by Jesse Breite, Upper School English teacher
Atlanta Mission is the city’s largest and longest-running provider of services to homeless men, women
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and children. Established in 1938, Atlanta Mission provides emergency shelter, temporary shelter, recovery programming, job attainment, and transitional housing for more than 950 men, women, and children daily. Jesse Breite meets with some of these men every week on the basketball court.
On Tuesdays from 6 -8 p.m., I play basketball with men from the Atlanta Mission at North Avenue Presbyterian Church gym. After we all arrive, Mike Buchanan, a church member and friend, shouts “circle up." The phrase informs the men who come to play pick-up basketball that it is time to begin. After we link arms, shoulder-to-shoulder, in a circle mid-court, we briefly exchange names, and someone volunteers to pray. As the prayer goes up, a sense of eagerness and gratitude is evident in the voices and bodies of the men. After we finish, we shoot for teams and play commences.
After a few plays, it becomes clear that this is more than a game. Old all-stars and tireless, young amateurs dribble, shout, shuffle their feet—all expending themselves in play. To the men of the Atlanta Mission, Mission graduates, and a few members of North Avenue, this is an opportunity to release from the routine—to express ourselves physically and often emotionally in the game. Though play is intense, and at times, calls are contentious, we all enjoy competing. As one game ends, men shake hands, smile and laugh, drink from the water fountain, and return to the old wooden floor as long as time allows. Though we are sweaty and tired by 8 p.m., we again circle up and pray out. At the final prayer, we uplift players who are physically hurt that night or those who may be encountering difficult issues with family or work. As we go to take the elevator back down, we are refreshed by the experience and hope to make it back next week.
I have done this most Tuesdays for the past two years. I have seen troubled men come in, grow over weeks, months, or years and leave with a new perspective. I have also seen men suddenly disappear, deciding to leave the mission. But I feel blessed to get to know these men, pray with them, and witness their growth. I share their joy, and I also share in their sorrow when a man gets kicked out or goes back to jail after his struggles. As I continue to volunteer, I hope I can help the men find jobs. Employers do not want to hire felons without high school diplomas, and my credibility can be ruined if the employment does not work out. But I remain hopeful, and I am encouraged by their optimism and faith.
Atlanta Mission is the city’s largest and longest-running provider of services to homeless men, women
and children. Established in 1938, Atlanta Mission provides emergency shelter, temporary shelter, recovery programming, job attainment, and transitional housing for more than 950 men, women, and children daily. Jesse Breite meets with some of these men every week on the basketball court.
On Tuesdays from 6 -8 p.m., I play basketball with men from the Atlanta Mission at North Avenue Presbyterian Church gym. After we all arrive, Mike Buchanan, a church member and friend, shouts “circle up." The phrase informs the men who come to play pick-up basketball that it is time to begin. After we link arms, shoulder-to-shoulder, in a circle mid-court, we briefly exchange names, and someone volunteers to pray. As the prayer goes up, a sense of eagerness and gratitude is evident in the voices and bodies of the men. After we finish, we shoot for teams and play commences.
After a few plays, it becomes clear that this is more than a game. Old all-stars and tireless, young amateurs dribble, shout, shuffle their feet—all expending themselves in play. To the men of the Atlanta Mission, Mission graduates, and a few members of North Avenue, this is an opportunity to release from the routine—to express ourselves physically and often emotionally in the game. Though play is intense, and at times, calls are contentious, we all enjoy competing. As one game ends, men shake hands, smile and laugh, drink from the water fountain, and return to the old wooden floor as long as time allows. Though we are sweaty and tired by 8 p.m., we again circle up and pray out. At the final prayer, we uplift players who are physically hurt that night or those who may be encountering difficult issues with family or work. As we go to take the elevator back down, we are refreshed by the experience and hope to make it back next week.
I have done this most Tuesdays for the past two years. I have seen troubled men come in, grow over weeks, months, or years and leave with a new perspective. I have also seen men suddenly disappear, deciding to leave the mission. But I feel blessed to get to know these men, pray with them, and witness their growth. I share their joy, and I also share in their sorrow when a man gets kicked out or goes back to jail after his struggles. As I continue to volunteer, I hope I can help the men find jobs. Employers do not want to hire felons without high school diplomas, and my credibility can be ruined if the employment does not work out. But I remain hopeful, and I am encouraged by their optimism and faith.