To those of you who have followed my “Happy Sunday” and “I Am My Father’s Garden” blogs, you know that I have aspired to be a voice of encouragement, a light in the darkness. Yet for the past month, that voice has been silent. I have felt that I should say something, but words have failed me. I walked through the garden and the plants were quiet. I looked up at the lemon tree and it was quiet, head bowed. There are no words for the emotions storming through my veins. Like most of you, I have wept, I have prayed, I’ve been angry, I’ve tried to hold it together and the one thing that I keep coming back to is, “I’m Tired”. We’ve seen that a lot lately. Simply. “We’re Tired”. When our voice fails us, “we’re tired” speaks volumes.
So while searching for words and failing, I asked myself “what would my father say”. What would my earthly father say and what would my heavenly father say. In 2009 after the election of President Obama, our first African American president, I asked my father, Leander Taylor, to write something that he would want his children to know. From that came a 9 page letter “To My Children and All Offspring’s of Leroy and Annie Mae Taylor”. I went back to that today and below are just a few excerpts from that nine pages.
I remember as a small child, I would ask my grandma what was slavery? I will never forget the stories she would tell us, and how she wanted all of her grandchildren to learn reading, writing and arithmetic.
The New Deal as it was called included the Roosevelt years (1933-1941) Blacks were supposed to participate in this progress. Many of them were able to improve their education, by help from the federal programs as long as they stayed in their place, kept quiet when mistreated, called all white men Mister, and never tried to vote.
As of January, 1945 my parents had three sons in the military and could not vote, take a seat at the lunch counter, and had to sit in the back of the bus. The military was not as one might think today. You gave your loyalty to protect a country that you were a second class citizen.
This was a period when you could pay your poll tax ($2) in Jones County, Mississippi, but you could not vote. My father was a man of little learning, no education, ;however, he paid his poll tax fees. When he finally voted in the late fifties, he had a look on his face that I will never forget. He had accomplished his life’s ambition to be a citizen; yet being a citizen at that time did not give you the privileges enjoyed by those considered to be “white men”.
After WWII Blacks began to refuse to comply with many of the Old South rules. We had traveled during service times seeing other ways of life.
The Civil Rights Movement did not start in the 60’s. The movement started many years ago, with ex-slaves. Many men and women gave their lives before Martin Luther King and Daisy Bates were born. In small places and at midnight, people walked the rural roads under the cover of darkness to share views on their condition and how they could outsmart “Mr Charlie”.
Oh! Now we have a Black President. Many Black people gave their lives to this day, and believe it or not this country, barefoot boy lived long enough to witness it. A long time coming, but it is here!
Reading this, written 11 years ago, and hearing the joy of accomplishment in my Dad’s words, I look at our country today and weep. With all the lives lost, the sacrifices made, the accomplishments achieved, we are yet….here. A people in a country that is not our home. Yet, we must never give up. I applaud the youth who are taking a stand, peacefully protesting and speaking out. I have heard many say, “this time feels different”. I pray that is the case. We must not get complacent when the protests cease and the story is no longer carried on prime time news. When the hash tags change, when corporations have written their obligatory letter and given their minimum contributory check to “change”., we must remain vigilant! This time MUST be different. We most vote for change in leadership. Change in policies. And we must hold our leaders accountable. Within weeks of shutting the country down due to a deadly virus, COVID-19, it was clear that the country would reopen putting lives at risk to save the economy. Okay, so if that is the most important thing, then we must make sure we have a seat at the table at that most important thing. Research the companies where you spend your dollars. If their values are not aligned with yours, spend your dollars elsewhere! If a corporation that you support has not spoken out and stated their stance, write them and ask! Ask them what is their stance on racism and what are they doing to ensure it doesn’t exist in their organization. If you want to know if they believe what they say, look at their board of directors. Check out their C-Suite. Who is leading the company? This will speak volumes. Do the same for all businesses that you frequent. Check them out. While social media has proven to be a great platform for education and communication, it has to go beyond there. We must educate ourselves about every aspect of our community. We must engage at every level. We must be intentional! And we MUST VOTE!!!
So lastly, what would my heavenly father say? In a message today, I heard reference to many Psalms where the people of God “lamented”. Psalms 64, 52, 137. And there are Psalms where we are encouraged to not lose hope. Psalms 37. But the one that ended that message and that I lean on, like others, that cry out “How Long Lord?” is Psalm 61.
“Hear my cry, O God.; Give heed to my prayer. From the end of the earth I call to You when my heart is faint; Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been a refuge for me. A tower of strength against the enemy. Let me dwell in Your tent forever; Let me take refuge in the shelter of Your wings.”
Don’t get weary children. Fight on!
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