My Black History (2)

Mr. Eubanks was a local businessman and we lived in an upstairs apartment next to his house. At age four, I sat with him at church every Sunday; he seemed like a grandfatherly person to me.  I could say a lot about him, but he wasn't black, so that would be off topic. 

I don't know where my parents found Marie, but I remember her daily presence in our apartment.  My most vivid memory of her is that she read to me daily, and frequently, from a Bible that had a lot of bright colored pictures - perfect for a young child's attention and understanding.  She gave such life to the stories and gave me an early love for God's Word.  When we moved to our new home, Marie was there as well.  When a tornado hit "Nigger Hill" (I'm sorry, but that's what it was called), it destroyed and damaged many homes in that black community.  I remember our family taking food and supplies to Marie and her neighbors, and the devastation was horrible. We were not alone in our efforts to support their community, but I later wondered why kindness seemed to be present mostly in times of disasters, and was absent under normal circumstances. 

Marie has always had a special place in my heart and in my childhood memories.  I never thought of the color of her skin, or that she was a maid or hired help.  To me, she was simply Marie, a dear family friend and a stable force in my life, much like Mr. Eubanks.  I didn't know until years later that Marie couldn't read at all.  The stories she "read" to me were "by heart" - as we would say.  Truly, she told them to me from her heart to mine.   If all children could have a "Marie" in their lives, perhaps there would be more love in the world.  

“How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” (Romans 10:15, NRSV)