This past week, all of the interns got to move into homes on Etzel, a street in Wellston that several families from New City Fellowship have made home. Wellston is the poorest zip code in Missouri, with 94% of its residents living below the federal poverty line, and many living on half that amount. Most kids there are raised by a single working mom, and many are reared by their grandmother. It's a rough area (although the street we were on is sort of a bubble of low violence) where most young children have known someone who was shot, and many have seen someone be shot. These kids (and their families) deal with things nobody should have to face, and this week gave us a chance to look at their lives from an eyes-open perspective.
Two other interns and I lived with the Patrick family, two beautiful children with a White dad and a Kenyan mother. They were so good and kind and welcoming to us that it almost didn't even feel like we were on Etzel. We were there, but we were still sheltered. I am so thankful for the time and laughter and wisdom that was shared. I do wish, though, that there had been more time somehow to immerse ourselves in the neighborhood. I think I'll get that opportunity more as the summer progresses, through using free times to play with the kids we've made friends with or doing simple projects to clean up the area. Now, though, I am stunned at my own ignorance to what life is like for so many.
Half of the intern team ran a backyard Bible club this week for kids from the neighborhood. They were precious and loving and eager to participate. I met many who will be in my class for tutoring starting on Monday. The other half of the team went to play with Somali refugee children living around the block, and they were equally wonderful. But on Wednesday night, 15-20 rounds were fired right next to the Somali village, and both teams had to gather the kids against the nearest brick wall to wait for safety. The team with the Somali's could have been in grave danger; several were right next to a vehicle that had its windows shot out. But God protected all the team members as well as the children with them. My team was never immediately threatened, but it still gave us all a small taste of what is normal life for these small people.
We called the police and waited for response before releasing the kids. I think a patrol car might have driven past about 20 minutes later. I'm not certain.
The concern and desire to protect these children I'd know for 3 days astonished me. I struggle to imagine the panic parents in this area must feel when they let their kids step outside every day. Every goodbye must be almost unbearable for them. Yet life continues. Please pray for the safety of the Etzel and Hodiamont (refugee area) children.
more to come...
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