The angry voices were escalating out side my front door. This was not completely unfamiliar to me. Often I would listen for awhile to determine if it was anger I was hearing, or just a child's game. This day it was anger -- and the two groups were clearly divided. They seemed so angry for boys so young -- probably spanning in age from 11 - 14 -- bad words spewing like a tornado at the corner, punches thrown. I stepped outside my front door, placing myself about 10 feet from the center of the battle. "Okay, that's enough, " I said, in my most authoritative voice. They didn't even look at me. I made my statement a little louder. Still not interested. I lifted the portable phone so they could see it. "This is my phone." I announced. "This is me dialing 9-1-1, " I said with great drama. Still no change. I over emphasized my actions and shouted as I punched the numbers on the key pad -- "NINE --- ONE --- ONE!!!" They actually stopped and looked at me in disbelief for a moment. When they heard me talking to the operator, they waited to hear what I was about to say. "I have a fist fight happening on my front lawn, " I said. "The boys are young, I don't see weapons, but it's escalating. I'm over in the Village." The voice at the other end of the line told me she would have the cops swing by -- they were always around my neighborhood somewhere. By now, the boys decided to take me seriously. "Now the boys are running East on Village Road. They are scattering."

It is now that my husband and son take notice of my little drama. They come from wherever it was they were otherwise engaged and comment, looking up at the sky. "Geez, mom, what did you do? The helicopters are circling our house!" This is actually true -- the police helicopter is now circling my house. I smile. This reassures me. The system is working. "I'm keeping the streets safe, " I say, smugly. I am still of the perception that the police car is a sign that all is under control. If the helicopter wasn't circling my house, it was somewhere within sight.

This drama was typical of a Saturday at home in my old house. The battling boys would always manage to bring their games to my corner. I believe they knew I would do everything in my power to keep it under control. These same boys would come to visit for juice or snacks on calmer days. They'd tell me about the good grade they got in Math or the Student of the Month award they won.

Of course, that corner is no longer mine. We haven't moved that far away (although it seems like light years). We still go to the same schools as all the boys that battled there. This weekend they visited me as I volunteered in the snack bar at the Varsity football game. I bought them snacks and gave them all hugs. I was genuinely happy to see them. As they visited my window the school counselors and security guards were reminding them to take off the bandanas that affiliated them to certain gangs or they would be asked to leave. I half expected the police helicopters. I asked about the new neighbors. They said, "They're alright -- no hot chicks, though." I smiled. "Sorry, " I say. "Come back and visit me, " "Sure, Mrs. J. " The security guards and school counselors move away behind them, circling them, following.

This provides for me a sense of continuity. I'm glad to see them, glad to know they are well, glad to know someone else is keeping it all under control. All is calm. All is bright.

Watch over the boys of my old corner, Lord. Cover them with your grace. Own them. I pray they would be yours. Wholly. May their futures be merry and bright. Thank you that we live in a place where the police actually come when you call. I know that this is a priviledge that not many share, even a small distance from my own home. Bring peace to the places where children are not safe on the street. Let them all be Student of the Month, at least once, and let them have someone to applaud them.