The Push I Needed...
A few months earlier, I had convinced myself that Walmart might be my safe and reliable future. By the spring of 2002, it didn't feel very safe anymore.
I was working in Loss Prevention, which meant my job was to watch for shoplifters and stop them as they left the store. During a six month period, I had made two stops that Walmart considered bad. In both cases, I either confronted the wrong person or couldn't recover enough physical evidence to prove the theft. A third bad stop within twelve months would mean I was fired.
Every decision started to feel heavier. I had to decide whether I had really seen what I thought I saw, whether I had enough evidence to make the stop, and whether I was about to make a move that would cost me my job.
Then I became involved in a much more serious case. I watched a group of people move in and out of the store over several hours, stealing items connected to illegal drug activity and carrying them to a car in the parking lot. I contacted law enforcement, the people were arrested, and a few weeks later I was required to identify them at a hearing.
I thought that was the end of it.
A few months later, while I was working, one of the people involved approached me inside the store. He didn't make a direct threat, but he made it clear that he remembered me. I no longer felt like the danger ended when my shift was over.
That was enough.
I went home that night and told Jenn I was quitting Walmart.
She understood why I didn't want to keep doing the job, but understanding the reason didn't answer the larger question. We had been married for less than two years. We had a mortgage and a six month old baby. Walmart was the only dependable income we had.
For a while, I had already felt like God might be leading me back toward ministry through Chaos on Wheels. The two shows we had done the previous summer had reminded me how much I missed it. The Monday nights at the Barn had also shown me that BMX could be more than entertainment. It could create a place where young people returned every week, became known, asked honest questions, and built relationships.
I had tried to ignore that pull because Walmart seemed like the responsible choice. Now the job I had treated as security was giving me a reason to leave.
Jenn and I talked about the possibility that this was the push I needed to take a step of faith. It wasn't an easy decision, and it wasn't mine to make alone. Whatever happened next would affect all three of us.
Jenn and I decided I would submit my two week notice, even though we had no idea how we were going to replace my paycheck.
We prayed, took the step, and trusted God to provide. Within a day or two of submitting my notice, I received a phone call from a man who was trying to open an indoor skatepark in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. He wanted to know if I could build the ramps.
I don't believe that call was a coincidence. I believe God had already been arranging the answer before I knew how we were going to make it. He used the situation at Walmart to push me toward the decision I had been afraid to make, then provided an opportunity that fit the skills and experience He had been developing in me for years.
I had spent years building ramps for myself, for Chaos on Wheels, and for the Youth for Christ ministry. I had also spent years trying unsuccessfully to convince banks that an indoor ramp park could work. Now someone else had secured a building and was offering to pay me to build ramps, which honestly was and still is one of my favorite things to do.
The down payment for the ramp building project arrived just days before my final day at Walmart.
It felt like a clear answer to prayer. I had stepped away from my dependable income, and God had provided a job that could replace it. For the first time, building ramps wasn't just an expense attached to BMX. It was a way to support my family.
Before I could begin building, I needed room for all the lumber that would soon be arriving. The ramp in our backyard had to come down. Jenn wanted to use that part of the yard for a garden, and I needed the rest of the space to prebuild the Cedar Rapids ramps.
At nearly the same time, the Monday nights at the Barn came to an end. The portable ramp we had moved into the Barn could no longer stay there. We combined that ramp with lumber from my backyard ramp to build a new ramp at the Youth for Christ campground in rural Minnesota.
There was hope that the campground ramp might grow into something more substantial. I took young people from Albert Lea out there a few times that summer, but it never became what the Barn had been.
At the Barn, young people knew that every Monday night I would pick them up and take them somewhere they could ride or skate. They knew I would be there to listen, talk about life and faith, and welcome them back the following week. The ramp helped bring us together, but the ramp wasn't what made the place come alive.
The campground ramp sat in the middle of rural Minnesota. It was harder to reach, and I was becoming busier with Chaos on Wheels and the Cedar Rapids project. The accessibility and consistency that made the Barn work weren't there. It was a great ramp, but a great ramp wasn't enough.
Most of my summer was spent in our backyard in Manly, prebuilding sections for the Cedar Rapids park. I would construct as much as I could at home, load the sections, transport them to the building, and assemble them on site. Between ramp building trips, Chaos on Wheels was back on the road doing events.
It was a lot to manage, but it was the kind of work I had been trying to build toward for years. I was making a living with BMX. I was doing shows, building an indoor skatepark, and discovering that the skills I had developed while building ramps in backyards, fairgrounds, old church buildings, and barns had value beyond my own projects.
Shortly after finishing the Cedar Rapids project, I secured a smaller job turning an old tennis court into a skatepark for a small Iowa town. I finished it over the next few weeks, just before the Iowa winter made it too cold to keep working outside.
The two ramp building projects showed me how this new life might work. Chaos on Wheels could provide income during the event season, and I could build ramps between shows. Instead of waiting for someone to finance my indoor park idea, I could help other communities create places for young people to ride.
For the first time, I wasn't trying to fit BMX around my job. BMX was my job.
It looked like the step of faith had worked exactly the way I hoped it would. But winter was coming. The shows had stopped, it was becoming too cold to build ramps outside, and I still hadn't received the final payment for the biggest ramp project I had ever completed.
Jeremiah Anderson
Rooted Action Park Founder
*If you've enjoyed this story, share it with a friend and leave a comment that says, "Tell me more." I'd love to keep sharing these stories, and that'll let me know you're interested in hearing what happened next..
Comments