POST by LIZ: Pulled the Trigger Now You're Dead

“BANG - BANG - BANG!” and that was all it took – the man who had beaten you and opened up your face with his fist, fell to the floor and you were safe. But no one knew that that night of victory would be cut short and change your life forever.

I can’t prevent my mind from replaying 

the weeks leading up to that event. Things were going so well.  The centre was buzzing and it was a second home for you.  Jocasta and I poured into your life and I remember you looking into my eyes one night pleading me to take you to church because you needed God in your life.  I said I would love to take you, but you wanted me to know that you were serious. We talked deep that night and I know you soaked in every word spoken.

I knew that you had gotten into trouble while I had been away in the States.  I knew that you had returned to robbing yet this time it had gone further than stealing the average Joe’s home belongings.  When I had returned, I noticed you were harder in your heart and you knew it too.  Just seeing me again convicted your spirit and I could see you were crying out for help, for change, for freedom. 

We picked up from where we had left off, and I could see relief in your eyes. Relief that I accepted you for you and relief that I put my trust in you regardless of the rumors and the past. 

Many nights you’d ask if you could stay longer at the centre, you were happy messing with the DJ function on my computer and you were content, you could be yourself. 

Things were going well.  We helped our friend take his mind off his depression by dressing up as the characters from Dragonball, and making a lasting impression on the people in Galerias.  We laughed and joked and it was pure and innocent fun that restored and refreshed our souls.

I could see you were struggling; you didn’t want the streets, you didn’t want the zany life, you wanted stability and acceptance, you wanted change.

We took many trips in those few weeks; We focused on Jocasta having those final glimpses of Nicaragua and we drank in some of the beautiful landscapes and features of this country.

I cherish the time I visited you and your Mum.  I thoroughly loved sitting in the plastic chairs outside your humble home and talking through your passion of want you wanted Capital Edge to help you achieve. You wanted us to host a soccer tournament for the barrio and you promised you’d help me achieve this in practical ways. 

That night I bonded with your broken mother.  I remember thinking what a strong woman she is and I loved speaking positive words about you to her and seeing her eyes twinkle with delight. 

You were sick one night and you came to me for help - I took you to hospital and I know that you felt loved and cherished.

Do you remember the time, we karaoked the night away at the centre and we repeatedly sang, “Stand by me” over and over and over again until our voices broke on us. 

You were actively willing to help me fix things around the centre and you served and loved just being a part of my daily life. But sadly I was distracted and I allowed many opportunities to pass by and unfortunately, greed got the better of you.  

One night you came to visit, but I was out.  I didn’t realize that this would be the night that you most needed the centre – the protection – the acceptance.   That night you borrowed our motorbike, but you didn’t return it.  That night, the outdoor speakers were stolen, and that night changed the course of a life!     

After three days, I contacted you.  I knew you were renting out the bike to others. I know that bike has stories – horrific stories.  You returned the bike but things were different.  I was angry and I told you that if you wanted to be welcomed into the centre again, you would first have to think hard about your actions and you would have to return our stolen speakers before the doors would say “bienvenidos”. 

You were offended. You were hurt.  I watched as my words stabbed you and your dreams. You tried to justify your actions, but I wasn’t in the mood for excuses.

I didn’t realize the safety and security our centre provided to you.  I was at a low point, feeling the pressures of the world and doubting the calling God had given me.  I had many verbally express their concerns over the facebook photos I had posted with you in them.  People thought the worst and I allowed their narrow mindsets to eat at me, and I saw this as an opportunity to keep you at arm’s length.  

I didn’t value the beauty of what we provided for you, I listened to my critics and believed them when they hissed that all we do is provide a party and nothing more.  From every inch of my being, I am sorry that I didn’t value the influence I was to you, I didn’t see how you valued the acceptance that we offered you, and I didn’t believe that we were making a difference just by opening our green gate to you and allowing my home to be yours too.

I passed you in the streets and you were rejected and I was harboring unforgiveness and confusion.  I felt used and abused and focused on earthly matters rather than heavenly achievements.   

Your pride and culture wouldn’t allow you to say a direct Sorry to me, but you desperately tried to display this to me through your actions the night I visited your cousin that you happened to be at too.  I knew it wasn’t an accident or coincidence that you were there, but I was stubborn and tired and listened to earthly options instead of God’s.   

I missed the opportunity to speak words of life to you and as a result the streets became your home once again. 

“BANG”

I am sure this sound will haunt you and your mother for the rest of your life. 

You had gotten into trouble and trouble had decided to fight back.  You were fighting for your life and this time you called for your mother instead of me.   

That night, she took the law into her own hands.  She pulled the trigger and freed you for a moment. 

Now I see why God called us to open our home to the youth on the streets, now I can see that beyond the laughter and fun there is so much more taking place, now I am convinced of my calling… but it is too late to turn back the clock and redo the past - now you are on the run, now you are not welcome back to the barrio, now your mother is behind bars.