Lastnight Benny called home from downtown. Matt and Robbie had found one of the streetkids dead near the river. It was a somber and difficult night for the Dry Bones staff and the kids we work with. There are so many thoughts racing through my head. The main question I have is WHY? Why don’t people see the needs right in front of them, preferring to help those who are easier charity? Why do the business men and women of downtown Denver just want the homeless away from their businesses? One man said he wanted them off his street, once told they’d just go a few streets over he replied, “good, they won’t be MY problem anymore”. Not all of them feel this way, but more than not. Why can’t we reach the street kids faster? I know it takes time to form relationships, but I want to help them NOW! Why do some get a break, and others die alone? Why isn’t there enough money to build places to help the homeless get off the streets, yet the city needs a new stadium every so often, and money to spend on other entertainment venues? Why isn’t life more important to us all? Sure we fight against abortion, and euthanasia, but we forget about the homeless and the people dying all over the world from disease and starvation. It all seems so overwhelming to us, doesn’t it? Where do we spend our time and money? Afterall, it only goes so far. With a heavy heart, I’ll share the email I received from Matt this morning. Please pray for us, the Dry Bones Team, and the homeless kids in Denver. Pray for every person who is involved with Dry Bones in any way, from the people who support the ministry financially, to the local volunteers that show up week after week at Shakespeare’s, to the companies and businesses that send donations of clothing and food, to the prayer teams that have us on their lists, to the youth groups who come in the summers to experience DB and then go home to be worldchangers. We are more grateful for our partners in this ministry than we can ever express. Just pray…
From Matt Wallace:
Below is just a story and my thoughts from an event that happened last night:
“Hello Officer Johnson, this is Captain Black. . . . Yeah, we’ve got a D.O.A. here by the river . . . . Yep, I’m sure he’s dead. . . . some kid . . . . these ministers came and told me that there was a dead guy in the park. . . . . they led me down there, we searched through the bushes, and we found him.”
Tonight was one of the toughest nights on the streets yet for me. Every Thursday night, for the past four years, we’ve rented out a pool hall. We invite all of our friends, the street kids, to come inside for free pool and an opportunity to feel normal. Nothing about tonight felt normal for me. It was one of those “first-ever-experiences” that I would just rather not ever have had.
Three street kids, good friends of ours’, came running up to Robbie and me at the pool hall.
“We were just down by the Platte River walking on our way over here and we found a dead guy.” These kids were scared out of their minds. Scared because they didn’t know what to do. Scared because they were afraid that they were somehow going to get in trouble. And scared mostly because, well, it could have been them. “I think he must have overdosed or something. . . . . we touched him and he was . . . cold,” said one of the kids. Robbie and I offered to go and handle the situation. We knew that there was an off-duty police officer working security at some apartments nearby. We told the kids that we would go talk to him. From here, the night seemed to get darker. The three kids took us to a lookout and pointed in the general direction of the body. Robbie and I then went by ourselves and found the off-duty policeman. Captain Black drove us through the park down to the river. We got out and began walking towards the water through the tall dead grass and overgrown bushes. With a lump in my throat, butterflies in my stomach, and adrenaline flowing through my body, I said, “Don’t think that he will be here on the trail. I think he’s probably up in the bushes. The kids said that he was in his squat.”
After a few minutes of searching, the beam of light from the officer’s MagLight lit a small pile of clothing. When we rounded the big bush and looked down, there he was. He was no old “homebum” like I thought he would be. He was a young kid. He was a street kid. I knew his face. I’d seen him walking down the street within the past month at least twice; though I never even knew his name. His face now white, his lips purple, his body curled up into a tiny ball. So THIS is where life ends? Beside a nasty dirty river? In a squat uninhabitable for human life? Overdosed on heroine? Dark? Alone? We made our way back up to Captain Black’s car. We called on-duty police officers. The fire department, ambulance, and homicide showed up. The atmosphere soon lit up like an episode of C.S.I. . . . only real. We filed our reports and left the scene. I’m sure there will be no murder convicted. It’s hard, in a court of law, to convict absentee and abusive parents, drug lords, heroine itself, and even the Prince of Darkness.
We met back up with our 80 plus street kids, now at our weekly meal in that very same park; the flashing police lights just in the distance. The mood was somber. The kids asked quiet questions. One of the kids who had found the body pulled me aside. I asked him if he was ok. Staring at the ground, he said, “Yeah.” He was not telling the truth. I asked him what he was thinking. He said, “I’m tired of my friends dying.” I asked, “Did you know that kid?” He said that he didn’t, but could have so easily. He knew that that kid hadn’t been in town long enough for him to know him. He began listing the names of his friends that he knew were “next”. I asked him if that could have been him. . . He looked up at me and said nothing. This time, his eyes spoke the truth. He walked away.
My teammates surrounded me. I cried. I too am tired of my friends dying. It’s a part of the business I’m in. In four years, I know of at least 10 of my street friends that have died. I’ve been a part of one of their funerals. But I’ve never even seen a single body. Tonight. Tonight this was too real. The image of his face will be with me forever. Back at the pool hall, Nikki was having a conversation with a young girl. She was crying. It had been another bad day. She says to Nikki, “I’m tired of people being she**ty. . . I guess it doesn’t really get better for people like me.”
I so desperately want these kids to know:
There is a LIFE where your friends aren’t killing themselves slowly and taking you with them. There is a LIFE where love is real and is not dependent on sex or filled with abuse.
There is a LIFE where everyone around you isn’t held captive by drugs.
There is a LIFE where you don’t have to sleep beside a river or underneath a bridge or in a stormdrain.
There is a LIFE where you really can trust people.
A LIFE where people don’t stab you in the back day after day.
There is a LIFE that begins NOW and goes on forever.
There is a LIFE that is filled with a supernatural LOVE.
There is a LIFE that doesn’t end in the cold, dark, bushes beside the Platte River.
There is more than this so-called living.
There is LIFE.
Tonight I feel the gravity of living in desperate times.
LIFE must be lived.
And we have got to show the way to LIFE.
How does one begin to respond to such a horrible moment, and such a pervasive tragedy. Death, seen through the glasses of a young kid’s life sucked away by addicition is so final and so empty.
I mourn with you all!!!
I am filled with Joy that though that there are people like You & Benny and the other Dry Bones people who are there to show a love and a life that is not final and empty. I know this calling brings you all pain in such times.
I mourn with you all!!!!
You have my prayers for peace. Peace for you and for your family. Peace for these kids you are ministering to. Peace for a world that would abuse, and invite addicition into the lives of kids. I pray for peace in your suffering, and in you calling.
I mourn with you all!!!!
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Wow, Nikki. Sometimes reality is a bit too real. I don’t even know what to say, other than to offer my continued prayers….
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Thank you so much for the prayers and the kind words!
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i think kevin summed up my thoughts. I will definitely keep you, Benny, the kids, and the Dry Bones team in my prayers. and thanks…i’m so glad there are people like you and Benny out in our world taking action to bring peace to these kids. Stay strong!
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You have lots of great questions–
I wish I had the answers.
I am thankful for what you all are doing–I know you can’t save them all, but I am so thankful you care–and you give all that come in touch with your life–a reason to hope!
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May God reach out and hold you all close during this horrible situation. May He alone give you wisdom to persevere. I pray you will have that peace and assurance that the God of the Universe is using you to reach out and dispel the death for one precious life at a time.
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