It's Kinda Crazy

How it has now been almost 5 whole years since I came back from my mission to the Southside of Chicago, and I still have these kiddos on my mind.



I wanted to take each of them home with me. Especially four of them. Three of them were kids of a less active lady and we were teaching them, the other was Kenyon, their cousin, the cute kid on the right in a white shirt.

She wanted her kids to go to church sooooo bad. But her husband was a dealer and a gang banger, and did not want her going to church. His kids could go. But I know he was afraid that if she went, she would finally build up the courage to leave him. We met her at a thrift store in Chinatown on a p-day. She knew who we were, we discovered that she was a member, and then we discovered that she was in my area. From then on it was instant connection.

Man I miss that family. In the next 7 months we would go through so much together. It started with us stopping by once a week after the kids got home from school and going over the basics with them. I bonded with the boy, he had just turned nine. His name is Anthony. He is the one in the Bulls uniform (it was hard not to hold that against him.) He was the middle child. He could make you laugh by giving you this look, where he would cock his head to the side, squint one eye, give an upturn of one side of his mouth, and say something like, "Now Elder Cummins" (he would never get the 'g' into the name), "now are you tryin to tells me that both y'alls name is Elder?" Then he would point to my companion and say, "this guy, this guy looks like an Elder...You Elder Cummins are my brother."

He told me that after I stopped his dad from beating him. We had an appointment, their mom must have forgot, but Anthony was still there. I knocked, and yelled through the door "Who there" We responded, that it was us and he threw open the door and told us to get in. Turns out his dad....was.....for lack of a better term....about his business. He saw us walk and see what he was doing and snapped. I don't think he knew that we knew. He charged after Anothony who ran. I got in his face and told him that he needed to calm down. It was at that moment that I was expecting to get punched in the face for the first time. We looked at each other, face to face, eye to eye for what seemed like hours. It was really only a few seconds. He tried to move towards Anthony and I grabben his shoulders and told him to come sit on the couch, and we would talk. I told him that as far as i was concerned I saw nothing there that day. I then told him, that he was going to start respecting us when we came over, that he was going to sit down with the family during our gospel conversations, and he was going to be there for his family if they wanted to come to church. That he was going to pray with his family and be the support that they needed. He teared up a bit, shook his head, apologized for the things he had said about us, told me I was "aight for church people". The next sunday he drove his wife and kids to church. He even started sitting in on the discussions and asked questions.

I was asked some of the most heart wrenching questions that really made me cling to these kiddos. We were from different worlds. My biggest fear as a kid was getting grounded from teenage mutant ninja turtles again. There fears, were things that really should be scary. I was asked, "What happens to a mom, if someone breaks in and cuts her, cuts her so bad she bleeds and dies. Does she go to heaven?" The boy on the far left, a distant relative of my three kiddos, had that happen to his mom. "What happens to a boy who gets shot walkin to school? Can he go to heaven?" The girl holding the doll asked that, because her best friend and neighbor had that happen.
The girl in the pink to the left of me, is Anthony's sister Aneeka. She had more attitude than any girl I have ever met and the prettiest big brown eyes. Their sister, who was 11, was practicing for her school play when that pic was taken. She was chosen to play Coretta Scott King. She had real potential. She was brilliant. I used to tutor her in math and history after the lessons or after dinner. She had real potential of going to college. She wanted to be a doctor.

Saying goodbye to these kiddos was one of the hardest parts of my mission. I knew that I could reach the dad. We had bonded, he would pick me us up if he saw us out tracting or walking around. But he did not trust people very easy. He understandably did not like my companion. And if I left then it was going to be a major turning point. Its a hard thing to balance when you are teaching people as a missionary: to know if they are responding to the message or to you as a person. I worked with them for the better part of 7 months. I couldn't get them to church for one consecutive month. And I could only get the mom to come maybe once a month, and the ward wasn't willing to take responsibility for the kids, having to pick them up, take them to church, and I understood that. They needed to be tested, to see if they would do it without me being there. I had already been in the area for 5 transfers, which was unheard of in our mish, but I worked really well in that ward, so they let me stay longer than most. But to stay for a sixth transfer was not an option. My mission president told me he had other things that he needed me to do. So I was transferred.

Unfortunately, when I left, they transferred, with good reason, my companion too. The missionary who replaced me, was not a fan of mine. He really disliked me. I never knew why. So he stopped seeing everyone I taught.....as some way to stick it to me for being made something he thought he deserved more than me. And my kiddos never went back to church again.

I was lucky enough to get transfered back into that ward for my last 3 months. Sometimes knowing the president really well has an advantage or two. I was asked by a lot of people why I chose to go back there since I had already been in the area for almost 8 months. These kids were one of the big reasons. Members of the ward were another. But I needed one more chance with these kids. I knew that the gospel was going to be the one thing that would keep them safe. It was dangerous enough for them to have a gang banger dad. That placed a target on his back. His profession potentially placed targets on each of them. You can get by in the rough areas without being forced into a gang if you go to church. Church is well respected on the Southside. But it was too late, I was gone for 7 months, and the damage was done. The dad was back to doing what he was doing, I could come over, I could pray, I could give a lesson, he would take me to lunch, but it just wasn't going to happen. That was my last night ever seeing the kids. I don't know if you can tell but my eyes were so watery in that picture. I am too tough to ever really cry, but sometimes......my eyes get watery......don't judge me. So here I am, 5 years later, reminiscing about these kids. Hoping they are okay. Still mentioning them in my prayers. Missing the crap out of them. Wishing I could have taken them home, and give them a life like I had. Still trying to figure out how it has been five years and still feel like it was yesterday I was having a bbq in Washington Park, or seeing Keisha play Mrs. King in the school play, or celebrating my birthday with the funnest group of kids on the southside. It's kinda crazy.