June 21, 2012
“I didn’t do recovery, I was delivered. It wasn’t up to me. It was God. Because if it were up to me, I’d still be smoking crack.” A powerful statement from a man I spoke to today that is recovered, (oops) delivered from 16 years of smoking crack. Once called a “Crack Head” now endearingly called, “Granddad.” A Vietnam Vet that built aircraft’s. Later would graduate with his Masters Degree in 1979, was on crack by 1982. He had fallen down and too many, was counted out.
Today his Granddaughter visited him, she is one year younger than his 20 year anniversary being Drug Free. And how does he celebrates his accomplishment? By celebrating hers. His granddaughter is a Gates of the Millennium Scholar, with 10 years of college paid for all the way to her PHD. A Georgia State University Summer Student just returning from a study abroad in Liberia, Africa. She is considered to be a real prize.
Her Granddad has a prize of his own, his car. And when a young rising Spelman sophomore visited him on Father’s Day driving her mothers car, he offered up his own. He thought that she could use a car for two weeks to allow her a summer ride of her own. So this Tuesday equipped with transportation to her Granddad’s house and a smile, she set off to pick up the car on a full tank of gas. And she knew just how to drive it to empty. She made plans to visit friends and get her summer fun in.
Today she was beckoned to return to her granddad’s house. Had he had second thoughts? Did he have a change of heart? Or, could he just not bear being without his prize possession for two whole weeks? The latter of the statements is true. He could not fathom being without his car for two whole weeks. He decided that he would rather be without it for a lifetime. As a result, when that young lady arrived at his home she was sat down at the table where a piece of paper lye. Her grandfather took out his pen signed his named and instantly his prize possession became hers.
Now equipped with the title to the car, a full tank of gas and four new tires; she rode off into the sunset. I received a call from that proud Granddad. He took a moment to remind me of my humble beginnings as a street kid that self parented. He met me when I was only 15. I was selling drugs and he was buying them, just not from me. He would go on to say, “But look at us now Queenie.” I then added, “they may have counted us out, but when they looked up, we had gotten up, stood tall and we are still standing”. He would finished by thanking me for being such a good mother and I would likewise, thank him for being her granddad.
We reviewed our past, acknowledged the present; each giving the other a rave review.
Tomorrow’s post: A Do Over.
Read. Post. Facebook. Tweet. Share. Return. There truly is a message behind the messenger.
This has been Sharon Saffold blogging on purpose and not by chance because chances are, I will blog again.