It was about 2pm on a weekday. In about 30 minutes, dozens of young people would be blasting through the doors of the youth center where I served as the director. As I set at my desk preparing for my kids, a pivotal event occurred that would affect me to this day. Pooh rushed into my office with expressions of fear on his face and tears in his eyes. He couldn't stand still and didn't speak. In his hands, he clutched a balled up brown paper bag and a cell phone. Pooh was a troubled teen, approximately 16 years old. He would fight anyone, including my staff. He stole cars and left them stripped in the center's parking lot. He had been kicked out of one school system. I had kicked him out the center on several occasions, but always welcomed him back each time he asked to return. When I asked him what was in the bag, he looked me in the eyes and broke down and cried. He said "I didn't do it, but they are looking for me." I asked him again about the contents of the bag and he replied that it was a gun. I got up from my desk and went over and hugged him. I didn't say anything for about a minute, which seemed like an eternity as I tried to figure out how to handle the situation. I asked him for the gun. He gave it to me, and we left the building. As we drove around, he explained his situation and I listened. He continued to tell me that he was tired of being in trouble and being challenged by everyone. I asked him one question and everything changed from there. As is the case with many arguments, Pooh had arrived at the current situation due to a misunderstanding, that was later resolved. Over the next few years, the anger and confusion he brought to the center was replaced with Pooh the basketball coach, Pooh the peer leader and Pooh the high school graduate. The last time I saw him was at a local pizza restaurant, where he served as the shift manager. I was startled when I heard someone scream my name, but was so happy to see that it was him. He told me that he was the manager and that he was married, but his greatest accomplishment was being a father. He said "I did what I said I was going to do." "What was that?" I replied. "When I was in your car that day, you asked me what I wanted and I did it. I got married and now I have a daughter." One moment, one situation, one word, one relationship can save a life.
That question didn't cost me anything, but not having asked it could have cost him everything. Unfortunately, there aren't enough relationships in our communities to save lives. Programs can only do so much and I truly believe that genuine, deep-rooted relationships make all the difference. If you'd like to make a difference in the life of a young person, reply to this post for volunteer and employment opportunities in your area.