Sigh of relief

First off, apologies for not keeping this updated. I've been very busy here—busy in a good way. On August 29, 2006, I wrote on this blog that Bob and his staff were considering starting a separate evening program for teens, and it finally commenced this month. We meet each Tuesday evening at the Brookside community center to discuss issues and plan events, and on Thursday (or Friday or Saturday) we do an activity like bowling or watching a Pacers game or visiting the dollar theater. I am still getting to know the kids there, and it will take some time for us to become comfortable with each other.

I've also begun to have more people over to my house. Last Sunday afternoon, Bob procured some free tickets to a ballet show downtown, and several of the kids wanted to go. Four teens from my Sunday school class—one guy and three girls—wanted to come, and I had to watch them for two hours until the play started because their guardian had to leave. He gave me permission to bring them to my house for lunch (he offered that I could discipline them if necessary), so we got frozen pizzas from Kroger and had a good time. On the way home, the guy rolled down the window and yelled "Go Colts!" to everyone he saw. It was kind of funny, and entirely appropriate, given that the Colts had an important playoff game that evening. I think our friendship deepened significantly that afternoon.

This evening, I had three of the staff members from the youth program over for dinner. I made my Mom's vegetable lasagna recipe, which is always a hit, and I made a greasy "real meat" version, sourced from the Internet, for good measure. Two of the guys grew up in Brookside and were involved in Bob's program for years as participants, and now they are incredibly mature and capable leaders. One of them leads the teen program in which I participate. The third was Bob's grandson.

I haven't gotten to know any of them very well, and they were likewise curious about me. They asked me how I'd gotten involved in outreach here, and I gave them a fairly complete recounting of the story, complete with my experiences in Atlanta and Boston, my ill-fated attempts to contact Wheeler Mission after my move here, and my initial experiences hanging out on the mean streets of Brookside.

Then they asked the question I've come to dread: "L, do you have a girlfriend?"

I replied with what has become my standard answer: "No, I don't. Every time I try to date someone, I get rejected." Hey, it's true. Then I went into a good bit more detail about the latest rejection, which I'm not going to share on this blog. I even told them about the infamous contract, since it is impossible to honestly describe my utter lack of romantic experience without including that salient detail. I want to forget about it like a bad dream, but it just keeps recurring... I went on to describe my possibilities for future dating, which must extend beyond my current social network (neither my church nor my work offer any prospects). Perhaps I could start attending our partner megachurch in the richest suburb of Indy on Saturday evenings with the goal of meeting women. Maybe I could get involved in their singles ministry. Or finally join e-harmony. I told them that I plan to do all three over the next few months.

It was interesting how the conversation progressed. All three men acknowledged that they'd had misgivings about me when I first came, and you could almost feel their collective sigh of relief. "When Bob introduced you to me," one said, "I didn't know what to think. Sometimes he doesn't tell the whole story. And Bob isn't in touch with the culture of young people." He's only 76, you know.

"It just looked bad," another elaborated. "A single guy comes to town and says he wants to work with kids. Specifically with kids. It just looks bad."

But after watching me for several months and observing that I "always came back," they concluded that I was "cool." It's a huge relief, but I must say that I've found the nearly-universal suspicion that I am an unspeakable "something else" to be one of the most frustrating aspects of this work. It was hard enough being accused of being gay in college, but now to be suspected of being some kind of sick pedophile merely because I am single and "work with kids" is almost too much to bear. If I were a woman, no one would think that. If I had a girlfriend, no one would think that. The other folks in Brookside claimed that anyone like me was either a cop or a child molester. My former neighbor was so sure I was "something else" that I had to give her a full recounting of my romantic inexperience to convince her otherwise. The police who stopped me in Brookside weren't about to believe that I had anything but the most perverted intentions. And now, to discover that these friends, peers, and co-workers whom I tremendously respect were hesitant to trust me for the very same reason—well, it's just very, very difficult.

It's exasperating, too, because I spent three of the hardest years of my life rigidly denying myself the opportunity to even consider a girlfriend. Not by my choice, either. Nobody knows that, and some don't believe it when I tell them. They don't understand why I've only been "in the market" for the past three years, not the typical 8-10. I would like nothing more than to be with a lady whom I respect and trust, who does more than talk about outreach and actually does it, who could be my partner and my friend. But what am I supposed to do? Make a t-shirt that says that? Create a bumper sticker and slap it on my car? It just sounds like I'm desperate, like I'm complaining. Which I am. So I'll shut up.

One of the staff members offered a suggestion, which he meant for the teen program but may also spill over into the romantic area: loosen up. I know I'm too uptight, but I'm at a loss for how to address it. It's hard for me to even recognize it in myself sometimes. On a typical day, I get up after a few hours of sleep, leave for work at 6:45am (or an hour earlier when I exercise) and don't get home until 6:15pm. I work all day on tasks that require careful analysis, laser focus, and meticulous attention to detail. (It's just like college: high grades don't come to those who "loosen up" in their approach.) I skip dinner, go straight to the teen program, and hang out for two hours with the kids. None of them are Caucasian, and they are all much cooler than I am (especially since I'm still wearing most of my professional attire at this point). It's hard to switch gears between work and the program. I do try hard to be cool, like not smiling too much and not making too many sudden movements. I'm not exactly a natural fit in the program, but I'm going to try hard to do better. Wait, isn't "trying hard" to "loosen up" a contradiction in terms?

Sorry for the excessively honest comments here, folks; this post has shaped up to be more negative than I'm actually feeling right now. Every day I'm grateful for the amazing friends I continue to meet. Everybody says my embarrassing situation is going to work itself out—"you'll meet someone good someday"—and I've got to believe they are right.

Dead crickets

Yesterday I began teaching the teen Sunday school class through the book of Mark, and our first lesson was on John the Baptist. We focused on the concept of repentance—how it is necessary to first turn from the bad in our lives in order to receive Jesus' forgiveness. To spice things up, I brought in honey and actual locusts (freeze-dried grasshoppers obtained from an exotic pet store). They were a hit with the kids, and several asked for souvenirs ("I'm going to drop them down my brother's shirt!" one boy exclaimed). I just realized how cool it is to attend a church where distributing dead grasshoppers in class is perfectly ok.

Afterward church, the whole Sunday school team came to my house for a housewarming party (meaning that they supplied the food). I deeply admire the folks who help teach at my church, and I am overwhelmed by how warmly they've welcomed me. We had good conversation, and they all prayed for me afterwards. With friends like this, I have been blessed far beyond what I deserve.

A friend

Remember B, the guy I met in Brookside months ago who said he wanted to do better and go to college? According to my first post, I met him on July 19, 2006 and had a promising conversation four days later. Unfortunately, I lost touch with him soon thereafter because he didn't have a phone or a permanent place of residence.

A few weeks ago, a buddy of B's came to church to see his mom, who goes there. I knew him, and he mentioned that B had been asking where I was. He called him, and I chatted for a few minutes and gave him my phone number. While I was at the Impact conference in Atlanta, he called unexpectedly, and we had a good chat for about 15 minutes. We both wanted to get together again, and we finally did so yesterday.

He had moved a few miles away, so I drove to his house. It was filled with about a dozen people who seemed to be friends or extended family. As soon as I entered, they exclaimed in disbelief, "This is L?! You are not what we expected!" It probably had something to do with the fact that I was white, relatively well-dressed, and a good bit taller than everyone else. B had a friend from the hood who recognized me. We spent about 30 seconds in the house and then B and I went out for a drive.

Unfortunately, B is going to be a daddy in about 7 months. He is trying to get a job, and we stopped at several nearby warehouses trying to secure an interview, but nothing seemed to be open on Saturday afternoon. We were told to visit the Indiana unemployment office, which opens at 8 on Monday. B told me that he couldn't work in a fast-food restaurant because it was beneath him. I held my tongue, except to offer that I personally wouldn't mind working anywhere if it paid the bills.

We went to the mall, and B collected a few applications. No one seemed particularly eager to hire. While we were sitting around filling out the forms and making small talk, B said, "I can read you. Don't say anything."

"You were probably from a family that had a mom and a dad who were married. They had, oh, no more than 4 kids. And they owned their own house. You went to public school, but they would have sent you to private school if they could've afforded it. You're probably second-born. How'd I do?"

Remarkably well, actually. (If you, dear reader, know me, you know how well.) About this time, W called me to talk about some other matters, and since both B and W had heard about the other, I let them chat for a few minutes. I don't know what they said.

I think B is still trying to figure me out. He asked a little about my job, and I explained it by saying that I sit in front of a computer all day. I was quick to reassure him that I do not plan on continuing this the rest of my life. He knows I make a fair amount of money, and he encouraged me to have "more fun." "You're a single engineer," he said, "with a good job, no responsibilities, and lots of freedom."

"I like my life," I replied. "I have good friends, a good job, and lots of great opportunities to do stuff. Besides, my friends who 'have fun' usually just get drunk and waste their lives." I then described some frat parties I'd attended.

"You're funny," B said. "I didn't mean like that. Just, you know, get a nice car, go on trips, live it up." Evidently my old Civic doesn't qualify as a "nice car" even though I'm very fortunate to have it, and my significant travel schedule doesn't qualify either. I think B recognizes, though, that having fun isn't at the top of my priority list. Too bad he doesn't realize there's a more satisfying way to live.

Later that afternoon, we stopped at Taco Bell to grab some dinner, and B said he'd like to work there. I don't know what happened to his earlier resolution against working at fast-food restaurants—maybe that was merely a statement of preference. We secured an interview tomorrow at 4:00. Hope it goes well.

I think B and I have a decent, though immature, friendship... can't wait to see how it develops.

A trip

I had a wonderful Christmas vacation, visiting 4 different cities, attending a conference in Atlanta, seeing friends both old and new, and being stretched and challenged in numerous ways. It started on December 22, when my parents and younger siblings came up to Indianapolis to see my house and visit my church. Mom gave the house a thumbs-up. We went to my church and visited with Bob and Carolyn; it was good for them to be able to connect names with faces.

We all drove to Louisville to visit with my grandmother on my mom's side. They had to drive her to the airport the next morning for a visit to Florida. We visited for several hours, toured the assisted living home where she stays, and called our uncles to wish them a Merry Christmas.

I proceeded on to Nashville to visit some old friends of mine who live on a farm an hour outside the city. We spent Christmas morning helping their redneck neighbor build his barn (no lie). One of them is in the military and is currently stationed in Europe, and I was fortunate to catch him during his furlough. I really enjoy hanging out with the whole family, especially Scott and Chris, who are sharp, genuine, and real.

My good friend W currently attends college in Texas, and he has recently gotten involved in Impact and grown enormously in his Christian faith. Impact is a branch of Campus Crusade for Christ specifically targeted at the African American culture. They had their national conference in Atlanta this year, and W decided to attend with several of his friends. He asked (actually, in typical W fashion, insisted) that I attend with him, and, notwithstanding the color disparity, I consented.

The speakers at the conference were rock-solid in their teaching, but they were also very hip and cool. The floor-shaking hip-hop music was awesome too, even though it's not exactly my style. I was impressed by the attendees, most of whom seemed to be passionate about their faith and very solid in their lifestyle and goals. I felt nothing but love from everybody, especially the large contingent of Baylor kids who came with W. I also go to see a couple guys from my small group in grad school, which was an unexpected surprise.

While I was in Atlanta, I took the opportunity to visit City of Refuge, the church I attended when I lived there. I was greeted at the door by Seven, the former Hell's Angels gang member who spent seven years in jail (hence his name). He now leads a home for men in recovery.

On the way home, I stopped in east Tennessee to visit with my family and my good friend Paul. It was nice to be home, if only for a short time.