I grew up in an all-white elementary school. Well, that is until 7th grade when there was a small forced integration of several students who were brought into the neighborhood from an area east of Beverly, the community we grew up in. One of the students sat right behind me in history class, where we had to sit in alphabetical order and it just so happened that we were next to each other.
Up until that time, I lived in pretty much an all white world. Our neighborhood and church were completely white. In fact, to be honest, I didn’t know any African-Americans who traveled on the streets late at night. I never heard of it being a problem for anyone, but our grandfather actually had an extra bedroom in his home in case Ella, their housekeeper, decided to work late and wanted to spend the night rather than head home.
We had several people who worked at our home as well. I grew up with Hugh and Eloise, his wife. I remember as a very young boy, I used to ride on the vacuum as Eloise cleaned the house. Eventually, Eloise hurt her back and Hugh took over, helping us for years. We loved him as well. I don’t think my brothers and I loved anybody, outside our immediate family, more than Hugh and Eloise. But there was no question that we lived in different worlds.
While Hugh and Eloise had lived their entire lives with very limited civil rights, I had never been exposed to it before. One day, Hugh asked to be driven all the way home, as opposed to taking the bus as he usually did. I went with Mom into a neighborhood that was far from our home and not a place that we felt safe. Hugh assured us it would be okay. We stopped in front of the smallest house I have ever seen and Hugh insisted on showing us through their home. Eloise greeted us as well and we toured the house. At the end, Hugh said that it was the first house he and Eloise had ever owned – and they were in their late sixties or early seventies at the time. In fact, they wouldn’t let anyone else in the house until the Toussaint family had seen it. The downpayment had been saved from the years of work with our family.
I was in high school when Dr. King was assassinated. It was the most violent period of time I had ever experienced. Blacks and whites fought in the hallways. Friends were held at knifepoint and many people were hurt. I was actually attacked and severely beaten by three teenagers with a lead pipe and motorcycle chain. I was beaten senseless outside the drafting room on the third floor where my next class was to be held. No charges were ever filed and although I knew one of my attackers, it didn’t do any good.
I admit that I became prejudiced after witnessing the riots and destruction following Dr. King’s assassination. It was so different than my exposure to Hugh and Eloise during my childhood years….
That is, until I met George more than 20 years ago. It was awkward at our first meeting when once again, different, even opposite, worlds collided. George and I parted ways after that first meeting – he initially decided that I wouldn’t be a good fit for the career transition work that he needed help with. Months later, after fielding many calls from George, he asked to meet and buy me a cup of coffee. He proposed a plan and I agreed to pray about it. As I was getting ready to leave, he grabbed my hand and asked me to pray for him, on the spot, in the middle of a Panera Bread store. I prayed for him right then and there. I also agreed to work with him and to cut to the chase, three weeks later he landed a great job paying him more than he had ever earned. We became friends and I coached him for the next two decades, until his retirement.
During that 20 years, our relationship has grown into a true friendship. In fact, whenever there are things that come up about race, or a point of view that either of us doesn’t understand, we call each other and talk it out as dear friends. No judgment, just brotherly love. The way God intended it to be. We know about each other’s past, warts and all, and we are very close. Who would have thought that after all both of us have been through, we would value each other the way we do!
Recently, George was been diagnosed with ALS. He has asked me to walk this final chapter with him – and I will. He isn’t as strong as he was even several months ago – he’s failing faster than the VA imagined when he was diagnosed less than a year ago. We have set up a lunch every other week or more often if he feels up to it.He always asks me to bring him soup – you guessed it, from Panera! We talk about everything – our lives are open books to each other. Last week, I spoke about Hugh and Eloise and seeing their first home. He told me about being one of 12 Black students in a private high school of 350 boys on the northwest side of Indy. He had to pay his own way and it was a lonely time for him, testing his self esteem at every turn.
Our verse for tonight comes from the apostle Paul in his first letter to his young pastor friend, Timothy. Paul tells him, in 1 Timothy 2:1, “I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone…” As you can tell, this wasn’t so easy for me after years of being prejudiced, angry and hurt. But George has helped me through all that. My encouragement this evening is that Christ died for all of us – regardless of race, social standing or financial strength. My prayer is that you have been or will be blessed to have a George in your life! After all, we are all in this together. Have a great day in the Lord, grace and peace…