It’s been almost a year since my employment ended at a group home just outside of Nashville. There, I did my best to facilitate learning in a room full of young men who, for whatever reason, had been placed in state custody. Most of the students were violent, disrespectful, and manipulative. After a couple of months, the fighting didn’t bother me anymore. Much like living by the train tracks, you eventually don’t even notice. It was hands-down the worst job I’ve ever had. I was called every name imaginable, threatened, and even one day, punched in the chest. It was and still is a terrible company - concerned only with profit. Believing that healing troubled pasts is not a business can cause conflict in a place like that. Like I came to learn, it might even cost you your job.
I learned through ministry that God gave me a gift to work with teens. Being that my dad was an addict, we didn’t have much. Those experiences often took away a students’ ability to say “you don’t understand.” I understood hardship. I also understood when I was being manipulated. Most of the boys in the group home were far more diligent about manipulation than they were about self-betterment. Most of them only wanted to appear changed. The average stay was 4-6 months, so I got used to new students and their creativity in appearing changed.
Months before losing my job, I got a new student named Avery. He was tall, thin, and had dark olive skin. His ethnicity was listed as “black” but he could easily have passed for Hispanic. Avery was different than any of the students. He was soft-spoken and respectful. He made no effort to manipulate. I gave him practice tests for his graduation exams which he diligently worked on in class and after. He always asked if he needed help and thanked me multiple times a day. He was quick to call out others who disrespected me or any of the staff - on many occasions this would lead him into rants. He would remind them of the opportunity they had to start over and reprimand them for wasting our time. The other guys came to see him as a leader.
A look into his student file was heartbreaking. Avery was originally from New Orleans. If my memory serves me right, he never knew his dad and his mom was murdered when he was at a young age. One of his siblings did their best to raise him in NOLA until Katrina sent them North, eventually settling in Nashville. I don’t remember the charge that landed him in state custody, only that it involved him acting to protect someone he loved.
His eagerness to do better gave me inspiration. After getting to know him, he was my motivation to go to work every day. Even after I was fired, I kept up with him through some of the staff. I made sure he got my number, which I heard meant a lot to him. I never got a phone call but I thought about him often. Multiple attempts to look him up went without success, including one just two days ago. After every failed attempt, I prayed for his well-being and thanked God for giving me hope.
Tonight, while watching a film with my class, my phone chimed from a new email - reminding me that I had forgot to silence it. After flipping to silent mode, I checked my inbox to see a response from ApartmentRating.com. Since leaving a negative review of our old apartment complex, I get a notification when someone writes a new review. The responses are usually an entertaining read - each describing the experiences of another terrified tenant with detailed descriptions of how the management told them that “gunshots happen everywhere in Nashville.” Sure enough, the tenant heard gunshots and woke this morning to the news of another murder. I googled the name of our complex. When the search results came up, I was absolutely crushed to see this:
I’m still crushed. I’m crushed at the fact that the kid wanted to do better - could do better, but couldn’t escape his circumstances. I couldn’t help but wonder what might’ve happened if Avery had called me. Could I have made a difference? After reading that it could be gang-related, the whole process has led me to bigger questions like, What if he had grown up in my house? Would he have lived to see 20? I sure think so. If I had walked in his shoes, would that be me on the news? We all live and die by our choices but we are also products of our upbringing. I had struggles growing up but one thing was always clear: I was loved. Bad things happen when kids aren’t loved at home. I can’t stop wondering if Avery truly knew he was loved.
After finding out I had been in ministry, Avery talked to me a lot about my faith. After starting with "I ain't understand NONE of dat shit when I was young," He told me that he had just come to understand Jesus for the first time.
"I don't know HOW I know all dat's for real... But I know it is... You feel me?" He said.
"I do Avery... I really do."
As I reflect on such a tragedy, my only comfort comes from knowing that, even in his circumstances... grace found him.
