I served as the guest preacher at Village Baptist Church in Bowie, Maryland this morning. The pastor, Dr. Bruce Salmon, graciously provided me the opportunity to proclaim the message of Christ, a message that I can not share often enough. Each time that I share the good news of Jesus Christ, I get excited as if it is the first time that I am hearing it and the first one to share it with others. It was also Communion Sunday and so my husband and I had the opportunity to serve together.
Tonight, I was going through some notes from earlier drafts of a book I’ve been working on for a couple of years now and stumbled upon a poem that I had written about ten years earlier. It reminded me of the need to slow my pace a bit and allow readers to catch up as my journey to the race- less life has been a process. There have been experiences and most importantly, words that have allowed me to arrive at this desired place. And it has not been easy or painless. This particular poem reflects my need for a home, a mother country to belong to. I pray that these words bring clarity and understanding.
Sometimes, I feel like a motherless child No entry, no beginning No two to become one so that I can be As if there was never a place created especially for me To grow and come to life Sometimes, I feel like a motherless child No history, no hope No time to call my own A second, a minute, an hour, a day designated just for me A time for me, a time about me I live in a time without me Sometimes, I feel like a motherless child No calming voice, no soothing touch No body to call my own No body to call my home Its color, its hair, its culture does not belong Along way from homeSo, how has race left you feeling? What questions does race raise or leave unanswered? Have you ever felt like a motherless child in terms of your social or personal identity?
Special Note: “Motherless Child” is a “Negro” spiritual that dates back to the era of American slavery when children were sold away from their parents because of their social position.