To My Beautiful Wife...

I've contemplated time and time again, exactly what I would say the first time I met you - assuming I haven't already. To imagine that God gave you to me and I to you way before we were formed in the womb is a thought too vast and caring for me to comprehend. Its a love, I'll never understand. Sitting here, under the radiant sun, thoughts of you cascade through my mind. I don't know where to begin or end, but I know you're out there, waiting to be found, cared for - loved. 

I wonder. 

I wonder about your eyes, their color, shape, and how they open up to reveal your soul's intention. The tambour of your giggle - begot from my smooth caress of your most ticklish spots. The way your hair blows in the wind, touched by only the softest of butters and creams. 

I wonder.

I want to know how you smell after a day's stress has settled into your spirit - or do you make the heat of a hard day disappear with a glass of the sweetest wine. How does your cooking taste - even on days when we have no inspiration or appetite to stomach a home cooked meal. What types of flowers invoke the most genuine smile from you and do you like them delivered to your office at random times. 

I wonder. 

Where your most sensitive spots are - can I touch yours as you touch mine? How you write the letter "J" on love notes, those pick-me-up letters that remind me of that first day we met. What style of shoe makes you moist. hehe. I'm sure you'll like a variety of kinds.

I wonder. 

Marveling at your lips, I want to know how soft they are, what gentle words glide off their sleek surface, what color lipstick you wear when you're mad at my foolish ways. How do they speak your spirit's passion, your soul's care, and your heart's love? 

I wonder. 

I wonder how we'll look when we grow old together, what names we'll debate over for our kids, who we'll pick as the Godparents, and how much we're willing to spend on our trips away from our "rug rats?"

I wonder. 

Will we be buried side by side? Will you outlive me? Will our love survive the change of time? 

I wonder. 

And then, I look over my life and see how God has always looked out for my best interest and I know - you'll be everything he needs you to be for me and more. You'll be my rib. 

My beautiful wife. 

Across Enemy lines

I can't do it. I CAN'T DO IT!!!!! We were just boys. Innocent. Sneaky. Playful. Free. And yet, our roads diverged. His into something fast and quickly rewarding. Mine - well, you know my story. And now, today I get the news that he is dead. Gone. Killed. Shit, murdered...over material foolishness we will not take with us into eternity.

Its as simple as a text message. He's dead. And yet, this isn't the first friend this has happened to.

Its taken a toll on me. Because, when I think about Michael, I can vividly remember us growing up side by side together. He was no different than me. We both had the same potential, opportunities, and exposure to resources. And yet, he lay in a morgue at this very moment - blood spilled for a retaliation wrought on material stuff that  loses values quicker than we can buy it.

This is where I get frustrated. To be perfectly honest, I'm not that sad for his mother and family. Michael had been rumored of taking lives himself. And while, I am not a champion of retaliation, there is a lot to be said about karma in its purest form. He lived by the sword. Nevertheless, my feelings are those of frustration. Taking an honest inventory of my feelings, I would have to define these feelings as annoyance, loneliness, and anger. See, Michael's death represents so much more than just another Black boy killed over foolishness, though that is exactly what it was. For me, however, his death sends me whirling back to childhood faces that I can now place in one of three locations: prison, the grave, or some hourly job.

The shit is real.

When statistics say prisons are being built today to house half the black babies born yesterday, I can finally, clearly see why. The ratio for my childhood friends and I has tipped significantly in the prison/dead direction rather than the other way around.

So where does this leave me?

I could be selfish for feeling this way but I refuse to apologize. I feel alone and I'm upset about it. I'm the only one left to bear a burden of success that should have been spread among a neighborhood of healthy, young black boys. My cross now feels ten times heavier, making me feel, in turn, more desolate, removed... alone. Someone once told me, the higher you go in education, the more people you leave behind. IS THAT REALLY TRUE??? I already struggle to stay connected to the plight of my students but I'm truly afraid that the one thing that has to give in my pursuit of happiness will be my mental attachment to reality. I don't want to be a part of the phony Black Intelligencia who have mastered the craft of selective amnesia to avoid a nightly ritual of "tylenol pm'ing" in order to get decent sleep.

Maybe I'm overreacting. But today, I fell like I am the last of my kind. I can't go home and talk about my college life with anyone. No cousin in my immediate family can relate to a story about a dorm party or college program. There's no one in my age group who owns their own home, car, etc. I am ALONE.

And I know there are thousands of young, black dudes in my boat - lifting the same oak cross everyday as they take steps toward their future. But I have not met them. Not yet. So for now, I feel -

alone.

Revelation

What would you do if you knew what you were destined to do for the rest of your life? If you knew how your existence was going to change the very direction of the oceans? If you knew how your influence would shift the very path of so many others? How would you respond to this?

I've heard a whisper. The sweetest, most gentle sound - as clear as an Egyptian summer evening but as powerful as the whipping winds of a category 7 hurricane.  It was as if someone or something knelt down from the heavens and planted the most gentle kiss upon my ears. And in that kiss I found revelation.

Its funny how some people go their whole lives just existing - going from day to day doing no more than living to pay the bills. Okay, maybe its not funny. It's probably horrible, at best. But this is the reality of so many. And while I feel like "favor aint fair," I still wonder why God chose me in the womb (before the womb, I'd bet) to be a change agent in this world. I think back on 16 year old Martin King, Jr. He would just be starting college in a world dipped in the seediest waters of hatred, bigotry, and discrimination. Next, I turn my attention to a not-so-impressionable 20 year old Hindu man name Mohandus Ghandi - whose courage against a monopolizing nation cost him his life. Then my mind shifts to 10 year old Jesus of Nazareth, a Jewish kid who was destined to hang out with the low lives of the world, do miraculous works, but then be betrayed by those he called family. Now, I'm not pompous or conceited enough to believe that my level of impact on this world will be of that magnitude. But to think that God may have a servitude of that caliber waiting for me simply sends chills running down my spine. I'm unnerved by the possibility.

But the irony in revelation is the revelation itself. I know that those chosen for greatness have to die - their sacrifice mimics that of Christ - for there is no sin committed that the world has not witnessed before. In a world where individuals hate what they can not understand, and will quiet difference by death, I feel like my plight may have to be the same.

damn.

Guess we'll have to wait and see what the future holds. I feel the future, though. Its like a sun bathing experience where my naked body is washed in the coolest rays of the sun. It feels cleansing.

So, today I stand bold telling the Lord that whatever this call is, I am answering in obedience. Lead, guide and protect me. I can do it no other way.

Bits of me

I was young. So, at the time, I pieced together a project quickly that (strangely enough) would have meaning far beyond what I could ever imagine. I had recently applied for a job with residential life at Loyola and we were given instructions to make some sort of physical demonstration that represented the totality of our being. HA! Impossible, right? Well, not exactly. I joked around for a while, then came up with a simple idea. A single dot in the middle of a posterboard. Later, individuals with whom I had come in contact over the years were instructed to write their names around the dot - in whatever fashion they would like. The names swirled colorfully around that dot and almost looked like they blossomed from the dot itself. 

My explanation: I was the dot and every name that surrounded me had affected my life in some form or fashion. They had changed me, added to me just a little bit more than what I was before. So no longer was I a dot... I was a soul who had come in contact with the influences of so many other amazingly creative, wonderful, eccentric souls.

Almost a year later, I looked back at that dot and those names and asked God, "Why?" Why did he allow me to encounter so many different types of people? I know the answer now.  For some reason I always find clarity at 5:00 am. But a few hours ago, I pondered this question over and over and over again. I became that Junior in college once more, questioning God about things I should have simply sought clarity on.

Recently, I feel like there are a few names to be added to that circle of names around the dot. One name in particular holds an extremely special place in my heart. Usually, I try to avoid feeling strongly for anyone, even in a platonic way. But sometimes, I can't break a good feeling. I love just spending time. The sweetest kisses belong to you. You make me laugh through the simple comedy of your innocence. I like to sit and gaze into your eyes, see your smile and watch your face glow when you're excited about something. I can't shake the feeling because though we are friends, I want you near me in the lowest and highest of times. (okay, back to the topic at hand)

See, I've learned the answer. I see now why I have so many names growing out of the dot. Why some names are brief, quickly written and unrecognizable. Others, bold, set, and permanent. See, no matter the length of time - God has placed these people in my life for a dual reason. They were sent to inspire, uplift, redirect and chastise me. But in the same breath, I look back at the circle and see that I have dually touched the lives of every single person in that circle. My words have comforted most. My hands have helped some. My ears have been the quiet listening tool of others.

All this time, I thought I was just on the receiving end of this relationship. But God, in his classic tone, shows me that relationships are two way streets. The building is just as important as the bricks that its composed of.

I'm thankful for the lives that have touched me and those I have touched in return.