A Visitor at My Door

The doorbell rings late on a Sunday evening. It's a 17 year old young man from my the next street over. He's one of reasons we moved into this urban neighborhood. He's a person whose story has intersected with my story. Our journeys through life are connected because God caused our stories to collide.

He was a fourth grader who was falling through the cracks at his school when we first met seven years ago. He was in trouble all of the time, he missed a lot of school, and he was failing miserably academically. At that time, I was just a guy who had moved back to Pittsburgh to raise my family closer to my extended family. I was unemployed at that time, regretting ever leaving the good life I had in California. I had been searching for a job in education for over a year to no avail. I had showed up at this elementary school to volunteer to help my church get a mentoring program up and going. Little did I know that kids like this, in this little neighborhood, through a mentoring program that looked like a long shot, would actually change the path of my life forever.

On this particular evening, my young friend has no sense of urgency as to why he decided to stop by my family's house for a visit. There have been plenty of those "urgent" visits in the past, but on this evening I'm guessing that he has just stopped by because he wanted to visit with us. He always has an open invitation to stop by to visit us, or to eat dinner with us, or just to have a safe place to escape from these streets for a little while.

He is huge now, seven years after I initially met him at his elementary school. He has tattoos all over his body. His pants sag below his waist. He attends an alternative school for "bad kids." He has been locked up in the youth detention center four times. He has a probation officer because he has committed crimes in order to survive. He's probably the kind of kid that people go out of their way to avoid who lives on a street in a neighborhood that people go out of there way to avoid.

I don't see him that way, though. I don't see him as bad or dangerous or stupid or any of those things. To me, he is valuable. He is a chosen one. A follower of Jesus Christ, created in the image of God. He has a soft heart, even though he acts tough. He is an orphan. His dad abandoned him when he was four years old. He remembers his dad's last words to him on the way out the door were, "What are you crying about you little bitch." Then his dad went to jail and he didn't see him for a long time. His mom told her young son, "I'm your mom and your dad, now." This little guy would get his mom a card on Mother's Day and Father's Day because he honestly thought of her that way.

Then, on a seemingly ordinary day a couple years ago, his mother died unexpectedly in her son's arms. Confusion. Tears. Anger. Pain. In an instant, he became an orphan. He became one of the ones that Jesus values the most. I grieved with him. His mom was an amazing woman. She was the neighborhood mom on Hamilton Avenue. And, just like that, she was gone. He has bounced around between family members and friends since then. He's bounced around between schools. He's bounced around between being locked up and being free. He still follows Jesus passionately. I know. I was there when he gave his life to Christ. I gave him his first Bible. I discipled him. I walked with him through all of the ups and downs. I'm committed to walking through life with him.

My daughters think of him as their brother. He is overprotective of them like he actually is their older brother. My wife thinks of him as her son. He is not our son, obviously, but my wife thinks of him that way. He is an orphan. How can she not avoid having her maternal instinct kick in? He may not look like the orphans that we all see on TV from far off countries, but he is an orphan right here in our midst, right here in our country, in our city, in our neighborhood. He is becoming a part of our family. He is becoming a part of our story.

My friend's visit last night did have a purpose. It was a God-ordained purpose. He talked. I listened. I talked. He listened. He drank a soda. I sipped on some ice water. He ate ice cream with vanilla wafers (his favorite). We sat at my kitchen table. We talked about all kinds of things... school, girls, tattoos, guns, music, his brothers, getting robbed, fighting back, probation, culinary classes, pets, and all kinds of other things. We talked about God. God was interwoven throughout the conversation. God was with us the whole time, actually. Jesus has been there throughout the seven years that we've known each other. God has worked through people like my young friend to give me a passionate calling and a profound sense of purpose in life. God is doing a great work in the life of my friend. I can see it, even if nobody else can. I love watching God work in his life. I praise God for unexpected visitors at my door.