Usually Saturdays (for me at least) are reserved for sleeping in, watching football, and generally relaxing. It’s where I practice my Sabbath habits of stillness, silence, and solitude. So, generally I am not to be bothered and our family doesn’t really plan activities on Saturdays so that we can all enjoy a sabbath from our weekly schedules. Two Saturdays ago my routine was interrupted. My wife was presenting at a workshop and Olivia had a Saturday theater practice, so daddy duty called. One of the first things I noticed when I arrived were all of the dads walking their kids into the arts center. It was a beautiful sight to see, though not uncommon in my neighborhood. I saw several familiar faces, including the director of the program who has known my oldest two daughters since they were little girls in piano lessons at one of her former camps. But the bright spot was catching up with another dad. We’d lost touch a while ago, but as soon as we saw each other walking our daughters inside the building, we knew it would lead to a catch up conversation for the ages.

Years ago, before both of us were fathers we used to volunteer together at our local church. I was newly married and he was in a long term relationship. Both of us were still trying to navigate the new world of adulting in our mid-twenties as young black men. I was always impressed by his artistic side, he did a lot of poetry writing and spoken word back in the day. I think we clicked on a shared set of values and our unique propensity to express ourselves with words. Then came fatherhood, first for me, and then for him. As our volunteer service shifted and we both changed churches we lost track of one another except for the occasional text or phone call. But we both kept tabs on each other’s evolution.

The first thing I asked him when we started talking in the parking lot was, so what have you been doing with your life? Are you still writing and doing spoken word? He gave me the rundown of all the things, getting married, raising kids, navigating co-parenting with the ex. As for the spoken word, he said, he doesn’t do that as much anymore. He felt like a lot of that was birthed out of a season of pain and being in the sunken place. Any fan of black culture knows what the sunken place refers to (see the film Get Out). The more we talked, the more I excited I was to hear his own story about how his life has transformed. We talked about the role that our faith, our partners, and even therapy has played in helping us to each become healthier versions of ourselves. It was encouraging to be reminded that we don’t have to remain in a sunken place, but what matters is what we do once we find ourselves there. We have to wake up.

For both of us, it seemed to come down to clarity. We traced some of our most important decisions, about who to marry, where to live, how to educate our kids, back to getting clear on what mattered most. Interestingly enough, it’s led us both nearly 8 years later to similar stages in our journey. Our neighborhoods are down the street from each other. Our kids attend the same arts programs. We’ve already got plans to bring our families together for a meal in the coming weeks. Life has brought us back together, and I’m glad to see how far we’ve come. It’s a testament to the impermanence of life.

Come to think of it, I’ve been on a tour of reconnecting with friends lately. I had a similar catch up call with another friend who I regularly touch base with. He reminded me to stay encouraged during a difficult season of work. I had lunch with another friend where we discussed ALL the things (we’ve been knowing each other since before wives, kids, etc). Iron sharpening iron. That’s what friends are for. Over the past week we’ve all checked in on each other and provided space for us to collectively processes everything going on. A lot of folks are hurting, scared, and confused since the election. And still, we gon be alright as Kendrick Lamar likes to remind us. I’m a living witness, and so are you, that we’ve made it through tough spots before. I know two black brothas in a parking lot who can tell you that we tend to come out better on the other side. Let’s just make sure we don’t leave anyone behind. Check on your strong friends, they’re usually the ones hurting in silence.

SDW3