This is probably a bad idea...but let's do it anyway

Driving in circles through the dilapidated neighborhoods of San Bernardino in an attempt to track down 2 stolen cell phones is not exactly how I expected to end my Sabbath afternoon. Nonetheless, that’s exactly what I find myself doing. All the while I’m thinking, this is probably not the best idea. Is this going to end badly?

The afternoon started out innocently enough: children were invited to an extra special day of our children’s program. Today we were getting footage of the program for a promotional video. Volunteers and children alike showed up in record numbers.

One family hadn’t shown up for several weeks but decided to join us this week. These children always demand an extra level of patience and attention from us. 4 children; 3 boys and 1 girl. Sometimes their older sisters, two teenage girls, stay for the program as well. Today all 6 were there, in addition to a baby girl.

Their aunt brought them, signed them in and promptly left. I had assumed she’d take the baby girl with her, but when I looked back at them the aunt had left and the baby was still there, in the care of the teen girl. The baby was pretty quiet. She was also only wearing a diaper. No shirt, no pants. And no bottle or extra diapers.

As the afternoon progressed, I grew angry that the baby girl was there. We’re not equipped to look after infants; our program is for older children.  “We forgot her bottle,” said the teen girls “do you guys have an extra bottle?” Of course we didn’t have a baby bottle. 

The girls resorted to trying to give the baby water from water bottle. I cringed. My maternal child health education coming back to memory, I remembered that babies shouldn’t drink plain water before 6 months. I have no way of knowing how old this baby is, she looks small for her age. But most importantly, there is nothing else to give her. The aunt didn’t leave formula, the baby is hungry. What do you do?

I anxiously look at the clock every few minutes, when is the aunt coming back?  Finally, she returns and they go on their way. I breathe a sigh of relief, at least they’re going home and the baby can get her diaper changed and get some formula.

Relief only lasts about 5 minutes. Most everyone has left, but my coordinator runs in and informs me that one of the volunteers can’t find her phone. These days, anyone can be a private investigator, including us. He has activated the Find my iPhone app, and we see a red dot on the screen slowing walking away from us, in an empty lot.  In the exact location that the family cuts across to get home.  I tell him to go after it; we know it’s the girls. He looks at me with surprise, but goes.  

As soon as they leave, I reach for my own phone. I quickly realize that it’s not where I left it.  Using another volunteer’s phone I track the location of my device.  It too is slowing heading in the opposite direction.

They return.  “The girls don’t have the phones, it’s heading in another direction,” At this point, I think that maybe some of the other kids were playing with our phone and took them by accident.  So we pile into my car and begin our zigzag drive. Today, I don’t want to be the boss, I don’t want to be in charge of this decision or of being responsible and ensuring everyone’s safety. But here we are.

  “It’s going East on Third St. No, it moved, go North on Del Rosa! Wait, it’s heading in the opposite direction now. “

“Maybe the parents are heading back to return the phones to us,” I optimistically say.  But they’re not. We make a loop and end up right in front of the family’s house. Right where they had just been and told us that they did not have our phones.

40 minutes. That’s how long we were at the house talking to the family and waiting for the petulant girls to confess and return our phones. It got ugly. I said that we should wait outside.  

“There’s no need to call the cops,” we say when the grandparents threaten the girls, “We can figure this out.” Thirty minutes later, we resort to other tactics.  “We know you have our phones, we tracked them here, the GPS is still emitting a signal.” My coordinator goes inside and calmly confronts the girls.

As for me, I keep the volunteer who lost her phone company. I’m cool as a cucumber on the outside, but hot as a chili pepper in July on the inside. Stay calm, I keep saying to myself, but all I keep thinking is,  I have no idea what I’m doing! 

We try to make small talk with the grandparents while we waited for the girls to gather up the courage to admit the theft. But it was awkward. They’re ashamed.

Finally, we get our phones back. It really wasn’t the phones that were important. Had it been just my phone, I would have let it go and reported it stolen. Had it been a random theft, I definitely would not have foolishly followed it.

 Somehow, having one of our kindhearted volunteer’s phone stolen made it different. Knowing that it was one of our community families that stole the phones from us made it painful. Being lied to repeatedly when we had irrefutable proof made it incomprehensible.   My friends always comment on how San Bernardino is so dangerous, how they won’t go north of the freeway, how they get scared driving through certain areas. I always roll my eyes and grow frustrated with their closeminded comments. This area doesn’t faze me. I work in those communities; I know families that live there. I can speak the language. I’ve never been scared, never had a reason to be.

Today was the first day that it hit me firsthand and I had to admit that it is a rough neighborhood. Seeing their neighborhood and their family interactions up close and personal made that immediately apparent.  

Yet, those thoughts were quickly surpassed by the thoughts of the 4 kids. There’s a reason they are so hard to handle, they have a crazy home life. These are the kids that need the program the most, they need an escape. They need us. We can be a positive influence on them.

Thought for the day:

“Doubt whom you will, but never yourself”. - Christian Nestell Bovee