My Two Cents
February 1, 2017, 12:00 AM

As I rolled into Snellville, just east of Atlanta, to visit my Uncle Bob and Aunt Barb (who are, like so many others, regular Sower readers!) I was greeted by a new landmark- The Tu Lein     Buddhist Temple now sits on- get this- Lenora Church Road near their home. The Buddhists seem to be doing well in Snellville. Who knew?

I am blessed to be able to play tennis on most Saturday mornings during the winter. We have a fun group of guys that often includes Mitul, Kiran, and Sujay. All three were born in India, practice Hinduism, celebrate Christmas, have advanced educational degrees, and are very gracious when they smoke one past me at the net.  One time Kiran said, “Don’t hurt the priest!”

One of the many things I love to do at work is take brief walks down the back hallway while School is in session. The sound of kids being kids makes my heart smile. So do the faculty pictures of Maru, Yashu, Aasia, Xiomy, Anagha, and the other teachers whose families come from around the world and around the block, and who work very hard in our building every day.

Most times I go to our grocery store, I am clearly in the minority of my fellow shoppers at      Shoppers. And when we recently replaced our front porch, I enjoyed the sound of the Spanish spoken by the craftsmen, but I couldn’t understand a word.

One reality for all of us here in the old U.S. of A is that in 30 years white folks will be outnumbered by people of color. By the time this is the case, I have a hunch that the people living in that world won’t think a thing about it. A casual glance through the classroom window at our school confirms this prediction. It’s like the United Nations in there!

Thirty years. Ah, but in the meantime…

In the meantime it remains to be seen how those of us who have grown accustomed to our majority status will behave. Recent current events indicate that the road toward true multi-culturalism will be bumpy. But, whenever I get   discouraged I walk down the back hallway of our Christian Church and I imagine those children as grown-ups advising the president on foreign      policy.

Thirty years. The countdown is on, moving us    toward a time when Crayola will have to make a whole box of crayons marked, “flesh”. In the meantime, I hope and pray that the followers of that very special person of color, Jesus of Galilee, might lead the way by looking for the divine in all of God’s people just like he did.




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