Let Reedom Fing! (Or What MLK day means to this white woman)

This afternoon, the Phillips family started a new tradition--The King Party. When I told Gracie we were having a party, she got so excited she pooped in her pants. She was really excited--there was poop up her back and even in her socks. And then she pooped again while I was changing her diaper. I think she just wanted to take a bath, do her hair, and put on something pretty for the party.  What a diva!  (Like mother like daughter...)

I told Henry, "This afternoon, we're going to have a party. A King Party."

"McQueen party?"

"No, Henry. KING. McQueen can come. All are welcome at the King party. But we will be having a birthday party to celebrate Martin Luther King's birthday."

"Presents?"

"No. There won't be presents?"

But what the heck would there be? I sort of came up with this idea while in a vomit induced haze over the weekend. Hmmmm. What does one do to celebrate MLK day?

Well, as everyone knows, a party must have some entertainment. Originally I envisioned me reading Henry the speech while he and his sister lovingly sat still, sitting cross legged on the family room floor. But then I woke up and knew that wasn't going to happen. Maybe someday, but not this year. Instead, I opted for reading a Martin Luther King, Jr. book and also a children's Bible story version of The Good Samaritan. I read the Good Samaritan because I want my children to know that King didn't come up with this idea himself. No, King was a spokesperson for the God he loved. A modern day prophet, called to speak God's truth that we are all created in God's image. That when we hurt another person for the color of their skin, we offend and hurt the very heart of God. God created men and women of all different shades of brown and white and yellow and red to reflect His nature. Even God is diverse in and of Himself--three in one and all that jazz. So it is only when we come together to work, play, serve, and worship can we reflect His glory.

(Can you tell that Henry was more interested in the jelly beans than having his photo taken?)

After reading the stories, we colored for awhile. Because there is usually a craft portion to children's parties. Then we watched King's speech on You Tube. This was managed by me slowly dolling out more jelly beans and popcorn while Gracie and Henry sat on my lap. (Because what is a party without candy and popcorn?) Henry would point to the screen and say "Martin! Martin!" (In the story book, they called him Martin. I tried to get him to call him Dr. King, but in Henry's mind there is only one Doctor and that is Doc Hudson.) When people would clap, Henry would cheer "Hooray!" and my personal favorite was toward the end of the speech when Henry chanted "Let Reedom Fing! Let Reedom Fing!"

So I think from now on we will have "Reedom Fing" parties. This will be particularly embarrassing for Henry when he is a teenager. Bonus for Mommy. We tried inviting some friends over for the party, but their Mommy politely declined coming over to the vomit house for at least another week. But next year I'm hoping to have over a couple of families and perhaps make cupcakes.

A good party also has good music. So we danced to Stevie Wonder, Sam Cooke, Michael Jackson, Jack Johnson, and John Denver. Because good music knows no color.

And we wore party hats. Just 'cause.

Ok. So this year's party was a little lame. Just me and the kids. But it is a start. I don't want my kids to see this holiday like I did growing up--just an excuse for a three day weekend.

You see, I realized, that if it weren't for King, and men and women like him, my family would be illegal. And so part of the purpose of the Reedom Fing party is simply to celebrate our family that God so beautifully knit together. I want my children to look up to Dr. King, not because he was a Civil Rights leader, but because he spoke the truth. Because he saw Sin in the world and chose to act against it. Because he did not let fear or other's people's lies rule his life.  Because he spoke for the disinherited.  Because he was a man after God's own heart.  And I want my children to dream big dreams that only God can cause to happen.

A lot of people don't know the Bible well enough to know that large chunks of King's speech are Scripture. That it is God King is invoking to exalt the valleys and make mountains low. Or that when he tells us that "we will not be satisfied until 'justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream" he is alluding to the prophet Amos who basically brings the hammer down on those who oppress the poor. That the life of Christ is the very picture of unearned suffering being redemptive, of "meeting physical force with soul force".

I am very thankful to not be able to imagine a world where it is okay to not let people eat in your restaurant because they are black. My friend was trying to explain the holiday to her 5 year old daughter, Anna. And Anna kept saying, "I don't understand. Why would people be so mean?" And all my friend could come up with was "I don't know. Isn't it crazy? We celebrate this man because he told them they were wrong and being mean and that they shouldn't do it anymore." Anna was very happy that Dr. King set things aright. And so are we.

Thank you, Dr. King for dreaming big. For dreaming that one day little black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys as sisters and brothers. The Phillips family, if ever so feebly, is living that dream.

Of course, I have a dream too--that one day my little white son will take the hand of my little black daughter and they will clean up after themselves...