about giving people flowers...

My Grandaddy, my Mom's Dad, used to always say, "Give people their flowers while they're living." He was a passionate preacher and hard-working patriarch who did not take no mess. He lived by strong spiritual truths and convictions and he held up the plumb line for others as well.   Before I tell you about the flowers scenario, I want to make sure you know that my  Grandaddy was gangster.  Seriously. He was too legit to quit decades before M.C. Hammer was even born.  Let me share a few gems from the treasure chest of memories:

When hoodlums vandalized our church, he got on the news with his shotgun and said he would shoot the people if they came back.  He was not joking.  And he may or may not have locked and loaded his shotgun during the interview...

tulips from my garden :)

Early meant on time for him.  He worked a job for 40+ years and was late by two minutes ONE time.  Yes, late one time in 40+ years.   An accident on the freeway brought traffic to a complete stop for 30+ minutes and this is the reason why he was two minutes late.  You'd think one slip up in 40+ years would be acceptable, ok even.  No.  He felt like that was a mar on his record.  Anytime he was going somewhere, he left waaaaay early and had NO problem leaving you if you weren't ready to go.  He left me and my Granny *plenty* of times before we finally gave up on the notion of riding anywhere with him. LOL

He sang loud and changed the key of the song whensoever he pleased.  We were song-jacked in church all the time.  And like idiots, we would continue to start out singing congregational hymns in the key of G only to be redirected to the key of C whenever he decided to come in singing, which was usually around the second stanza. 

He would call you out in front of Jesus, Mary, Saint Peter, Joseph and whoever else was present.  If you were doing foolywank, he had no problem letting you know the error of your ways and that he would not and could not co-sign on your foolery.  He meant it in love, but that did not stop the sting of the truth.  

So now that you know and understand his gangsterness, let me tell you about this sweet, tender and endearing flower saying.  It is the ultimate challenge to express love and appreciation to folks on the daily.  A reminder to let people know how I feel about them and what they mean to me while the blood is still running warm in our veins.  It is a reminder that I do not need to wait until someone has passed away to declare my love and their importance to me because I can do this everyday in many, many ways.  All that matters is that I do it.  I really try my best to let people know exactly what they mean to me. That I love them.  Dearly.  When my Grandaddy died and when my brother died, we did not buy flowers because we had already given them their flowers while they were living.  

Why don't you give someone a flower today?  Let their heart savor its precious scent knowing that unlike flowers from the store, these special flowers my Grandaddy was talking about will last forever and ever and ever. 

you're a racist

I had to say this to someone I love just the other day.  

We'll call this someone "Taylor" (that's a great unisex name, right?) 

Well, Taylor was going on and on about this particular race of people... how Taylor doesn't like this race of people, can't trust this race of people, doesn't understand/feel comfortable around this race of people and so on and so forth.  Taylor has felt this way for years.  Taylor verbalizes these thoughts and feelings to family and friends who say nothing to change or challenge Taylor's ignorant way of thinking.  (Man, I'm already tired of saying Taylor over and over... anonymity is something else...)  

Anyway, Taylor rails on and on with this racist foolywank diatribe that is appalling to me.  While I do have issues in my life to confront and work through (ie. extreme independence, fear, trust issues and so on...), I just don't see people in terms of race.  For me, people generally fall into two categories.  There are awesome people and there are jackasses.  People are free to wander from one category to the other at any time.  Awesome people come in all sizes, shapes and colors.  So do jackasses.  My goal is to live in the awesome category, but there are times (no lie) that (somehow) I am rolling with the jackasses.  I am always initially surprised about my entrance into jackass territory; however, once I realize I'm in the wrong category, I high tail it out of there, do my best to figure out where I took a wrong turn and attempt to avoid that particular exit in the future.  So glad that we can wander from one category to the other...

Back to Taylor's racist foolywank diatribe.  T's words were being spoken softly... and kindly even... Never before did I think the words racist and kind could mix in one sentence, but apparently they do ...in sentences and in real life all the time.  So when Taylor paused and looked at me leaning slightly forward as if waiting for a response, I paused and looked deep into Taylor's heart/eyes.  As kindly, lovingly and sincerely as possible, I said, "That's because you're a racist."  Taylor's eyes winced at the words a little bit; however, we both knew that the words spoken were true.  Without an exchange of words, we both acknowledged the truth as it reverberated throughout the room.  Then I saw Taylor's eyes change from openness to acceptance then resolve.  A pattern that I know all to well.  Openness (if only for a moment) to truth.  Acceptance, inner validation or re-commitment to my stance or position.  Resolve to stay there.  This path is always a detriment to self when change needs to take place.  Always.  Detrimental.  Sometimes.  Deadly.  Literally and/or figuratively.  I know this path and I purpose to avoid it at all costs because it's a bum deal.  A total dead end.  

My heart went out to Taylor as the truth resounded in echoes of silence.  Taylor learned these racist ideas and behaviors from a parent.  Sadly, this stance has become an invisible bonding point between them.  Taylor and said parent are both educated people who work everyday and contribute to their community in valuable and meaningful ways.  In the midst of the silence, I realized that I had to let go of my own stereotypes about expressions of racism.  I tend to think about sheets, burning crosses, backwoods/small towns and people who are ignorant and uneducated with a few rotten teeth.  Note to self: stop using stereotypes.

At this point in the conversation, it felt like there were one thousand invisible elephants in the room with dozens more appearing each second.  I didn't know what else to say besides "I love you, T."  So I did and then I left.  All the while wondering why I get the mean anointing...  why it's so tough to learn from each other, accept truth and make changes.  Taylor is racist.  I am not.  T could learn from me.  I am extremely independent.  Taylor is extremely dependent.  I could learn from T.  I don't have a witty ending for this one, folks.  Just a dream that someday we will learn from each other and help each other evolve.  Let it begin with me.   

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