I think I was almost a teenager when I realized Uncle Lawrence was not my immediate uncle, but rather my great uncle. He was my Nana's brother and boy did I love him. Uncle Lawrence never treated me like the child that I was. I was a little girl in pigtails and a frilly dress, uncomfortable in my own skin, and wishing desperately to be wearing a Michael Jackson shirt and ripped jeans, and attempting to play football with my boy cousins. I was such a tomgirl.
But Uncle Lawrence ; much like my Nana, saw right through my outer shell. He saw the little lady I was growing into. He saw the imagination and creativity all bundled up in my little brain. He saw my heart for God and godly things even when I was a child.
Every summer we'd go on vacation to Virginia Beach & we'd stop in Silver Springs to visit with he and sweet Aunt Mary Ellen. I was fascinated with two things at their house. Firstly, it always felt like something "magical" could happen at any moment. Uncle Lawrence was important. For what I didnt know at the time, but I knew occasionally people dropped by and had "important sounding " conversations with him. White people. Black people. Women. Men. They'd drop by and chit chat with Uncle Lawrence as if he were an encyclopedia or great scholar. Apparently, he had the answers to life, and I couldnt wait for them to leave so he could share them with me. You see; every single time I saw Uncle Lawrence he gave me advice. Some I remember, some I dont. But every single time I was in his presence I felt empowered.
When I showed interest in one of his many books he said "Kelli Rose". Oh...I can hear his voice now. So distinctive and to the point. "Do you love God?" "Yes sir," I replied. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses; grinned and said, "I know you do." He paused, then patted me heavily on my head and pulled me in momentarily. "You're gonna be a preacher ya know. You've got a heavy load to carry. The voice of an angel and the burden of the gospel".
I remember thinking he was kidding because we were the "holy rollers" of the family @ the time. You know, all of our family went to church and believed in God, but we were different in sorts. We didnt dance. We didnt drink. We spoke in tongues. Often times I now recall that I felt like much of an outsider because I was defined by what I wasnt allowed to do rather than being celebrated for being a child that genuinely wanted to walk in the ways of Christ.
But he wasnt kidding. The older I grew, the more places I went, the more prophecies I received; that "word in passing" Uncle Lawrence gave me turned out to be part of Gods plan for my life.
I was also fascinated with their love for pimento cheese. I never really did like it even after I tried it. But Aunt Mary Ellen would spread it on white bread, and cut the sandwich into little squares. They looked so dainty & colorful, I convinced myself I had to like it. And I'd sit there at the round table in the kitchen, with Uncle Lawrence & Aunt Mary Ellen eating pimento cheese sandwiches while they indulged me by listening to my simple stories about kickball games, mean teachers, and missing Nana.
this past Monday as I was waking up the pitter patter of ran on my windows, my Uncle Lawrence was passing away from this world. When I received the news; my heart dropped for I knew unless a small miracle occurred I wouldnt be able to afford a ticket to get to Maryland to say my goodbyes. Suddenly I could hear his laugh, feel his rough but sincere hug, and wished I could talk with him just one more time.
My Uncle Lawrence was important. He was the dean emeritus of the Howard University School of Divinity (1975-1991).
More importantly, he was important because he was never too busy for an inquisitive great niece who admired him greatly and hoped desperately to help people, touch people, and love Gods people like her great uncle.
I love you Uncle Lawrence, and I'll remember you always.
Sleep in heavenly peace.....
Kelli Rose
