Ok, so I know what a blog is, but this is not going to be pretty. Yet, in an effort to be honest about what life is like for us, here goes…
Some of the information in this story comes from the news, some comes through people who have connections in this specific part of the Quarter. Last Saturday, 8 pm, Wendy, a beloved bartender in the residential end of the French Quarter was murdered in a botched attempted robbery. (At this point, let me explain a few things about this area. It is mostly residential and the bars there are like “Cheers”, people from different walks of life, creating their own family. They are very close. The movie, Love Song for Bobby Long starring John Travolta and Scarlett Johansson is a fairly accurate portrayal of this.) Wendy was walking with a male friend when they were accosted by 3 young men. The police state that she did not resist physically, but word in the community is that she told the guys to, “F*** off!” She was shot in the chest and the perps got no money. The man with her was able to give such a detailed description of the guys, that once the drawing were released in the media the mother of the shooter recognized her son, confronted him, he confessed to the crime and she took him to the police. He is fifteen. The mother of one of the other boys heard the first one had turned himself in and she knew her son ran with him. She confronted him, he confessed, she took him in. He is fifteen. The third boy, they knew, but they could not find him for several days. He turned himself in on Thursday. He is fourteen. So many thoughts go through my head, Where did they find a 9mm gun? Did he just mean to scare her and put to much pressure on the trigger? Was he angered by her disrespect? What were boys that age doing in the Quarter after dark? I admired those mothers for doing the right thing in making their boys turn themselves in, but did they know where their sons were? They have lost their boys as surely as Wendy’s loved ones have lost her. My son was a 15-year-old boy once. He spent time in the quarter-he had jobs there, but he was well over 17 years old before he ever went in with friends at night, usually to music venues and often by car. The DA is calling them thugs; they are probably going to be tried as adults. They may be thugs. Yet, I saw them on the news, they look like little boys. It makes me sick. And here is another thought, that could have been Mike and me. But Mike would be the one shot in the chest. In every confrontation he has had with young toughs, he has been belligerent with them and they have backed off. But were they armed? I have always felt safe with Mike because of his appearance. (The clerks at the Baptist Seminary Bookshop follow him, I assume because he looks like an unsavory fellow.) I cannot beg him not to confront them because until the situation is upon you, you really cannot tell what you will do. Let me tell you about something I was involved in this fall. I was walking Emma, our black Lab mix, in our neighborhood, during daylight hours, on a street that we have always thought of being “safe”. A man passed us loaded down with grocery bags, walking quickly. Two young men were walking closely behind him. I made eye contact with one and said, “hey”. They didn’t look like thugs or gang bangers. Not more than 6 or 7 steps past me I heard someone yelling for help. I thought people at the restaurant on the corner were fooling around and I said to myself, they ought not to play like that and I turned around. The man’s groceries were all scattered about and he was being mugged and robbed just steps from me. My very first thought was, “I need to get out of here.” But next I thought, “No, NO!” they are not gonna do this in my neighborhood!” It seems silly now, but using my “teacher voice”, I yelled, “HEY, you! Knock it off! Leave that man alone!” All this time the victim is yelling for help. One of the preps turned to look at me and reached for the back pocket of his jeans, “Brilliant! They have a gun. Well, I can’t run now, better just keep yelling” So I did. I don’t know if they were armed because just then they got the victims wallet and took of running. Afterwards, I felt bad that I had been too scared to do more, like charge them with Emma. The detective who interviewed me said that it was wise that I did not, because if they had been armed they could have shot Emma and then, me. He did say that they probably did not mess with me because of Emma. And both the detective and the victim told me that I probably saved the victim from further abuse because I put up a fuss and had a dog. I had always felt safe on that street before.
I will try to pull all this together, but I have a couple more things to add. On Monday, I had a conversation with a young women who graduated this past spring from Moody Bible in Chicago, spent the summer with a mission team in some Eastern European country whose name I have forgotten, and now she is working as a nanny for a family in our church who have brand new quadruplets and two other older children under four. Hannah was talking to me about her parents struggle with letting her serve God where she felt him lead her. She said to me, “Jesus did say that he would be with us always, but he did not promise us safety.” On Wed. evening in our home group meeting, the scriptures under discussion were the early sections of Colossians chapter one. Particularly the parts about Christ being above all things, before all things and in him “all things hold together”. The question was posed, if we really could apply this information to our lives, what would that look like? I answered that if I could really grasp that knowledge, I would probably sleep better, and probably not have an ulcer. Ok, I have said all this to get here, two of the things I have been telling myself to make me feel safe have been shown to be false: Mike’s presence and location/time of day. They are false security. Yet I am not more frightened of living here that I was before this all happened. I can do all the safety smart things and bad things can still happen. I have to put my trust in Christ alone, that he has my life. He is my protector and defender. Yes, bad things happen, but he is still Lord. You may ask yourself why we stay here. I will have to address that tomorrow, because Jared will be here any minute for a cooking lesson. Love to you all.
