Real Love

 

I drive or walk by the Market House in Fayetteville most days of the week, either heading to and from work or during my daily exercise routine.  At first glance, it's a beautiful, historical building.  However, I immediately start to think about the true history of it and the horrible things that happened there.  It’s a national landmark, where the constitution was ratified. It was used to sell household goods and town hall meetings also often occurred there in the past.  The website Visit NC notes it was a place where “occasionally” slaves were sold, and mostly because of indebtedness or liquidation. 

Of course, Visit NC is trying to advertise the Market House as an attraction, where they are encouraging people to visit and, as a result, this would potentially benefit our community financially and socially.  Thus, the language they used to describe the history of human trafficking that occurred there is watered down.  Were those kind of slavery sales less evil?

If you do not live here, you may not know that there has been an ongoing debate about whether to tear down the Market House because of its dark history. In 2020, Ahmaud Arbery, a Black man, was murdered by two White men while he was jogging through the neighborhood after they figured he was the guy that had robbed some people and thought it was their business to perform a citizen’s arrest and ended up killing him. Shortly thereafter, George Floyd was murdered by the police. Just as what happened around the country, our city erupted in protests afterward.  The Market House naturally became a focal point for our protests in Fayetteville. It made sense that folks would protest directly at the building, considering what had occurred there.  I completely understand that people want to get rid of it. The city should either tear it down or they should honor the families of those trafficked there by turning the building into a slavery memorial. Period.

One day, during my lunch break, I noticed there were two groups of people protesting on either side of the building. One group representing each side of the argument.  I decided to try to encourage the group on the side that I supported and to snoop over at the other side to try to hear their arguments. I thought maybe I could try to understand more where they were coming from.

Based on my physical appearance, of course, the Market House preservation supporters assumed I was on their side.  As a White woman wearing workout clothes in the middle of the day, I’m sure I looked like a total Karen to everyone else. First, I walked to the protesters side and spoke some words of encouragement to them, signed their petition to tear it down. I then walked over to the other side.  As I got close to the table, an older gentleman stood up from the table and rushed around it to come speak to me.  He asked me if I would like to sign his petition.  I politely told him that I would not sign it and proceeded to explain why. He, of course, argued that great historical moments had occurred there, but he acknowledged that maybe “a few” slaves had likely been sold there.  I told him that, if even one person was hurt or killed, that there should be, at the very least, a monument created to honor the family of the victim(s).  He didn’t have a response for that.  I also asked him if he knew about Juneteenth.  He didn’t know what it was.  I explained that it is a holiday celebrating the emancipation of all slaves in the United States.  I know that you’re probably thinking the Emancipation Proclamation freed the slaves, but, unfortunately, all slaves in the U.S. did not receive the news at that time. It took another two years for the last group of slaves living in Texas to receive word that they had been freed.  So, on June 19^th, 1865, slavery officially ended.  We observe this day throughout our country in multiple states, but it has not been formally made as a federal holiday.  Hopefully, that day will come soon. Over the past couple of years, my family has celebrated it, and we plan to every year forward.

The fact that we do not officially celebrate this day in America and that so many people don’t even know about it is sad to me. 

After explaining Juneteenth to the gentleman, and after asking him to watch a couple Netflix shows on the topics of this holiday and on systemic racism, such as “13^th,” it was time for me to leave.  He seemed to have a shocked look on his face as I walked away.  I truly hope he was listening and that he did some research on his own after that. I doubt I changed his mind on the issue, but at the very least, hopefully he learned something new. 

The bottom line for me is that, especially for Christians, in all things, our love for others must guide us in all our steps.  In every decision we make, love should rule.  What does love look like in this situation? Is this building more important than people? Is it showing love by ignoring the horrible past of the Market House and not honoring the families of those hurt there?

I recently looked up the word “love” in my Bible’s concordance.  Where some words in the Bible have 5, 10, or 20 references, the words “love” and “loved” have hundreds.  There are boundless references about how to love others in the Bible, and they are possibly the most used words in it.  I do not think this is a coincidence.  God is showing us that, in all things, we must love first.  Even if that love feels uncomfortable to us, even if it means we have to give something up that is of value to us, or even if it means we have to view something differently than we have in the past.  When we love others sincerely, we must seek to understand their pain, try to understand the reasons behind their actions, behind the pain, such as protests, and do our best to be helpful.  It does not come easy because we are all human and naturally selfish.  I ask that, if you are a Christian, because you have a higher responsibility than others to show love, you always consider what love looks like in everything you do.  This world will be a much better place for it. 

Phil 2:3-4 “Do nothing out of selfish or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of others.”

Painful Reality

When I was dating my daughter's biological father back in 1999-2000, my grandfather, who was in his late 80s at the time, would not allow my boyfriend into his house because he was a Black man. That was my first personal experience with blatant racism that I can remember.  It was very hurtful.  I decided that if he was not allowed in my grandparent's house, then I would not go either.  When I became pregnant, it hurt even more. Now, my grandfather was not only denying my boyfriend from being included in the family but he was essentially denying my child, his own flesh and blood, from being included, as well.  Out of protection for my daughter, I would not step foot into my grandparents' house.  It was hard to believe that my grandfather felt this way.  Grandma tried to talk to me about it and tried to apologize, knowing it was wrong, but realizing there was nothing she could do to change his mind. 

After Harmony was born, something changed.  Somehow, after seeing his beautiful great-grandchild, Grandpa felt remorseful about how he had acted.  Tearfully, he apologized and said he knew that how he acted had been wrong. I will never forget seeing Grandpa hold my baby girl in his arms and the joyful look on his face! 

It meant a lot that a man his age was able to change his mindset.  I told him that I forgave him- and I truly did.  Not too long after that, he passed away. 

Racism is so ugly and painful. When we have loved ones with racist beliefs, it's difficult to accept that reality.  We wish they didn't think that way and we never want to label them as racist. However, it's important to call it what it is and call out the elephant in the middle of the room.  Acknowledging racism is the only way to truly fight it.  Could you imagine if an oncologist refused to accept a diagnosis of cancer for her patient? The patient could die because of her refusal to acknowledge the truth. What do you think happens to others when we deny the pain they experience? The pain that some of us cause?

I am so thankful that Grandpa's eyes were opened before he died. I wish he could have seen things differently throughout his life.  I am not saying that he was a terrible person. He was a very funny and kind person to me as a kid growing up.  I spent many hours playing card games with him, watching the Young and the Restless with him and Grandma, and laughing about funny jokes.  This character flaw that he had did not make him a bad person overall.  We all have good character traits and bad ones, right? Our flaws do not define us. I just wish he could have experienced the richness and fullness of life that happens when we love all people, not just those that look like us.  He missed out on so much because of his inaccurate beliefs about people.  

I felt compelled to tell this story because maybe there is someone out there that does not realize what they are missing out on in life by limiting themselves in this way. Maybe you have chosen to not get close to anyone outside of those that physically look like you.  If you are choosing not to spend time with someone specifically because of the color of his or her skin, you are missing out on so much and you may not even realize it.  I would encourage you to step outside of that fear and work at creating friendships with people of all racial and ethnic backgrounds. We have a limited amount of time on Earth to love others as God wants us to. True love looks like this. It doesn't stay locked in a particular looking box that we build up around ourselves.  My hope and prayer is that you step outside of that box and truly experience life the way that God intended for us.

She's Baaaack!

Well, it's been some years, folks. It's been some years (almost 5!!) since I last wrote in my blog and stopped sharing some of my life with you all. Why did I stop, you ask? The same reason we all stop doing many things in life, sadly.  It was because of fear. I worried about what others would think too much. I was posting some very personal stories and was worried about what my readers would think. Instead of worrying about people, I should have been focused on what God wants me to do and that is to share his love with you all through the gift he has given me, which is the ability to write.  Here's the thing, I am planning on writing some more in this blog, but I have some even BIGGER news to share. Are you ready for this? Ok, here goes....

I have FINALLY started writing my book, y'all.  Many of you don't even know this has been a dream of mine for years to write a book, but for some of you, you might find this exciting. I will share later what/who has inspired me to finally get going with this, but I am choosing to share this news publicly so that I can have some accountability partners. As much as I love to write and have a dream to do so, with everything else going on (working full time, raising a husband and two kids, etcetera, etcetera (yes, I used that fun word twice on purpose, and yes, I said raising a husband), it is actually something that I need support and encouragement with so that I stick to it.  In other words, I need you, my dear reader, whoever you may be. 

So, all of this talk of me pursuing my dream begs the question that I'd like to ask you. What is it that's stopping you from pursuing yours?

Missed Opportunities

While visiting a water park over the past weekend with my family, we happened to be standing in line behind a very thin young man.  He was painfully thin; so much so that we could see his spine.  We carried on our conversation amongst ourselves and acted silly in line, as usual.  We joked around, sang, and danced the new "running man." The young man and his friend seemed to turn around a few times and laugh with/at us.  I didn't think too much about him and his friend, but I did wonder to myself a little about why he was so thin.

After a while, I overheard him speaking with my husband.  He randomly told my husband that he has had or currently has cancer- it was not completely clear.  Regardless, it was heartbreaking to hear it.  He couldn't have been more than 18 years old.  The conversation was brief and everyone went back to enjoying their respective company and going on the slide.

As we were standing in line during the next ride, and discussing whether we wanted to purchase the additional "fast passes", or whatever they are called, which would get us through the lines faster, it crossed my mind that we should buy such passes for the young man from the last line and his friend.  I use the term "crossed my mind," but really, after looking back on that moment, I realize it was actually God speaking to me.  You see, I let that thought "cross my mind," but I ended up not actually pursuing it, even after we randomly came across the same young man a little later at the park.  Thousands of people were at the park that day and God gave me a second chance to help bless that man, but I didn't take the opportunity.

I believe that life is full of these God-given opportunities to bless others.  We can either listen to that voice or we can ignore it and just move on with life.  My family and I still had a great time at the water park, and I'm sure that young man and his friend did, as well.  It's not like God needs me in order to bless others...right? To be sure, I missed the opportunity to show that man a clear example of God's love by giving him even more of a fun day by buying him a "fast pass."  It's simple, quick moments like this that occur throughout our lives, which can define our lives.

I have decided that I don't want to miss these opportunities any more.  Any chance I can get to show God's love, I want to take it.  After this experience, all I can do is pray for this young man and pray that he survives the cancer, but it would it would have been so amazing to show him how much God loves him, is proud of him for getting out, and wants him to enjoy life.  

We can practically show God's love to others every single day if we choose to.  All we have to do is listen and act.

All American Marathon, 2015

I thought I'd share my experience of completing my 3rd marathon.

My training partner, Zina, and I started training together in January.  Since January, we have ran together almost every Sunday morning for our long training runs together.  We started with 8 miles and bumped up mileage each week.  The longest training run was 20 miles. 

As we lined up for the race, I looked around and noticed all sorts of kinds of people- young, old, every ethnicity, every body type.  I appreciated that moment because I had mostly trained by myself, aside from the long runs.  Running can be such a lonely sport, so most of us really enjoy the races, which are a time to join other like minded folks.  Within a few minutes of standing and waiting, just prior to the national anthem being sung, I met a woman that had an assistive dog with her.  We started to chat and I learned that she had metal in both of her legs after undergoing multiple surgeries after having been injured in the military.  She was a marathoner prior to being injured, and she was planning to walk the entire 26.2 miles!  Hearing her story made me want to cry and we hadn't even started the race. 

I love racing because of this reason.  There are countless stories of survival and

perseverance.  One of my favorite runners is named Ivan Castro.  He is a local marathoner that is completely blind.  He was almost killed in a blast, but survived.  His sight did not survive- but he still has completed multiple marathons and he continues to work as an active duty soldier- in recruitment.  Can you imagine trying to come up with an excuse of why not to join the military when you have a completely blind person- who runs marathons- right in front of you recruiting you? The government made a brilliant move by hiring him for that position.

 

Running in this marathon was tough.  I kept going, though, even when I was tired and sore and it was because of prayer and because I watched people pass me up.  I thought I should/could be just as "good" as them at running.  I was inspired by so many people that day. 

 

I also loved the fact that my family came to support me.  About every 5- or so- miles, my husband, father-in-law and son were there waiting to see me run by.  It was great- it meant so much to me.

 

Overall, this race was a wonderful experience.  It taught me that I must always keep pushing to meet my goals. It also taught me that there will always be others that have to work harder than I do, but still continue to persevere and succeed, despite the odds against them.  I have no excuse to not try hard and do my best. 

 

 

 

Pastor Dave

The depth of sadness I feel in this moment is almost unbearable.  I am going through the motions of life because I have to, but I am overwhelmed with grief at the same time over the loss of a dear friend who was like a father to me in so many ways. 

When the kids and I moved over here about 5 years ago, my husband couldn't come with us because he was still working in Oregon and looking for work over here.  My father in law was wonderful and came to stay with us for the first month, but after that, it was just the kids and I, and it was pretty stressful.  I had moved across county after living 30 years in Oregon, and without having any family or friends nearby. 

My heavenly father was looking out for me, though.  Our neighbors that lived right across the street- the Wedlock's- became like instant family to us.  Mr. Wedlock was here for us like a dad to me and grandpa to my kids and he looked out for us.  He would cut the grass and make sure that we were ok, while my husband was away.  After Mose moved back with us, Mr. Wedlock continued to look out for us- continued to help with the lawn- and he became "pastor Dave" to me and "papa" to my kids. I will never forget the moments when I would be out working in the yard in the heat and he would run over to give me some water.  I came to pastor Dave and Ms. Valerie for advice and let them know about the events going on in our lives, which they often were a part of.  I have baked many times for the Wedlock's because I love to bake and share what I have made.  He loved my cooking and that felt so good.  Pastor Dave also took many incredible pictures of my family for us and shared the prints with us often.  He was a man that touched many lives and he was constantly involved in service to others.  He was a true gift that was just taken away from us. 

I don't understand why we go through so much pain in this life sometimes. I don't understand why the best people have to leave this earth so early. 

I do know  that this life is just a speck of our true lives, since our real "lifetime" begins in the afterlife.  Pastor Dave is now living the life he worked so hard for on earth right now- in the actual presence of the Lord. 

The rest of us are hurting badly.  I can't wait to see my friend again someday and I will miss him terribly.  I'm thankful for getting the opportunity of knowing him and I hope to honor him by my actions through the rest of my life.  He would want that, I think.

Ridiculousness

It's a scary thing to open up your soul to the public.  You never know what people will think of you-- whether they know so much about you that they think you're being fake or dishonest--- or whether they know so little about you that they think you're being stuck up, ignorant or naive.

I've let my fear of this keep me from sharing my heart with you all, and I'm sorry for that.  I'm mostly sorry to my creator, since He is the one that asked me to write and share my story in the first place.

With that, I'd like to share something that has been on my heart lately...

I read way too much of the news.  I read it every day. There are incredibly sad, disappointing, ridiculous news stories that are posted every day; yet, I (like many Americans) continue to read them.  We do this, yet, we wonder why we have such a deep sense of hopelessnessin our culture.   We tell ourselves that times have changed- that the world we live in is so much worse for our children than it ever has been.  How can we think or feel this way and not have this transfer into our actions, the way we live each day and then not have that rub off onto our children? It's impossible.  If we truly believe that all hope is lost, that all hell has broken loose in this world, then our children will believe that too.  The vicious cycle of desperation will continue through the generations.

Instead, let's CHOOSE to see the beauty in this world! Let's not focus on all of these ridiculous news stories and this notion that the world is somehow much worse because people are suddenly more evil than ever before.  People have not really changed, but technology has changed.  We've always been messed up from the beginning of time.  Let's believe that there is always hope.  There is always hope, beauty, love, forgiveness-and salvation- available to those who choose it.  When we believe in such a way, it will transfer into how we live and our children will want- will choose- to live the same way.