In the Land of Jason

This is the same post but with a few changes. If you've already read this, your not missing anything new. Some grammatical restructuring clarified a few points.

     My time in Memphis has been good but stressful. New city, new cultureS, new job, new neighbors, and new responsibilities. Before I left Cincinnati I had intended to have a few days of fasting and prayer for what I knew would be a big adjustment. It never happened with the hustle to get things done.

      Fast forward several weeks to when I started my job and seeing patients. Though I was excited about the clinic, my coworkers, and using my skills to serve God I was wearing down. The previous Saturday, the 27th of March, I spent the afternoon in worship, prayer, and devotional reading. It had been exactly what I’d needed after a stressful week of change. The following week, I found myself again feeling feverish about getting time alone with God to recharge. Saturday April 2nd, after running some errands I chose a park not far from the clinic to meet with God. I figured I’d check it out for when I might need some time away at work.

       It was a warm, perfect day. Spring had firmly taken root, the poplar trees already starting to lose some of their blossoms. The park was set back in a subdivision built maybe 30 years ago. I parked my car, grabbed my backpack, and started looking for a place to sit and be with God. There wasn’t anyone in the park at the time. I walked through a huge playground made of brightly painted metal and cushioned by deep red rubber pavement. Weird that with all the kids I’d passed on the way in that none was there. There were a few broken liquor bottles near one of the slides, very incongruent with the cleanliness and modernity of the playground. Seemed a good metaphor for the decay I’d seen around Memphis. So much promise left unattended. Shrugging off the temptation to swing on the monkey bars, I headed to a far corner where a baseball field was shaded by trees next to a small stream. The subtle sweet smell of clover drifted to me and made me forget the broken bottles as I strode toward the diamond. I wandered over to check out the stream and was disappointed to see a chain link fence had been erected to keep kids out of it. I could see a huge hubcap-sized turtle sunning itself and smiled at the blessings of finding a place both quiet and close to nature.

       I found a spot on the pealing bleachers about 2/3 of the way up and set up for some worship. The afternoon sun was hot but it felt good. An hour later I was deep into the book I’d brought along, Dallas Willard’s Spirit of the Disciplines, when I noticed some kids rough housing or playing football some 100 yards off to my left. Thinking nothing of it I returned to reading; very content to lose myself in my book.

       Sometime later I heard someone yell something at me. Already at the base of bleacher a young kid told me I was in the wrong park. He couldn’t have been much more than 16 and looked scared to death. I still remember how much fear was in his eyes. Confused I thought he was warning me that I needed to get out of the park which I was more than fine with doing. I could see 3 or 4 other kids with him and had sense some had come behind me while I’d been reading. Quickly climbing the bleacher he then asked what I had in my pockets. Again seeing his fear, I thought he was asking if I had weapons; dully oblivious that I was about to be robbed. I answered that I had nothing. I don’t remember if he’d finished asking me a second time before I was sucker punched. Shortly afterwards when talking to the police I said that I thought someone had hit me from behind but it’s possible that the first blow was followed quickly by a few blows on the back of my head. Of everything this moment of confusion is clearest to me, being unsure of what I’d done but needing to get out and get out now. I think I made it off the bleachers before I was tackled or tripped. My next clear thought was them screaming at me for the “rest of my money”. Again confused since I had 80 bucks on me, I yelled back that all I had was in my wallet which they had freed me of as well as my keys and new cell phone. (It's rare that I carry more than 20 bucks on me after working so long in Over-the-Rhine and living in Lower Price Hill.) They took off a moment later disappearing back towards the woods.

        My vision was blurred and I was completely turned around. They’d left my backpack after searching it for valuables. Forgetting that I’d forgotten my glasses at home I stumbled back to the bleachers to look for them before realizing that I was still in danger. I was feeling woozy and the adrenaline was pumping. Crossing the playground I left the park and looked for a house to call the police. I found a Hispanic family in their front yard. I almost walked by because I thought I must have been scary but knew I needed to get to call the police. My brain wasn’t working well in Spanish and it took several tries to explain to the dad that I needed to call the police. The boys were around 5, 7, and 9. They quickly caught on and were trying to describe people that they had seen leaving the park wondering if any of them might be the guys that attacked me. It’s still a very vivid memory of trying to figure out a way to redirect them onto another topic. I never saw the attacker’s faces, they had pulled on handkerchiefs just as I had looked up. The kids were clearly both excited and worried, especially the littlest guy. I was worried that I might be endangering the family so after giving the address to the dispatcher I went to the end of the driveway and sat on the curb.

         So many things were racing through my head. After all my time working in the inner-city how could I do something so stupid; going by myself into an unknown park in an unknown neighborhood and seeking out a place to be alone. What if something happened to this kind family? How would this affect my coworkers? What had I done? Why hadn’t spent more time with God before all this? Eventually I’d have a black eye, a few chipped teeth, some bruises, and few lumps on the back of my head. (Nothing that my agent says has lessened calls for me in Hollywood). At the same time, I was so grateful that it hadn’t been worse. It was like being attacked while using the restroom or eating breakfast. I had been completely consumed in what I was reading oblivious to my danger.

         My right eye wouldn’t stop tearing up and my vision was blurry. One of the kids brought me out a glass of water and offered it to me. His kindness and sincerity was sorely appreciated. It took the police about 30 minutes to get there. Their mother came home and spoke some more English; she inquired of my well being and offered me some kind of blessing though. I can’t really remember their faces very well. I was too ashamed to make much eye contact. I realized just a few minutes before they arrived that one of the older kids was sitting behind me and to my left keeping an eye out. The 7 year old was riding a circle around me also keeping watch.

         The police arrive in two separate squad cars and took my story about what happened. I found it really hard for some reason to explain why I was in the park and keep my composure. It made feel vulnerable and naked to admit how badly I needed to be with God and at the same time knew it must sound strange to see this big guy getting all choked about it. As one of the officers typed in my list of stolen belonging the other looked at me strangely especially when I mentioned that I was fasting and asked if I was some kind of Mormon missionary. I was confused by the question. Nope just a Christian, an evangelical. I said something about where I worked and that that was why I’d moved to Memphis. Really though I just wanted to get back to my apartment to get my spare set of keys. Looking back I missed an opportunity to share more about God but my thoughts were a bit jumbled.

        After what seemed like an hour of the same questions over and over again, one of the cops drove me home. He apologized but I was required to sit in the backseat. I didn’t care. I just wanted to be home. As we drove home, so many emotions crowded in. The officer was polite but clearly had no idea what to make of me. We drove into my apartment complex’s gates and I asked to be let out there not wanting to be driven up to my apartment as I was with the police. As the officer opened my door I rasped some kind of thanks, shook his hand, and then hustled to my apartment to get my spare keys.

         My old cell phone from Cincy was still active and I started making phone calls. That was so hard. What had happened was so embarrassing, emasculating but I knew that I had to make them if my car would still be there when I got back. I’d told the Hispanic family that I’d be back that night and I wanted to get there before dark. I don’t remember looking at myself in the mirror though I must have because I flushed my right eye with natural tears because I thought something was in there. One of the docs from another clinic called me back quickly and arranged someone to come get me. In the meantime I called my credit card companies to cancel my cards, inadvertently making one of the customer rep people cry when I told her what happened.

        John, a dentist, at another clinic picked me up at the gates and followed me back to the park to pick up the car. The family had left so I went next door to another neighbor that was working on his car. I didn’t want them to worry that my car had been stolen. I explained to the neighbor what had happened. “This park? Behind us here? Really, stuff like that never happens-we watch out for each other.” I shrugged. I told him my abbreviated story (I wanted to get my car back home) and he got really quiet. “Wow you just got here. Memphis isn’t all like that. So sorry that happened. That stuff just doesn’t happen around here.” And then added patting the front seat, “...But you know that’s why I keep my gun under my here.” I laughed a little at the irony and he apologized again for my experience and asked if there was anything he could do for me. I left after he promised to tell his neighbor that I’d picked up my care. After dropping my car off, John took me to be checked out by one of the docs. I think he had to persuade me a bit as I really just wanted to be alone.

         On the drive over what had happened was starting to sink in. Relief that it could have been so very much worse and embarrassment that I’d let myself get into such a vulnerable position. One of the other docs checked me out and they both prayed with me. Not just for me but also for the kids. The kid was scared, he wasn’t hardened yet. I had been part of the loss of his innocence and somehow that made it so much worse. It felt dirty. Those kids so needed God and I couldn’t find the words to do it myself. We then went over to John David’s house and just hung out for a bit. Later we went over another guy’s house and watch UCON eliminate UK. (A very bright ending to dark Saturday after UK having eliminated OSU previously-Sorry to the UK fans I watched it with). Folks were incredibly supportive and there was a lot of encouragement. Later the doc called in a prescription for the scratch on my eye to prevent an infection from setting up. John the dentist offered to lend me his credit card until I got access to the banks on Monday. We had a good laugh at what would happen if a 6’1” guy with a black eye tried to explain to the police why he was using someone else’s credit card and couldn’t show proof of who he really was.

          The next day I’d planned on visiting some of the Hispanic churches but found that I didn’t want to explain what had happened. Even less I didn’t want to deal with the racial implications. I decided to attend the same cell-church meeting that John and Stacy held in their house. Enough people there knew my story and I hoped to not need to talk much about it. There were a lot of visitors that Sunday so I ended up sharing the story again. A large part of why I’m posting this blog is that I’ve found that as I tell and retell what happen is that it feels more like story rather than a retelling. In many ways that’s easier, the feelings are more distant and safely contained in story telling elements. In another way, it becomes artificial and tiresome. In writing this down I want to share what happened because some are curious and some are concerned. Even more so I don’t wish people to build what happened into something it wasn’t or more reaction to it into something better than what it is.

        During the gathering folks break into smaller groups to pray. The prayers were beautiful with nearly everyone praying for the guys as well as for me. One person in particular prayed with moving depth not only for their salvation but also in an imprecatory way. You don’t hear those kinds of prayers very often. She prayed for their discomfort, misery, and suffering until they found repentance. Though it made me uncomfortable, it was not unjust. In truth I wish God to use all of His power to draw them to Him be it either in kindness or feral strength.

           By the time we headed to lunch I was feeling much more normal. One of the other Nurse Practitioner asked me something about what I had been reading and I reached into my backpack (because I rarely go anywhere without it after a decade in school) and pulled out my copy. Some brittle dried Oak leaves and grass fell from it. My stomach flipped and I paused with a brief “Ohhh” and then moved on. It caught me off guard how strong the leaves had evoked emotion in me. Stupid leaves. Later when I was in my apartment I found myself avoiding the book. I don’t remember if it was Sunday or Monday but I made myself read from it. It gave me a weird sense of peace that I could and am reading from it without any oddness.

         That following Monday I took off to run errands and try to catch up with some of the things I didn’t get done that weekend and get my chipped teeth repaired (the dentist rocked-my teeth are much better looking that they were before). I also had to talk to a whole lot more folks about what happened; coworkers, family, people at the bank, people I didn’t know at the store. By the end of the day I was looking forward to getting back to work. My first day back was busy and blessedly none of my patients asked what had happened. It occurred to me later that those that had been through something violent aren’t nearly as likely to be nosey as those that have not. The most inappropriate questions didn’t come from those that had experienced something bad but from those openly said things like; “I can’t imagine", "Nothing like that has ever happened to someone I know", or "That would make it hard for me to keep from crying.”

           When stressed I tend to draw up into myself. The less you see of me, the greater the likelihood that I am overwhelmed. The concern that folks at Christ Community Health Services showed for me forcefully pulled me in the other direction. I went from being the one of hundreds and sort of vague to everyone knowing who I am. Nearly every night I was eating with another group of people, the exact opposite of my instinctual direction. It proved, unfortunately for my pride, to be exactly what I needed not only in regards to what had happened but also in helping me cope with the stress of my new job. I was much happier talking about what both stressed and made me happy about work than talking about what had happened. In doing so I shared much more than I would’ve otherwise. Looking back it has been the deepest blessing of the whole thing.

          This has highlighted just how prideful I am. So much of the difficulty of the aftermath is how vulnerable and neophyte it made me feel. After all of those years of working in and around the inner-city, I still did something so stupid. I didn’t want to depend on others, especially not people I didn’t know. It’s OK of course for me to help complete strangers but not the other way around. I don’t like being vulnerable and would rather do without than admit that I have a real need to someone that I don’t know. The ensuing lack of resources stressed me at time way more than what happened in the park. It also underscored insecurity in my competence as new practitioner. My pride and confidence dissipated together. I’m still trying to grow into my big boy shoes as a Nurse Practitioner. There’s always something more to learn or relearn. The past week, I’m learning to let God rebuild something different in their place. I’m doing well though. It’s not something that shows up in my dreams or something that I think much on. It’s forced me onto a different footing with God and with my coworkers; I’m not really sure what that means just yet. I’m just so grateful for Him right now.

          Despite how intense or emotional this post might feel as you read it, know that I am writing about it at a distance. I have tremendous amount of peace about what has happened. God has so blessed and watched over me.

              This above all else is true. God was there in the park as He is in Memphis. I am humbled to be both His servant and son. This hasn’t made me more dedicated or in love with this city, it has made me more committed to serving her in His name. No matter what happens to me, she deeply needs Him. Even before all of this happened, I was impressed with how violently God is fighting for the folks here.

            Memphis needs your prayers. Please pray for the Christians here that they would draw close to our Maker and be open to His will. Pray that I would be softened toward His wishes as well. Pray for balance as I get acclimated to my new roles and greater competence as a provider. I feel even more intensely that I must root myself deeper in Him. I am so thankful for His presence and for those of you that have been praying for me. Pray that this will be something that God uses within Christ Community Health and the Hickory Hill community somehow. Praise God for who He is.

Como siempre, Que Dios les bendiga en su busqueda de Su voluntad,

                 Jason