"Didn't you love the things that they stood for?
Didn't they try to find some good for you and me?"
          ~Dion

Today, in some ways, is a day of reflection. I grew up on the idealism of Martin Luther King Jr., Robert Kennedy, John Kennedy and the songwriters of the songs of the '60s. At a time when my view of the world was most malleable, these were the voices that inspired me. The words of these people, full of what a more peaceful, unified world might look like were planted deep in the rich soil of my evolving adulthood. Because I was also an odd adolescent, in love with the church, I interpreted the messages of these leaders in light of my faith, my understanding of this illusive community of God. Some of this happened consciously, most happened without my even knowing. I dreamed, along with Dr. King, of a world in which race would not be an issue, where all people would work together for a time of peace. From my faith perspective this was in line with what I understood to be the call of God on each of our lives.

Waking up this morning I found myself thinking about that young girl, wide eyes, open heart, ready to take giant steps in the world. I am not sure I ever thought about a day when the country I call home, the country I love, would take the steps to elect a person of color to the highest office in our land. As I watched the images of celebrations across the country last night, young, fresh, faces full of their future, I felt once again that sense of hope and possibility, the belief in being able to change the world, perhaps being able to realize a time when the things that divide us will become immaterial in the pursuit of the common good.

I thought of my high school friend, Marlene Cofer. Marlene was a tall, lanky light skinned African American who loved language. She moved through a room with grace and class, quietly being a presence in a room. I will not make any claims that we were 'best friends'. That was not a real possibility in a small town in southern Ohio during my teen years. It just wasn't done. But we shared a love of reading, of poetry. When I was with her I had the sense that I was a part of something fuller than when I was with only my white friends. At a high school reunion a few years ago Marlene arrived with a thick anthology of poetry in which her work had been included. There were no other published authors in our class. I was so proud of her for being persistent, for continuing to pursue what she loved while working as a bank teller.

Not long after that reunion, I learned that Marlene had died of a rare and fast moving cancer. Her beautiful voice, her graceful presence had been silenced. But not before it was preserved in the black and white writers chase their whole lives.

In Marlene's presence I knew a fuller picture of what it means to be the whole people of God. In my adult years I have known that experience many more times, I am happy to say. And now, perhaps as a country, we might also open our eyes and our hearts to what it means to be the fullness of the American people.

It seems the seeds those powerful voices planted in my soul continue to find ways to be reborn.