MY NOT SO DISTANT COUSIN

Along with relentless humidity, a cacophony of words has been swirling around my head and tugging at the pliant curves of my heart all week. This unruly stew is an incongruous mixture of joy and despair. Now that I'm home, I find the mixture has landed squarely in the pit of my stomach. It is a weighty and unsettling lump. 

What a week.

I will admit I was not enthusiastic when Camden was chosen as our youth group service week destination. It is, after all, just across the river. Rather than a destination, it has been (in my limited experience) a place to avoid. Though I have lived only an hour away for 50+ years, I've been to Camden on only four previous occasions. Highway navigation is not one of my strong suits so half of the aforementioned occasions were accidental (and as brief as humanly possible). One visit involved walking to a concert venue quickly so I might avoid the stray bullets which I imagined fairly peppered the Camden sky. The last visit was to the Adventure Aquarium where I stood mesmerized by the jet propulsion movement of a transparent jellyfish behind glass. If my life is a novel, the aquarium memory could be considered ironic foreshadowing of last evening's experience.  This time I stood on the weapons-side of a panel of bulletproof glass while awaiting my brown paper sack of vegetable lo mein. I was told later that my three companions and I had ventured two blocks beyond the relative safe zone in the city. The food was cheap. And delicious.

photo credit Andrea Bauman

Nearly three decades ago, Urban Promise was born to provide a safe and caring environment for the children of Camden. They have not strayed from their promise.  They are pushing into the darkest places of the city with their brightly colored murals, their catchy songs, their nutritious lunches, and their determination to be present. Empowered by the strength of their calling and the all-encompassing love of Jesus, I'm not sure they can be dissuaded. http://urbanpromiseinternational.org/our-ministries-united-states-america/usa-urbanpromise-camden 

photo credit Mickensie Neely

The extreme heat this past week was no match for the fire in the hearts of these Urban Promise leaders. From the business office to the Facilities Team of ONE, they are a determined lot. Our lunch-maker did her job with gusto. You couldn't even get past the sun-baked crossing guard without receiving a high-five.  These people redefine optimism. They relentlessly pursue positivity in the face of utter desperation.  They are daily and methodically overcoming hopelessness by showering the poor children of Camden with the kind of unconditional love that turns hearts from stone and extinguishes discouragement in the lowest of circumstances. They are saving the emotional, spiritual, and physical lives of children. One day at a time. 

Many of the children of Urban Promise go on to be Street Leaders in the camps and some of them even become Camp Directors. An energetic and motivating man named Albert led the camp with which I was honored to serve. He was once a child in the program and now he is passionately and effectively giving back to the most vulnerable people in Camden.  He now commutes every day from Hatfield to fulfill his ministry and his determination is inspiring. The children adore him. He is the hands and feet of Christ to those kids. 

As usual, my husband boiled down all my swirling words when he said "I used to think Camden was a joke." He hit the nail on the head. We were just glad not to live there. Camden felt like the awkward cousin we don't invite to family gatherings because nobody knows quite what to say. We didn't want our friends to know we are related to her.

photo credit: Chris Worthington

Those of us on the west side of the river who have dinner every night find it easy not to consider what is going on beyond the concert venue and the aquarium parking lot. Those of us with transportation in the garages of our single homes easily forget those who have no way to get to a job when highways cut through our neighborhoods and we don't own a car.  We who've met our fathers cannot fathom what it would mean for our toddlers to have to step over drug paraphernalia when walking around in our local parks. 

Some of us spent a morning in the park playing kickball with the kids. A woman was shooting drugs into her arm in a car on the edge of the park at 10:00 in the morning. Even inside the fences, the ground was littered with evidence of addiction. Syringes and brightly colored plastic bottles. If we were to spy reds and oranges like this in our own Souderton Park, we'd assume someone had dropped a toy. The heaviness of the week just clung to me that morning until I turned my head again and recognized so many of our camper's little faces. They were having fun while we were melting in the heat. Tiny feet kicking balls, dust flying, the dirt from the field clinging to sticky brown and tan legs as the children laughed and circled the bases with our teens coaching and cheering them on. When those tiny children hugged our legs and held our hands in theirs, our hearts melted faster than the 95 degree heat could melt us. Little lips, green and blue from well-earned ice pops, giving us perspective, giving us words, placing their stories gently into our care. They shared their giggles. They shared their hopes. They shared their fears. 

Job one at Urban Promise is the presentation of an orientation for work groups like us. They do a good job but let me tell you, NOTHING can prepare temporary do-good workers like us for the overwhelming impact of a small sweet head resting suddenly and trustingly on one of our shoulders. Nothing can prepare our ears to hear an eight year old tell one of us quietly that he has not seen his mother for awhile because his sister got shot; the words whispered between bites of the bologna and cheese sandwich provided by the ministry. He had his breakfast there that morning as well. As he sipped his strawberry milk he added that he has a fourteen year old brother and four other siblings. His brother doesn't come to camp with Urban Promise, he just "walks around on the streets." 

My preconceived concept of the streets of Camden was bleak. Unfortunately bleak doesn't begin to describe the things we saw when two of the ministry leaders took our group from Blooming Glen Mennonite Church and the Souderton Mennonite Church youth group on a tour of their city. Roughly fifty of us were crammed inside an aging, sweltering, bumpy school bus. Some of us were seated three across, our hot weary bodies pressed up against each other in a damp togetherness none of us had anticipated. But compared to what was going on outside of our uncomfortable bus, we were a bunch blessed beyond reason. Street after street of abject poverty. Boarded up homes and businesses. No jobs. The stench of the water treatment facilities smack dab in the residential city;the residents too poor and beaten down to fight for their own streets. Heroin alley. "Ladies of the night" peddling their wares at 3:30 in the afternoon. Our leaders told us of the gangs, the infighting, the jockeying for position and turf, the cycle of poverty. It was positively heartbreaking to realize these were the streets on which our beloved little campers are being raised.  

We passed by the luxurious new training facility for the Sixers, closer to the more affluent waterfront and so out of step with the rest of the community. This huge facility was coaxed into the impoverished city with the promise of no taxes due for thirty years. A monetary break for the NBA. The construction project just a small way down the street from the schools at which children cannot drink the tap water because it is unsafe for human consumption. The problem is ongoing and nobody is fixing it. Let that one sink in and see if you can ever enjoy an overpriced beverage at a sporting event again.

photo credit Albert Vega

But somehow, there is hope in the city. Just when least expected, there is a ministry here, a recovery center there. There are warriors fighting for the heart of the city. Offering hope in the form of a meal, a new set of clothing, an encouraging word, an ESL class,  job training, a spark of possibility. Sparks which will hopefully become flames to purify, fire that cleanses and allows new life to grow in the most inhospitable places. Let it be so.

So this lump in my stomach feels like cautious optimism. 

I'd like to introduce you to my cousin Camden. She isn't always dressed appropriately for the party. She might say something uncomfortable. She eats foods I've never seen before and she tells it like it is. I'm pretty sure she'll make us both cringe because she's rolling her eyes at me right now. But quite unexpectedly, I found we've got more in common than I might have imagined. In fact in lots of ways, I might be more of a problem in our relationship than she is. I hope you'll take some time to get to know her too.