The first few years of my life I was raised by my parents in a white family and white community. I suppose there was part of my childish understanding of the world that thought what I saw was exactly the way the world was.
Then something changed.
My mother was a nurse and came home every night tucking me in with stories about the patients she saw that day. There were stories of mothers, children and babies that she got to care for.
There was one patient whose stories kept coming. She was a patient not much older than I was at the age of ten. My mother was smitten by her innocence and her smile. As she told me the stories of this other girl I envisioned to look just like me.
I was laying in bed, surrounded by the dark, listening about this beautiful girl who captured my mother’s affection.
“Does she look like me?”
My mom paused and thought.
“Well, sort of. She is black.”
For the first time my imagination painted the picture of a girl, just like me, who was black.
I didn’t know that girl yet, but I loved her.
That was the first time I dreamed in color.
I would like to tell Dr. King that just 22 years after he spoke this message that his dream came true for me.
Oh and just an update on those two girls. We became friends. We are still friends some thirty-four years later. Our lives continue to be intertwined. We have ministered to each other’s children, provided spiritual counsel to each other and share a like precious faith.
We are living the dream.
Thank you Dr. King.
...For you are all one in Christ Jesus. Gal. 3:28