How We Got Here
Each morning, I rise with the sounds of life going by. After refreshing and awakening myself, I have a routine. My coffee is part of my meditation. Once I have that all set, I like to sit and meditate. This morning, it was in Proverbs 8 while eating pistachios and peaches. As I was sipping my lavender and vanilla latte with the sounds of the day unfolding, I couldn't help but think about how we got here. Was it in 1964, the year of my birth, and the Civil Rights Act was signed? Was it in 1965, the year of my little brother's birth and the Voting Rights Act was signed? Or perhaps 1968, the year of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and the ensuing riots of pent up frustration from the years and years of Jim and Jane Crow abuse? Was it 1972, the year my father moved us from one town to the other and not long after, when a cross was burned in our front yard for the sin of my father wanting my step-brother to take Algebra at the integrated high school? Was it 1980,...
