I saw you looking me up and down as I walked into the same place you were headed–too. You were judging me and I caught you. You looked away–as if…..
I forgot about our brief encounter because well it really wasn’t relevant enough to dwell there–in that thought. I walked out. My business finished. There you sat on the ground. Clutching your chest, with a bleeding leg, squirming on the ground. I walk up to you. I am concerned about you, you look hurt, lonely, and confused. You refuse to acknowledge my nudging for more information. You try to ignore my advances to help. I stand there. I stand my ground.
I will not leave you in the state I have found you.
You are seventy-something, you are alone and you have fallen and cannot get up. I position myself to help you up as best as I can–you are somewhat bigger than me. You have informed me…without ever looking at me– not to get help from anyone inside of the building you have yet to enter. People come out. You look up. You look at them in the eyes, relieved for the help you really were praying for. You let them help you. You are very grateful and sweet to them. Even though I grab one of your arms to be the help to set you back in a standing position. I walk away.
You never once looked at me.
Dear white Sir, my desire to help you is not contingent upon your desire to hurt me. I understand you may believe my “black” may rub off on you but all I see is a precious human being, made by GOD, in a situation where he needs help. Sir, I don’t see you, I see your Creator. I see a heart, a soul, a person who is worthy of my help even if he believes I am less than.
The privilege of being human.
Dear Sir, who I am does not change because of who you are. It only solidifies my decision to be kind, loving, humble, and serving no matter the treatment of people involved. If it happened all over again I would have done the exact same thing…the exact same way. It doesn’t take anything away from me to give life, love, and grace to you. HE loves you…well so do I. Flaws and all.
The privilege of being human.
Privilege is responsibility. Interchangeable yet inseparable. My responsibility as a human being is defined as being human. Being, doing, loving, connecting, submitting, extending… as a human. My ability to respond comes through a shared human experience with other humans.
The GLORY of being human.
Did it sting? Your actions? A little. For about five seconds. Then I remembered nothing is either good or bad but thinking makes it so. So I stopped thinking and decided to just be what you needed in that moment.
Human.
Dear Sir, I forgive you. No harm no foul. No biggie. It was my privilege…a high honor.
I truly love you,
Annice
Growing Bright Ideas 