When director at an inner city ministries serving primarily children and families living at or below the poverty level, I was blessed to meet a diverse group of people who enriched my life.

The majority of them were African American and their life experience had created some angst within when it came to white people.  White middle class ladies like me.

Walking alongside of them, I came to understand where their angst came from and wished with my whole being that other persons could see from this vantage point.  I still wish that.

Like my trips across the world, this trip across town, humbled me, challenged me, changed me.

This true story brought me to my knees.

One little black girl...I shall call her Tanisha...and her white teacher.....I shall call her Mary...and Mary's son...I shall call him Mark....simply put flesh on the word HOPE.

Mary was a teacher with our 1st graders.  She always ended class with a prayer.  One day she said that she thought they should pray for one of the interns who was in the hospital.  Tanisha raised her hand and asked if the intern was white.  Mary said she was.

Tanisha said, "I ain't gonna' pray for any white girl."

Mary called me very concerned wondering what she should have done; asking me to speak with Tanisha.

I assured her that I would and hung up feeling the weight of it all....six years old and already blocking out someone who is another color...and it could have been the same in reverse....or with ANY mix of race or ethnicity.

Happens ALL the time with adults.

But a child?

I prayerfully planned to sit with Tanisha the next week but before I had a chance to do so, Mary shared what had happened that day.

Here is the HOPE.

Mary came to class but had to bring her son, Mark, as he had broken his arm....same age as Tanisha.

When Tanisha got to class, she was VERY agitated because she had lost her homework and was afraid to go home without it.  She told Mary she was sure she knew where it was.  It was getting dark as the days were shortening and Mary did not want her to go out there herself but also wasn't keen on going out there with her (we were in the community with the highest police activity)...

....BUT, that is exactly what she did.  She left her son and the other children with the assistant and took Tanisha's hand and away they went to find this homework.

When I asked her why, she said, "I would do no less for my own child."

They walked down streets that made Mary's heart pound while Tanisha just skipped alongside her. Finally, they got to an empty lot at the end of a dead end street;  amid the gravel, dirt, trash, Tanisha bent down and picked up a tiny folded piece of paper and said, "Here it is!"

As they walked back to the church in the dark, Mary said she could not get there fast enough but Tanisha was holding her hand and skipping and chattering away.  Up ahead coming toward them was a police car.

 Mary said she felt immediate relief.

Tanisha, however, tightened her grip on Mary's hand, stopped skipping and said, "Just keep walking and don't look at them and maybe they won't stop."

What brought relief to one brought fear to another.

True. Story.

So, they get back to church.  Both relieved.  Class almost over.  Time for prayer.

Mary is just about at the end of her prayer and Tanisha interrupts her.

"Aren't we going to pray for Mark and his broken arm?"

Aren't we going to pray for the little WHITE boy?

Told you....starts in 'black and white' and ends in 'color'.

Why?

Because Mary took hold of that child's hand and gave her a glimpse of  what Jesus looks like....of what God's love looks like....of what I believe this world is MEANT to look like.

"I would do no less for my own child."

As simple as that.

But, it  isn't that simple, is it?

But, then again, maybe it is.

                                                             Grab a hand and walk...

                                                             
                                                             

 ....toward HOPE.

PLEASE.