Freedom

For the past hour, I watched a fascinating episode of Oprah talking about the freedom riders of fifty years ago.  It's hard to imagine that the world looked that way in what seems just a short time ago, but it did.  When you consider how the people were treated back then, it's easy to see how there was so much hatred in the world.  It made me reflect on my own childhood.  I was not free of similar torment and ridicule.  For reasons that may be obvious to some, there were difficult moments in my earlier years and into my adolescence.  Luckily, I had a grandmother that really demonstrated strength and courage and through her example, I learned to live without fear.  It offered a freedom.  As I watched that show this evening, I did something powerful for myself, a simple act that offered its own freedom.  A friend was here helping me chop the vegetables for the pot of soup that's on my stove.  There's two pots, in fact.  One will travel to my friend's home once it's cooked.  I realize it's a simple and perhaps unusual comparison--a pot of soup to a bus full of freedom riders, but for me, the connection is obvious.  Not too long ago, my stove was never turned on and my meal was from the hands of someone else and it was a less-than-healthy choice.  It only led to suffering and all kinds of it.  Today, my own hands go into my meals.  It offers me health, the promise of long life, and essentially, freedom.  I may not have written like this tonight had it not been for that Oprah episode that showed me that freedom can find itself in the bravery of those who rode that bus and it can find itself in the pot on my stove this evening.  I think I'll share that recipe for this soup with you tomorrow night.