All of a sudden, he lifts his left butt cheek into the air, throws the leg attached to it over his right hip and flips himself from back to belly like some kind of gymnast. Then perfecting the routine, he lifts his right arm over his head in one magnificent reach, grabs the wiper warmer, and sends everything around it crashing to the floor.
So I do what any mother with a half open, poopy diaper does while her child holds onto the edge of the change table with a grip so intentional in its glee that it’s impossible to roll him back: I learn to change him upside down.
If you’ve ever worked with me you know that one of the ways I approach visibility is according to one of its underused definitions: available. As in, what are you available for?
It seems as if overnight, what I am personally available for has shifted dramatically. Having done this work a while now, I know that there is no overnight success, transformation or change. The moments of change are swift but the circumstances and seeds planted are usually a long time coming. Regardless, I feel radically different.
It was a Sunday afternoon, February 26, 2012 and a 17-year-old African-American high school student went out for a walk in his gated community. He was wearing a hoodie and he had a package of skittles in his pocket. He never came home.
More Joy Now