A Split Second of Recognition

It was such a harsh view to behold.

Lifeless, hopeless, heads looking down, voices – if given expression – were low and lumbered, the darkening of the eyes, a heavy shadow enveloping the room. Not one smile. Not one. 

It may sound overstated or over-dramatized, but that’s what I saw, what I felt, in this room filled with young men, aged 12 and up, most mandated to be there rather than facing more time in Juvenile Hall.

And then it happened. Just for a split second … but that’s all it took. A moment of recognition. 

This was the setting in East County San Diego where young men and adult mentors gathered in “Boys To Men,” a growing national organization with support groups that “build communities of male role models who, through consistent group mentoring, encourage and empower teenage boys to follow their dreams.”

Such was the setting for hope. 

Honestly, when I sat there in the group last Wednesday afternoon, I looked around and felt disheartened at how lost and defeated these boys appeared to be. They would barely speak, so unsure of themselves or possibly unsure of the adults in the room. The attire was clean yet careless – as jeans were bulky and riding low on the hip. Though clothing or fashion isn’t ever a factor, for me the attire still sent a message of hopelessness.

Did these young men not care? Did they not care about themselves? Were they not cared for in their lives? If true, was there a correlation there? 

Since the space is not one of judgment but of acceptance, I didn’t label or diminish these boys in my mind. I just felt my upset, seeing young people apparently without the … something … that would give them the confidence to be bright, happy, confident examples of success. 

Now it should be noted that each Boys to Men group can be different depending on the location, the state of mind of the boys, the length of time they have been attending and gaining trust, and the purpose of the gathering. 

And not to drag in a bunch of real-world statistics but suffice it to say that many of the boys of today are struggling – falling behind in studies, resorting to drugs, some taking their own lives. It is a harsh truth. But the real litmus test for me is found in the eyes. It is here where I either see the glimmer of light and hope. Or not. 

As each person spoke around the circle, the younger men looking on did so with hardly a blink and without a life-force in their faces. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then this would indicate these boys’ souls were untrusting, cautious, hurting. 

And then it happened. 

After I shared something about allowing my frustration to burst out loud in my car, when alone, I looked over at the boy who spoke before I did. I said, “I’m not sure if you have a way of getting your anger out.” 

Yes, that’s when it was. For one moment. For one split second, literally less than a second, his eyes widen ever so little. Though I could be mistaken, it was an instance of recognition, as if he knew what I was talking about. 

And in that moment, it was enough. This slight sense of recognition made the time in the circle all worthwhile, knowing that indeed these boys wouldn’t even be there if they were completely without hope, knowing we all get a million chances at the “comeback” in life, knowing the light never goes out in the soul who can still show up in the present moment. 

Thank God for hope. It is in the soul. It is in the eyes, those eyes that still have a glimmer, a chance to come alive again. Thank God for a circle of adult men who care enough to be available, and thank God for a Boys to Men mentoring organization that continually creates these circles of care.