It wasn’t the Kool-Aid, stupid…

I was 9 years old at the time. I had just arrived home from church and turned on the TV. CBS was running a special news report and announced that more than 900 people were dead in Guyana in an apparent mass suicide. They had all drunk Kool-Aid laced with cyanide. There were men, women and children.

At the time, I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. There were bodies laying all over the ground. Surely some of them were just laying there. They couldn’t all be dead, could they? Where was Guyana anyway? And who was this Jim Jones they were talking about? This was some church, some cult, what?

Today marks the 30th anniversary of the Jonestown massacre and I’m still trying to comprehend the magnitude of what happened.

After watching a couple of specials on MSNBC and CNN this past weekend, I know there were survivors and I listened to their stories. I know of the terror that was inflicted on them and I know the guilt and pain they have had to live with. I also know that it wasn’t Kool-Aid, but Flavor-Aid (and if you’ve ever had the two, you know the difference. As I reminded my husband, this event is what propelled “don’t drink the kool-aid” into our lexicon.) I also know that many of those who died were actually murdered; children were unwillingly fed or injected with the poison, many adults were injected after being threatened, some were shot to death trying to escape.

But here’s what confounds me. One survivor said he chose to leave but left his son behind. How? How could he do that? Was his survival more important than protecting his son’s? I’m sure there was some reason in his mind (and I know that many parents were forced to give up custody of their children through illegal means), but still, if it came down to it, why didn’t he fight to take his son? He knew what was coming or at least had some inkling; otherwise, why did he feel the need to leave? I look at my own son and I believe that if it came down to it, I would die before I’d give him up. But then, back then, those people were so brainwashed and disillusioned, maybe they thought it was the right thing to do. I do feel bad for that man, though, along with the others who survived.

Another thing confounds me: how did they get sucked in by Jones? By all accounts, he started out as a preacher on a mission and devolved into a megalomaniac. The people who joined Peoples’ Temple in the early days were also on a mission: to achieve racial equality, feed the poor and take care of the children and elderly. That’s what Scripture says true religion is. And I believe they had good hearts; they also had what Scripture calls “itching ears”. They heard what they wanted to hear and ignored what they wanted to ignore.

I believe by the time they reached Guyana, they were too far gone. Jones had systematically destroyed them physically, emotionally and spiritually. And when the final day came, most realized it was too late. Their fates had been sealed.

Some of the survivors have reclaimed their faith, though they rebel against organized religion (understandably so). One survivor has become a pastor; he says he has found a true and personal relationship with God. The father I mentioned above has rejected the Christian faith and has embraced a multitude of religions; I believe he still has itching ears.

I may never fully comprehend all that led up to the events of November 18, 1978, just like I will never fully comprehend the events of 9/11. I can only pray that we will learn our lessons from the past and never repeat them again.

I also pray for all those who survived Jonestown and were left behind to mourn the dead. I pray for peace and comfort for them on this day and every day. And I pray that one day their faith in Christ – not man – will be fully restored.

The time of my life

I just sat through “Dirty Dancing.”

Not the Broadway musical, but the original movie starring Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey. I haven’t seen it from the begining to end in a long time, though I know it by heart now. I’ve seen parts of it so many times, I can quote lines. I know the backstory of the filming and the fighting between the two leads. The movie is over 20 years old.

And yet, sitting through it, I still want to get up and dance. I want Johnny to come up to my table and say, “Nobody puts Donna in a corner.” Then we go up and do the incredible dance at the end, including the lift. You know the lift – the one she’s too afraid to do. The line that makes it for me is, “You will hurt me if you don’t trust me.” Johnny says that while they’re practicing the lifts in the lake. But in the end, that’s the real point of the movie’s theme: until she trusted him completely, everything she did would hurt him. But when she did – confessing to her father about their relationship – it was wonderful.

But that’s not what makes this movie so special to me.

When the movie first premiered in 1987, I went with my college roommates, Patti and Kimberly, for Kimby’s birthday. We argued about who used whom (I was Switzerland; I thought they used each other). But after that, practically every Friday night, we piled into cars and headed to the Bremen movie theater and watched it fo $1.00. We tried to do “dirty dancing” in our dorm suite, which was pretty pitiful since we were all girls. We convinced a friend of ours (another Patti) to do a lift in the stairwell. We also debated the themes of abortion, premarital sex, lying, etc. (we were at a Christian college). But we loved the movie and the music.

So I watched the movie again tonight. And for a few moments, I was transported back to those wonderful Friday nights at the Bremen theater with my roommates and best friends. I remembered the fun, the laughter, the dancing.

We’ve all grown up and moved on. Most of us are married; some of us have kids. “Dirty Dancing” was pretty tame considering what’s out there now. And I wonder how our kids will react to the movie (especially the boys). We’re scattered across the globe and rarely keep in touch these days. And somewhere, wherever they are, “Dirty Dancing” is proably being shown on television.

And I hope that Patti, Kimby, Sherry, Wendy and Heather will sit down and watch it again. And I hope they’ll remember that wonderful time in our lives.

Well whaddya know about that?

My son was discussing the presidential race with me and his father in the car last night. “If Barack Obama wins,” he said, “he has to do a really good speech and then he’ll be the champion!” (My son is 4.)

This morning, when he got up, I said, “Guess what? Barack Obama won the election and he did a really great speech.”

Matt said, “Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air. “I knew it! Barack Obama is the President of the United States! I said it in the car last night!”

Ah, the wonder and innocence of children.

As I watched my son sleep last night, I looked at my husband, who said, “I never thought I’d see this in my lifetime – a Black man is President!”

I kissed Matt’s head and I replied, “In our son’s lifetime, the first President he will know looks like him. And now, when we tell him he can be anything he wants – including President – he can see it for himself.”

I’m not naive enough to think that Obama’s election is the panacea for all that is wrong in America. Nor do I think that the issues of race in this country have been resolved – far from it.

But I am so grateful to see the fulfillment of Dr. King’s dream – that one day, man would be judged “not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

I am so grateful to see a first lady who has nappy hair (as my hubby declared). Okay, Michelle Obama doesn’t have nappy hair, but you know she never has to worry about squeezing in at the shop and getting a touch-up.

I am so glad to see a loving, intelligent, intact Black family moving into the White House and waiting to see them put their stamp on history.

And as much as I love Dennis Haysbert’s David Palmer on “24″ and Morgan Freeman’s Tom Beck in “Deep Impact”, how much more do I love Barack Obama starring as the 44th President of the United States in real life!

I confess, I didn’t think he’d run back in 2004. I didn’t think he’d run last year. I didn’t think he’d beat Hillary Clinton. And I sure as heck didn’t think he’d win the Presidency.

Well whaddya know about that?

No Matter What…

“What manner of man is this that winds may obey?

What manner of man is this that even the seas obey?

The Great One, for He created the heavens and the earth.

God can do just what He wants.”

- Ricky Dillard

When I woke up this morning, my first thought (after “I hate my alarm”) was this song. It’s been going through my head all morning. Our choir sang it on Sunday in a tribute to our pastor. I haven’t heard the song in years, but this morning, it’s going round and round in my head.

Why am I sharing this with you?

Because I am a person of faith. My pastor has been preaching for the past few weeks on being dependent on God. That idea is resonating with me, especially this morning. There’s nothing I can do to control what happens in the next few hours. So I’m done worrying about it.

If Obama wins, God is in control.

If McCain wins, God is in control.

Will I be disappointed if Obama doesn’t win? Of course – severely and bitterly. But I won’t worry about it. I won’t even pack up to move to Canada.

I am strangely calm today. And yet, I’m anxious – not about the election, but about the things that God is showing me for my life. It’s not even anxiety, but excitement. Like Obama, I’m fired up and ready to go! 

So, no matter what happens today, remember that God will do just what He wants; He’s in control.