Dreams

My wife and I had our first child about 15 months ago, shortly after moving to Selma. Fatherhood has been one of the great learning experiences of my life, and I've consistently been awed by the growth of our little one and humbled by the many occasions where my interactions with her highlight the need for further growth in myself.

One of the memories I expect I'll have with me for the rest of my life was the day my daughter was born. I imagine I could write fifty blog posts about the unique experiences of that day. I'll limit myself to one for now.

After she went through the bathing and vaccinating regimen that follows birth and came back to Mom and me, the little one was pretty tired. I watched her as she first dozed, then went into deep sleep. She lay there peacefully, her eyes dancing back and forth under her eyelids. It had been quite some time since I had watched someone sleep, but I remembered learning somewhere that what I was observing is called REM (rapid eye movement) sleep and is the sleep phase commonly associated with dreaming.

I remember being struck by this. What, I wondered, could a child who had lived all of three hours in this world possibly have to dream about?

In the intervening months, I've been witness to many wonder-filled firsts, from her first smile to her first tentative steps, and even her first successful try at using the potty. She's mastered her balance and her first hundred or so words and is growing quickly into quite a little lady. I no longer wonder what the stuff of her dreams is, as she has an active imagination and a year's worth of experiences to draw on.

In addition to the joys of raising up our little one, I've had the great privilege of getting to meet and spend time with a group of Selma's young people in the past year. About a week ago, I found myself in a room full of boys ranging in age from 12 to 19. They're in one of the key formative stages of their young lives, and we got to talking about their dreams.

A couple of the older boys started sharing about the interactions they've had with a few Freedom Foundation volunteers who have invested a lot in them. Both boys reported a renewed sense of hope from the experiences of the past year. One said that for the first time in his life, he could see a future for himself as something other than a professional athlete, a rapper, or a drug dealer. The odds of anyone making it big in pro sports or the music industry are pretty slim, so the last of this trio of options, while the least appealing, is also the most likely for a young person with such a limited pool of dreams.

I left our time that night thinking about the power of dreams. Not pie-in-the-sky, never-gonna-happen fantasies or sickly, this-is-the-best-you-can-hope-for nightmares, but grand dreams bolstered by the substance of positive experience. Once dream-deprived young people begin to learn that they're capable of more than what they've seen and done in the past, the trajectory of their future tends to change radically. Suddenly, they find themselves asking questions like “Who says I have to settle for the mold society tries to force me into when it doesn't represent who I am?” and “Why couldn't I go to college—even if no one in my family has before?” and “What's to say I can't turn out to be a great dad and a supportive husband?”

As for those two boys who shared about their new set of dreams? One is a first-year student at a local college. He's a natural leader, a nonconformist, and an increasingly positive influence on those around him. The other, a junior in high school, has learned to drop the hard façade he used to hide behind to protect himself and fit in among his peers. He's rediscovering the freedom to be the sensitive young man who got lost in the transition from junior high to high school. Both have sweet hearts, as evidenced by the ways they interact with little Sophia—I'm finding that as her dad, I'm developing a sense for when someone really loves her. I'd say they make a fine pair of older brothers, and I sure hope as she grows up they'll help teach her to dream big.

Jubilee 2009

Today, I marched through Selma for my second Jubilee weekend. One year ago, I sang in a diverse choir at Brown Chapel, and absorbed the remarks of John Lewis, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson. That bright Sunday morning, the sun peered through the stained glass windows, and shined right onto a young African American teenager who stood up in her pew to interrupt John Lewis' talk. She asked if she could say something to Congressman Lewis, and even though someone tried to stop her breach of protocol, she insisted on continuing her sentiments. As someone whispered to Mr. Lewis that the spirit was moving her, he let her continue.

She thanked Mr. Lewis for his courage, and for everything he did during the movement as a young man, and told him that if not for his actions, she would never have the opportunities that she has today.

She then walked up to the front and gave him a hug. The service continued. This small gesture was reminiscent of the days of the civil rights movement mass rallies--they sang when the spirit said sing and they spoke when the spirit said speak.

This time around, I marched once again down Selma's Martin Luther King Boulevard, up Selma Avenue, and onto Broad Street, which leads to the Edmund Pettus Bridge. The sun beat down on our heads, and I listened to a young journalism major from California share about her interest in social justice. She talked about her recent experience with interviewing Los Angeles Skid Row transients, and marching next to her reminded me of old photos that I've lost myself in, of the everyday people who came to Selma in 1965 to make a difference.

Mostly young people, these marchers saw injustice and pursued this opportunity to fight for a cause. This year, as I sat among 400 SCLC members in church, I was reminded that Bloody Sunday wasn't a march with thousands of marchers like the March on Washington, but one of just 200 dedicated freedom fighters. These individuals stepped outside the doors of Brown Chapel, and trodded beyond the warnings of danger to that Edmund Pettus Bridge, because sometimes it only takes a few to provoke an enormous impact. Sheyann Webb shared that participating in this march as a young child left the greatest imprint of any event in her life. I understand now, more than ever, that no matter how young or old a person is, no matter how light or dark their skin color, and no matter what their level of education, a person with both conviction and courage to stand for the right thing can help spark a change that would be worth interruping church for.

Winning the Jonathan Daniels Award

The Jonathan Daniels Youth Award has got to be my most prized possession as of now. I am honored to call it mine. I’ll give you a short synopsis of my story.

I am the son of a recovering alcoholic and a no-show dad. Pretty sad, huh? Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be here today. But I don’t love the method of parenting they used to raise my siblings and me.

Due to my mother’s alcoholism and her poor choice in husbands, my family grew up in poverty. But that’s not completely bad in itself. Being poor has a way of humbling one (the glass half full).

Over the years that passed I found myself struggling severely. It was partly because of the poverty and the lack of guidance I received from parents, but also because of the lack of spiritual guidance I received. This all changed in the fall of 2007. I transferred to a new school and met a really cool teacher I’ll call “Sylvia McIntyre.”

Sylvia was an angel. She connected me with her church (now OUR church) and got me that spiritual guidance I desperately needed. Soon I found new confidence and freedom I never knew existed inside of me. The Lord really touched me over time and moved in ways that astounded me such as getting into the college of my choice (miracle!).

And then I found myself at Martin Luther King program sponsored by the volunteer organization I am a part of (the Freedom Foundation). I thought I was simply giving a speech to encourage the youth, but I learned that there was an award to be presented with my name on it!

Once again, I’m honored to own the Jonathan Daniels Youth Award. It represents the change that God has done in me. The character that he’s growing in me. And it looks cool! Come on, people, I’m eighteen, I had to throw in the word “cool” to let you know just how hip I am!