & Minnows) at the pool and football in the park. "God didn't make me bulletproof," I thought as we approached his house.  In the 8-9 years that I've been associated with The Pittsburgh Project, God has guided and led me to become a lot of things.  A leader, tutor, mentor, coach, friend, disciple.  But the one thing that I haven't become--and probably never will--is bulletproof.  At least not in the literal sense.

I live less than 10 minutes away from one of the most crime and drug infested areas of the Northside.  When the bullets go flying, the sounds of cops' shoes running invade the dark streets, the corners where deals are made, and young boys walk scared, the "other" world ceases to exist to me. I'm a part and apart from the "other" world all at the same time.  I am fortunate. And in the same breath that I speak of how "lucky" I am to be apart of the world that many so desperately want to escape from, I am also honored.  The moments I've shared and the time spent serving the youth 10 minutes away have been some of the best moments ever.  These memories will stay with me for a lifetime. Some good.  Some bad.

Looking back, I am always intrigued on how the little boy chose me to walk with him.  He could have asked my then boyfriend who was standing right next to me.  You would think he'd ask the 6-foot, 200 pound ex-football player to be his protector of choice. But no, he chooses the woman that has been working at the pool for the past 3 years to be the person that walks him home when he's afraid.  The person that he trusted and hopefully whom he knew loved him. What could I do to protect him in the instant that a car sped by spraying bullets? Or if a stray bullet intended for someone else crossed our path? Guns and violence are used as a form of power. To hold superiority over another being. To win in a sense.  

I'm not bulletproof.  But I'd like to think that in some way the little boy saw love, trust, and faith as being a bulletproof force that would protect him as he braved the walk home. I hope that in some way we can spread this idea of bulletproof love in our own community, in our streets, and in our lives. My hope is that at some point in time, youth won't be scared to walk home. That the boys that they once visited at home to play games don't become the boys they visit in the hospital wing. But until then, let's resonate this bulletproof force in the lives of everyone that we encounter.  I'm not bulletproof. They don't win. But love does. Love wins.