In the Game of Life Faith Wins

ALL WE NEED IS LOVE

2009-12-07T14:29:00.000-08:00

Blog Post 11/17/2009

All WE NEED IS LOVE…(Title from a Beatle song)
A young man died one week before his 29th birthday. His name is Gidd Gomel Robinson. My relationship to him was through his mother whom I have known for 26 years. Gidds life ended by an exchange of racial slurs which ended in an exchange of gunfire which ripped through is masculine body via his chest – he was unarmed. The murderer was so out of touch he allowed his seven year old son to witness the carnage. And if that wasn’t enough he shot my best friend’s son in front of his three little girls; ages, 7 months, 2 years and 4 years of age. Gidd was just leaving his house to walk his 4 year old to kindergarten. How in the world do we explain that?
Gidds senseless murder rocked West Sacramento, CA. Gidd grew up in an area known as Broderick. It is also synomnous with the infamous gang the Broderick Boys. His family’s friends consisted of gang members, non-gang members many, many, who made their home, their home. Gidd has a younger brother named Juan. When you spoke of them you automatically said Gidd and Juan. They were three years apart, but usually as children and young men, when you saw one you saw the other.

When I called his mother to congratulate her on managing to get a photograph with Maxi Priest, one of her favorite musicians, her phone was answered by someone else. When I introduced myself and asked for Gwen, she said they were at the hospital and she could not talk. I could hear Gwen whisper in a tone I was unaccustomed to hearing “who is it?” and the receiver of the call said Leslie. The next voice I heard was my sister Gwen’s. “Oh Leslie” she says through tears. The first thing entering my mind was that her sister Birdie who she has been caregiver to for ten years due to a car accident and subsequent brain damage was in the hospital. “Birdie?” I asked. “No, Gidd!” she stated through a cracked voice full of tears. “Where is he Gwennie?” “They killed my baby!” she cried out “No, No, No!” I shouted through the phone, and my tears flowed. I knew it was not the time to ask how, when, where, so I told her I was on the way. When I arrived in Sacramento four days later, my sister was strong as anyone could be. She greeted me with a big hug and held on tight. I told her I am so sorry, sweetheart, but God has you.” She continued to show strength that only one of immense faith could sustain. That was Sunday.

On Tuesday, I accompanied her to dress her dead son. Not knowing how I was going to handle it, I felt it was an honor. As we walked into the area, he laid on a cold slab with a sheet to his neck. The first thing I noticed was the staples in the crown of his head, from one ear to the other;evidence of the autopsy.

She went to her son, and kissed and rubbed his forehead. She had seen him before the funeral home did their work, so he was softer then, she stated. This time his body was cold, yet he looked as if he was sleeping. Gwen requested no makeup, so he looked natural - 29 years old and gone from this world. When she did break down, I stood behind her placing my arms around her, my head to her shoulder, sobbing with her. When we were done, the two wonderful helpers assisted us with the dressing. Never had I touched a dead body except for my grandfather and grandmother. It was surreal, yet I knew God had sent me for a reason. It confirmed that life can be taken in the blink of an eye and that life was too short to deal with pettiness, inconsequential minute issues, that we must enjoy and live each day as it is our last – with no regrets. And how blessed I am to survive when 924 did not.

The coroners tags still attached to his toes, “Should we remove them?” I asked one of the assistants. “No, you can leave them on.” I wondered why, but followed his instructions. As we put one sock on his foot, at a time, we moved his jeans along his long legs to his torso, positioned ourselves one side and the other to put his white button up shirt on him, and finally his shoes. I cried silent tears, as my heart ached for my sister, his wife, his children, his brother and the host of people that loved him, as his laughter we would hear no more, his deep voice disappearing through this life and into the next.

This tragedy has a redemption factor. As I mentioned many of Gidds friends came from all walks of life and he was well loved. Gidd was laid off and was breeding pit pulls, but had no life insurance. His friends, the hard core gang bangers, those that were not and many in between got to work and through a series of car washes, barbeques, selling of T-shirts- raised over $6,000 in four days to bury their friend. I was amazed and joyful. Goodness comes in all forms. They honored him with love – they honored him with faith – and they honored him for being the man he had become. Now Gidd was not the young man that did well in school, or was obedient to his mother and teachers, but a little bit of a trouble maker. But through all of that he was loved.

The day of his burial over 200 people came to pay their respects- it was standing room only. Some of the pall bearers, who I was in charge of organizing, wore thick chains around their necks, representing the dog breeder they were laying to rest. The minister mistook this for some type of negative symbol, and made a statement to that effect when he went to the pulpit to speak. “I am not going to have any mess jumping off in here, because there are 80 year old women, etc.” No, Lord I thought. Was I disappointed? Yes. Did he know the hearts of those wearing the chains? Was he aware of what they accomplished? Later after someone whispered in his ear, he returned for the eulogy and offered an apology. He stated he did not understand the significance of the chains. Uhmmm, redemption. It saddened me because as a man of God he was already judging who was in the room and what he anticipated without weighing the enormity of these folks with chains around their neck were the ones that made the funeral happen, but not just that they made it happened, but who there were as human beings. Jesus went to those that needed salvation. If we all judged people by how many tattoos they had, piercings, hair color, nail polish, clothes – then who are we? Is salvation only for those that go to church every Sunday? Or is it our duty as messengers to witness to all people? Are we to exclude those that don’t look as we think they should? Do they have to have on three piece suits, big hats, and be hair neatly coiffed and dressed to the nines? Uhmmmm… what do you think? Is this a problem in the churches?

His sermon consisted of Gidds death not being God’s will, because God did not and does not create evil. Agreed. It was the responsibility of a man who was void of God consciousness that ended life as he knew it and the lives of many others; his own son included. The minister spoke about Gidd’s life not being in vain, and made a plea to those who wanted to make a change to raise their hands. I don’t know if he met with them afterwards to give them counsel. But all in all it was a decent attempt.

As people formed a line to speak of memories and anecdotes about their friend, we laughed, we cried and we felt somewhat renewed. The most touching of all moments was when his wife, Jennifer reached the pulpit and read an essay her husband, Gidd has written upon the birth of his first daughter, Aneesa. The essay began with “I used to think all women were f---- b------; until my three pound daughter was born. He continued with what it meant to be a father of a daughter and the immense change that occurred within him. We all cried. Here was another soul lost before its full potential was realized. Gidd loved his baby girls. He stayed home with him while their mother worked and was even teaching one of them ballet. We all got a chuckle out of that, because if you knew and saw Gidd you would wonder how his size ---- shoes could ever turn a poirete.

His aunt came up afterwards and read another essay he had written about his seven month old daughter, Attiana- the sound of sobs could be heard throughout the chapel. His wasted life sunk deeper into our existence.

On the way to the internment, we laughed and we cried. His resting place for his body is behind a marble stone which says Garden of Peace . As I grabbed a handful of dirt and baby breaths I let them go slowly dropping to the casket that held the shell of my friends son. I wanted to go and hug my children, grateful for them still being alive to enjoy.

What the world needs is LOVE! God is LOVE, LOVE = PEACE, AN END TO WAR, AND END TO PROVERTY, LIVES REALIZED. Many people say that these are the last days, the signs are there. But we must be prepared for the Love Revolution!
Be blessed.

Michael Jackson

2009-11-02T14:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, we went to a church I had not visited before. It was a beautiful sanctuary and very nice compound. The music was inspiring kind of a rock band sound, and the congregation appeared fully in tune. As the pastor came on the stage, he spoke about greater things require greater faith. He also touched on John 14:12 (NIV):

I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.

King James Version: John 14:12 (King James Version)
12Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father.

When I first study this scripture, it took a while for me to accept what was being said. If you believe in me (we are of God) you will do greater works than me. How powerful is that. Can we really do more than Jesus? It puts an expectation on us that I view as this:

1). Responsibility of the Word. We are expected to do great things, not to limit ourselves by our own chains of inadequacy.
2). It reveals that we are ultimately to be walking in the footsteps of our Lord and Savior. That nothing else should we settle for. Our daily walk should be of love, compassion and trust.

So as I was listening to the minister, a gentlemen was sitting next to my friend. Oh I forgot to tell you it was a predominately, no it was an all Caucasian church, and we were the only three people of color in the audience. Now mind you, as we walked in we were welcomed, and since my friend and son had been there before, they were recognized and greeted by a few. So, of course I am comfortable everywhere, but the gentlemen next to my friend was appearing to be a little antsy!
He kept looking at my friend. So I leaned forward and looked him in the eye - not with a grimace, but with a smile. He seemed embarrassed.

Uhm, I thought, do we have work to do.

So, as the minister is speaking on Faith, the promise, etc., he begins to speak about an $18 million project to build a new Children's ministry, an outdoor baptismal pool and another building with a coffee shop and computers. Comfortable I am not. $18 million? What could you do with $18 million? What happened to going into the other community, the one not so wealthy; where the ladies in the church did not carry Louis Vuitton $3,000 purses, but those that Jesus served also. The lost, the hopeless, the unloved? You know the one lost sheep? So, I listened praying that he would mention something to that effect; to provide scholarships to those children that did well but could not afford to go to college; build a shelter or transitional housing for the 1,000 of teens who are homeless in this influential city; drug rehab program, prison programs... I don't know am I misunderstanding with it means to be a Christian - that idea called Servitude? Am I just old fashioned to prefer the deliverance movement - the street ministries? Aren't those lost the ones we need to be sharing the blessings with? Well it bothered my spirit and I sat through and just prayed.

After that experience my renewal came by viewing "This Is It". The film was incredible. It showed Michael Jackson in what I believe was his true spirit - total love and compassion. His soft spoken and loving way was evident. Jeffrey Ortega who directed this spoke to Michael with such love, as did the entire crew. His spirit of love encircle and embraced all around him. It made me sad and I missed him even more. One of my favorite songs is 'Man in The Mirror" that is where it starts. That meaning also is found in James 1: 22-24

22 Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.
23 Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror
24 and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.
25 But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does.

It begins with us - we just have to be a doer.

So as we left the theatre, I thanked God for blessing us with someone who truly loved but was misunderstood. May You Rest in Peace, Michael.

God Loves You

Hello World

2009-10-09T15:56:00.000-07:00

This new technology caught me off guard. My daughter Monique, informed me that I needed a blog. After doing some research I knew she was right. So you will see that sometimes I am a little slow at the gate, but eventually I get it. This is my introduction to the world. Since this is my first time, some posts may be long and others short. So here we go.

Since the airing of Escape from Jonestown, my life has transitioned once again. From the first three hours my website http://www.slaveryoffaith.com/ was linked to the CNN Presents website the emails began to arrive. I was amazed and surprised. As I began to open the first few, tears filled my eyes as I was not expecting the emails to be so personal, so open or honest. All of a sudden I cried out to the Creator saying “you were right, they wanted and needed to hear, I can help to change lives” and my transition began again. For now I realized that people were reaching out to me to hear the story and to line themselves with Faith in a simple everyday person who happened to have been through a lot of craziness in her life.

The responses have humbled me and affirmed the fact that the story had to be told. When I think back to Jonestown, I realized how fortunate I was to be able to live to tell the story. Those last month’s I was detached in order to keep going. My mind was tired and so was my body; but I knew if I reached that dark abyss the hopelessness would take over. I could not have made it through. You either move in Fear or Faith. Fear stops you –a paralysis sets in, so you stay in the same place. It’s as if you can’t breathe and you may have an accelerated heart rate – but you know it is fear you just have not been able to move past it. It also tells the universe that you are not trusting. Now Faith is knowing and believing that circumstances can and will change, even though you have no idea how that will manifest. A declaration of belief.

Fear is what is crippled me, but as soon as I put a good faith effort forward I was amazed at the blessings,as God rewarded me for finally seeking a purposeful and meaningful life. Faith is the break through that barrier it is wide open with blessings over abundant.

In the Game of Life Faith Wins

Peace, Blessings and always Universal Love