Poet Laureate

Paula agreed. “Yes, there was that mutuality of the relationships we spoke about. Both were helping and being helped. Healing really is layered and complex. God's love is always surprising and shows up in unexpected places.” Joel had been moved by the way Gary had ended the story. “I can imagine Gary's brother John scribbling his poems on bits of paper, leaving them behind as gifts for his family to find once he had gone. It makes me think of the many verses of scripture I've loved, and I realize that they are God's words, left as poems, as gifts for us. I think that Gary and his family would find comfort in 2 Corinthians 12:9a ‘And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Definitely one of my favorite verses!” Amy offered, “Yes, God's poetry comes clearly to us when we need it. Can I share another story, one that my friend Shirley sent me? It is a very different story about a poet, but it also reminds me of the far-reaching power of Grace.”

I was a 12-year-old African American girl attending the neighborhood parochial school. It was the 1960s, and I was preparing for entry into the 9th grade, high school. I loved learning and being at school. My parents enrolled me in the school because the local public school was overcrowded and only offered half-day school. They were determined to provide me with the best education a laborer and housewife could buy. They believed that God had a purpose for my life and that a quality education was my ticket to fulfilling my purpose. It was a time of racial and civil unrest in Chicago. Our neighborhood was a community of African Americans who had migrated from the South in search of the promised land and freedom from the Jim and Jane Crow laws of the Deep South. These laws promoted and upheld black people being treated as less than the Imago Dei of our Christian scriptures. The neighbors who settled in my community were primarily a religious group who attended the local Baptist church. Every child belonged to the neighbors, so it was not uncommon to be corrected, affirmed and redeemed by the encouraging words of biblical scriptures. Every child belonged to the neighbors, so it was not uncommon to be corrected, affirmed and redeemed by the encouraging words of biblical scriptures.

Wasn’t I good enough? Was it because of my skin color? How could a religious institution be racist?

On October 22, 1963, 225,000 students boycotted Chicago's public schools to protest racial segregation and unequal conditions in white and black schools. Many marched through the city, calling for the resignation of School Superintendent Benjamin Willis. I was aware of the injustice. I felt hurt and angry. My parents discussed it with me, but I never thought it would come to my front door. As was the custom, students who plan to attend high school take entrance examinations at the schools of their choice in January. The principal of my school advised my best friend and me to take the exam at a parochial college preparatory school. We were her top two students. With our parents, we took her advice, hoping we would both be accepted and enrolled in the school's Fall semester. In anticipation of receiving our acceptance letters, my friend and I ran home to open our letters from the school. Both letters said: “Unfortunately, you have not scored high enough to be accepted for the next school year. Your capacities suggest that you are better suited for a vocational school.”

Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I read the words of denial and non-acceptance. This was not what I expected. It was not what my parents or neighbors expected to hear. I struggled to understand why we were denied entrance to the school. Some of the questions I asked my parents and teachers were: How could I fail the test? Did I really fail the test? If our principal was right about our knowledge, why was I rejected? Wasn’t I good enough? Was it because of my skin color? How could a religious institution be racist? We shared the results with the nun, who was our principal. She immediately said, “This cannot be correct. You are two of my best students. You've been testing high on standardized tests.” She requested and was given permission to retest us. The results showed that we could do 10th and 11th-grade level work. She reported her results to no avail. We were accepted and enrolled in another parochial college prep high school. My heart was broken by the injustice of being excluded so unfairly, and it was only through Grace and the wisdom and faith of my parents and godmother that I came through it stronger. They reminded me of who I was and who we are as African Americans. They showed me the following scriptures to reassure me of God's Grace and love; “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them…” (Genesis 1:27 NRSV).

“For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well” (Psalm 139: 13-14 NRSV). “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). They also reminded me of a favorite song that I’d learned in Sunday School.

Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so

Little ones to Him belong. They are weak, but He is strong!

Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me.

The Bible tells me so! Then we all started singing it while sitting around the kitchen table. I felt so much better. “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus”

(Galatians 3:28).

Joel hummed the song as Amy told the story. “I remember that song so well too. I’m sure that Shirley then understood that God loved her, and she could overcome anything.” Amy nodded. “Yes, and knowing that, she realized that she should not see or judge herself on what people said or did to her but on what God had to say. The incident and the support she received gave her the resilience to keep moving forward with the knowledge that God had a purpose for her life and that nothing could stop His good plan. But there’s more. Let me tell you the rest of her story.”

This faith gave me the hope and courage I needed to confront systems of oppression that said that I and others who share my social location were incapable or less than who God said we are as a people, kissed by nature's sun.

This hope and courage carried me through many doors that society and systems of oppression had closed for people of color born into financial poverty and spiritual wealth. It gave me the privilege of education, positions and relationships that allowed me to fulfill my purpose as a Pastoral Midwife who labors with the oppressed and witnesses and celebrates new birth and liberation. Thanks be to God!