There is friendship, and then, there is friendship. . .
What''s so special about a person, even when an entire decade has passed without a written word or phone call, just keeps that person from taking a place on the back shelf of remembrance?
David Howard was that kind of guy. And Sierra Winston never wanted to forget him, even though her heart wishes she''d never met him.
It all began when Sierra first took on the job of being an assistant administrator with a state-sponsored agency. Her position involved covering a number of counties in her state, more than she bargained for but, hey, when one is fresh out of grad school, and there are school loans and credit card shopping binges to pay off, one tends to lose fear of interstate highway driving rather quickly.
As a prevention education envoy, one of her many outreach locations was St. James Hospital in Jackson, MS. Three weeks after she accepted her new job, one of her first assignments was a seminar at Whitfield Stress Center at St. James involving identifying shame-based factors that were effected by economic and diversity issues in small communities, where secrets were often taken to the graveyard with those who felt emotional trauma was "just something you deal with and shutup about." At least, that''s how Sierra was raised.
Being new to the field, and having absolutely no idea what to expect Sierra was full of questions. The topics discussed touched on issues of things in her own past that she had been quite ashamed to discuss.
Molestation at an early age by a female teenaged neighbor whom her grandmother trusted; the guilty feelings associated with keeping dirty little secrets, coupled with feeling like a second class citizen as a black professional female in American society; being surrounded by so many myths that were further propagated by the evil of a terror called slavery made Sierra feel as if she had to be "SuperSistah" to overcome them.
Of course, being professional and a strong black woman, Sierra never revealed this to anyone.
The seminar room at Whitfield was full of reminders of her Baptist-turned Catholic transgression. Catholics just took your money and left you alone, didn''t gossip, just smiled and shook your hand on occasion. Hail Mary was all that was important, and people stayed out of your business. Sometimes, even God. It was an arrangement that was a good fit for her own secluded mistakes in life.
But it had been years since she attended mass, and was a bit rusty on the roles of all the saints whose statues surrounded one central figure.
"The big statue must be St. Francis" she thought to herself as she brushed against the knees of other professionals in attendance there, trying to get a seat.
People kept coming and, as predicted in the seminar invitation, the 300 capacity conference room became standing room only.
"This seat''s saved, sorry!" said a rather large white woman who was wearing a too-tight blue pinstriped blazer, looking over her coke bottle bifocals.
Sierra apologized, and scooted herself awkwardly back past the cornrow formation of kneecaps that she was originally guided towards, miffed, of course.
One of the staff counselors then gave up his chair on the end of the center aisle and insisted Sierra sit in his seat.
"Gee," Sierra thought, "Not all people dressed in white labcoats were devoid of home trainin''".
The seat wobbled, but at least she had a seat.
The seminar was in the basement of Whitfield. They were well-known in the state for their work in mental health and counseling in shame-based situations that involved youth and teens.
The speaker, Dr. Joseph Trinity Trueblood, entered the room. He reminded Sierra of pictures of her late father Martin, and both he and her dad did bear a slight resemblance to Denzel Washington, only her dad had a neatly trimmed mustache in the last picture he took, compared to Dr. Trueblood''s clean shaven profile.
After the first half of the all-day session was about to break for lunch, Sierra was dying to ask a question. But she always had a fear of what people would think about her thoughts. Growing up, she was one of the most obedient "children are to be seen and not heart" kids in the family.
And thanks to the silence, she carried years of burdens that were now hopefully going to be erased. After all, now her mother could be proud because she had a "real" degree, one that came with parental bragging rights during church tesimonial time. She could see it all so clearly next worship time:
I just wanna say, Lord God thank you Jeeee-sus, my child FINALLY decided to become someone who can be u-u-u-u-u-sed for the ga-LO-ry of God, instead of sitting around feeling sorry for herself for marrying TOO early! Hal-le-LOO-yah Jeeeesus!
Yep, that was Mama; always puttin'' on a show in the Mt. Pisgah Celestrial Apostolic Missionary Baptist Church.
After being convinced that her arm was about to drop out of its socket, Sierra finally got recognized by the presenter.
"I have a question" she said, rather bashfully. "I''m new to this field Dr. Trueblood, and I was just wondering, what kinds of research has been done to track whether or not standard treatment on Causcasian clients has to be changed to address the needs of clients of color."
The speaker turned towards her and admitted, "Miss, that''s one area that I wish I had more answers for. However, there is someone in this room that might be able to help you."
Dr. Trueblood pointed with a smile to a very handsome man. Thin but muscular build, wavy dark brown close cut coif, and a black suit that fit like custom-made.
The participate he alluded to turned around in his chair. He was directly in front of Sierra. And his smile was one that, to this day, makes her heart feel as if this was the answer to her many prayers.
"Hi." The attractive stranger introduced himself. "My name is David Howard. My brother might have written some papers that, if you don''t mind, we might find time to see if your question can be answered, if you have a few minutes."
Sierra was taken by his eyes, and his smile.
"Hi, I''m Sierra. . . nice to meet you Mr. Howard."
"Lunch? and please, my friends call me David"
Those few minutes ended up revealing a soulmate.
2 B continued. . .
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(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D