At the end of last year I was blessed
to have 40 minutes with a man named Darnell who was grateful to be 48 years
young. He was a soft-spoken middle-aged man who walked with great
distinction, well kept and finely dressed and very humble.
As we drove I asked him if he was from
the area. “Yes sir, born and raised in Franklin, Tennessee. When I asked what
he did he told me that he was a teacher. "Of what?" I inquired.
"I taught English at Centennial High School." "Taught?" I
said. "Yes, until I had my strokes." I looked at him and stared...
"Strokes?" He said, "Yes, I had four." "FOUR!" He
said, "four in one day." I suddenly noticed a little slowness in his
speech and responses.
I didn't want to dwell so I changed
directions. "So where is your family originally from Darnell?" I
asked. "Six generations born and raised in Franklin." Slowly I turned
and gazed upon his stoic and very compassionate profile as he stared out the
windshield. "Yes sir, he said, born and raised.”
I slowed down at that point as we made
our way along that tiny curvy road with no shoulders. "So Darrell, your
family were slaves?" With the sound of tires on the pavement he softly
replied, “Yes.” In an attempt to not be obvious, I began to study this man
whose past goes back almost 200 years in the soil I now drive on.
Sophisticated and kind, his eyes were
like pools of time standing still as he slowly turned his face to me and with
great pride said, "My family is pretty well known here, you may have heard
of us? Booker… we are the Booker family?" Oddly enough because of my love
for history and living here for 25 years, I had. I knew there were several
slave families that had faired well over the years after the Civil War.
I told him how much I hate slavery and
that I was sorry for what had been done to his family so long ago. I said, “To
me, the enslavement of any man, woman or child goes against everything I
believe in. It goes against God who created us all in His image to be free. He nodded
and said, yes. And on that winding road under a full moon’s light, two total
strangers from opposite worlds were in full agreement. He thanked me, though
I'm not sure why?
He told me about his older sisters and how
the three of them were the first in the history of their family to go to college
and get degrees. A tear ran down my cheek. I was glad it was dark.
"Your father and mother must be so
proud of you, Darnell.” He replied they were. “You are very special
Darnell, I said, especially to God." He humbly smiled and said yes… that
he was blessed. "My father was very strict with us. He would always say to
me, "Darnell, if you do right, right will follow you."
Suddenly for me time slowed way down as
we arrived way too soon at the place he was going.
As he slowly opened the door I told him
that it was such an honor and privilege for me to have him in my car and that I
will never forget him. I encouraged him to write his family's story. That is
was important for us to hear. Again he thanked me and said perhaps he
will.
With a look of deep gratitude he shook
my hand and slowly got out of my car thanking me again as he blessed me. I sat
there and watched him walk slowly up to the door where his friend greeted him
with a deep and long hug as I pulled off into the night.
For the next 30 minutes as I wove my
way back to the heart of Franklin his words "If you do right, right will
follow" ran like blood through my veins. I've not stopped thinking about
Darnell Booker our conversation or the words he lived by from his father. I
knew my Father wanted the same for me. When I got home I immediately looked it
up because I knew it was there… there in the Bible. And when my eyes landed on
the words of King David I knew that night was for me. "The Lord freely gives everything to those who do what is right." Psalm 84:11 Then I read the words of Paul who said, "Do what is right and you will have praise for the same." Romans 13:3
I knew that night God used Darnell Booker
to speak to me. It was, shall we say, a Divine appointment.
Tonight
as I hear the faint sound of a train whistle blowing in the distance as it
rolls through Franklin somewhere, I think to myself, right’s not always
popular. Sometimes right seems wrong. Often times right requires great
sacrifice but it always rewards the doer. This year like no other year... each
day like no other day... moment by moment I want to do right so that right will
follow.
Steven
Bliss
©
1/5/18
