Life in the Central City

An eloquent post on The National Conversation shows what life in the inner city is like.

Blogger James Harris recounts what happened when he went out to walk his dog.

I made it a whole block and a half before I hit trouble. The ambulance was already rushing the wounded away as the police were cleaning up the mess.

The dog and I continued on to the constant sounds of pops and cracks. Firecrackers? A few weeks ago I guessed wrong and walked up on a gunfight that had just taken place in the house I was passing.

Life is a box of chocolates…

Two blocks into my walk I ran into a man and his two sons. They were standing near the sidewalk in the front yard of their beautifully manicured lawn. The gentleman said “Labrador Poodle, right?”

Right.

My designer dog is big now, but he is very friendly. Sort of defeats the purpose but, whatever. The gentleman and I chit chat for a minute then I say goodbye. As I am walking away the man stops me and asks, “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, how can I help you?”

“Will you pray for me. . . ? That little girl? The one that was shot in the head? That’s my daughter.”

I say nothing.

“She’s in Children’s Hospital right now. Her head is as big this.” He makes his hands in the shape of a small watermelon. “They can’t take the bullet out until the swelling goes down. Pray for her, please, and for my family, too.”

Harris, who is a Christian, doubtless has prayed for the man and his daughter. But we can’t blame him for being stunned and mute in a situation like this. We would be too.