Long Goodbyes

I don’t mind long goodbyes. I hug them longer than they can appreciate. I think about them more than I realize. I take bunches of pictures. I might reminisce too much. I worry when I don’t hear from them often, but I don’t let them know it. I am happy that they are growing and developing into women, but secretly I wish they were my little girls again. Janet and I pray together every day before one of us walks out the door. I hold her for one beat longer than I need too. My arms remember how she felt. My lips retain the comfort of hers. My nose sends the scent of her “self” to my brain were it will be filed away. My eyes record her style of the day. My mind sends an alert to the world that my devastatingly beautiful gift from God is on her way. For a moment in time I want to call her back for just one more hug, one more kiss, one more prayer. I want to tell her everything my heart, body and soul is whispering to me about her. As she rolls out of sight, I finish the prayer. “Lord cover her going and coming. Bring her back to these arms of mine so we can be us again and again. Never the less Your will be done in our lives. Janet, Lauren, Londyn, Lyric, your husband, father and Gi-Da loves you. Amen.” Glad the tomb is empty.

Just Mercy

I will admit it was\is hard for me to sit through movies that tell the truth about “our” society. Folks would have you believe that stories like this are anomalies. They are isolated incidents of our distant past that would never occur today. The devil’s biggest accomplishment is to make folks believe he does not exist. The truth is people that look like me are a heartbeat away from something like this being our reality. I was told that I did not have to worry about a traffic stop if I did not do anything wrong. I did my best to be calm and explain. That statement is the essence of privilege. You have the privilege to not have to think if you look like somebody. You have the privilege to not worry where your hands are, or if your tone is threatening, or even if they are having a bad day (Sandra Bland). Just Mercy reminded me to not get too comfortable in assuming that death row won’t come in a need to clear a crime (Walter “Johnny D.” McMillian), or death won’t visit me at my front door (Botham Jean), or through a window pane (Atatiana Jefferson), just because. My prayer is that future generations of folks that look like me will have the privilege to not have to think this way. Glad The Tomb Is Empty

Bloom Where You Are Planted

My flower beds have become unkempt. The flowers have long since died and withered. The mulch is the dominate organic life form. However, a few months ago I plated some collards back in the corner that I grew from seeds in my kitchen window. I thought they might have a chance. They have produced two big pots, one for Thanksgiving and one for Christmas. This weekend frost was predicted. I covered them with some plastic. I was a little worried they might not make it. When I got home from church I pulled back the plastic. They sprung up from being “covered” all night and morning. Leaves look strong. Another pot is coming soon. Pastor Carter preached from Genesis 39 and 40. “Bloom Where You Are Planted.” Works for life and gardens. Pastor’s last two sermons have been all over my personal “Joseph” day. Speak to me Lord, from the pulpit or the garden. Your servant Lance is ready to “bloom”… Glad the tomb is empty.