Ben

I met a kid tutoring today that I had never seen before. Let's call him Ben.

Ben was pretty young, and it was obvious that he wanted to prove himself cool to the older guys. He was probably the most disrespectful kid I've met at juvie. He cursed, he made snide remarks, he mimicked me. Truth be told, I probably should have had him sent back to his room, but for some reason I didn't.

Ben was driving me crazy. All I could think was, This kid is such a punk. I can’t wait for him to leave.

Then, out of nowhere, Ben started telling us why he was still in detention. He chose to stick around for a few extra days because he would rather go to a group home than live with his father.

Wow.

All the sudden Ben had let me see a sliver of his life, and it was a painful one. I began to wonder, maybe when Ben keeps saying, "I fucking hate this shit," he isn't just talking about math.

I was moved to compassion in light of the realization. I hurt for this child who obviously carried a heavy load of pain. It now made sense to me why he acted the way he did.

But I can’t end my thoughts here (although I wish I could). After that moment passed, I continued to find myself beyond frustrated with Ben. I still drifted to objectifying opinions that painted him as nothing more than an ungrateful criminal in my mind. Then I would remember that unveiling moment in which I saw Ben as a broken child of God in desperate need of love.

I would say that my whole interaction with Ben today was one that teetered between these two extremes. I would get frustrated… and then I would remember the piece of Ben's story that broke my heart. I went back and forth, back and forth, for the whole period.

I don't know how to make sense of it...

How do we stop the see-saws in our minds?
How can we be steady with people?
What does it even mean to be steady?
How do we remember people's stories while they infuriate us?
How do we learn to care about people's stories at all?

I'm reminded of a quote:

"There isn't anyone you couldn't love after you've heard their story." -- Mary Lou Kownacki

I want to believe this is true. I think it is true, but we must choose it.