Four Shots to our Hearts
Leave a commentAugust 23, 2014 by pyaase
Gunshots have the interesting power to make time fly backwards for a few seconds, stretching back over the past hour. Everything anyone said that evening rang in my head in each bullet’s resonance.
BANG
“Let’s turn this way; I want to pray through this neighboring area as well.” Two of my Sisters and I were prayer walking through the neighborhood we’re planting Ethnos. We turned a few blocks earlier to cover more ground of our new home for our heart.
BANG
“Teachers and students have gone between that school and mine. It’s a great school with a similar mission, I’m glad we’re planting so close to it.” I pointed out St. Marcus to my Sisters just a few blocks earlier. My eyes lingered towards the school when I remembered our HOPE senior who was shot her last day of school. She had also gone to St. Marcus.
BANG
“Hey little friend!” My Sister Nikki had smiled at the little boy as he started walking with us just 3 blocks before. His brothers were riding bikes on the sidewalk and he got confused in the shuffle. They were just enjoying a lovely Sunday evening outside. We sorted the little tot out and put him back in the right direction.
BANG
“I’m doing pretty good. Ready to get home. It’s my birthday!” We walked passed a woman who looked like she had been walking for a while. She gave a friend hello before sharing how the ordinary day was what should be her special day.
This was the community that surrounded our church plant. I fell in love throughout our walk, and that love was squeezed and stretched at the sound of each shot. They came so fast, so sudden. We turned a corner as a car pulled away. I saw a woman in the distance on the ground, she started lifting her arm to her chest, but it stopped.
I saw heads peeking around nailed-up sheets in the windows. I heard porch doors swing shut and people rushed out onto their porch. I felt the confusion of the whole street as we all wondered
is she dead?
did someone call?
is the shooter getting away with it?
The man woman who had crossed the street behind us looked at us. “You have a phone. Call someone. That’s right, eeeeveryone out on a’porch and ain’t a none of them gonna call. No surprise there. No surprise to see a woman shot down in this neighborhood either. This is just wrong.” He began yelling at the woman with him as she started walking down the street towards the scene. A crowd was building. “Are you kidding, bitch? Get your ass over here now, woman! We don’t need another body to pick up!” She reluctantly backed to us again, but her eyes locked on the scene.
“Should we go down there?”
“There ain’t nothing you can do now. She dead. All you can do is call 911 for them to pick her up.” The man shook his head and grabbed the woman’s arm to pull her along.
Angie reached 911, was put on hold, and then gave the street names. I tried to pull my eyes away from the crowd building around the woman as we walked on. Sirens wailed. First response zoomed from different directions as we walked back to our cars parked at our church plant.
I thought of the kids playing outside. This was their home, this was what they’d hear as they biked around. This is what they might see with no surprise.
I thought of St. Marcus. This is what the students might witness on their way home from school. This is what could happen to them on their way home from school. Just like MY students.
I thought of the birthday girl. The tired woman walking home that I briefly sang to. This might’ve been the most eventful thing that happened for her on her special day, and yet it might be tragically ordinary.
I thought of the man and woman who had been next to us when we heard the shots, when we saw the woman die. They were pushing a small cart of groceries from the corner store. The man admitted this was not out of the ordinary.
This is our new home for Ethnos, this is our community. We love these people, because God loves these people. My heart hurts for them, and I ask for your prayers for our new church home.
Prayer Journal 080514
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