Being Born Again

As I've already told you, my Daddy is a farmer. I"m looking out the window, the same window Momma and I looked out of to see the winter snow, and see him kneeling in our garden, planting the plants. His skin is the color of newly plowed rows. Sweat is dripping off of his forehead and mixing with the sun and soil, nourishing the seeds so they can grow. When he comes into the house, he'll smell of the humble smell of dirt.

I think my Daddy's heart is faithful and soft. It's like a big, beautiful Better Boy tomato swaying quietly in the whispering winds of our southern, summer skies.

His soul is bright and gentle, like a yellow ear of sweet corn wrapping itself gently in tender husks, protecting itself from the searing sun, woolly worms, and harshness of life.

His mind is persistent and broad, like an engine running a plow, working through problems, fixing anything, accepting me, and allowing me to grow as the land accepts the seed and allows it to grow.

His strength is helping and enduring, like the Farmall tractor we borrow from a white neighbor, a tractor that keeps him from struggling behind a mule and a plow.

Yes, he's a farmer, a person of the land, and he's my favorite farmer. Just as he sows the seed and gathers our garden every year, so he sows faith, hope, and love into mine and Carver's hearts, souls, minds, and strengths and gathers us to himself.

One thing he's not, though, is a person of great education. As a matter of fact, I'm in the fifth grade and I've already gone past him in formal schooling. But he's a person of great faith. Every Sunday morning, after the chores are done and we eat our breakfast, Daddy, Carver and I put on our best overalls and Momma puts on her pretty dress and we go to church. It's there, listening to the sweet singing of the choir and the poetic preaching of the preacher, that Daddy finds Jesus, the Jesus who wants to free black folks from being hurt by white folkd and white folks from hurting black folks, the Jesus who wants him to work to make the world a better place for black folks and white folks, the Jesus who wants him to know good things and do good things. It's there, in church, that he learns about wonder, that wonder is the root that makes knowledge grow. It's there where he learns how to wonder. It's there where we all learn how to wonder.

I can hear those sermons and see that wonder with the ears and eyes of my heart. The preacher preaches -

"Grandmommas an' Granddaddys...Mommas an' Daddys...chi'ren...brothers an' sisters in Christ - Good mornin'! May de peace o' de Lawd be wit' you! Dis mornin' I want to talk wit' you 'bout de heart. Did you know de heart is full of wonder? A long time ago, a moment in time before Jesus was born, there was a seeker of wisdom named Aristotle. He taught folks dat de heart is de most important organ in the body. He studied baby chickens, and when he looked at those chicks, those chicks just as they started comin' togetha inside o' de egg, he saw deir hearts and made de observation dat it's de heart dat's de first organ to form. He taught folks dat de heart is de seat o' intelligence, that all o' de good t'ings we b'lieve and all o' de good t'ings we do come from our hearts. He taught folks dat de heart is a hot, dry organ and dat de other organs, like de brain and lungs, simply existed to cool it. He taught folks dat de heart is de center of our vitality, dat what is deep inside of it is de peculiar t'ing that sep'rates livin' people from dead people. He taught folks dat de heart is wonderful!"