My friend Lori is raising six kids, a church and a safe place for hard questions in the ‘hood. I can’t get enough of her stories.
At the end of the day, we pump our bruised and battered legs from the porch swing and watch the sky pull clouds into milky shades of pink taffy. The kids pick scabs and swat gnats and I watch glory encamp around their freckled faces.
And I am full on the inside.
It’s our most favorite time of the day. The street is quiet and the yard, although still strewn with the day’s play things, is empty of neighbors. The house and porch and patchy grass are all ours again and we stretch out into the wide open whitespace, grinning into the nothingness.
And for about sixteen good minutes, our moment on the porch is nothing short of serene. Think Norman Rockwell-esque.
Or think Thomas Kincaid, with the glorious light of Jesus illuminating from the sweat on our brow.
It’s sweet, really. Precious even…
Until all sorts of ugly begin to spew out of the mouths of the babes living across the street.
And by babes, I mean the eleven year old twins who like to pee on my welcome mat late at night. The eleven year old twins who love to make crude gestures and drop their drawers in the middle of the street. The eleven year old twins who, just last year, spent the entire summer on my hammock, sucking down popsicles, and eating my PBJ sandwiches to only turn around and trash my yard.
Yeah, those babes.
While we’ve been porch swinging and gnat swatting, the babes from across the street have made their way to the top of their mom’s jeep and have begun to hurl obscenities at everyone who walks by their house, looks at their house, or lives anywhere close to 519 Avent Street.
And since we live just three houses down and across from them, all the blanket-blanks now have our names attached to them.
We’ve been down this road a hundred times before and I know my kids are waiting for me to pull up my big girl panties and march across the street and tell those boys what’s what.
But this time, I stay put.
I look my freckle faced children over, shrug my shoulders, and smile. And to my surprise, I feel a giggle bubble up from within me.
And that small giggle gives way to roaring laughter that spills over into side-splitting howling and before I know it, the whole lot of us are doubled over in fits of laughter, tears streaming down the corners of our eyes.
“Those boys are gonna go to jupee!”
“What does F-you mean?”
“Can I call him one, too?”
“I think we should call the popo.”
“Why does he keep sticking up his middle finger?”
“Yo, moms, you gonna go over there and whoop ‘em?”
These kids of mine ask a hundred questions about the things those boys are doing and saying and all I can do is laugh.
And for the first time since moving to Avent Street, I feel free to stay and love instead of fight or flight.
This mothering in the ‘hood business is not for the faint of heart or for the foolish in pride or for the fanatics who wage war against all things deemed secular. It is not about fixing the broken or about killing the trash or about meeting all of the needs, all of the time. It is not about making all things gritty a little more pretty or about washing out potty mouths.
Mothering in the ‘hood is about seeing the community as a family and seeking the welfare of the family, as I would my own.
It is about setting up house along the margins and next door to the marginalized.
It is about seeing the whole earth as sacred and making my street address an altar in this world.
It is about inviting others in, even the ones with potty mouths, sharing the swing, and then sending them home with a sack of groceries.
It is about becoming a friend to the hard-to-loves, entering into their junk, and offering a listening ear and a safe place to land.
It is about seeing the babes across the street as eleven year old boys and laughing with my own children at the audacity of this life Jesus has chosen for us.
And it’s about choosing to stay and love, laying down my mama heart on the altar I’ve made at 554 Avent, and praying always that Jesus would make something beautiful of my offering.
Lori Harris is a Southern-born girl rearing six kids in a neighborhood some would call the ‘hood. She and her husband, Thad, have planted a church on the wrong side of the tracks where poverty and racism run deep. She coordinates a city-wide MOPS group, passes out PB&Js to the neighborhood kids, and writes at loriharris.me. You can find her on Twitter, Instagram, and always on Facebook. And take it from me – reading her will change you in unexpected ways.
Lori – now that is truly something to think long on today. Could it just be that wherever each of us finds ourselves today, we are to stay put & love. Just love. Not try and change them. Not move away. Just love on them. May we know in our hearts fully that He will give us all that we need to do what He asks. You bring truth each word you write. Blessings, friend!
I think you’re right, Joanne.
We’re supposed to simply love our neighbors
Love your faithful heart.
I think He sent you your pretty little bow :-)
You tied this one up nicely, friend!
I think He did!!!!! Love to you, Leslie!
Lori, I’ve seen something special continue to grow in beautiful ways as of late. Even though I’m not a momma, I always learn from the important things you have to offer.
I’m so grateful you can see the beauty, Rachel! I’m only seeing the fray! <3
*something special in YOUR writing, that is. :)
Love seeing you here at Lisa Jo’s Lori, such a great message in your words, both convicting and inspiring. I agree Lisa Jo, reading Lori does change you in unexpected ways.
I’m blushing, Shelly.
Truly blushing.
Thank you. The feeling is mutual.
This brought tears to my eyes. We live in a neighbourhood that, at first glance, seems normal enough and not at all “hood”. Nice houses, tidy yards, flower gardens, and big mature maple trees. Families. Older couples on the brink of retirement. Not the sort of place you would expect to find so many kids with so many behaviour problems. But that’s what we’ve found, and our house has been the “hang out” place for them. I had no idea there were kids who, at the tender age of 8/9/10, knew so many colourful swearwords and sexual phrases. And I feel like I don’t fully know how to handle it all, because I have no pattern…the only kids I knew who behaved like that when I was a child were the really “bad” kids – the bullies, the ones who were dirty and obviously neglected. But now it seems like a lot more kids are out there, running around the neighbourhood without their parents knowing where they are (or who with), getting into trouble, cursing and swearing, talking about sexual things, and behaving in a way that makes one wonder if they know what manners are at all. And I can only pray and hope that we’re handling it right. We homeschool, and we live a little farther away from the kids’ church friends and their homeschool group friends, so we decided early on that we didn’t want to cloister our kids away from all other children. I question that decision frequently because of the wild behaviour of these other kids. But I do believe this is the ministry God wants for me, if I can put it like that. It’s been a challenge, and at once satisfying and exhausting, trying to reach out to these kids. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster ride, veering between joy at seeing them want to come to church, and despair at the fact that despite our efforts to be a good influence, the behaviour from some of these kids just keeps on getting worse. We had to ask one boy’s parents to keep him away for the time being until he can learn to rein in his tongue, and I hate that. I didn’t want it to come to that, but what else can you do when the words being said are so filthy, and he just won’t listen when he’s asked to stop? This constant tug-of-war between our values and expectations, and their crazy talk and wild behaviour, has really wreaked havoc on my peace of mind this year, and I’ve been struggling terribly with it all.
Anyway, from one mom on the “front lines” to another, it feels so good to know I’m not alone and that other moms are trying to raise Christian kids in the midst of all that wild behaviour. I think I’m going to have to mosey on over to Lori’s blog, because I need what she’s got. Thank you, thank you for sharing this! It means more than I can really put into words.
Friend, you have blessed me with your story that so mimics my own!! Love that you took time to give me a peek into your world and close the gap between us and them. Joining you in this calling- Don’t you love it???
Lori! I love that you are here. Great post!
Thanks Pam! And I love that you took time to tell me you stopped by!
Hi Lori,
I feel sort of the same way, I am the house that the kids come to, I wouldn’t have it any other way, I love them almost as much as my daughters, right now we are housing one during the week because her family(s) can’t be bothered to fight with her to go to school every day. She has been living with us on and off since Grade 3 and her and my youngest just started High School. It is hard, I don’t get paid to feed them, I don’t get paid to be their counsellor or their mediator’s with their families, but how do you say no? How CAN you say no? It is not fair for a 14 year old to have parents that don’t give a rush if she goes to school or not, I am not about to step down and say it is not my problem. She didn’t ask for this life, but if I can love her enough that she doesn’t go “loving” strangers and getting into uncomfortable predicaments, then so be it, stay with us forever if you need to, this will always be their safe house and a place for them to go where their only expectation is to go to school, don’t swear in my presence, talk to us with respect and be who you are, not who you think other people want you to be.
I just want you to know you are not alone in this struggle and sometimes the laughter is the only sanity break we have.
So thankful for fits of laughter, Stephanie!!! God is so good to provide just what we need, when we need it. Love your story!
Oh, Lori. Love that you just laughed :). When I taught kids like those twins, sometimes that felt all I could do too. That, or cry. Or both.
I also laughed at your sweet babies’ questions. Bless you for enduring where you are. You’re encouraging a whole lot of folks along the way.
Thanks Jenn ! I’ve not always laughed. I used to get angry, but that did no good! God is stretching my heart in all the right ways.
Love to you~
Lori-my-friend, this might be my favorite post of yours that I’ve ever read. Ever. Well done. I love you, and I love your heart for your place, and I love the ways you challenge me here in mine. <3
Really??? I only spent 208 hours on it! Seriously- it was like 208 hours, for real.
You always bless me with your encouragement, Dana. You have a beautiful soul.
When my now college freshman was in second grade, we moved from a peaceful woods to a the hood. For two years, a boy who was a few years older than my son ate at our table most week nights and was with us most of the weekends. His mom dated a man who wasn’t allowed to be around children, and Tim would show up, asking if he could stay (typically after his mom was long gone). I struggled at times, wishing we could have times where it was just ‘my family.’ We eventually moved to a different side of town and didn’t see Tim anymore. I saw him about four years later. He was grown up and I didn’t recognize him, but he knew who I was and what he told me caused me sit in my car and cry. “I miss you, those were the best years of my life.” Those years of having a safe haven at our home, with my husband (likely the only male in his world who modeled what a husband and dad should be), a home where elementary kids didn’t have to scrounge for their own food and me. A mom who was far more resentful than I ever should have been about his constant presence. His statement and hug, hit me to the core. I knew he liked being at our house, but I had no idea how vital that safe haven was for him. Bless all the Moms and Dads who are intentionally living in those kinds neighborhoods and being a light for kiddos when they might not realize it!
Thank you for reminding us what it looks like to be a Christian. Many have either forgotten or never understood in the first place.
As a mom living on the other side of that “margin”… thank you.
Although my kids know about appropriate language and subject matter, and how to conduct themselves when visiting other families, they both struggle with anxiety, depression, and a deep seated anger connected with the breakup of my marriage and the loss as their father left the state. Those emotions sometimes come out in impulsive, even reckless behavior and speech.
So many times, I’ve had to choose between reprimanding and keeping order, and letting some things go, majoring on the majors and letting the minors be an outlet for my kids to release the buildup. The result has been a balancing act… They know my expectations and our values as a family, but as teens they’re in the stages of having to choose THEIR values, and build their expectations. I’ve been very proud, so far, of their choices in general.
It hurts a mother’s heart, however, to see the side-ways looks from some in my church family. You know who they are… the homeschoolers whose kids have “never acted like that”. The ones who have been able to discipline well from the very beginning, who have strong, healthy partnerships, a united front to present to their children. The ones who’ve never heard words like Oppositional Defiance Disorder, or had to spend hours searching potential side-effects of medications recommended by a trusted psychiatrist.
If you are that parent, congratulations. I don’t envy your peace, but I admire it, and, when I’m not feeling judged, it’s instructive and soothing, to spend a little time with your “perfect” (yes, I know, not really), family, and to see you mostly interacting with love and kindness. It’s soothing to my children, too, to see how you and your husband interact, in the normal, healthy ways that were so rare in our home.
To those moms who have been welcoming and accepting, because they’ve either walked in my shoes, or have known families like mine before, I thank you. For those who are looking sideways and feeling off-balanced by the behaviors of my kids… or kids like mine, wild, out of control, undisciplined… Try to pray for them. Set firm boundaries in your own home, and enforce them with kindness whenever possible. And back that up with acceptance and love and caring, because those are the languages kids understand. They need to know you like them. Nothing more and nothing less. If you can get past the outrageous bids for attention, and find the soul hidden beneath… then, and only then, you will reach them, and become a real influence in their lives. I’m so thankful for the moms who’ve done that for my two, and I hope I can be a refuge, too.
Lori, I am with Dana Butler, I think this one is my favorite as well! That Lisa-Jo knows how to pick ’em letting you come all the way from the ‘hood to her front porch. Your writing blesses this Mama’s heart. So happy to see you here.