Friday August 9th at approximately I don't know exactly what time it was but it was late and dark outside. My son and I had just returned home from the Saints pregame against the KC Chiefs. We spent the evening laughing and making lifelong memories as we enjoyed the adventures of Father & Son, unofficial superheroes for hire. We made videos on the way to the game then took pictures as we watched New Orleans pride and joy defeat the challenger. As we walked back to the car we both anticipated getting home and creating a pool fool of almond milk for our Oreo Cookies( traditional chocolate and the new golden ones too) to dive in as we shared even more laughs and good times.
The reality of our living conditions came back to haunt us and remind us that we were in fact inhabitants of the ghetto! As usual darkness from city official ignored broken street lights forced the shadows to grow into giants of gloom which towered over our homes and forced any resemblance of safety and security to disappear. The blighted house next door resembles paradise for squatters and addicts looking for a place to sleep, smoke or shoot up. Our former next door neighbors in our duplex, who were illegally stealing our electricity, had finally moved out in an effort to avoid paying three months of past due rent so the sight of a image near our home gave me cause for alarm.
Just as we pulled up to the house, I spotted a freshly zooted out of her mind heroin addict who appeared to be moving in slow motion. She was sitting in the dark on the porch of the freshly evacuated side of the double shotgun house that we temporarily call home and I was not in the mood for any hood shenanigans! Her faced shined from profuse sweating in the New Orleans humidity and the whites of her eyes were completely reddish brown and glazed over. Her appearance and posture made me question if I was going to have to hit her with the truck and pray about it after the fact. She wore a dingy black t-shirt and some old jeans and she sat slumped over on the steps with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I was scanning every inch of her body for a bulge that may resemble a pistol or rifle. But if she had a weapon she was about to spend some quality time with the Bone beloved, 'Uncle Charles' because if I noticed one false move she was "gonna miss everybody..." as she made her way to the oops he just hit me with the truck 'CrossRoads'.
I didn't notice any resemblance of a weapon so I told my son to stay inside just in case and I proceeded to hop out of the truck ready for whatever as I made my way to my porch. Oddly enough she was watching me as I was watching her in this strange eye to eye contact dance that we were incidentally involved in. Without hesitation I spoke first, "Are you alright?" Her sluggish and slurred response was, "You ain't gotta worry bout me!" All I could think to myself was what in life went so wrong that she ended up like this. I wondered if she was the person so took a crap on the side of our home and left the toilet paper on sidewalk right next to the empty plastic liquor bottle?? I wondered if she was the person my son saw snorting blow in front of our home a few weeks ago when I asked him to take out the trash.
I walked back out to the truck and told my son to come on. He and I walked in the house as her eyes followed us to the door. I closed and locked the door then turned on the porch light to hopefully kill her buzz and cause her to flee like a roach in a project kitchen when somebody hit's the light switch. After I sat down on the couch I knew I had messed up. Next time I see a dope fiend on my porch I'm going to have revival with them and pray that I blow their vibe! I learned a valuable lesson that night. Ministry doesn't always have to equate to family vulnerability. My son and I are moving at the end of this school year.
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