Skip to main content

A Sunday Story (Joseph Michael Benoit - Iowa, LA)

As it happens, it rained, Saturday night. This is not an uncommon occurrence, and was expected. That's why I parked the motorcycle in the parking tower, and arranged for a friend to return me to my hotel room. I knew that I could get another ride, or take a cab. No worries.
After a sound sleep, a hot shower, and a breakfast that someone else cooked, I called a taxi service recommended by a hotel employee.(I like recommendations, and refer to the name of the person that gave it). The person I spoke to told me that it would be at least 45 minutes before they could get to me....
meh
Really though....I was in no hurry. There were no deadlines to meet. The motorcycle was safe, and I could use another cup of coffee, while reading some of the Sunday paper.
Plus....I got to sit in the lobby, and quietly make uncomfortable the property manager...but that's another story.
Anyway, at approximately the exact time that I was told to expect the cab, it arrived. smile emoticon So, honesty first, integrity second, promptness third....which was soon followed by congeniality. Humility came fifth, as the driver apologized for how long it took to get to me.
He told me of having to cover two shifts, which left him no time to get a haircut. Not being able to get a haircut, he felt that he shouldn't go to church; and this dismayed him. unsure emoticon He just felt uncomfortable, going into church, his hair unkempt.
I took a moment, and then told him to think about that...the reason why he hadn't gotten a haircut.
Next, I told him to consider the reason WHY he went to church. I told him to consider WHO gave him THE reason to go to church. And then I told him to seriously think about the sermons that Yeshua would give, to whom Yeshua gave the sermons, and where Yeshua actually met with the multitudes, to give sermons.
He just kept shaking his head, in agreement. I gave him a moment to let things sink in.
After a few moments, I then told him to think about that haircut, and why it interfered with him Sharing Spirit.
It was because of what he thought that others might think of him, and his lack of a haircut.
Then, I reminded him that he went to church for a different reason. I reminded him that those who judged him for his hair, or for wearing work clothes to church, weren't there with Spirit in their hearts. I reminded him that he was there to find Peace and comfort in Sharing Spirit, not to parade before a judge-mental few, who deemed themselves the arbiters of what is Holy, and what is heretical.
I did not admonish him. In fact, I encouraged him to find the time between fares, and go to church, just as he was, which was the best that he could. I encouraged him to walk with his head high, and a smile on his face, because he did in fact have the Spirit necessary to expose the judge-mental, simply by ignoring them, and letting Spirit flow forth from, as well as through him.
"Man," he says. "I feel like I just got a Sermon. Wow. But, you're right!"
"I'm just here to shed a new Light on an old Perspective," I told him. I then began to explain to him the reason behind my alter-id (Youssef ibn Yahweh) and the how and why of that name.
Before we knew it, we were where my motorcycle was, and had gotten to talking about "paying it forward" as a philosophy, and how the movie of that name had changed his way of thinking about Life. He no longer wanted to be a bitter knucklehead. He wanted to see others succeed, and he wanted to help when and if he could. He told me of how he recognized the necessity of being able to accept help from someone when it was offered, and how that it was allowing him to be successful, now.
With great joy, he then told me how he liked to pay it forward, anonymously, if possible. He hoped that those that he helped would then be able to help others, at some point.
I asked him the fare. He said "15 dollars."
I gave him a 20-bill, and said, "Keep the change. A sermon, and a tip for you, today. Not what you were expecting, after telling me how long that it'd be before you could get to me, is it?"
He gave me a sheepish grin, as he shook my hand. "No, no it isn't. Have a great day, and be safe on the motorcycle. Thank you!"

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

This Little White Boy Who Wanted Some Nigger In Him (James Leland Ludeau III - Lafayette, LA)

Grew up on a plantation
Removed
Secluded from the world
I knew classes but didn’t understand race
Because what raced through my veins wasn’t something of which I could ever speak
My father could fuck the slave girls
But I couldn’t touch the men
It filled me with resentment
Fueled my resentment with lust
Until it was too much to take
It was a small contained community
White as the cotton in the fields
Only dark around the edges where the black men lived
Ploughing the fields
I’d imagine them ploughing me
Sinewy
Glistening with sweat as the sun bathed their shoulders
The sweat running down until it pooled around the waistband of their thin cotton pants
Their skin
Black, almost indigo, like night
Some like coffee with milk in it
Cafe au lait
I could smell their musk
Watched as their muscly bodies worked
I yearned
Burned
This little white boy who wanted some nigger in him
To fall beneath the weight of one
As he heaved
As he forced his throbbing cock into my crevice
I longed for even the pa…

"I Love You" is Enough (Louis Toliver Jr)

Please don’t stress I see what you do all year Everyday you show me Through your actions How much you care for me But please don’t stress It’s not money or possessions That make me give my life to you It’s the moments that are small When people don’t care to look That you show your love most So don’t stress to demonstrate What you already know you do Just say “I love you” and… My underwear will come off for you

Poet's Cry for Mike Tidewell (Barry Sons - Berwick, LA)

I heard the Politician say in a hunter’s whisper, “There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. He was crying about the marshland’s accelerated decay.”
“Mr. Politician, can you help us anyway? I refuse to think our marsh is so quickly Going away. If we can scan the galaxy And bring men back from the dead, Why can’t we save our marsh? I can’t Get that around my head.”
There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. Whining and crying; Who needs them anyway?” “Mr. Politician, I’m here to make you feel. Try to wrap your heart around the things that Are real. Like love and friendship passion and Sorrow; the love of earth and concern for tomorrow.”
“There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today." Mr. Politician, I cry for America’s wetlands,