Yesterday, I Made an Assumption

Yesterday, I made an assumption.

I was riding high on my white savior complex

Proud of all the work I had done

All the talking

All the listening

All the organizing

All the helping

I had done it.

I was building relationships with guests,

Friends.

But we had parted ways.

Yesterday, I made an assumption.

Two young, black men. 

Taut bodies with long dreads cascading,

Sweatpants and t-shirts, with gym bags on their backs

Riding bicycles

Perhaps they were going to the gym to strengthen their muscles.

Maybe they were athletes in high school?

They aren’t like me.

They would think it weird that I talk

to people

On the street,

On the sidewalk,

On the bench,

In the park.

I help people.

I do service.

I am a volunteer.

I work with the church.

I make friends.

I am different.

I am good.

The young men stop.

Open the packs.

I see pieces of plastic loops.

Plastic bags of food.

They give the packages

to people

On the street,

On the sidewalk,

On the bench,

In the park.

My interest piqued:

"Are y’all with an organization?"

One responds,

"It's just God's work.

He started, and I joined him.

Have a blessed day."

Yesterday, I made an assumption.

New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, where I meet guests and friends