JAMES

 

Christmas Pic

Christmas 2007

 

If you’ve known us over the past five years, chances are you’ve met James.

James was thirteen years old when he used to skate in the parking lot during “skate night” at the church where I worked.

The next time we crossed paths, he was sixteen, almost seventeen, and being charged with felonious assault.

He walked into the classroom where I teach drained from nights of camping out on various friends’ couches, borrowing clothes, scraping by on his charm.

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James and my husband, Chuck, on the Golden Gate Bridge (San Francisco) – Spring Break

He had a 30 day jail sentence to serve.
And $4,000 plus in fines to pay.

James needed to earn some money to pay his fines.
Chuck and I needed some rooms in our house painted.
The three of us decided to work together to get both done.

The second night James painted a room, he stayed for dinner, and kept painting until dark.
Rather than head back to a friend’s couch for the night, James crashed in our spare room.
He moved out of our spare room (more or less) three years later.
 

The idea of keeping James around was one of those promptings that sometimes swells inside a person,
100_1661That wave of conscience that suggests the right thing to do,
The right thing to do with one of your two spare bedrooms, for instance.
I’m talking about the part of you that doesn’t give a crap if what is right is conventional or not.

Sometimes, I admit, I ignore these kinds of promptings.
Brush them off.
Think that is impractical.
It’s unrealistic.
It’s just an idea.

But this idea stuck to my soul and to Chuck’s soul too.

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James and my brothers, David and John, at James’ graduation ceremony

Not everyone loved the idea of taking in a teenager in James’ situation of course.

I remember telling my grandma that we were going to let James stay.
Her reaction surprised me.
She had always been a generous person, someone who invited people of middle-eastern descent to Thanksgiving two months after 09/11, when many in her generation were shunning them.

“You need to let other people deal with that sort of thing.” Nana said flatly. Protectively.
“That sort of thing” meant 16 year old males who’d committed crimes; 60% of whom—statistics say—will commit another crime.

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Our 2nd Christmas with James

Most of the time I didn’t bother arguing with my grandma (this is the same grandma from Picking Dandelions, keep in mind).
I respected her.
And it was an unwritten rule that if you argued with her, you wouldn’t win.

But this time, when she said to let “other people” handle this, what I knew—down deep KNEW—was too big and to bold to be left unspoken:

“There might not be any other people. Maybe I am the ‘other people’.”

So James stayed.
And being part of James’ life in those years shaped me as much as it did him.

I haven’t written about James in my books yet (except to mention him in the acknowledgements in the back of Dear Church) because I know it would be nearly impossible to capture what he meant to our world.
But some day, in one of the better books that is swirling around inside me, I plan to unwind that story.

Until then, I want you to know James.
To know he exists and is an important part of my life.

So here’s the part you may be wondering about; the part about what happened with James and us; the part I’ll spell out in more detail some day, but for now still pumps tear-i-ness from my heart to my eyes:

James worked at a pet store for two years and paid off every cent of his $4,000 fine himself.

IMG_1544

James at 21 and our son, Justus, the first week he was born.

He finished his last two years of high school with As & Bs.
In fact, he dual-enrolled in three college business classes, in which also he earned As & Bs, during his senior year of high school.  

Because James never dropped dirty or got arrested during his two years of probation, his felony was expunged from his record when he turned 18.

We had a graduation party to celebrate. All his family and friends came. So did all of ours.

He is 22 now, has taken a few more college classes, has spent some time skateboarding out west, and has never been arrested since.

This is why I want you to know about James.
Because every time I have breakfast with the adult James at Big Boy, I remember:
It’s important to tune in and take seriously that stuff that stirs inside of you.
Because if you don’t, you might miss out on letting your life story weave through the story of someone like James.

 

 

 

 

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1 Comment

  • comment-avatar
    Janet Oberholtzer September 16, 2010 (12:09 pm)

    Beautiful Sarah, beautiful … this post, your example, your courage and inspiration.