Friends, if I had my way, I’d write light and fluffy, cotton candy-filled pieces that make you and me feel like a million bucks. I’d skim the surface and I’d not muddy the waters. I’d laugh and I’d never cry. I’d accept every answer on face value instead of asking the hard questions.
I’d also then never be challenged, and I’d never have to grow, and I’d stay the same and believe the same and, except for the Jennifer Aniston cut I rocked in the late nineties, I’d probably look the same, too.
But who wants that?
And how’s that for living?
Today’s post (on my blog) is short, but this story you’ll soon read is one that’s been ruminating in my insides for a good while now. It’s a story of my journey into issues of racial justice. It’s a story of meeting the HBH (Hot Black Husband), and it’s a story of learning about the impact his father made not only for African Americans in this country, but for all humans, everywhere.
It’s a story of God, and it’s a story of what we want to pass on to our boys, now and in the future. It’s a story of how our children are already teaching us to see differently and live differently and love most differently.
It’s a story that has come to change me, and I hope it changes you, too.
I don’t expect you to agree with everything I’ve written, but I sure hope it makes you think.
So, click here to read the article …and enjoy all the pictures along the way, too!
PS: If you like it, sprinkle around some love and share it on Facebook. Also, if you haven’t already, will you like my Facebook page? My future agent and publishing house thanks you!0