At the party last night I spot a shy girl sitting on her own, talking to no-one. I sit next to her and ask her what the problem was. Im different. she says, Im dark-skinned. She explained she was a girl from Zim, friends with Mrs Muscle [Yvonne], and felt out of place as the only really dark African girl there. The irony of the moment didnt escape me. Here I was, the fairest, speaking to the darkest [Mirror mirror on the wall, whos the fairest of them all? I thought, then shook my head and returned to the moment]. I gave the girl a hug and told her to join the party. Look at me toots...Can you beat this? A pale Italian with long blonde hair in Westbury? The girl looked at me, beamed with relief and got onto the dance floor. She danced and danced, and we all applauded...She was set free by the weird whiteboy infinitely worse off than her. Sometimes we need to see the tragedy in other lives so we can appreciate the blessings in ours...[Thats my sermon for today]
Posted on: Sun, 24 Nov 2013 05:21:02 +0000
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