Arriving as if Arranged

At what point does the “Black Sheep” realize they’re “turning” black? When do they begin to notice that some outside source has designated them as bewildering or unorthodox enough? Perhaps when they’ve witnessed the sweet kindness of a stranger, and only that of a stranger; oddly enough, during even the most hectic of eras. If all who contributed to the foundation of your being come to find that your existence is a bit too trivial for them to develop a liking to it, then you may feel a bit challenged when it comes to creating and maintaining valuable long-standing relationships. That is, until you’ve found yourself dead smack in the middle of one of life’s most beautiful interventions.

I had to reach outside of my comfort zone to find someone that would recognize me. Very quiet externally, but a swirling vortex of mystification internally. Contrary to popular belief, it was a good mystification. Trouble was never an interest of mine, but the stress of constantly having to throw myself into the unknown to find acceptance at times had me grasping my “last straw”, and if someone snatched it well, that was the last straw. At the age of 17 I found myself unfortunately sentenced to a trial in teen court. The teen court judge mistook my intelligence and effort to not make his day any more frustrating than it had already been (up to that point) as a “witty smirk”, therefore labeling my statement as dishonest and arrogant. To my teen jury, my actual modest character was non-existent, and so they maxed out each option of retribution, striking a blow of disappointment to my heart that was not unfamiliar. Each day that I was summoned to be included in the teen court jury I was as quiet as a mouse, only speaking to speak out against a punishment I found to be too harsh and then returning to my wallflower state. Oddly enough, there was a nice, short, and thin framed African American girl there that would not stop speaking to me. I sensed she did not feel heard very often, so I chose to remain in her space and be her confidant.

One day I found myself stranded outside the courthouse; my parents of course had become tired of me plaguing their time with the demand of their parental duties. They refused to pick me up from teen court, ever thwarting any means to succeed in my life. The same girl was outside talking to me as I tried to explain to my parents their own role in my life yet again, in an effort to make my way home. All the while I was as patient and careless as ever. When I had not even the slightest ounce of care left as to whether or not I would be standing outside downtown at the courthouse all night, the girl offered me a ride home which I accepted. After a two hour long evening wait, a small older car pulled up in front of us being driven by an African American gentleman that looked to be in his mid-fifties. The girl introduced him as her uncle and sat in the passenger seat. I sat behind him, so that he would not be able to see me. They conversated as he drove and I saw that he was very outspoken and a bit loud, to be in a small car. He dropped the girl off at her destination first and then awkwardly insisted that I move to the passenger seat. I reluctantly complied, feeling as though I somehow owed him respect, him being my elder. The last time I had spoken to my parents was about two and a half hours prior to this moment, and although it was dark out, I was so used to their absence and nonchalant presence that I did not think to be in contact with them throughout the duration of this odd ride with a complete stranger. I had no idea that I was completely safe and if somehow possible, even better off.

I don’t know what compelled that man to speak to me so boldly, as if pleading that I believe him. Very soon after we began the leg to my father’s house, he became so enthralled in a rant that he’d begun to shout at me! So quickly and loudly that I was initially unable to capture his message and had immediately become alarmed! I found myself discreetly contemplating whether or not I needed to time my escape out of a moving vehicle and find help. Fortunately, calamity was no stranger to me and I was able to think calmly, camouflaging the fabrication of my escape plan by nodding my head and concurring blindly. He looked over at me tensed in my seat and, sensing my discomfort, using his right hand he hurriedly exposed the collar of his shirt. “Look, I'm a Pastor.” he said calmly yet sternly as he revealed the esteemed white band. I was shocked. A Pastor that really likes me? I thought. My own father had always told me this was something I would never encounter. The Pastor then proceeded to continue steering the car with his left hand but his right hand began waving around in expression of his enthusiasm while loudly repetitively proclaiming that I was special! My back was pressed against the passenger door as I stared on in awe and a smile was on my face! I felt a rush in my heart similar to that of a large wave crashing upon the shore! I had proof finally that I was someone, that I was not invisible. The Pastor continued to reveal to me that I was on earth to change it, and to never mind the ones that recognize my internal might and then try to extinguish it. All the while for the first time ever, my heart smiled and my strength grew. I finally had proof that my family was wrong about me.

As we reached my destination the Pastor reminded me yet again that I was special, giving me the first “push on the swing” that I needed to get the momentum in my heart going. We exchanged our salutations and he drove off as I faced my father’s house. I was reborn by that car ride. Still quiet, but now with purpose deep seated in my soul. I walked with a bold step, and my head held high. I walked through the haunted house up to my room with a newfound undefeatable strength within me. I didn’t know it then, but some force somewhere had just permitted that I begin my black sheep initiation.

During the years to come, I was doused in change and enlightenment. I felt I had a chance to succeed. My family though remained stuck in a never-ending self-imposed hurricane. At the age of 24 I found myself stuck in my father’s toxic web yet again as I was financially forced to move back to his house. To make my great escape I somehow made my way 17 hours up North, to Waterloo, Iowa. I tried desperately to separate myself from the toxicity conditioned into me by my upbringing. I found a job working overnight at a Walmart Supercenter, I will always miss that time. I established friendships full of laughs and my walls were naturally crumbling down. Still, there was the steadfast innermost wall.

My focus remained on establishing my success. I was able to rent a two-story white house that had a decent sized backyard, located in a large peaceful neighborhood. I made the trip down South to pick up my two dogs and bring them back up North. My landlords waived my $275 pet fee and my neighbors were kind to me. My coworkers had become close friends and helped me to make loose ends meet. I had everything I needed then, or so I thought. There was still one small yet persistent aggravation nibbling at my attention.

I woke up in a particularly numb state one evening and ran through my usual pre work regime. Afterwards I trekked the hour long walk to work to clock in by 11pm. Each coming hour of my shift was indifferent from the hours past, there was no urgency to arrive at the end of the workday. After autopiloting through to my last break, I walked out to the chilly parking lot with one of my most favored coworkers. We talked and shared a few laughs for about fifteen minutes, while my mind simultaneously wandered yet again. There was this lingering feeling of not being worthy of my friend’s time, or anyone's for that matter. As we ended our break and headed back inside Walmart, an old insecurity started to come over me. Why does this guy want to hang around me? Am I even good enough for this job? Why would anyone like me? We hadn't even reentered the building yet when my mind began to binge on thoughts that boosted my anxiety to a height that enabled me to submerge myself deeply back into my “couldn’t care less” persona. Then miraculously, someone arrived right on time.

There was a rush of words and rapid movement towards me! My eyes locked to the ground, I was caught off guard and startled! I prepped to defend myself from... a sweet older woman? Aggressively she grabbed each of my shoulders with such an unexpectedly strong force! I submitted, as to not harm her. Tensing I struggled to interpret her motive! Then her words. What was the language? The accent... was she an islander? Was she African? Her bright blue turban and brightly colored robe immediately made me feel as though she would relay a harsh judgmental truth to me, labeling my presence as a disgrace. To my surprise her next gesture was a heartfelt and hospitable hug, then it was her beautifully cheerful smile and teary eyes that ultimately snatched my attention. I felt myself calming and my ears heard clearer her words. She was praising me! She spoke so fast as I watched a tear role down her cheek. Then she quickly kissed mine, and frantically listed things about me that she felt she must proclaim. She told me I was a handsome young man that would do good things. I stood overcome of complete shock. With no regard at all to my personal space she sternly shook my shoulders again and again as she leniently demanded that I go to school and throughout the struggles of my life remained a good person. She told me I would be a great father, and I would have a great wife. Each word was jolting my heart back to life. She wanted me to know these things, to feel them deep within my heart. Kindly she kissed my cheek again, and gently held my face in her hands as she stared sentimentally into my eyes. Then she tearfully, as quickly as she had come about, left me standing there in a head spinning confusion. I have no memory of my own mother showing me such a compassion, what on earth would have compelled that woman to do such a thing? What was she saying at the start when she was speaking in the language I could not interpret? I regained my composure and started proudly walking through Walmart, all the way to the back of the store where the products are stored. I was still baffled by what had just happened to me, but it reminded me that I have some sort of legacy to live up to, and that I am in deed valuable.

The face of the woman in Walmart, the pastor exposing his white band, each of those memories remains fresh in my mind to this day. The feelings I felt in those moments, I feel them restored within me every morning I wake. They remind me that I am in fact a good black sheep whose pain came with a purpose. I have a unique story that has bestowed upon me unique capabilities, to create change where it was not before devised. Complete strangers revealed to me what I could not have seen in myself without hearing their kind words as soon as I did. How we crossed paths as such key and vital times still amazes me, and ever since I have thoroughly believed that I am making a positive difference in someone else’s life, as long as I continue to live mine to the greatest of my ability. Cheers, to the “Black Sheep”.