life on shuffle

One of my favorite versions of this song involves a bunch of elementary school kids:

The PS22 Chorus is a public elementary school chorus from Staten Island, NY.  Gregg Breinberg started the chorus in an effort to provide the kids with a learning experience, a creative outlet and a safe environment for growth.  Their covers of various hit songs earned them a ton of media coverage and even the opportunity to perform for President Obama.  Breinberg has invested in these kids and given them a gift much more important than their new-found fame: a greater sense of self-worth.

When I watch the videos of the PS22 kids, I find myself thinking of another group of special kids.

The Adens are a family of Somali refugees who were resettled here in Nashville.  I honestly can’t even tell you how many people are a part of this family, which involves multiple siblings, some of whom have children of their own.  And I really can’t tell you much of their background other than that it hasn’t been an easy road for them.  But what I can tell you is that they are some of the most beautiful, loving, awesome kids I’ve ever gotten to know.

Earlier this year, I told my friend, Anna Beth, (who works for World Relief, a refugee resettlement organization), that I’d like to get involved with some of the refugees.  We started babysitting the Aden kids while their moms took English classes.  Let me just tell you that babysitting a bunch of refugee kids in one tiny apartment was no easy task.  The first experience involved mattresses-turned-slides and a close call with a bucket of toilet water.  However, we soon discovered that a coloring book and a bunch a crayons did wonders, and we were able to tame them for at least an hour.

Sadly, they had to move to a different apartment complex, and the English classes didn’t last very long.  But still, we’ve tried to stay in touch and check in on them every now and then.  (If you ever want to be seriously entertained, try watching The Lion King with an African family.  I think the kids’ mom was the most amused, absolutely lighting up when she recognized the Swahili “Hakuna Matata”.)

We paid a visit to the Adens just last week.  They now live over in the projects in East Nashville.  There is such a strange tension of sadness and joy every time I see them.  They really are incredible kids — so full of life.  But they are not living in a good place, and they know it.  With that many kids and minimal English skills, it’s hard for the mothers to get and keep jobs that will provide them with anything more than sparse apartments and food stamps.  

While sitting on the couch with one of the older boys, I asked him how school was going.  He just replied, “It’s not good.”  He got up off the couch and started playing with his younger sister, and his mom looked at us and said, “He started middle school.  It’s not good at his school.  The kids say bad things.  He comes home telling me.  This is not a good place.”

You watch the kids playing outside, where thugs are hanging by their cars, surveying the neighborhood.  You watch them running barefoot down cigarette-littered sidewalks.  You watch them tense up at the mention of going to school.  And all you can think is, “Lord, protect them.  Save them.  I want so much more for them.”

I’ve had a hard time getting those kids off my mind since that last visit.  I feel a little helpless but also hopeful that things will get better.  I feel a need to help… and yet a little baffled as to how to go about helping.  I want those kids to grow up with dreams.  I want them to believe they can do anything.  I want them to be able to sing songs and dance around like the PS22 kids.  

They came here as refugees.  I wish I could give them a better refuge.

{If you’d like to learn more about refugee resettlement or are interested in volunteering with refugees, please visit www.worldrelief.org.}

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