Bill Cosby, PhD

I grew up in a house where Saturday morning cartoons were the highlight of our week.  It kicked off our weekend.  Our parents were still sleeping so I climbed onto the counter to get the cereal boxes and bowls, dug around for spoons and I carefully poured the milk since I was the oldest.  We'd sit in front of the little TV in our pajamas, hair not brushed and then we'd be transported into cartoon land.

Our living room had a built in bookcase which now, looking back on it, was a very nice one.  My dad's phonograph was mounted into it as were his speakers.  He and my mom's records were neatly stacked on the bottom right shelf.  I remember them pulling out records and playing them whenever they were working around the house or we had company.  I can still remember some of the artists they listened to.

One evening, my dad asked the three of us into the living room because he had something he wanted us to listen to.  I couldn't have been more than ten years old.  He really played it up because we were amped up with excitement.  He'd put a record onto his phonograph and was getting ready to play it.  I had no idea it was going to take my imagination on a journey of being scared and then laughing so hard.

It was a record where Bill Cosby tells the story about the Chicken Heart.  The Chicken Heart that ate up New York City.  My dad dimmed the lights and we were kneeling against the back of the couch so that we were facing the speakers.  My mom was there, too, and I seem to recall she was a little hesitant about us hearing this story.

I listened intently and yes, I got scared up to the point of the mashed potatoes and then I started laughing.  I think my sisters had the same reaction.  We ate mashed potatoes a lot so picturing that as a way to deter monsters made complete sense to us.

As I've grown up, that memory brings warmth to my spirit.  It's one of the few I have with my Dad being less drunk.  There was no violence afterward.  We were a "normal" family.

I've had copies of that album on cassette.  It's called "Bill Cosby - Wonderfulness."  It's my favorite out of all the other ones.  Here's the Chicken Heart monologue:

Transition,

I know these days he's being accused of rape and other sexual allegations. As a survivor of sexual abuse I know how hard it is to give voice to what's happened to you.  Still, there are a few things that are really bothering me:

1. Why has it taken so long for people to come forward?
2. Why is everyone coming forward all at once?
3. The Prosecutor isn't filing any charges so now what?
4. Why are people protesting his shows?
5. If he did commit these acts and is in denial, I know when he stands before God, it will be brought into the light because God brings all sin out of the darkness into the light.  God alone will judge him.

It's my hope that everyone who is personally affected by any of these allegations receive the professional help they need so that they can have some sort of closure from all of this.  It's a big mess and one that needs to be cleaned up quickly and thoroughly.  

My heart goes out to all of you.

Somewhere In America

A friend posted this video on Facebook.  I was so enthralled that I watched this about five times in a row.  I was captured by the confrontational honesty of how they spoke what I have not found the words to give a voice to.  The rhythm and passion with which they speak is moving and convicting for it's not just poetry of someone else's beliefs.  It's their gut level frustrations and they communicate it effectively, without compromising their integrity.

I applaud their courage, their hard work and I pray God continues to put them in front of audiences who can help them make a difference in the lives of those whose stories are the ones they are telling.

                       Belissa Escoloedo, Zariya Allen, Rhiannon, McGavin

Perhaps You've Seen Them

Perhaps you've seen them and not given it a second thought.  After all, they are unkempt, dirty and digging in the trash can.  Some of them hold out a cup shaking it so you can hear the noise of coins clanging together.  Others sit huddled in a corner with everything they hold dear in a black garbage bag making no eye contact with anyone.

In case you haven't guessed it I'm talking about our homeless citizens.  I live in a suburb of Chicago that does not have much of a homeless population.  We have a very giving community that stocks our food pantry throughout the year and our township stays on top of all the programs that people who are under resourced can apply to.

Funny.  Even the words, "Under resourced" are used instead of the word "poor."

Across much of northern America the blustery arctic air that we've been happily not experiencing arrived with a one two punch Sunday night.

Here's what I wrote as my Facebook status today:

"Living in the Chicagoland Suburbs, my heart is always troubled for the homeless who cannot get into shelters or get meals. Those of us in our comforts have no clue what our brothers and sisters, saved or unsaved, do in order to survive each day. With our below zero wind chills last night, I found myself asking God to somehow keep those who were exposed to the elements warm. It's such a powerless feeling knowing there's little I can do to help. But when I think of how God tended to Elijah's needs through his angels, Jesus' needs through his angels and the Israelites' needs through manna and quail, I know he will supply their needs. And maybe, just maybe, one by one, they will hear the gospel message and receive Jesus as their Savior!! That kind of warmth in their spirit will always be with them."

In my younger days, I would walk downtown Chicago with books of $5 McDonald Gift Certificates.  That's when five dollars could buy you a lot. I would wait and discern who to give them to.  To this day I remember a woman I named Mary.  Mary was sitting on the cold cement with her body bent over in the corner of a train depot.  She was wearing a black coat, black hat and she had one knee pulled up to her chest.  Her bag of belongings was next to her left arm.  I tried to get her attention but she never moved.  Instead of trying again, I placed the gift certificates as close as I could to her so that she could reach them and nobody else could steal them.  I've prayed for her each time she comes to mind - that God would draw her close to Him and she would find Jesus and have a life that is safe and whole.

Another encounter involved being with a friend of mine.  The only thing I can remember is being in Chicago at an apartment building.  There was a man sitting outside the building with a cup asking for money.  I had an amount in my pocket that I thought was too much to put in the cup so I walked past him to my car.  That's when God did the tap tap on my shoulder.  He reminded me whose money it was.  I walked back to the man, put the money in the cup and said it was from his Heavenly Father.  As I turned and walked away, I could hear the guy get excited.  Truth be told, I, too, had a big smile on my face.

God wants us to care for the poor and tells us the poor will always be among us.  There are so many ways you can help.  Get connected to your church's outreach programs or find out how to serve in your local community.

There's nothing like giving a helping hand to someone who cannot give it back.  It's humbling.  It's honoring.  It's Jesus with hands and feet.