Dear Emmanuel, El-Shaddai, Yahweh, IAM: There is a child out here in the world. A child with a very long name. This child is being raised by his Uncle named Christopher Joel somewhere in the State of Texas. I am telling this story for this child in the hopes that if he ever searches the web, Holy Spirit will lead him to this post. Amen.
This morning I woke up not thinking of anything or anyone in particular…but I did something I haven’t did in a very long time. I decided to make a pot of coffee. I looked into the cabinet and selected a mug. I washed the dust from the coffee maker and plugged it into the electrical socket. I pushed aside my creamer that’s been on the shelf a while and pulled down my container of Folgers coffee. It has been a while so I removed the top and inhaled the aroma. The aroma catapulted me back more than thirty years into the past…
A time when I was young and quiet. A time when I was just existing moment to moment. I was in a place that I visited every week, on Tuesdays, for at least an hour. I was at Brother Leslie O. Jones, Sr.’s home and it was not for a festive occasion. The Lady Bernice Jones, wife of L.O. Jones, Sr. and Matriarch of the Jones Family had suddenly passed away. She passed away in the morning as she prepared for her day.
It was a total shock to me…how do I respond to shock? How was I trained to deal with something that should produce a response of high emotion? I was trained to be a robot. Go through the motions of a “normal” person. Say nothing, share nothing, feel nothing…but that’s not normal is it?
I remember the silence and conversations spoken in hushed tones. I remember being in the room with Marchelle and asking her if I could get her some coffee. She said yes. On my way to the kitchen I passed Bobby. I asked Bobby if he wanted some coffee too. He said yes, then he said:
“Make mine the color of Marchelle.”
That one comment just shot through my spirit! He conveyed so much to me! His timing was impeccable. His words were so clear. The tone in his words created color, sound and life within me! I had never heard these words or these kind of words in my life. Bobby and Marchelle were the first couple that I ever met who truly loved one another.
“Make mine the color of Marchelle.” – Bobby Jones
There was this shift that happened in my soul in that moment. I was set on a different path. The path of being a robot with superficial humanoid tendencies and reactions mindlessly following a stipulated program was no longer for me.
Brother L. O. Jones, Sr. passed away in 2002 – he told me that he was told by my family that I caused Momma Niecy’s death and he believed it. He apologized to me for that. He knew that I had nothing to do with it. This hurt my feelings so badly…I accepted his apology of course…he was in mourning and shock. His beloved wife had suddenly passed and my family used this vulnerable moment to put the blame on me. I was the scapegoat yet again. Everything was my fault. What power I must have had as a child! I was able to cause death, mayhem, and chaos in the eyes of my blood relatives. Wow. Of course, I thought my family were crazy and that other humans were normal. WRONG! WRONG!! WRONG!!!
Humans are just human. They are imperfect and some are downright evil; usually in every person at the same time. Humans are complex. Your mission if you choose to accept it is: Live Anyway.
Humans are imperfect
Live Anyway
Humans make mistakes
Live Anyway
You will be let down
Live Anyway
You will be lied on
Live Anyway
You will struggle
Live Anyway
I used to believe that no one could ever believe horrible things about me. I was wrong. If someone I respected so much could ever fathom evil things about me, well why should I tiptoe in my life any longer? I am a Texan. I come from the state of Spindletop and Longhorn steers. I come from the state with Miller Outdoor Theatre and Hippie Hill. I come from the state of Buffalo Bayou and Evan Edward Worthing who donated a whole school to the Black students of South Houston in 1958. We were not Black then, we were Negroes… Additionally, Mr. Evan Edward Worthing bequeathed that ALL of his wealth be returned to the Negroes upon his death. Worthing’s first school location was at 4330 Bellfort Blvd. It housed students from the seventh to the twelfth grades. When I attended this school it was named Crispus Attucks Jr. High School. When I graduated, Carl Lewis was our Speaker in our school auditorium.
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I was making coffee this morning. The aroma of coffee allowed me to time travel back into the past as a reminder that true love exists in this world and is here in my life. It has always been here. The aroma of coffee reminded me that although many people believe lies about me, time is my friend. The aroma of coffee was the transmitter that has given me the knowledge that minds are being changed about me. There have been lies told on me. The blinders are coming off of peoples minds, hearts and eyes about me. The TRUTH is standing up for me and for you!
Yes, you have been lied on too! I want to encourage you right now! I challenge you to Live Anyway! I challenge you to remember who you are! I challenge you to remember Marchelle and Bobby! I challenge you to remember that real love is alive and well! Let love grow in you instead of foolishness! Accept honesty, dignity, integrity, and REALITY! I challenge you! Do you accept??
This is your time and mine! I bless you and me too! If it is God’s will I pray I meet you!
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