The Good life
2/5/09
The Good life
I walk the streets of life searching, looking in the faces of others trying to find that little piece of love and acceptance sown so often. With longing eyes and a craving heart, I pore over each glance, smile and frown hoping to see, what I pray others see in me. That place for those who are hurting and lost. A refuge of peace in the eye of the storm of selfishness, hurt, exclusion, judgement and rejecting. Diligently I explore the masses for love talked about in the Word. Excavating the ruins of a society that used to be, when people would speak when spoken to, smile when smiled at, respect those who gave them respect, honored those who came before them and prepared the way for those who came behind them. I find myself longing for the days when we had children because we wanted them, instead of because we slipped up. We fell in love, got married, built a life and died together, instead of falling in and out of love before we really get to know each other. When our lives revolved around, family, church and community, instead of revolving around, making money, getting things and pleasing our flesh. I miss the days when a mans word was his bond. I long for the days of community cookouts, with grills going, music, kids playing games, and no one getting into fights. Their was a time when, if you did something wrong, and was called on it, you apologized, took responsibly for your mistake and corrected it. Then didn’t do it again. Men took the responsibility of leading, and were effective at it so women had no problem letting them take control. Home was a place you felt safe, supported, respected and loved. Where you learned what you needed to survive life, and returned to escape when life gets to be to much. Instead of being a place to escape from, and try to never return. Church was a place you came to be healed, delivered, and set free, not judged, rejected and wounded. School was a place to be educated in the things that would help you be a productive member of society. You were taught by men and women who wanted to see you succeed, cared about what they were doing, took personal pride and responsibility for their students success, and were supported by the parents at home. When the community took pride in its self, and each other. Their was a time, in my life time when people thought more about the we than the me. You were looked down on for being about your four and no more. We did not need the police to occupy our community like a military force, because we took responsibility, not only for our own children, but for all the children in the neighborhood. I can remember the time when if I was acting up in the street, Sister Brown down the street would get me, take me home and I would get all over again. I knew I could not act up, because some one was always watching, so it made me think before I acted. I miss the days of life when you could look for love in the faces of others and find it. I walk the streets of life looking for the life I know still exists, if nowhere else but in my heart
Blessings
D.S. Marshall III
The Good life
I walk the streets of life searching, looking in the faces of others trying to find that little piece of love and acceptance sown so often. With longing eyes and a craving heart, I pore over each glance, smile and frown hoping to see, what I pray others see in me. That place for those who are hurting and lost. A refuge of peace in the eye of the storm of selfishness, hurt, exclusion, judgement and rejecting. Diligently I explore the masses for love talked about in the Word. Excavating the ruins of a society that used to be, when people would speak when spoken to, smile when smiled at, respect those who gave them respect, honored those who came before them and prepared the way for those who came behind them. I find myself longing for the days when we had children because we wanted them, instead of because we slipped up. We fell in love, got married, built a life and died together, instead of falling in and out of love before we really get to know each other. When our lives revolved around, family, church and community, instead of revolving around, making money, getting things and pleasing our flesh. I miss the days when a mans word was his bond. I long for the days of community cookouts, with grills going, music, kids playing games, and no one getting into fights. Their was a time when, if you did something wrong, and was called on it, you apologized, took responsibly for your mistake and corrected it. Then didn’t do it again. Men took the responsibility of leading, and were effective at it so women had no problem letting them take control. Home was a place you felt safe, supported, respected and loved. Where you learned what you needed to survive life, and returned to escape when life gets to be to much. Instead of being a place to escape from, and try to never return. Church was a place you came to be healed, delivered, and set free, not judged, rejected and wounded. School was a place to be educated in the things that would help you be a productive member of society. You were taught by men and women who wanted to see you succeed, cared about what they were doing, took personal pride and responsibility for their students success, and were supported by the parents at home. When the community took pride in its self, and each other. Their was a time, in my life time when people thought more about the we than the me. You were looked down on for being about your four and no more. We did not need the police to occupy our community like a military force, because we took responsibility, not only for our own children, but for all the children in the neighborhood. I can remember the time when if I was acting up in the street, Sister Brown down the street would get me, take me home and I would get all over again. I knew I could not act up, because some one was always watching, so it made me think before I acted. I miss the days of life when you could look for love in the faces of others and find it. I walk the streets of life looking for the life I know still exists, if nowhere else but in my heart
Blessings
D.S. Marshall III
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