"Hey, Sexy", the caller said. In 3 seconds I ran through 5 possible choices..."Who is this?" I asked, the voice not quite recognizable. "'Jason'", he said. "What's up?" as I prepared myself. In the course of a 30 second, one sided conversation he stated he needed my help immediately, call him back as a soon as I could, and oh--by the way, "Issac (his brother) died", and hung up. "WHAT!?" I shouted at the phone. Silence of a dial tone.
I resumed the talk with my boss but a few minutes later declared to her that I was a mess and could not continue. God bless her--she knows and respects my history with young people and let me go with well wishes.
"Jason"...I met him when he was a teenager, angry, confrontational, maybe even a bit scary (at least to me). I saw him when he was locked up in a juvenile facility at 17 and I gave a talk on STDs and HIV and he wrote to me. Thus began a several year stint of letters. Over the past 17 years, he's been in and out of jail/prison and even spent time in our shelter. I'd always tried to be consistent but it was tough because he was tough! Sometimes he'd send me letters written in some kind of code I could not decipher...Sometimes it would be a rant of things he'd allegedly done, was going to do, or perhaps a few calming words of life on the inside. I believe we had each of his siblings in our facility at some point in their life. Which brings me to "Issac".
I remembered this kid from my first year. Different, calm, but unpredictable. He never brought any trouble to me but there was always a bit of a yellow "Caution" sign surrounding him. He went away to prison when I was 24 and for his entire sentence (can't even recall how long or why he got locked up) we wrote to each other. He'd call every so often, always on holidays I worked, and I even still have a Christmas card in the bottom of one of my holiday bins that he sent me one year. He'd stop by the Cov when he was out, say hello, and keep it moving. He always stayed consistent and never was disrespectful to me. I'd fuss over him, encourage him to go the "straight and narrow", and then hear that he'd gotten locked up again. Pretty much the same as "Jason".
I called Jason back to get details about what he needed and what had happened to Issac (heroin overdose). Jason made a few requests that I couldn't fulfill and declared that he was coming over. Oh my.
He called when he was outside the building (he never likes to come inside). There he was...I walked over to him and asked, "Can I give you a hug?" and he answered, "What for?" so I didn't. For the next 15 minutes he detailed his current situation, the alleged circumstances under which Issac had died (I'd cried in my car over this earlier, so my tears were spent), and was just "Jason". I marveled at how he looked and said I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him and he recalled the exact date (2 years prior). Wow...
I was "Ms. Jen"...I fussed over him, I shared my sorrow over the loss of his brother and his mom (whom I'd met a few times and had died recently), I pled for him to be safe on the streets and his neighborhood...I encouraged him to stay straight and do good (which he rebuffed). And he went on his way.
A co-worker grabbed me inside and asked about this encounter. Why was he here? What did he say? Why does he keep coming back after all these years? I thought about it for a moment and answered, "I'm his touchstone",...If you've followed this blog, you know my "thing" about being a touchstone=that place in your life that is consistent, safe, a place of peace, security, love, etc.
So as I drove home that night and continued to cry over the loss of Issac, I prayed for Jason, and thanked the Lord for allowing me to speak words of life and comfort and peace and love to this kid that has so little going for him. My fussing said to him, "Ms. Jen cares"...My condolences to him said, "Ms. Jen is sad because my brother passed away and she cared for him",...my concerns for his safety said to him, "She really does give a $^*84)% about my life".
As I struggle to tame my tongue, I am grateful for these opportunities to use it for good...to speak life to the "lifeless" and broken...to be a solace in the midst of heartache and tragedy...
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