i am
unencumbered by an
unpromising past
unfazed by obstacles that lay before me
unconcerned by the bigotry of bigots
unforgiving of stolen dignity and
unimpressed by promises
unfulfilled
still
i stand proud
uncompromised
unheard and unspoken
unrelenting and unbroken
take notice
i am the uncounquerable
soul of the ghetto

by an anonymous waco high school student, 2004

A friend of mine from the neighborhood gave me this poem tonight. A local teen wrote it last year for school. The poem immediately struck me--complete with all it's rough edges, determination, and heart. I've been working in, living around, and hanging out in this neighborhood for basically the entire 5 years of my existence here in Waco. At the end of the month, Faith and I will be moving out to the World Hunger Farm so I'll be very much disconnected from the community I've been a part of for these 5 years. Granted, I've got several friends who I'll regularly visit and I'll still go to the Sunday evening soccer games down the street, but I'll be more of a visitor...an outsider.

This concept brings mixed feelings for me. It'll be welcome relief from a community where for every success story you witness, there's two dozen other stories of failure or lost dreams. It'll be nice to be away from the traffic, the lights, the sirens while living in relative seclusion from busy-ness. On the other hand, most of my relationships will be changed, perhaps for the worse. The time, finances, tears, and even blood I've shed over the last 5 years almost seems all for naught.

And then there's the whole idea of unfinished work. As I step away from what I've invested myself into, I can't help but allow thoughts such as "Is the timing right?" or "Am I making the right decision?" to pass through my mind. For instance, I just came across some recent statistics regarding a local subsidized apartment complex. This happens to be the place where my office was located for roughly two years, as well as the place where I volunteerd with my youth group for backyard Bible clubs for about three years. The stats read like this:

There are 200 housing units in the complex, with 850 residents in those 200 units.
Of those 200 units,
182 are headed by single women,
17 are headed by an elderly person,
1 has a married couple living in it.
Of those 850 residents, 650 are under the age of 18.
Of the 182 single women living in the complex, approximately 94% are mothers, and less than half have graduated high school or earned their GED.

As these facts stare me down, I feel quite overwhelmed--both with what I've been in the middle of for several years now, and with what I'm seemingly walking away from. I don't suppose there's an easy answer for such a dilemma. Faith and I have no doubt regarding the next steps we'll be taking together. But nonetheless, there's a sense of loss there. Not too different from graduating high school or marriage I suppose.

The thing with graduating and marrying though, is that while there's a big loss one must endure, the new life and absolute joy that comes with the territory eventually wipes away any fears or inhibitions one may have.

So perhaps the same is true for the "new life" that Faith and I are about to partake in.