My young friend is wanted for attempted murder.

I have a young friend who is accused of shooting someone. When I first heard this I was just sad. While I obviously don’t condone shootings or anything like that I immediately thought of all the good times I had with Dejon.

I care because I know Dejon. I’m not going to say he’s a perfect kid or anything. He’s done some things and made some mistakes but so have I. He’s probably done some things I know I wish he didn’t. But I know Dejon grew up with many of life’s cards stacked against him. He’s already been shot twice, he’s grown with people who should have influenced him for good encouraging him towards many of the activities people look down on him for now. Like I said, I don’t condone or excuse anything, I just know a different part of him than what a lot of people see. I know his primary Nik and my co-workers Jesse, Kallie, Steph, Sam, Abby and my boss George know this part of him. And I want you to know it as well.

In the news report explaining Dejon and Tim are wanted for a shooting, people are allowed to comment at the end. People started making harsh, and in my opinion downright immature, comments and others started firing back supporting Dejon and Tim. It’s the easy thing to do, look down on someone and build yourself up by making them look smaller or completely defend someone you see being attacked.

While those comments (and others people made) make me mad and sad I’m not here to fight one side or the other. I don’t see people who mess up as completely innocent or as a waste of a person or a “savage” as one man described these two. I just think people can know others better and not judge them completely by one mistake or a picture seen in passing. Like I said before, I want you to know the good side of this kid which most people never take the time to see.

Dejon and I went to Young Life Camp at Frontier Ranch last year and I got to see him spend a week where he just got to be a kid, away from the worries of the world, and he loved it. We both did. He enjoyed camp right along with the other kids who didn’t have a past like his, hadn’t been to jail, and didn’t have scars from bullets in their chest and leg. He flinched a little whenever the fake gun shots of the western themed camp went off which reminded me of  his past. Camp was something else for all of us and was a place where I’m reminded to see people as they were intended to be seen.

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And I wish you could see Dejon at his best, I hope he remembers those times too, and I hope maybe all the people arguing can just agree on the fact that pointing fingers and degrading each other won’t get us anywhere. Knowing someone enough to blur the line between the “us and them” way we often see life is a better way. A life of empathy changes things while a life of hostility and judging just widens the gap between everyone. Sooner or later I think this will happen and life will make more sense to us all.

Above all Dejon, if you happen to read this, I hope you know, no matter what you did, all that stuff from camp a year ago is true. You are still great and loved and good. I’m sorry more people don’t see the good in you, the way God see’s you every day. I hope you can feel the love. Hopefully I get to see you again soon.

You Be Trifling!

So this past summer I had the experience of doing something I have never done before; working with little kids.

My comfort zone is around high schoolers with coaching and Young Life being my main experiences but I have, at times, worked with kids before. Past experiences include mainly working with middle schoolers at some leadership events, a little coaching, and at camps. I even spent this last weekend at a Young Life camp for middle schoolers after being asked last minute because there weren’t enough leaders. The only real stuff I’ve learned about middle schoolers is they have no clue as to what is going on in their life. Ever.

When you ask them a question, any question, you get the same response 90% of the time.

At dinner- do you want seconds?

When they get hurt- where does it hurt and how bad?

All the time- do you even have any clean clothes?

The response is always the same. Confused face, slightly tilted head, and no audible response until you ask the same question again. Then you get a halfway-sure of them-self response. It’s usually something like a diagonal circular head shake which neither says yes or no and then some noise usually, barely, escapes their mouth which also elicits little significance. It usually sounds like “mnaghhuh” and then I make a decision for them assuming they want seconds, or tell them they will be fine, or assume based on their persistent smell they either started sweating like a little boy yesterday and don’t yet have deodorant or, in fact, don’t have any clean clothes. I’m almost always right or tell them I’m right and get the same “mnaghhuh” with a sideways head tilt. Then things usually resolve and move on to the next confusing moment. Then I realize neither of us has any clue as to what is going on in their life. Ever.

One of my other experiences was during college. I had a field placement for a class in which I taught third graders. I had a few responsibilities which all revolved around drugs, cigarettes and drinking and how you shouldn’t do any of them. I had curriculum which used puppets and videos with superheroes and sheets matching certain statistics to certain drugs; all to tell them why they shouldn’t use the things. It was very realistic and as far as I know has been extremely effective. I even saw one of the kids recently when coaching a lacrosse camp, he remembered me, and he didn’t appear to be drunk or high or hung over. Success is rarely so visible.

The kids I taught that class to are going into 6th grade now though so we will see… they may have discovered by now the bear I made into a puppet wasn’t really talking, it was me, and soon they’ll find out superheroes don’t show up out of nowhere to help you when your friends ask you to smoke a cigarette or drink some of their parents liquor.

;

Even younger yet than all those kids was my experience this summer. After some time with the men’s mission I was told about and strongly encouraged to check on the kids summer camp. I decided to give it a go and when asked about which age group I wanted to work with I asked what age groups there were.

“Middle school, 3-5 and K-2” my boss replied.

Hmm, ok. Well I’ve done the middle school route and the 3-5ish range a few times before. I was pretty sure little little kids aren’t my forte but I wanted to be sure, get a new experience, and see what it’s all about.

;

Well, now that the summer is over I can reflect a little. I learned some interesting things about little kids. One that sticks with me is the fact that somehow, all the time, without reason, their hands are always wet. I don’t get it. It’s as if every time they go to grab my hand/arm/leg they just pulled their little fingers from under a faucet. Sometimes the wetness spreads to their arms and face… again I don’t know where it comes from. Usually, and I’m pretty sure this is not top of the line “how to treat little kids” etiquette, I just pull myself away and say with a little harsher tone than maybe I should “NO! Why are your hands wet? What is that”

Then they respond like middle schoolers, looking confused and letting out an unknowing coo from their tiny body. My best guess is the wetness is sweat or saliva but for my sake I always make them wipe it off on their shirt and just pretend they are actually washing their hands a lot.

Another thing I learned is little kids like hugs and physical attention non stop.

I try

But if you know me you know I’m not a hugger… there are probably about 9 people I feel like I actually enjoy giving a hug to and it feels natural. All the rest of you get my “I’m trying to carry a box far too large for my arms” hugging posture and I feel so uncomfortable and you probably do too. Little kids don’t care though. They are too busy trying to hold onto your neck or grab your “white people” hair or rest their head on your shoulder. I have to admit… it took some time but I actually became comfortable picking the little ones up. The hug still wasn’t my go to move with them. I usually tried to guess their weight, then imagine what I could do with a dumbbell of that many pounds, and then raise them over my head with one arm or put them up on a shoulder or spin them upside down a few times. They loved it all but usually, according to them, it is best to end with a hug.

And some things are, I think, specific to urban kids. The first is that they called me Donny all the time. This isn’t a general, across the board, things little urban children do, but was because I looked remotely like another staff named Donny who was full time (I was just part time). Our similarities are that we are white and have brown hair. After that there isn’t much.

I would often tell the kids I wasn’t Donny. They would look confused for a second before looking like they figured something out saying “So Donny is your brother?”

Now you may be asking yourself right now “why is the title of this post ‘You be trifling'” Well let me tell you. It’s because, also urban specific, I must have been trifling a lot this summer. I was told at least once a day, usually by an older girl, that I was trifling.

I had heard trifling a few times before this and was only told a couple times while working at the Dale House Project that I was trifling.

To give you a background here is the definition of trifling

according to Webster’s- trifling: of little significance or worth.

according to urban dictionary – trifling: shady. Not right.

This is mainly a word the girls use and follows a rapid progression of a smacking of lips making a “pttss” then a short “ugghhh” followed by telling me I was trifling.

It goes like this.

Girl “Travis can I have lunch now/go outside/have your hat?”

Me “no sorry, not now”

Girl “pttss, ugghhh, YOU TRIFLING” the older girls pronounce it triflin (try-flin) which has a harsher more dramatic tone while the younger kids tend to be more drawn out and whiny with a more drawn out -ing ending in trifling (try-fuh-linggggg)

I think an important part of telling someone if someone thinks you or another is trifling is in their face. Here are some examples.

You, directly, are trifling.

Someone else, not you, is probably trifling.

EVERYONE IS TRIFLING!

No one within a mile is trifling.

After every accusation I would tell the little girl I was surely not trifling and had no trifling motives. To this day I can honestly say I don’t believe I trifled once this summer. No trifling… I did not trifle. Believe it.

Past all the unique experiences of the kids I came to appreciate the people that work with them. They care about the kids so much; even with the wet hands, awkward stares, accidents, accusations of trifling and so much more they care about them. And while I understand them like I understand lacrosse goalies (must be a little crazy to put yourself in that situation) I respect the heck out of them. There is a need to hug and love and take care of little kids.

I discovered it is probably not my thing, even though they are cute and nice and easier to deal with than angry teens, I am not the best at working with them. I am glad though I was able to work with many people, crazy as I think they must be, who find it in them to care unconditionally for these little kids.

When a cop wakes you up.

“Hey man you can’t stay here, gotta get up and move” A man’s voice told me.

I pulled my blanket off my face and looked up to the guy, he’s kind of a blurred pudgy figure until I put my glasses on and see it’s a cop. When a cop wakes you up you usually do what he says. But by this point I had been woken by cops a few times, sometimes I had been somewhere I shouldn’t be and I respected them, other times I knew I was doing nothing wrong and still respected them but with a little more sas (that’s right… I had some sas as a homeless boy)

“Sorry but why can’t I sleep here?” I asked him

“You just can’t” he responded

“Well actually there is no sign saying I can’t and I’m on private property so it’s perfectly fine that I sleep here. Right” By this point I was a little hardened and tired. “Right? I mean I don’t think I’m wrong and if I am tell me” I ask him again while standing up.

“Well, I mean uh. I just think you need to move on” I think he was surprised I was a young kid. I half expected him to put me in my place with some new ordinance or pointing to a new sign that had been hung up in the night or something.

“I’ll move on so I don’t cause you any trouble. I really hope you have a good day sir” I told him as I rolled up my mat and blanket. I really did hope he had a good day too, and I felt kind of bad for my sarcasm. I had been trying to unconditionally love on loads of people by this point (homeless, business people, cops, druggies, the creepy guy who always tried to buy me shoes, prostitutes etc). And I made a short little small talk with the cop while I packed up the rest of my things and was on my way.

As I walked a way I probably had a little more pep in my step than usual. It was actually the end of my little homeless adventure in Denver. While I told the cop it was fine I slept there I was partly thinking “Well, I’m done being homeless anyways”.

I took one more walk through town, looking people in the eye again for the first time in a while (I had been avoiding stares for a couple weeks because it is hard to know people are looking down on you so much). I wanted to remember the looks, the rejection and compare it to what was to come. About an hour after waking up I was headed to Chris’ house, then taking a shower, putting my car back on insurance, driving to get a hair cut and putting on better clothes. In three hours time I would be stopping back at this place a completely differently looking person. I looked into peoples eyes the same as I had three hours before but this time was stared at so differently. People smiled, genuinely, I was treated nicely. No glares from people sitting at tables in restaurants and no sarcastic remarks from touristy looking people.

Truthfully I didn’t know how to respond to everything at the time, or two days later eating breakfast at a hotel in Chattanooga with a man whose net worth was $50 million dollars (that’s another crazy story), or a week later talking to friends at a wedding, or months later talking to a grad school social work class. And here I am now a year later trying to make sense of it all and still I feel am failing miserably to do it justice.

I know I can say it was the greatest, riskiest, and most meaningful experience of my life. I still think about it every day especially now that I hit the one year anniversary of it all. I promise it’s not all done with. I feel something in me urging to pick it back up again in some sense. I needed a rest, I learned I need to rest sometimes while I was out there, but I know I have rested long enough now.

And in the rest, and effort, I’ve learned so much in the past year. From the road-trip through the south, multiple friends weddings, a bike trip across 5 states, a trip with greek guys down to Florida, officiating 2 weddings, working at a running company, going to young life camp, coaching lacrosse and just trying to be a better friend I can say I failed so many times along the way. And I’ve learned from it. I have learned more deeply that I am part of this world, of my faith, and everything the two have to offer each other. And I’m excited for a year from now to see all the ways I’ll have gotten to try new things, take new risks, and continue in my pursuit to be a friend to the world.

As always, never give less than your best.

Love you all and God Bless.