Saturday, April 25, 2009

Behind the Red Door

Some people don't remember their childhoods very well. I remember so much about mine (except how to get to my grandmother's house 3 hours from our house - I slept all the way there and back about every trip. tee hee!)

I found myself remembering something from elementary school the other day. When I was seven years old we moved "over the mountain" which in Birmingham, Alabama was where all the new growth in town was happening at that time. Much of the former pastures and farmland were then becoming new subdivisions, schools and shopping centers.

When we moved I began going to a new school and riding the bus. On the way to school every day we passed nice homes and new neighborhoods and all the people riding on the bus "looked like me." All except for Starr...

We stopped the bus every day at the Cloverleaf Honky Tonk bar. It was a hold out in our part of town. The Cloverleaf looked like it was practically falling down and was sure enough painted green. In the lower part of the Cloverleaf, there was a red door, a red light and a stoop.

It was from that door that Starr, dressed in dirty dresses, sporting unruly hair and a forlorn expression, made her appearance daily and trudged up the stairs of our new bus to be blatantly ignored by the other students.

Little did I know then that Starr's mom was a prostitute. Little did I know that Starr's childhood was probably horrible. Little did I know.

I'm sorry I didn't reach out to Starr. I wonder where she is now. She most assuredly isn't living in the Cloverleaf. It was finally bulldozed about 20 years ago. But, I wonder if she has a red light outside her stoop. I hope not.

Father, make me aware of the Starrs out there who are living in their own horrible place. Open my eyes and heart to see how I can just love with your love.

That's why we're here.
Just to love.
Just to show the Father's love,

1 comment:

Roxanne said...

Me too, Lord!

Thanks, Susan. Hope to see you again soon.