During the summer, I almost got patted down by the police, I got offered drugs, and I had to deal with a shoplifting incident. Then there was this long gap of nothing extreme happening. Today, I bring you my tale that ends that hiatus.
So, on my way back from dropping off the 1st and 2nd graders after their retreat, I made three realizations: it was a nice day (kids were out), I had time, and I needed kids in camp. So, I decided to do some canvassing on some of the familiar streets. It was relatively uneventful for a while; most of the kids had disappeared. I did happen to sign up one girl who had been in the summer program, and I saw one of my kids from the summer. I also spoke to a lady on 10th street who seemed very interested.
And that’s when I met the junkie.
I was crossing the street, heading up 10th in the direction of the staff house (it’s on Lombard, and I was between Pine and Lombard.) Out of the corner of my eye I could see a disheveled man approaching me. It was one of those “coincidetal” approaches; he appeared to be talking to someone across the street while walking to the sidewalk I was on. However, by the time he reached the sidewalk, he was literally beside me. I knew something wasn’t right.
“Hey man,” he does the reach for the handshake that I’ve seen before, and then whispers something about the house around the corner. I figure he’s offering me drugs; “No, thank you.”
“No, no man. I mean, that house they’re working on, you’re part of that right?”
“Yeah…”
“That’s where I’m heading, let’s go.”
Of course, I didn’t intend on going. Fortunately (or so I thought), there were some kids up ahead. So, I readied my camp forms, and started talking to them, while he walked on.
“Hey, what grades are you guys in?” They start telling me, and things are going well. And he’s watching. He walks back briskly, approaching me.
“Hey, you can’t talk to those kids.”
“I was just–”
“You can’t talk to these kids. You go to their parents, you don’t talk to these kids.”
“I understand, I was–”
“No! You can’t just come over here saying, ‘hey, what are you doing after school.’ You can’t talk to these kids!” At this point, he is up in my face yelling. “You know what?! I want your name, I want your address, I want to see some Identification! Right here!” Now, he’s backed off a bit like he wants to hit me.
And here I am, a bit in shock, a bit confused, but trying to calm the situation. “Listen, I know you don’t know me, but one of my kids lives right there, I can take you over and–”
“No, I want your name, I want to see your ID.”
“I don’t have it. Look, I have a few families–”
“Who do you think you are?! Where do you live?!”
“Just around the corner at that house–”
“I want to talk to your superior.”
“Okay.” So we walk towards the staff house, thinking Rob may still be there.
“What you are doing is wrong, you can’t just come out here and talk to these kids! See them?! They’re parents, they’re parents. These kids are my kids, and I don’t want you coming out here talking to them!”
And here is where I recognize God. All this happened just across the street from a church. I had passed this church at the start of my canvassing, and met two former StreetLeaders, one of whom’s brother is one of my StreetLeaders. When he starts pointing to parents, he points to her, and she gathers what’s happening. So she starts yelling out to him, “He’s not doing anything wrong, he runs a good program out here!” He crosses the street, arguing with her. I cross with him, and hang around the sister while he starts heading towards the staff house again.
“Well, I’m done.” I call James to pick me up.
While waiting, I see our neighbor, Mrs. B, on her porch. I wave, and walk over. That’s when I see the guy coming off of our porch.
“Hey, the older guy said I could borrow a drill, and he said someone would be here.”
“I think they left about an hour ago.”
“Well, he said I could use it, so someone needs to let me in.”
“Yeah, I think they’re gone for the day.”
“I need a drill, man,” he says as he starts walking away.
“Hey, we’re, all cleared up, right?”
“Aw, yeah man, yeah. You just can’t be doing that.”
“I understand, and thank you for letting me know, that’s something I can work on.”
“Cause you just can’t be doing that.” Suddenly, my StreetLeader’s mom comes around the corner.
“He’s doing a good thing out here, you’ve got him all wrong.”
“I’m telling him he can’t be doing that.” They go on for a few seconds, then he walks off. I notice Mrs. B is taking in groceries, and that she’s using her walker. I offer to help out, and grab the ginger ales from the trunk.
“Thank you, you’re doing a good thing here.” Then she starts talking to the mom. “I was watching the whole time. I was ready for him to get close so I could hit him with my walker.”
While I wait for James, I ask the mom, “Do you know who he was?”
“He’s just a junkie with no kids, looking for trouble. He’s not going to do anything.”
It’s the most threatened I’ve felt, but I’m holding onto that experience. Why? First and foremost, it reveals God’s power. Is it just coincidence it all happened on a familiar block, across from people that knew me? Is it coincidence there were people out there ready to help? Is it coincidence the junkie didn’t try to do anything?
No.
Second, I learned. I learned that there are people in the east side that have my back. I learned that I am, in fact in a dangerous area (but guided by a powerful God). I learned a bit more about how to canvass.
Third, this relatively uneventful event has given me experience. There’s nothing like a situation that tests you but doesn’t harm you to prepare you for the future. I suspect, the next time something like that happens, there will be less shock and more focus.
Fourth, anyone who saw what happened, and sees me back on the block later, will gain more respect for me. After all, I’m not running away.
To my mom, my girlfriend, and any others that wish they hadn’t read this: I’m okay. Yes, it could’ve been worse, but God made His presence known. Besides, this is the life I have chosen(or, perhaps, that He has chosen for me), dangers and all. I doubt this is the last time I will face such a situation, but I am not afraid. God brought me here, and He will no doubt carry me through.
So, there it is, the tale of Paul and the Junkie.
You can breath now, Shannon.