Just over a week ago, I was seated in an airplane with my husband and two kids, strapped in and praying for an easy flight (and landing!) to Atlanta, GA. We were there for a week, enjoying some hot weather, Southern food and those accents that are smooth as butter melting on hot pancakes. It was a check mark off my bucket list that coincided with a professional conference my husband attended...it was neat how that worked out. One of the reasons I have always wanted to be in that neck of the woods is my deep interest in civil rights - and as you may know, Atlanta is the birthplace of a one-in-a-million man named Martin Luther King, Jr. The highlight of my trip was our visit to his birth home, his old neighbourhood, the church in which he preached and his grave. It's given me much to think about and write about.
The first time I bought a book about a great leader was in elementary school - I ordered a scholastic book about Nelson Mandela which still rests on my bookshelf, waiting for my children's eager eyes (I hope!). Even when I was younger than that, I cried at any sight of injustice in my eyes - from an old man riding his bike (he should have had someone drive him in a car, my 5 year old self had thought!) to those infomercials depicting the plight of African children. Yes, I remember climbing down the stairs in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, turning on the TV and bawling my eyes out at the poor children. I was probably 8 years old. Throughout high school I continued to show this passion for human rights - I got choked up reading an assignment in class that I wrote from the point of view of a First Nations child, I read the autobiography of Malcolm X and Roots by Alex Haley. I corresponded with a not-for-profit organization about ending gang violence. I felt deeply about every bit of injustice in this world...until one day, I remember distinctly thinking to myself, I figured I just couldn't change any of it. And that was it. It was easier for me to just believe that and carry on, fingers crossed that things would work out for everybody. That was because I was surrounded by too many people whose minds I could not change. If I couldn't change the points of view of people close to me, how would I take on the world?
Anyway, my world has changed. Now the people closest to me are my children and my husband and all 3 of them show signs of this beautiful side of humanity. It inspires me to be who I am because I want my children to be who they are. I hope that they can embrace this world with an open mind. The close-mindedness in the environment of my youth shut down that part of me that thought it was ok to stand up for equality and for my belief that all people are equal regardless of religion, race or anything else.
That part of me is being nurtured now, I am feeding it with the volunteer work I do, and the conversations I have with like-minded people. It is not too late for any of us to remember the passions we were born with. In fact, that is a really good exercise that I came across somewhere...if you want to know what type of career you should be pursuing, try to remember what you enjoyed as a 10 year old.
I am looking forward to this ride I feel like I'm just jumping on again - this time with the skills and (sometimes) level-headedness of a 33 year old woman.
Thanks for reading...
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