Family is Deep and Wide
We often have stimulating guests for lunch, but last week, a friend of mine brought warm insights instead of advice and ideas for change and motivation.
Aaron Lewis--tall, dark, and handsome--drew immediate attention among our ladies when he entered our hallway. He was dazzled, as most are, by the elegant décor and the warm friendliness that surpassed his expectations. Supper in the oven and the aroma of chicken and dumplings tempted his appetite and officially erased his next appointment for a business lunch. He complimented the cook for the day, was open for a tour of the House, purchased tea for his mom, and rejoined the women more eager than usual to lengthen the lunch hour.
Lewis, with his father and uncle, has weekly mentored a misunderstood slice of society, who are incarcerated, with few visitors and fewer plans for redemption. The Lewis men have entered the “Inside Circle” and for three years they have been approved for ministry in weekly sessions among willing inmates at 201 Poplar. After perfunctory scanning, frisking, and pictures, they proceed to the part of the jail where the public is barred and the conditions are brutal. They sit in a large room with armed guards in an open forum among men awaiting trial and open to a respite from their cells.
The Lewis men, model the male leadership, kindness, and mercy that have been missing in our community and many others over the last several generations. Roughly 70-80% of incarcerated men, according to the Prison Policy Initiative, have been fatherless children.
Incarceration, unfortunately, is not an uncommon experience for our crew of ladies at The House. Many of them have served time, visited family in prison, or both. Therefore, familiar, far more than I, the ladies asked good questions, which he welcomed. They wanted more information as to success, recidivism, and dangers. He shared the statistics and held them spellbound, believing and admiring. Then he winsomely requested to ask a question.
His query, “Would you tell me something that makes you happy,” landed on the heart of each lady. There was none unwilling to speak, and some often noted for little to say, gave us much. We were past the time for quitting, but all remained at the table to speak her turn.
Summarily, though expressed with many colorful examples and reasons, the response was “My family makes me happy.”
That surprised me and was not my personal response to his question when my turn at the table arrived.
Though ‘family ‘is core and constant across every generation and location since the dawn of time, the ways my family is shaped by inherited dependence and identity don’t align with the pattern shared among our ladies at My Cup of Tea.
I watch it here with respect and am reminded of the stories of my grandmothers who were widows after WW II and tended to and were assisted by my parents who lived nearby them and helped with the family work. Time marked in decades has redefined the role of family in my own experience as well as among my peers.
Within Orange Mound and other demographically similar communities, ‘Family’ is kinship-based, and though defined loosely, the primary pillar of security. It is fluid, resilient, and elastic in the network. It includes blood relatives, half-siblings, “play-cousins”, neighbors, baby mommas, baby daddies, their children from other relationships, and many aunties. There is a loyalty to all, a turn of the cheek, and forgiveness for almost anything in time.
Many referred to as “Cuz” are expected to provide, when asked, a safety net for survival through the ubiquitous dips in life including: bail money, childcare, emotional support, money for funerals and burials, a safe home away from home, though the porch light is broken, free car mechanics and transportation, and bed side support in the hospital. However, most valued and expected is a code of silence, especially including no cooperation with law enforcements.
Except for the latter just mentioned, many churches in our city accept this responsibility and welcome all of us in need to join their fellowships, become members, and bring their needs into the community of Christ followers. Debbie and I point to the opportunities around the corner of 3028 Carnes. I’m told the minimum number of churches within reach are 50, but I haven’t done a manual count. Some have said as many as 150.
With introspection, assurance, and gratitude, I claim my church and fellow believers across the world as my family, my safe house, and my safety net. It is a hospital for the needy. My sisters and brothers there, though not blood, share God as our Father and our future home.
I am determined to lead others, through God’s irresistible love, to recognize Him as The One Eternal Father, Creator, and Sustainer. I pray daily that my friends will commit to a church. There, they will discover a family that does what some blood relatives cannot or fail to do: carry their troubles, share their wisdom, and love them unconditionally as sisters with the one true Father.
The Father never slumbers, never abandons, never rushes, never ignores, while owning and ruling over everything we know or can imagine, He graciously welcomes her in, knows her name, and has a plan and a purpose for her best life imaginable.
