“I have a dream…” Those words, those famous words which magically united, yet tragically divided, our great nation.  Don’t lose your sh*t;  I am not saying that they were intended for division.  (Of course they weren’t.)  They represented a turning point, and we are still turning.

Doors which were closed, opened.  The photos above are the SAME exact photo.  One is in color, the other is black and white.  How different do they really appear?  They look too similar to barely notice.  Take those photos and spot the cross, not the color.

But… who was allowed through those doors?  I don’t intend to start a racial firestorm here;  but it is MLK day and this day, in particular, makes me ponder.  I cannot get enough of  his words which I have heard quoted my entire life.  I am so fond of this man whom I have never even met.  What he stands for in the African American community I will never fully understand, but only because I am white.  However, I am still a human. And, I have still encountered racism because of the color of my skin.

I spent most of time in college working… ok, maybe working and playing;  I digress.  Point being, I was afforded the opportunity to pay my way through college.  Yes, I said “afforded the opportunity,” which may be sarcastic or simply a play on words.  Nonetheless, I met with the financial aid office on a regular basis.  I became very familiar with the people there, both black and white of skin.  I can still see the beautiful African American woman who had to look at me, blonde and blue-eyed, and tell me that I did not “qualify” for a certain grant because I was not black.  I am not sure who those words hurt more, her or me.  In that moment, I felt only kindness and compassion.  NOT racism.  Yes, I was sad; but it was not until my adult life that I made the connection.

My husband and I adopted a beautiful baby almost nine years ago.  The process was grueling, but so worth it.  It took us three years.  In those three years, we submitted our profile two times for an African American child.  BOTH times, we were not chosen because I was too white.  Offended, no.  Devastated, yes.  But we trusted in Gods journey for us.  His will lead us to be chosen by a different birth mom.

Lastly, and probably the most poignant, was in New York City.  I say poignant because, when this happened, I was a mother.  At this time, my two boys were under ten years old.  As a mother, I often look at older boys and imagine my two at that age.  It’s a total trip.  Anyway, my bestie (chosen sister) and I were walking down the street in Times Square.  A young group of African American boys were in a crowd, selling their music on CD’s.  I love seeing young folks (My Lord! I sound old.) pursuing their dreams.  We handed them money, and bought one of their CD’s.  We became very motherly with encouraging words and smiles.  As we walked away, our steps were echoed in “hey, wait, you didn’t buy mine.  Why you only buy his?  Why, cause I’m a ___________________!?!”

The struggle is real, as they say.

Yet, I do not feel oppressed.  Yes, I did not enjoy said occurrences, but I never felt less white, or less a sister of my fellow brothers and sisters.  So, it begs the question… have those words, spoken decades ago, based in unification, only ignited division?

Have we, as a HUMAN RACE, lost our empathy?  Have we failed one another by seeing our differences as different?   We are all children of God, are we not?  We have all seen our share of strife… have we taken those times to lean in to Him?  Or, have we taken those times as an opportunity to blame?  To hate?  To protest?

I haven’t the answer, of course.  Only the power of prayer can “overcome,” as the song says.

MLK Day.  A day in which we celebrate how far we have come, and realize how far we have to go.

Black and white, or in color.  Spot the cross on the door and…

“If you can’t fly, run…If you can’t run, walk…If you can’t walk, crawl…But, by all means, Keep Moving.”     -Martin Luther King, Jr

#spotthecross#holykitt#mlkday