by Jarrod Hale, EM Summer Staff in Atlanta
Jarrod and his wife Sara are in the middle of a year-long internship with EM before moving to South Africa to work full-time with EM Africa. They are currently spending 2 months of their summer facilitating mission trips in Atlanta, GA.
As I waited for the team to arrive I decided to sit on the steps of the apartment complex as I had seen many other tenants do during the previous mornings. This morning was extremely humid; the hot blistering sun had already begun beaming. I watched traffic drive by; each car blaring its own rap song. I observed two people as they walked by acting as if I wasn't even sitting there. I began to think I had blended into the area. About that time a garbage man who was taking his break yelled to me from across the road, "You know ya in the hood, right?" I replied, "Yes, I know. I'm with a group of volunteers helping with the Salvation Army. We are here to serve the community." He smiled and replied, "Well, I'm glad you know you are in the hood, because, you in the hood."
My mind wandered. What would my perception of this community be if I wasn't here intentionally serving? What would I think of the brokenness? How would I feel about the gazing eyes as I would walk or drive through the neighborhood? I know exactly what my reaction would be. I would realize that I was in "The Hood" and try frantically to leave as quickly as possible. My irrational thought process would tell me every person here is dangerous. Why do I let myself have such stereotypical thoughts?
The team arrived and we had a brief orientation. I told them they would be exposed to things that may make them uncomfortable. I addressed the team, "You will see people drinking, smoking, hear profanity, and see things that are difficult. That is the culture of this community." I could see in their eyes they were trying to process what their interaction with this apartment complex would be like. I told them to not be nervous and simply to interact with the people around them. Ask them how their day was, what is their name, and hear their story.
The first thing we did was pick up trash from the property. It looked as if trash had been cumulating on the grounds for quite a while. We found empty bottles of Bacardi, bourbon, and Bud Light. We also found a pile of beer cans beside a step. The team began to pick them up and put them in the trash bags. A man down the sidewalk yelled out, "Leave those there. We recycle those." We continued picking up trash around the complex. Then, something happened that amazed me. On two different occasions I saw residents go out of their way to pick up trash as they were walking through.
We completed our round of trash pick-up and began our painting projects. As the team was painting I decided to get to know the folks around the complex. The first person I met was named Ms. Dorothy. Ms. Dorothy moved to the complex last September. She was working two jobs with long hours. Despite her work schedule, she asked me how she could get involved with the volunteers. She loved what they were doing and saw that it was a great thing. She desired to follow their example and help spruce up the complex. I told her she was more than welcome to join in with us. I also directed her to the Salvation Army down the street.
The next people I met were named Mr. Ron and Mr. Ahmed. Mr. Ahmed was a joker. He was full of life and had a happy spirit. Mr. Ron had just gotten out of the hospital. He was walking with a walker. I asked him what happened. He told me he had been in a car accident a couple weeks ago. Before leaving, Mr. Ron and Mr. Ahmed told me how much they appreciated the team and how they were doing such a great thing.
Walking to the supply closet I came across an elderly lady sitting on the steps outside her apartment. Her face showed signs of aging, but the wrinkles on her cheeks showed signs of a joyous woman. As I walked by I told her good morning and asked her how she was. Her face came to life and lit up as bright as the Atlanta sun. "Morning, morning." She said. "I good, I good." Her name is Ms. Kay. She is a Vietnamese woman that I have come to realize does not understand much English. I passed Ms. Kay a few times that morning to get supplies. She laughed as she watched me run back and forth. "Overtime, Overtime, Overtime." She would say.
Later, the team began painting the exterior door of one of the buildings. A small woman ran to the window. It was Ms. Kay! She was smiling ear to ear. She pointed to the team painting and gave us two thumbs up. She was extremely excited that the team was painting the door. She folded her hands and bowed her head to us as to say thank you and danced away.
I finished my day with a conversation with Peanut and Cello. They just started talking about life. Peanut looked at me and asked why were we here. What were we doing? I told them we were serving with the Salvation Army. They lit up like the rest of the people had and said it was a great thing we were doing.
Reflecting on the day and the work the team had done I saw a deeper ministry that was taking place. The grounds look better. The trash is gone but more than that, a bridge is continually being built between the complex and the Corps down the street. Looking back, the brokenness I had seen that morning through the initial impression of the community looked less broken. I find that the brokenness really lies within me. I am quick to judge and make accusations when all I really need to do is see things through God's eyes. "The Hood" doesn't quite feel so hood.
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