the black gates of Mordor

I haven't even seen Lord of the Rings.
I know- gasp!

But I have come to understand the meaning of Mordor.

Welcome to Philosophy and Letters.
The black gates are super welcoming--don't you think.
Plus the graffiti adds just a little something special.

This is my ministry field.
And home to the druggies, homeless and interesting.

I like to call them the "gray people."

Their dreads are gray.
The smoke from their joints is gray.
Their seldomly washed clothing is gray.
And they have very gray lives.

It fits, don't you think?

Now, inside the black gates is a little courtyard where all the hanging out happens.
One little square of intimidation.

This is the place my lighter would come in handy.

Granted, there are very normal people who go to school here.
They just don't hang out in the square of smoke and scariness.

They go home.
To safety.
I wish I could follow them....

Instead I get these lovely interactions:

Me: Excuse me. Do you speak English?

Italian: Only a little. (what a wierdo).

Stupid American: Can I sit with you?

Innocent Girl: Sure. (now you're freaking me out).

Idiot: I'm American.

Patiently-enduring Person: Oh really. (duh.)

Wanna-be Euro: Can I practice my Italian with you?

You will never be as cool as me: Okay. (this is gonna be good....)

And several mistakes and awkward pauses later, we get to Jesus.
Its a wonderful way to do ministry.
In stupidity, you stay humble.

I have come to love Mordor and the gray people.
But I still have afternoons when I want to go running far, far away and call my Momma.
Its a lot of give and take.

After a bad day at Mordor, we tend to watch Alias.
We've already gone through about 15 episodes.
I'm afraid we're gonna go through 'em pretty fast.

But then there's always Gilmore Girls.

"if you're out on the road, feeling lonely and so cold, all you have to do is call my name and I'll be there on the next train...."

Once I am Lorelai-witty in Italian, Mordor doesn't stand a chance!