Father's Day and Racial Justice
I haven't written in awhile. This season has been hard. To me, it would be disingenuous to write about anything but COVID-19 or racial unrest in America. But speculations, opinions and theories are so rampant, and I'm not inclined to add to the ubiquity. I feel under-qualified to consider my words worthy of reading in addition to everything else.
However, for me, Father's Day recently collided with a socially relevant topic, and I will take that opportunity to tell you about my dad. He grew up in the country, very poor. His dad was a coal miner, his mom was a seamstress at a factory, and he had 5 siblings. They hunted or grew most of their food. He went to a one-room school. He and his 2 brothers shared one bike; they all rode it together, one on the handle bars, one standing in the middle and one on the seat, pedaling. He wore his dad's shoes to his first day of school. And they fit. But I digress.
Daddy went to Tennessee Tech on a basketball scholarship, but ultimately he lettered in baseball as well. He hitchhiked to school, except for his first visit when he drove his high school's driver's ed car. He had all his belongings in a small suitcase, and that included his pillow. The basketball team he played on did not have black players, but he recruited the first two black players at Tech. The weekend those recruits visited the school, mom and daddy invited them to church. A "member" there, said they would no longer contribute to the church if black people attended. (What?) Eventually, he played minor league baseball and during training, he and mom had a small apartment. He talked to the apartment manager about possibly letting two of the black players and their families stay in apartments in the same building. She had to "think on it," but she allowed it. During his coaching career, he broke boundaries in two communities by playing black students on the high school basketball teams. Like his college and professional experiences, he encountered love, respect, hate, and rejection. But he continued to do what he thought was the right thing.
One time I asked Daddy, "You grew up in a town that I'm guessing didn't have many black people. Then you went to college, played ball and coached, and you saw racism. What do you think kept you from thinking the way most people were thinking at the time?" He said, "I guess I never thought I was better than anybody else." Simple answer really. Humility. It motivated him to help those whom others thought were lesser, and it also helped him facilitate situations with white people who didn't think like he did.
We were by no means rich, yet Daddy gave generously. I don't know how many people received big screen tvs or cars when we got new ones, he co-signed loans, gave away countless tennis shoes (I remember his small coach's office being full of boxes of tennis shoes), and he got players the vaccines they needed but could not afford.
In 2018, Daddy was honored by the high school in our hometown of Franklin, KY, and the basketball court was named after him. The gym was full for the ceremony, which occurred during halftime of a ballgame. Afterwards, we attended a reception where many of his former players and coaches gathered to tell stories and pay respect to him. It was kind of incredible because it was like a funeral, but he was still alive! Even then we were hearing stories we'd never heard, about his impact on racial relations in our community. I was so glad his grandchildren were there to hear how one person can make a difference just by seeing people as people and doing the right thing.
Most of us are not called to do something big and noticeable that pays a lot, or wins awards and fame with the masses. Some of us may have a hard time facing that truth. It feels good to be acknowledged for a talent, an accomplishment or a trait that makes us special in the eyes of others. But focusing on a goal like that, may distract us from the many, seemingly smaller good things we can choose daily. I know that Daddy wasn't focused all those years on being recognized some day for his actions. In fact, I believe he would say the best part about being recognized, was having his family together and getting to reunite with so many people he hadn't seen in years. To him, relationships far outweigh recognition.
As I'm writing this I'm also working through a Bible study workbook, and today's lesson was in Matthew 18:1-9. The disciples asked Jesus, "So who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" (The question alone reveals a lot about our hearts as humans.) His answer is to become like children, from which you can extract several lessons, but he specifically says, "whoever humbles himself like this child," is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. A child is humble because he knows that others know better, he asks for help, he strives to please his father. A child doesn't even know where he's going most of the time, but someone he trusts is driving the car so he rides along without fear.
Ironically, the greatest in the kingdom of heaven is one who isn't interested in being the greatest, anywhere. We spend a lifetime learning that our time here, our purpose, is not about us. It's about seeking God, seeing His image in others, trying to learn from others and share what we've learned (relationship)...it's about leading with love and using what we have to do what we can, to benefit those around us. I hope I can follow in my daddy's footsteps and find contentment in seeing people as people, and humbly but fearlessly doing the right thing, day after day. May I be fulfilled not by wealth, fame or recognition, but by representing my Heavenly Father well and reflecting his love for ALL of his children.
However, for me, Father's Day recently collided with a socially relevant topic, and I will take that opportunity to tell you about my dad. He grew up in the country, very poor. His dad was a coal miner, his mom was a seamstress at a factory, and he had 5 siblings. They hunted or grew most of their food. He went to a one-room school. He and his 2 brothers shared one bike; they all rode it together, one on the handle bars, one standing in the middle and one on the seat, pedaling. He wore his dad's shoes to his first day of school. And they fit. But I digress.
Daddy went to Tennessee Tech on a basketball scholarship, but ultimately he lettered in baseball as well. He hitchhiked to school, except for his first visit when he drove his high school's driver's ed car. He had all his belongings in a small suitcase, and that included his pillow. The basketball team he played on did not have black players, but he recruited the first two black players at Tech. The weekend those recruits visited the school, mom and daddy invited them to church. A "member" there, said they would no longer contribute to the church if black people attended. (What?) Eventually, he played minor league baseball and during training, he and mom had a small apartment. He talked to the apartment manager about possibly letting two of the black players and their families stay in apartments in the same building. She had to "think on it," but she allowed it. During his coaching career, he broke boundaries in two communities by playing black students on the high school basketball teams. Like his college and professional experiences, he encountered love, respect, hate, and rejection. But he continued to do what he thought was the right thing.
One time I asked Daddy, "You grew up in a town that I'm guessing didn't have many black people. Then you went to college, played ball and coached, and you saw racism. What do you think kept you from thinking the way most people were thinking at the time?" He said, "I guess I never thought I was better than anybody else." Simple answer really. Humility. It motivated him to help those whom others thought were lesser, and it also helped him facilitate situations with white people who didn't think like he did.
We were by no means rich, yet Daddy gave generously. I don't know how many people received big screen tvs or cars when we got new ones, he co-signed loans, gave away countless tennis shoes (I remember his small coach's office being full of boxes of tennis shoes), and he got players the vaccines they needed but could not afford.
In 2018, Daddy was honored by the high school in our hometown of Franklin, KY, and the basketball court was named after him. The gym was full for the ceremony, which occurred during halftime of a ballgame. Afterwards, we attended a reception where many of his former players and coaches gathered to tell stories and pay respect to him. It was kind of incredible because it was like a funeral, but he was still alive! Even then we were hearing stories we'd never heard, about his impact on racial relations in our community. I was so glad his grandchildren were there to hear how one person can make a difference just by seeing people as people and doing the right thing.
Most of us are not called to do something big and noticeable that pays a lot, or wins awards and fame with the masses. Some of us may have a hard time facing that truth. It feels good to be acknowledged for a talent, an accomplishment or a trait that makes us special in the eyes of others. But focusing on a goal like that, may distract us from the many, seemingly smaller good things we can choose daily. I know that Daddy wasn't focused all those years on being recognized some day for his actions. In fact, I believe he would say the best part about being recognized, was having his family together and getting to reunite with so many people he hadn't seen in years. To him, relationships far outweigh recognition.
As I'm writing this I'm also working through a Bible study workbook, and today's lesson was in Matthew 18:1-9. The disciples asked Jesus, "So who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" (The question alone reveals a lot about our hearts as humans.) His answer is to become like children, from which you can extract several lessons, but he specifically says, "whoever humbles himself like this child," is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. A child is humble because he knows that others know better, he asks for help, he strives to please his father. A child doesn't even know where he's going most of the time, but someone he trusts is driving the car so he rides along without fear.
Ironically, the greatest in the kingdom of heaven is one who isn't interested in being the greatest, anywhere. We spend a lifetime learning that our time here, our purpose, is not about us. It's about seeking God, seeing His image in others, trying to learn from others and share what we've learned (relationship)...it's about leading with love and using what we have to do what we can, to benefit those around us. I hope I can follow in my daddy's footsteps and find contentment in seeing people as people, and humbly but fearlessly doing the right thing, day after day. May I be fulfilled not by wealth, fame or recognition, but by representing my Heavenly Father well and reflecting his love for ALL of his children.
Comments
Both your earthly father and Heavenly Father are very proud of the Godly woman you are. You are intentional and authentic in how live your life. You give the love that has been given to you. Your heart is in the right place. Thanks for sharing this story and know that for me as an African American woman and your friend, you words are well received and just as it has touched me, I hope it will touch others and that we all need to remember what our Abba has instructed us all to do:
Matthew 22:36-40 New International Version (NIV)
36 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’[a] 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b] 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
Continue in your work that God has called you to do and to walk out the legacy your dad began.
Your sister in Christ,
Karla