christineyountjones.com

Category: Insights

  • Asking for Abby’s Hand…and the Rest of her, too, I Guess

    Asking for Abby’s Hand…and the Rest of her, too, I Guess

    I knew Devin’s intentions toward Abby–he had already told me that he wanted to marry her.

    But when Abby told me that Devin wanted to talk to me about something, I realized I wasn’t ready for him to ask. Of course, it was nothing against this amazing young man. Abby was crazy about him and I knew they were meant to be together.

    But I found myself stalling. I could’ve texted him earlier in the day but I kept putting it off. I would talk to him before the day was up, but I stalled.

    What was wrong with me? I had known he would ask me for her hand someday. He’s a Southern gentleman. And my friend Danielle says that Southerners are born with etiquette in their blood.

    I knew that I would say yes. Because Abby wanted me to say yes. But I stalled.

    I realized that now that it was really going to happen that I wanted to hold onto Abby just a little while longer as just being mine. Once Devin asked me that question and I said yes, she was no longer mine but ours.

    040

    I had no idea I would have these feelings but I stalled to just hang on a little longer…

    To the sweet girl who tells me I am her best friend.

    To the sweet girl who would later ask me to be her honorary matron of honor.

    To the sweet girl who I love having as a daughter.

    9085 - Copy

    To the sweet girl who is deeply in love with Devin.

    It was time to let go. And I stopped stalling.

    I told Devin that I had struggled with wanting to hold onto her just a little longer. And he understood.

    I told him that if I am going to give her to someone I couldn’t imagine anyone better than him.

    And now we’re days away from his proposal (made on Mike’s and my wedding anniversary) being fulfilled. I will walk her down the aisle and give her to Devin.

    I can’t even imagine what that is going to feel like. And I promise–no stalling on that day.

    8997 - Copy

  • Become Part of the Dream

    I was 5 years old the first time I encountered bigotry and prejudice. I had come home from kindergarten excited to announce that I had a boyfriend. But when I told my family his name, my father lost it. “You can’t have a Mexican boyfriend!” he demanded.

    I cowered behind the recliner, confused. I kept saying, “But he’s white!” At that tender age, I didn’t see color. And I didn’t understand that the boy’s name was all my dad needed to know. Perez. Joe Perez. I couldn’t understand why he was bad. Bigotry3853.

    Years later, my oldest son and I went to The King Center in Atlanta. We were horrified by the images of lynchings of African American people. And even more shocked to see that most of them happened in our state of Oklahoma. I remember being the only white people at the Center and getting some looks that made us aware we were the minority. I can’t say that I understand what it means to be a minority–the years of being looked at with suspicion and even disdain. And what that does to one’s spirit. But if prejudice is a lake, we took a sip of what it might be like that day.

    I will never understand how one set of people can hate another set simply because of the color of their skin. How one group can think they’re superior based on their race. It sickens and horrifies me. And generations of being looked at differently, treated with disdain, can become a filter that doesn’t go away easily.

    That’s why I love that we honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. And I hope that someday his dream will come true. That all races of little children can live together in harmony.

    One of my proudest moments as a mother was when my daughter came home and told me she’d been asked to the homecoming dance at her Christian school. I asked her what the boy’s name was and what he looked like. She described him and said that he had little curls among other descriptions; she didn’t even think to mention that he was black. That to me was precious–and evidence that perhaps I haven’t passed on a legacy of bigotry to my children.

    Perhaps we can all be part of Dr. King’s dream in big and little ways. That would be an answer to prayer.