For Black History month 2020 I wanted to do some articles on notable persons of African descent who achieved great things in the world in their times. But I didn’t have the leading of Holy Spirit to do so. Finally in the last days of the month set apart for the celebration of my people and my race I heard Holy Spirit and received these words to share with you.

Words are very important in helping us to define and develop a stream of understanding regarding an important topic and conversation. Without words we have no reality to declare our ideas. Without words we can’t express our thoughts and give meaning to our feelings.

Black History Month is the annual celebration of the past and present events of my people who are originated from the continent of Africa. Our history records our oppression as slaves and marginalized citizens in many nations of the world. Our history records the obstacles we have faced because of the color of our skin. Our history records the many opportunities we have had to bring prosperity to the world through our creativity and innovation.

Our history declares that we are a race of overcomers.

I have loved the history of my race since I was a child. I frequently visited the public library on 1765 Crawford Avenue. The library had a series of books on black people, like George Washington Carver, Benjamin Banneker, Martin Luther King, etc. I’m sorry I don’t remember the name of that series, but those books were my first entrance into the world of my race.

Unfortunately there was no curriculum or classes on black history in any schools I attended but in my junior high school, Martin Luther King junior high school on E. 71st street there was a club offered after school. In this club we discussed Malcolm X and Martin Luther King. That was the extent of my black history education in public school.

In college I learned extensively some of the history of my people. But everything I learned in the schools I attended and the books I read would never compare to sitting at the feet of my maternal grandmother Lottie. As a child I sat and listened to the stories that grandma told of her family. Her father Wesley, affectionately called “Papa.” The mother that grandma never knew, she died three months after giving birth to grandma, her eleventh and last child.

Grandma told me stories of her Uncle Archie, who preached and pastored several churches in Mississsippi and when he died there wasn’t a church in the county large enough to hold the crowds for his funeral, finally they had to place his coffin under a tree and have his funeral outside.

Grandma’s grandfather; Grandpa Wash was the first preacher in our family. He proclaimed the gospel of Jesus as a slave.

And though she never talked about herself, Grandma was a history maker as well. Tired of the extreme poverty she faced as a single mother in the Mississippi delta she left the state that she was born in and that her family had lived in for many generations and moved north in 1959, first in Chicago and later in Cleveland.

The Lord said to me that this month is not just the celebration of a race but the celebration of families. It’s a month to remember our past, realize the potential of our present and reckon our future.

I know it’s the end of the month but I want to encourage you to the do the same. You are making history. Your family is history in the making. Take today and tomorrow and think and talk about the history of your family, the history of your race and your personal history.

Here’s the link to purchase my first book. It’s a story about men who were making history with their lives. It’s titled Do You Wanna Be Made Whole.

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