Black Boy

When I was in the 2^nd grade, I can remember a Mrs. Adams arguing on my behalf. She did something for me that I will never forget. She stood up for me. Could you imagine overhearing an argument between teachers in which one says, “I don’t know how to teach them.”?  Mrs. Adams always said that I was different from the others in my class and seemed to show me extra affection. At that age, I didn’t understand it then, but what a difference a year makes?

In 3^rd grade, I was in Heaven! We watched Ghostwriter and The Magic School Bus on Mondays and Wednesdays and on Tuesdays and Thursdays we watched Wishbone and Bill Nye The Science Guy. Learning was so much fun! Life was fun, period. Unknowingly though, I was in for the shock of my life. I had a best friend. He lived close by, rode the same bus and we even had the exact same pair of shoes. We talked a month about his upcoming birthday party and on the day he passed out the invitations, I was overlooked. I immediately asked where my invitation was. He looked at me with the most confused expression I’ve ever seen and replied, “You can’t come. My Dad says you’re black.” I was beginning to realize who I was from other people. That is the absolute worse way to find out.

My journey through the 4^th grade was horrible. I even felt different. In my mind I was an outcast, but I knew well enough never to let my actions show it. I attribute this to being an athlete. When you could beat someone at a game, you always had some sort of confidence and or acceptance. This school year was the most emotionally devastating. I remember being asked to my teacher’s desk along with two other black kids. She said in honor of Black History Month, she’d like to put our baby pictures on the bulletin board. I wish I was making this up.

The truth is that my struggle didn’t stop there. The first day of 7^th grade my teacher told me some of her favorite students have been black without provocation. All these things showed me how different the world is for many people. Whether it was ignorance, prejudice or just simply racism, it helped form my psyche. I’ve forgiven my wrong doers. I will never forget, though. How else will I teach my son or daughter correctly? This is not just a blog...Its reality. 

What Does Your Shirt Say...

     When Jason awoke he could feel a knot in his stomach. This feeling wasn’t new to him at all. He has felt this way every day of his life since his father disappeared. Well, to him, it felt like his father vanished. In reality, his father moved on to something else and only seen his son every other weekend. Each of those visits became more and more short. His father felt as though he was still in his son’s life, but what’s good for the father isn’t necessarily good for the son.

      He rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen. His mother and younger sister were already up and dressed. When he noticed his sister’s shirt he proceeded to kiss her on the forehead. It was almost like he was trying to preserve her innocence. His mom’s shirt prompted him to let her know that he had found a part-time job and that his midterm grades were fine.

      Shortly after breakfast, he went and had a long look in the mirror to decide what he was going to wear. It may sound vain, but there is a deeper meaning in the world that he lives in. The shirt that inspired his sister’s kiss read “Hope”, his mom’s shirt read “Assurance”. In Jason’s reality, your shirt says exactly what you need most in your life. So, it was no surprise that he decided to don his “Faith” shirt. He needed to be sure that he was making the best decisions for himself and his family.

      In our world, we see clothes as a status symbol, but what if we were all Jason? If you read “Help” on someone’s chest, would you give them the shirt off of your back? I’d like to think I would. Then again, I could be just blogging….

Either Way...

     I see God in as many things as I see Satan in. My only hope is that I'm able to see the difference in the things that make me feel better and the things that actually make me better. There are so many quick fixes in life. Let's call them highs. You reach that high for the first time and you'll spend your entire life chasing that feeling. At the end of it all, your life is filled with regrets. You'll either say that you wished you would have done more or that you wished you hadn't done something. These are the things we attribute to Satan or the demons inside of us. On the other hand, there are moments that shape you permanently and for the best. These things, unlike the highs, actually keep us grounded. These are the situations that break negative life cycles. God allows us to see the beauty in life no matter the situation. Instead of regretting, you'll mostly likely be proud of all that you have accomplished and appreciate what you've been able to attempt. Happiness is found in either, but only sustained in God. Make no mistake about it. I'm no preacher. I'm just a believer who has a blog.