Bling-Bling
May 31, 2005
Have you heard the expression “meeting jewelry”?
It’s office slang, referring to the practice of inviting an extra person to a meeting because you think they add a sort of bling-bling, or dazzle, to your side’s presentation. They are not and will not be involved in your project, but they are persuasive speakers, or they’re a strategic ethnic minority, or maybe they’re just good-looking.
Meeting jewelry.
Professional accessories.
Put them on before you go into the conference room.
Take them off when you leave.
Gaius Julius Caesar might have said, “veni vidi Gucci” – I came, I saw, I wore a Gucci belt.
Children are meeting jewelry sometimes, accessories shown off as bling-bling, then put away somewhere.
Two instances spring to mind.
First, an event at a local country club not far from Montrose where I’m a pastor.
The parents interrupted their fois gras long enough to summon nannies and press perfumed and rouged cheeks – or Aqua Velva’d closely shaven cheeks – against small children. The children were seen and not heard, photographed and not spoken to. Not one of the parents engaged their children, hugged them, even made eye contact. In that moment, the kids were accessories for tomorrow’s society page, social jewelry enhancing the image of the wearer.
I have nothing against fois gras nor against wealth – I’ll take a second helping of both, merci garcon, and can you squeeze a little more lime into my Gerolsteiner?
The lack of interaction between parent and child was striking, though.
Second, Montrose’s street church on Wednesday nights.
Young street kids out running the streets, selling, buying, pimping, prostituting, pausing long enough to hoist their babies into the air, showing them off, passing them around, basking in the reflected glow of the meeting jewelry. Look at my baby. Look at me. Then the babies go away, back to a filthy motel room populated by a dozen people, or perhaps – more fortunately – to a rescue home somewhere.
Not all street kids and socialites wear their babies like meeting jewelry. I’m not condemning a person or group of people, I’m reporting a scene. Capturing a theme – exposing a glittering generality of juvenile jewelry.
It happens every day.
Children as accessories who bring us attention or status.
This has been haunting me recently, because Yupon House, the ministry the house church I pastor has birthed, has taken in another infant from a street kid. The 18-year old mother is running the streets, the father is unknown, and this precious child is staying with us for a little while.
We’re taking turns spending the night with her. Amanda, Tanya, Loren and Jessica have spent the most time with the baby. But all of us have cared for her. Holly would like to adopt her. Roy, Danny and Luis have had their hearts captured by her. We all love her. Two and a half months old, and what is her future?
Tuesday night was my night with her. Parents will recognize my evening’s activities… a light half-slumber, listening to every breath. Rocking her at 1:00 a.m., changing her diaper at 2:30 a.m., the gently warmed bottles for midnight and 5:00 a.m. feedings. Praying for her as I held her. 3:00 a.m., letting her nestle herself on my chest, knowing how well she sleeps to the rhythm of my heart and breath.
And then Wednesday night at street church, seeing her mom pause on the streets to take her, kiss her and pass her around. Children of the streets birthing children of the streets, and then exhibiting them as jewelry. Look at my baby. Look at me.
So what’s going to happen to our little baby?
Where will she end up?
Meeting jewelry while she’s an infant, banished as an inconvenient toddler, then the transformation into another kind of bling-bling when she’s old enough to be sexually interesting or profitable to someone. In our world though, that’s not 18 – that’s 12, or maybe 3.
The Houston Chronicle has been reporting on an increase in the number of abused, neglected and dead children. A May 22nd headline read: “More Area Children Dying of Abuse.” And the Texas Legislature allocates 60% less than other states on child protection.
The bling-bling glow of meeting jewelry never lasts – sooner or later you are asked to perform.
What’s going to happen to the little baby we’re caring for this month?
Who’s jewelry will she be next month, and next year?
Another night on mission in Montrose.
And Montrose is every neighborhood, isn’t it?