Porch Time

It seems like yesterday, poof!  I was out on the street playing kickball with my friends. We would finish and run up the front step porch of someone’s house and be handed

Popsicles and feel like the luckiest kids in the world. We would see parents up and down the street peeking out windows while they were busy doing whatever adults do, making sure we were staying out of trouble. Then there were the older ones, aged, who would sit on the porch smiling with not a care in the world either, watching us. Back in those days, trouble was not playing breaking rules in kick ball, fighting over whether a ball was out or if a kid got hurt.  Life was easy as we played out there in the street. We had a whole lifetime ahead of us. In those days, we didn’t even think about it. Nothing seemed impossible.

I remember sitting on the roof top, in a few years later, as my dad fixed the antennae on weekend mornings.  In those days, there was no cable, no digital internet, just a big old tower hooked to our house.  The easiest way to the roof was through my bedroom window so I often went out there with him. What a view of the street from up there. I would sit on the shingles and get a bird’s eye view of the street while he worked away.

 I remember the day I was in my pajamas and pink curlers and accidentally closed the window!  It was locked when closed and no one heard me knocking from inside. I was stuck out there for hours!  In fear someone would see me, I hid on the backside of the roof. Three guys my age lived across the street, I was petrified that would catch a glimpse of me in my not so cool looking pjs.   My dad found it funny and was right, I had two choices, deal with it or take the 8 foot jump!  

Gone are those days of me being the one in the street, me being the one on the roof. Now I am the one on the porch.  I am not the one you would catch on a roof top either. My balance is not so great that I would feel safe up there that high anymore. I even wonder now, looking back, how my dad withstood that height and the heat so many times those days. I can swim laps and ride a bike but running around bases playing kickball would certainly lead me to serious joint pain!

Initially, it was a sad realization I am getting old and that I will never again be the one playing in the street.  I can’t play be the one playing kickball.  I won’t ever again have a future that is a blank slate.  None of us older do. But, with that said, a lifetime comes with all the turbulence, all the choices, decisions, hurdles, and sacrifices one has to make. The heart breaks a thousand times over as the years create opportunities for people to come and go in your life.  Joy and heartbreak also.

I remember learning about a dear friend Michelle Bell I grew up with dying, in her forties.  When she died, I remembered the times we spent at the park simply swinging as kids, riding in her first car (a Javelin, with a muffler tied up with a coat hanger!) , and sewing halter tops and switching tops because we wore the same size. All the silly simplest times became so much more meaningful when she was suddenly gone.  And then it seemed like 10 years was one week and then another close high school friend,  James Green,  was gone suddenly.  He had been on the waiting list for a kidney but that wasn’t even what killed him, it was a freak fall where he hit his head and didn’t recover. And there I was sitting at his funeral remembering all our notes, all our walks and talks and fast forward, we were adults and would have no more memories to share.

Not everyone you care about will be there till the end of your time. I have some dear ones that have fallen by the wayside, some from death, and some by choice, theirs or mine.   Life is like that, change is inevitable. Kickball is unpredictable too but it sure doesn’t seem so heart-breaking.  In life, you will be judged, evaluated and make a difference in some lives and in others, nothing you do will make a dent in their persona.  In kickball, it was way easier to make a difference with the kids you played with on a team. We all just wanted to get along and have success together. Don’t you wish your life had worked out so simply?

The freedom of aging and some of the peace is in knowing that you have made your path. You have lived. You have created your own unique journey that no one else can quite replicate. In one sense it does remind me of those days gone by, as a kid, you were the only one in the street that looked just like you.  And now, currently, aged, if you are like

me, sitting on the porch, you have a story to tell that is unlike anyone else’s.  It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day, whether anyone believes all of it or not,  or even hears it, you have lived it and you know it by heart. God shared in every piece of it. The reality of you and your memories are the moments that took you around the bases of your life to lead you right to where you are, now, sitting on the porch, looking back. Rest easy in the rocker. 

As I reflect on my life, I realize my blessings.  Mistakes and successes, but through it all, I survived. If you focus on those that judge you for all you did not become, did not achieve or what they expected of you,  you are left forgetting who you are and what you were given in God’s Master Plan. Create your own vision of the world and of yourself.  Aging truly has its rewards when you empower yourself to let yourself go and just be you, be real.

You made it, you got the hard work done and got the privilege of sitting on the porch.  You get to watch the game of kickball and watch others run around the bases.  Enjoy the view and reflect on the path you took to get there.  You made the circle back home.

God's Grace is Among Us

The confusion over the identity of who you are by some people is not something that can be understood by simple explanations. Some people don’t want to hear them because they have foregone conclusions. Who people are often more felt, intuition, or experienced by interactions. The test of time can be revealing also, more so than by simply taking an experience and placing judgement without knowing all the facts. Live your life going off your gut, guided by the light of God when and if you decide to evaluate people and try not to be judgmental.

Many times in life we are faced with crossroads with people, those near and dear to us and those we pass in work and interpersonal relationships. Associations bring conflict; it is a fact of life. Stronger is the person that can face these head on and resolves them. The ones that can merely classify them quickly and walk away without forethought is the person that thinks life is simple that no one deserves a second thought and takes people for granted, the gifts of others is not to be taken lightly. Living a life with regret is a hard thing to overcome down the line. Looking back, some you left in the dust you may find would have been your best adversaries.  

Each person you will meet in life has value and was brought into your life for a purpose, part of God’s master plan. Be certain you uncover the reason. There are those who are truly meant to float in and then fade into the woodwork of your past. They are stepping stones for your future period. But there are also some that are the fabric of your being, those that built you up and helped you become the person you are and could have built up more, if you had stayed involved, engaged. The test of time is the ones that stuck through it all with you, helped you preserve when times were tough.  Who was and would have been there when you head was low, when you didn’t win, and still had your back?

If you find those people walk away from you without a second thought, the sadness can be painful but the reality is you gave what you had to give without conditions. And we are called to love and give without conditions. Expect nothing in return and then you are altruistic. In a perfect world, we are returned love unconditionally and friends reciprocate. We are trusted, not judged and given lead way to grow. In reality, not everyone has the ability to love or be a true friend, partner or family member for life. Growing pains may be, to some, learning the difference.

Working with someone who is quick to judgement and doesn’t appreciate your efforts is equally disheartening but par for the course of employment in today’s times. Know that the compassion comes in handy and you are the bigger person for having the strength of character to accept fate, a rejection f sorts and move beyond. Everyone doesn’t have to accept you as you are, but then again, many others will, free of their own prejudices and constraints.  Being hateful for the person that degrades you or pushes you away nets nothing but internal hatred for others or makes you no better than the person who pushes your goodness away. Rise up, take notice and move on.  

To live in peace requires an ability to let bygones be simply that, part of the fabric of your past. One must learn to let others let you go, let you be part of the fabric of their past. Even when the pain of letting go seems hard, hurtful or disloyal to you. Life is not about always winning but knowing when the ship has sailed and you are not meant to be onboard. Learn when the energy to hop on board is a sacrifice to your own inner peace.

Fighting for the right to be a part of someone’s life should not be a constant battle. We need to recognize God is who we must prove our loyalty to in the end, not to men or women on earth, not to those who betray our confidence or goodness and our faith. In the end, He will see that we receive our bountiful and the right people love us the way we were meant to be loved and received in his grace.

You are goodness,

Full of a heart of gold,

Don’t let anyone,

Turn your spirit cold.

You have a mission,

To make your life a shining light,

Others may try to cut you down,

But just hold your candle to a higher height.

MLK Jr Effect on Children

My son was born into a white American family. We started relatively poor. I was 17, pregnant and in high school. His father was a factory worker at a chemical company, 23 and wondering how in the world he was going to support a wife and a baby.  I went to a free clinic. It was the beginning, I suppose of the American Dream.

As we struggled in a one bedroom apartment, we made major head ways and moved to the fancy living accommodations of a two bedroom where no longer was my son living in the hallway, outside the bedroom and in-front of the bathroom.   Our furniture became more than plastic crates and I could buy material to sew curtains for all the windows and life was good.

Before long Jimmy Carter had passed a bill that allowed us to buy a home with a government subsidized loan. We moved into a white neighborhood with our starter home that, to us, was going to be our only home. It was small, compact, but it was ours!  It had rooms the size of my laundry room in my subsequent homes but I was overjoyed. As another child came along, we were truly feeling God was looking down on us smiling. We were middle class in our estimation.

My son, by now, was attending a middle class elementary school with mostly all white children, hardly any black children or any other minorities that I knew of. He had grown into an excellent student for the most part. One of his stand out skills, early on, was writing so it was no surprise to me when he was asked to participate, one weekend in fifth grade in the Governors Competition for Writing.

As I dropped him off, I remember seeing him walk in a neighboring school with about one hundred other kids coming from the District we lived in, all looking like they came from neighborhoods like ours, or better. I left and picked him back up a few hours later.

As we drove home, I found out that he had won an Honorable Mention but not placed in the top 3. I was quite surprised he hadn't won or placed because I knew he was by far the best writer in his grade at his school. I tried not to show any emotion and asked him what the subject matter was that they had to write about.

My son told me they were asked to write an essay describing who they would spend a day with if they could with anyone they wanted to alive or dead in the world.  Then they were to explain what would they do, say or ask. For his paper, he told me he had picked Martin Luther King Jr. I was shocked, here sat a white middle class boy, who, of all the choices in the world picked MLK Jr.

He then went on to tell me the content of his paper. It was about all the questions he would ask. He wanted to know what it was like to live in a world where MLK Jr was oppressed, treated with a lack of respect and how he rose above it. My son wanted to know how difficult it was to confront hate and be so filled with hope.  He was planning on asking him if he thought things had changed since he died, if black children were treated fairly and if not, what should be done. And one of the most profound things he said was that to simply be with him would be an honor.

To quote Representative John Lewis today, on the 50^th Anniversary of MLK Jr being assassinated :

Dr. King taught us to be brave, to be courageous, to be bold. I don't know where America would be, where many of us of color would be, were it not for him. 

His legacy was to speak up, stand up. When you see that something isn't right or fair, you have to do something — you have to get in the way. Get into good trouble.

Reflecting back, the paper my son wrote symbolized to me what racism is not. It showed me that hate is taught to children, it is not innate. My son was willing to listen to the oppressed and learn from their experiences to be a better human being. I was proud that day of my son. I am certain it played a part in him not being given a placement for his paper but I really couldn't care less. In my mind, he won. Oh, what a better world we would be if we all just shut up and listened, learned, cared and changed!