Dr. James Whitfield

inspiration

Evolve

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Commitment coupled with feedback and accountability is a very powerful mechanism for growth. From the beginning of 2023, I’ve committed to writing this reflective blog. In such, I’ve tried to capture everything from feelings, life events, and various happenings across society. Truth be told, I was hesitant to make this commitment public, as I had deep concerns as to how much time I would have to devote to such an endeavor. 

But here we are. And you, the reader, have stood in the gap on so many occasions over the course of this year. Family, friends, and complete strangers, have been a strong source of encouragement and accountability throughout this journey. 

Accountability Can Actually Be a Good Thing

I’m in public education in Texas, so I know the word “accountability” tends to leave a bad taste in folk’s mouths. Over time, it has seemingly been used as a gotcha-type weapon. We won’t delve into the convoluted mess that is the testing and accountability system in Texas. Trust me, it would only make your head hurt. Conversely,  the accountability that you, the reader, have offered to me is something quite different.

Along this journey through life, our receptiveness to feedback, level of commitment to that which we hold dear, and willingness to embrace accountability is key to our growth. And, sometimes, we get in our own way when it comes to these different qualities. I know that’s been the case for me, especially in my younger days.

Guidance Beyond The Court

In my first year of high school, I had a very small, tight knit group of friends that I associated with. As the years passed on and I began to take on more of a leadership role within the basketball program at Midland High School, my circle expanded. This was not always for the better.

My basketball coach, Jack Stephenson, played such a huge role in my life as a young man. He was relational, receptive, and had his hand on the pulse of anything and everything that was going on with his players. He cared at a deep level. And as my circle grew, the conversations became more frequent. 

“James, you have to decide what you want to do and who you want to be. You’re as talented as they come, but you’ve gotta be careful about your circle – birds of a feather flock together”, he’d say on many occasions. Over time, I would find myself in the precarious situations that many young wayward teens often find themselves. And, as usual, Coach was spot-on. 

Among various family members and friends in the neighborhood there was plenty of opportunity to get caught up. He saw it and, without being preachy or judgmental, had deep guided conversations with me about my future. Coach Stephenson’s office door was always open to any and all who needed him. I remember more than one session in that office where he was trying to ensure I stayed on the right path. If I’m completely honest, on more than one occasion I left thinking “dude just doesn’t want me to have any fun.” But, over time, that time and wisdom he shared would show up in powerful ways.

He was offering feedback. Giving me a space to be, feel, and reflect. He knew my commitment to playing college basketball. He also knew that I was going to become a father in March of my senior year. And he was there to hold me accountable for that which I’d committed to.

Turn The Page

While I would go on to graduate and eventually fulfill that commitment, it was not without multiple failures. So many missed opportunities and hard lessons learned. Through it all, I could hear the countless conversations with Coach Stephenson ringing in my being. My grandmother, My Ma, was there to offer her love, unyielding support, encouragement, and willingness to hold me accountable to my commitments. My young son, Jordan, who was just a baby at the time, was there, looking back at me in a way that said “keep going, Pops”. 

Commitment, Accountability, and Feedback were determinant factors in my growth as a young man who had such high hopes, but such a chaotic scene to make sense of.

I truly do not know where I’d be today without these monumental figures in my life along the way. As I look back on the weekly words chosen over the course of this reflective blog journey it is clear that, much like my life, it has been filled with twists and turns, joys and pains, and unbelievable highs and devastating lows. But, yet, here I am. Writing these words. Living this life. Embracing every moment as it comes. And committed to continued growth and positive impact over the course of the time I have left here on this earth.

Gratitude and Growth 

As we head into the last several weeks of this journey I just want to thank you. Thanks for every comment, every share, every “like” and/or “love”. Thank you for all the emails where you shared your connection to the piece. Your feedback has been greatly appreciated and welcomed. And that feedback has been a strong, steady mechanism of accountability. Thank you for helping me grow. And, I hope that maybe even in some small way, I have been part of your growth, as well. Wishing you all the best this Christmas season as we round our 2023.

And to Coach Stephenson, I love you so much. I’m so grateful for your presence in my life. Merry Christmas, Coach!

 

Heroes

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As I walk out of the building, I hear cheers and see dozens of my students with signs of support. It’s the end of yet another long school board meeting where many of their classmates stood up and spoke on my behalf and for each other. It’s a dark, crisp night, it’s getting late and I know this will likely be the last time I get to address this group of students face-to-face. I step to the bullhorn and deliver a brief message of appreciation, love, pride, and support, then head home so we can put my 3rd grade son, Landon, to bed. 

The Kids Are Alright

Before I go further I must note something that many may not have realized about the students who were leading protests and speaking out. Many in the crowd that night have just finished their early action applications to Harvard, Brown, MIT, Stanford, University of Texas Honors Program, and Rice. Most, if not all, of them are taking a full load of AP classes as high school seniors. They are students who have never skipped school a day in their life but quickly informed their parents that they would be walking out of school in protest because they believed so strongly in their cause. After many of them spoke on this night, they were chastised by another speaker saying “they should not get to speak – they don’t pay taxes.” 

On this day two years ago, November 17, 2021, I saw a group of young people who, despite the opposition, found their voice. A group of students who had no time to engage in protests and the likes, made time. Their courage, leadership, and conviction landed them in the headlines of The Washington Post, refusing to be silenced. They represented what so many people feared – an engaged, educated young citizen capable of critical thinking and forming their own conclusions. These young people refused to drink from the fire hydrant of what may have been traditional “community” norms, but rather, questioned it.

Winds of Change

My time had run its course in the district, yet my youngest son was still enrolled there. He’d joined me in the district years prior and it was nice to have him so close to me. I could pop over for lunch when I had a few minutes. He could come over after school and shoot hoops with me before we went home. He loved his teachers, principal, and friends. And we enjoyed our rides to and from school together. 

But at this, things have changed. For the last several months I would drive Landon to school, past my former school, drop him off, then head home where a whirlwind of media were chomping at the bits for their pound of flesh. Thankfully, I’d found a dear friend and PR Strategist throughout this process who helped screen out some of the sharks. But after the meeting on November 17, 2021, it was clear that I had to make the tough decision to withdraw Landon from the district at the Thanksgiving break and enroll him in our home district on the other side. He was sad. His friends and teachers were sad and they made him cool going away presents. We were all sad. But this was just the way it had to be.

Navigating Transitions

As I walk up to enroll Landon for his first day at his new school I’m met with the emotion that most every parent has felt at some point –

Am I doing the right thing?

Surely I could just suck it up and just make the drive, push down the emotional trigger of passing my former place of employment, and make it happen, right?

But through the mixed emotions I enrolled Landon in his new school, which is within walking distance from our house. Over the course of the next several weeks we created a new routine – walk to school, then at the end of the day pick up by the big oak tree, then walk home. We found rhythm and consistency. And, as luck would have it, one of Landon’s former teachers was good friends with one of his new teachers and they were able to discuss his progress. 

Not only was he experiencing a transition academically, but he was watching the world around him unravel. He clung closer and closer to my side. While I tried to shield him from all that was going on and hide the pain, disappointment, and frustration in his presence, he knew something was off. He knows how much his dad loves being a school principal and now dad is no longer doing that. He is now accustomed to cameras and journalists following us to school or setting up in our home. And he is thriving in his new school setting. 

I marveled at his resilience and growth, his capacity to adapt to change and pour out love. On many days where I felt my light begin to dim, he shared some of his with me to brighten the way. And over the course of the rest of the 21-22 school year and 22-23 school year it was much the same. This dude served as such an inspiration to me.

A Whole New World

As August came around, I was nearing the end of my required time outside of public education. But I knew where I would be on the first day of school for the 23-24 school year. I’d obtained my superintendent certification years ago and never thought I’d be using it. But God always has a way of making a way towards those things you once thought unattainable. For this school year I’d begin on the first day of school at a K-12 public charter school as superintendent. 

Look at God.

But now I had a decision to make. With my older two children, Jordan and Lauren, I had the opportunity to serve in a school they attended. I got to coach Jordan as a basketball player (he loved it). When Lauren went into middle school, good ole dad was starting as a first year assistant principal (and you know she loved that). And now an opportunity has presented itself for me to be at school with Landon as a 5th grader, should we choose to transfer him to the school I’m at.

Decisions

For weeks prior we went back and forth. He’d been through so much change over the last few years. Relationships were formed with friends and teachers in his current school. And this was his year to be the big dawg on campus as 5th grade is the final year in that school. With us now being at different schools I definitely couldn’t drop him off in the mornings. Sparingly I’d be able to pick him up from school. I’d still probably get to join him for lunch as much as any other year. But things would be changing, for sure. So many considerations.

I drove to school alone on August 16, 2023. This was to be Landon’s first day of school, as well. His school day was set to start several minutes after mine and we would no longer ride together. With each mile I inched in traffic closer to school my emotions were everywhere, much like the cars that zoomed around each other. We’d been so torn on whether or not I should bring Landon to my school, which promised to be an amazing place, or leave him at his current school that was also amazing.

In an instant, I asked Siri to call my wife, who I knew would be up with Landon, preparing for his first day. As she picked up the phone I said, 

“Honey, don’t send him to school today. I’m gonna bring him with me. What do you think?”

Yes. I know. I went from making a firm decision to asking a question in the same breath. That speaks to where my mind was at. But I just knew in my heart that this was the right move.

She went over to Landon with the phone on speaker and said “Hey bud, what do you think about going to school with Dad this year? Dad wants you to go with him.”

All of a sudden, the phone momentarily went silent. I thought “oh crap. Did I just mess this up? The first day of school is already stressful and now I’ve gone and made it extra stressful.”

Before I got too far along the downward spiral of my thoughts I heard Kerrie’s voice exclaim, “Oh my gosh, he’s smiling so big. Yes. He’s shaking his head, yes.”

The decision was made. Landon would join me at school for 5th grade. Our rides to and from school together would continue. He’d be in a place where he gets to learn in a small setting and enjoy the outdoors afforded at our beautiful, expansive campus.

A Day to Trot

Over the last few months we’ve both gone through transition – him, as a new student in a new space; me, in a new role in a new place. And it has been one heck of a journey navigating the winds of change. 

Today was our annual Turkey Trot at our school. For the last several weeks, students were given the opportunity to sign up by grade level clusters to run in it. The winners of each race received a turkey to take home. Over the course of that time I’ve asked Landon every day if he wanted to run in the race. The dude is a strong, fast runner. But every day, the answer was, “no dad, I’m good.” 

This morning we began as we do most Fridays with our Donuts with Dad at our favorite donut shop. Then, we had a conversation about everything from the upcoming anniversary of the JFK assassination to the conflict in the middle east. As we got to school and entered my office Landon looked at me and said, “Dad, I think I want to do the Turkey Trot”, to which I responded, “then let’s do it!”. Quickly, we went over to the sign up sheet to add his name. 

After adding his name he said, “Dad, if I win the Turkey Trot, I want to give the turkey I win to someone who needs it.”

With my heart beaming with pride I said, “that sounds like a fantastic idea son. I’m sure there is someone who needs it.”

We had a great day today at our school. I was pied in the face by those who won the drawing from our canned food drive. Families feasted on wide food spreads, picnic style, with their children on the grounds. And the races were intense. 

As I watched Landon round the last turn towards the finish line with no one in front of him I couldn’t help but smile. After so much hesitation about even running, he’d not only run the race, but won first place, thus securing that turkey to give away. After a great big hug, he was off to take his picture with the first place sign and a huge turkey in his arms. I could see the happiness in his face – the pride in his stance. He’d won the turkey he set out to win to donate to someone in need.

I stood there watching this young man with so much pride in my heart. To think about where we were two years ago on this very day. So much uncertainty, pain, grief, disappointment, and fear. Then the transitions over the course of the time from then to now. And now, this moment. Only by the grace of God.

Our Young People, Our Heroes

So often, we reserve the title of “hero” for adults or celebrities, but I know better. Heroes are the young folks I’ve described above. Youth who sacrificed so much of their time and energy to stand up for not only me, but their community. They were harassed online and in person, but never buckled under the pressure. They shook up things and made folks aware of what was going on in their community. 

And my son, Landon. He is truly one of my heroes. He inspires me with his courage and resilience. The last couple years have been tough but he mets every challenge, head-on, and conquering them. I’m proud of his huge heart, empathy, and sense of compassion for others. His compassion knows no bounds, a beacon of light in a world that sometimes feels dim. I’m uplifted by his constant encouragement and love. 

Landon. My son. Our little champion. My heart. My hero.

Perserverance

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Throughout life, there are moments that, indeed, take us higher. One such moment – the Texas Rangers securing their first World Series Championship this week. A team that so many counted out, standing alone as the standard for baseball around the world. For the countless fans who have followed this team through thick and thin, drops and whiffs, and everything in-between, this achievement is more than just a sports victory; it’s a testament to the unwavering human spirit and the ties that bind generations. And with this, I can’t help but think about how proud my Ma would be.

Fond Memories with “Ma”

My Grandmother, Mintha Doris Sumner, affectionately known as “Ma”, was an avid sports enthusiast. I can vividly recall the countless hours we spent watching Mavs, Cowboys, and Rangers games together. She was a force to be reckoned with. You couldn’t tell her she was not the coach. She expected nothing less than excellence from the athletes on the screen. The only exception to her unwavering commitment was Dirk Nowitzki, who she adored. Rarely – even when that dude messed up – did she get upset with him. Oh, and Jose Canseco. She LOVED her some Jose Conseco – ball bouncing off his head and all. But I digress…

As I sat in the stands at Globe Life Field on Wednesday evening, I couldn’t help but think about all these moments with Ma. And as the fireworks shot off after the Sborz called 3rd strike, I had a bit of a mist in my eye. I was transported back to Ma’s living room where we watched so many games – all the ups and downs. I was transported to the various dollar hot-dog nights we went to at the old stadium. In the moment, I was reminded that this game was really about so much more. So many core memories. So many lessons that sports teach us.

A Legacy of Strength and Selflessness

When I think about Ma, I find solace in these vivid memories, knowing that her legacy lives on through our lives. It’s a testament to the beautiful story that the Lord painted with her life. A life that was anything but easy. 

Her life was not without challenges, and she faced them with unwavering strength. Losing Grandaddy, the love of her life, shortly after they were supposed to embark on a journey to enjoy the fruits of their hard work was a heart-wrenching blow. Yet, she continued to serve her beloved Itasca community, from volunteering at the church to delivering meals on wheels, always there for those in need.

A decade later, her life took another devastating and unexpected turn when she had to care for my mother, Beverly Jan Whitfield, who was fighting a cancer that proved to be incurable. Ma’s life shifted from the quiet streets of Itasca to the bustling metro of Downtown Houston to be by her daughter’s side every step of the way. Despite her own heartache, she provided love, care, and unwavering support to her daughter, who left this world far too soon.

And then with the loss of my mother, Ma took on the responsibility of guiding me, a 19-year-old on the brink of going off the rails, and raising my younger brother, Michael. All of this happened less than a decade after she and Grandaddy had planned to explore the country together and enjoy their hard-earned retirement. Her life had taken a dramatically different course.

Lessons from Life’s Challenges

Ma’s love was a selfless love, passionately committed to the well-being of others, born not of emotions but of choice. She never judged or condemned me, even when I faltered. Instead, she saw the best in me, believed in me, and offered a safe harbor in the tumultuous seas of the times. I often wonder how different my life would have been without Ma’s presence. That thought frightens me. Ma’s love, her pride in us, and her selfless spirit are the most significant gifts she left behind. They form a legacy that cannot be diminished or lost, ensuring that she continues to live on in our lives.

Celebration – Life and Sport

As I watched the Texas Rangers celebrate becoming World Series Champions, I could feel her presence. I could imagine her jubilation. Their ability to overcome, echoed the spirit of Ma. I’m reminded that that sorts often mimic life, and it’s more than just a game. It’s about enduring and triumphing through the challenges that come our way. Ma’s legacy taught me that, even in the face of adversity, we can lean into love – a love that believes in the best, endures through all trials, and asks for nothing in return.

Ma, we thank you for your humor, compassion, wisdom, patience, and, above all, your unwavering love. Your legacy is a testament to a life well-lived, and we can only imagine the celebration that’s taking place in Heaven. You are our joy, and we rejoice in honoring your memory. Your love continues to live on in each of us, and for that, we are forever grateful. 

Go Rangers!

Seniors

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A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of meeting with the senior class at my school. I took some time to sit down with each of them and get to know them better. I asked about their dreams, their family lives, and the things they were passionate about. This senior class is smaller than any I’ve ever served, but it allowed me to engage in some profound conversations with these students, serving as a powerful reminder of why I’m so passionate about my work.

Recommendations

Quite often, I’m asked to write college admissions recommendation letters for former students. Anytime I get a request like this I feel it to be a great honor, and work to oblige. I’ve gotten dozens of these over the years. That someone feels compelled to ask for my words as a recommendation is truly humbling.

But this year’s requests strike a bit of a different chord. These requests are coming from students who were caught up in the transition from middle to high school at the height of the pandemic. These are students who crossed the street with me from Heritage Middle School as 8th graders to Colleyville Heritage High School as Freshmen. This was the year I’d hand them their diploma in May. But due to unforeseen circumstances that none of us ever could have imagined, that is simply not a reality.

Experiences

Reflecting on the past two years, I find myself thinking about the journey that led me to be a panelist at the Education Law Association conference in Reno, Nevada this week. Our piece centered around the legacy of the landmark case, Brown v. Board of Education, and how it relates to the experiences of our students and families today. 

This weekend I attended a wedding that brought me to reconnect with students and families I’d served as CHHS when I was an assistant principal in the 2018-2019 school year. It was so great to reconnect with these young people and hear how their journey has played out. Each of them, college graduates well into the next phase of “adulting”. We reminisced on the journey from then to now, then celebrated the union of a beautiful couple.

Transition – From Middle School to High School During a Global Pandemic

Throughout my reflections, I can’t help but think of this year’s senior class at CHHS, especially those who joined me from Heritage Middle School. During the 2019-2020 school year, I was their middle school principal. Now, leading into the 2020-2021 school year, we’d make this journey together. Them, as high school freshmen. Myself, as a first-year high school principal. I’ve often pondered the challenges they faced during that transition, and just how amazing they truly are.

Before the world turned upside down in 2020, we had a blast at HMS. We organized various events, from ice cream socials to Veterans Day ceremonies. Our staff even did a surprise Thriller dance performance for our Halloween pep rally (with ya’ boy as MJ). But then, spring break arrived, and suddenly, we found ourselves in the midst of a global pandemic. It was a time of uncertainty and chaos, and we had to quickly adapt to make education accessible for students stuck at home.

For so many, school had served as a sanctuary, a place of security, and that was taken away overnight. Families and staff members faced hardships daily, from illness to job loss to the loss of family members. We had to reimagine education, distribute laptops, and reassure families that we were there for them. Amid the chaos, we even organized a drive-through eighth-grade sendoff, a small gesture to acknowledge the importance of this transition in their educational journey.

They’s Always Watching

This brings me to the present, as I think about the Class of 2024. They have endured not only the pandemic but also a tumultuous space in time, filled with a lot of vitriol and toxicity. I’ve always believed that our students are watching us, learning from our actions and attitudes. As an educator responsible for their well-being, I strive to be a positive presence in their life, daily. I hope to convey that they are seen, heard, loved, and valued each day. 

I am also keenly aware that they are watching our every move – seeing if we’re just saying they’re “seen, heard, loved, and valued” or if we really mean it. And my goal has always been to show them the latter. Flowery words on mission statements are one thing. The way we go about educating the hearts and minds of young people and creating spaces where students can truly be is another. Students know who’s real and who’s not.

To the Class of 2024

So, seeing as though I will not be able to hand them that diploma in May or deliver my heartfelt remarks, here goes: 

As you approach the end of your high school journey, I want to take a moment to acknowledge the incredible strength, resilience, and determination you’ve demonstrated throughout these challenging years. Your class has faced the unprecedented trials brought on by the pandemic, and you have emerged stronger and more prepared for the future as a result. 

The last few years have been far from easy. You’ve navigated uncertainty, adapted to new ways of learning, and faced many disappointments and missed opportunities. Yet, in the face of these challenges, you’ve shown remarkable courage and resilience. You’ve learned to embrace change, to find opportunities within adversity, and to support one another in times of need.

Despite the hardships, I want you to remember the moments of triumph. Remember the friendships you’ve forged, and the personal growth you’ve achieved. You’ve become a part of history, a generation that didn’t just survive a global crisis but thrived in the face of it. Your resilience and the lessons you’ve learned will be one of your greatest assets as you move forward.

That ability to adapt and preserve through the tough days of life will serve you well in the years to come. Life has a way of throwing unexpected curveballs, and the experiences you’ve had in high school have equipped you with the resilience and problem-solving skills to tackle whatever comes your way. 

When these difficult moments come, I encourage you to embrace them, as they can be the foundation of greatness. At the moment, it may seem to be a failure, or it may actually be a failure. That’s ok. Remember, failure is not the end but the beginning of something extraordinary. Those who have achieved greatness have often stumbled along their journey. I hope you always know that, even in chaos, there are lessons to be learned. It’s okay to fall down – just don’t stay there.

You have served as an inspiration for myself and so many others. It was you that were at the forefront of my mind when I testified before Congress. You were with me as I shared my story through various media outlets, shining a light on what all the chaos was truly about – ensuring you have access to a safe, nurturing learning environment that affords you an excellent, robust education that prepares you for the world you will step into. 

Quite often, people ask me how on earth I do what I do – working with young people each day. A common refrain is “kids these days” with a tone of hesitancy. I always respond by telling them that I know “kids these days.” They are not a generation disconnected from us. I sit with them, listen to their hearts, celebrate their achievements, and question them when they might be on the wrong path. 

Now, as you stand on the threshold of the next chapter in your lives, take with you the knowledge that you are capable of great things. Continue to dream big, set ambitious goals, and pursue your passions with unwavering dedication. The future is full of possibilities. And I have no doubt that you will embrace them with the same courage and determination that have brought you to this point.

Your journey through high school during the pandemic has not defined you. But it has certainly shaped you into a generation that understands the value of unity, adaptability, and perseverance. As you embark on new adventures, whether in college, the workforce, or elsewhere, carry the lessons and strength you’ve gained with you. Your future is bright, and I can’t wait to see the incredible contributions you’ll make to the world.

Remember, you are not alone in this journey. You have a network of support, including friends, family, teachers, and mentors, who believe in your potential. Keep reaching for the stars, stay true to your dreams, and never stop believing in yourselves.

While I may not be physically present as you transition from high school to the next leg of your journey, I will always be one of your biggest cheerleaders. You’ve made a significant impact on my life, and I hope that I’ve made a positive difference in yours. 

Congratulations on your achievements, and best of luck in all your future endeavors. Your resilience is an inspiration, and I have no doubt that you will achieve great things.

With love, admiration and unwavering support,

Dr. Whitfield 

 

Gratitude

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I’ve thought a lot this week about how fortunate I am to be here. At this stage of life I find myself reflecting more and more on the graces I’ve been afforded, and just how much of a miracle it is that I’m even here to write these words. I’m filled with gratitude.

Upbringing

I grew up in Midland, Texas. No stranger to tumbleweeds, dust storms, and tornado warnings that never seemed to materialize. I was also no stranger to all the nefarious elements that come with being a pivotal point along a main thoroughfare for illicit drugs heading to the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex. It was a wildly chaotic childhood and hard to imagine when, where, or how life could be better.

Movin’ on Up

When I was heading into middle school I learned my family was moving to another house, two streets over. The house we lived in was crumbling, we were behind on our rent, and it was just past time for us to leave. This place held pain, toxicity, and nightmares. My mother told me we were moving from this house at the “T” of Comanche and Eisenhower to “a house on the corner on Kiowa Drive.” I was excited to hear of this new place. 

Armed with this notice, I rode my bike over to Kiowa. I knew there weren’t many neighborhood kids over there – most all of us were strewn up and down Comanche – and I had to see what was going on over there. I remember seeing a house on the corner – an off white, brick house with a couple of nice trees in the front yard. “We hit the jackpot, I thought” If this house looks anything on the inside like it does on the outside, we’re movin’ on up! 

I quickly rode home, threw my bike down in the yard, and hurried inside to ask my mom “mom, you said ‘house on the’ corner, right?”

“Yes”, she plainly responded. 

I shouted “YES” and gave my mom a great big hug. She reciprocated but I could tell she was a bit thrown off by my excitement over this new place. Upon the move, I would understand why.

The Move

As we rounded the corner of Eisenhower onto Kiowa drive, I looked out in the distance to that house on the corner on the south side of the street. I was locked in. As we got closer I could feel it. I tried to envision the layout and how it would feel as I walked in. My imagination didn’t get to run wild for long, as the truck came to a stop on the north side of the street, just the other side of a large pasture. I looked out the window to the house we’d pulled up to. A salmon colored, frame house that looked to be on its last leg thinking “what’s this?”

The truck was thrust into park and everyone got out. I thought ‘ok, maybe we’re just parking here but we’re really taking stuff over there (to the white brick house). Nope, that would not be the case. This place, with a dirt front yard, seemingly one step from being condemned, would be the house we called home for the entirety of the rest of my life in Midland, TX.

A Heartbreaking Revelation

I’ll spare you the details of what that house held as surprises when we got inside. There’s far too much to describe here. I was devastated. For the better part of the last week, with pride, I’d shown my friends the house I thought I’d be moving to. It wasn’t so much a “brag” as it was “can you believe this?” type deal. I was excited to finally not be embarrassed to have friends over to my house. And they were so excited for me. And all of that was crushed as I entered my new house and saw what awaited. 

I found out later that we’d been evicted from the other house and this was the best we could find that would allow us to remain in the area, where I wouldn’t have to change schools. 

Two Houses, Two Worlds

I never stepped foot in the white brick house, but I can still envision the thoughts I had as we turned up that road towards it. As I look back on it, the house wasn’t anything super-special. But from my limited understanding of what could be, that place was a mansion. 

I have a blueprint of that old salmon colored house, with all the chaos it embodied, imprinted in my brain. That place represented so much of what I never wish for anyone to endure at any point in their life. 

I’ve never forgotten either of those houses. Those two places, a stones throw apart, represented an interesting dichotomy of life for me at an early age. It was so wild to have something I deeply desired squarely within view, but completely unable to attain. Within reach, but so far away. 

I knew how I didn’t want to live. And what I hoped for in the future, despite not having a clue as to how I’d make that dream a reality. 

Beyond the Brick and Mortar: A Journey of Hope, Guidance, and Gratitude

Yes, I’m in that brick home now. But it’s really about something much deeper than the material building that was so important to me as a child. It was the hope of something different, more hopeful and brighter, that the house symbolized for me. Along my journey, I’ve been blessed to have so many amazing people, guiding me towards a more hopeful, brighter place in life. 

From several coaches and teachers, to the random kindness of strangers, to colleagues, students, and families, to my loving family – I consider myself so fortunate. While the road has been marred with plenty of pain, chaos, and trauma, there’s also been moments of joy, clarity, and comfort. I think, to varying degrees, that’s the case for most of us. 

We’re all faced with disappointment, discontent, and hopelessness at some point along the plot line of our lives. And then, somewhere along the way, we’re given a glimpse of hope. A glimpse of what could be, and a sense of purpose, pushing us forward. 

I encourage you to continue to look for that hope and purpose in the midst of your trials. It may not be the brick house on the corner you thought was yours. You may be stuck in the chaos and pain of the moment. It seems unending and out of control. But never let your current circumstances limit your future possibilities. Trust that this season is preparing you for something greater than you ever imagined.

Weekly With Whitfield – Unity

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I have a love/hate relationship with airports. I didn’t take my first flight until I was a young adult. To that point, all of my travel had been on that gray dog – Greyhound. As a kid, my mother and I would ride the Greyhound bus line from Midland (TX) to Dallas (TX), in the summer and, sometimes, over Christmas break. My Grandmother would pick us up at the Greyhound station and off we went to her home in the tiny town of Itasca (TX).

Greyhound Adventures: Childhood Curiosity

Riding the bus from Midland to Dallas (and back) was a lengthy ride, often going far out of the way of what the most direct route would be. But, even with that, I enjoyed my time on those bus rides. After I talked my mother’s ear off, I went up and down the aisle talking to whoever would engage with me. And my mom could finally dig into whatever book she’d brought along. Other than the long ride, the process was easy – you showed up, they loaded your bags, you got on the bus, rode to your destination, then quickly retrieved your bags on the other end. Easy-peasy. 

I’ve always been fascinated with people. Even as a young boy I was more interested in the invisible bags that people carry over the ones that were thrown under the bus. I remember looking around the bus and finding my “marks” as soon as I got on that bus. And, often, I had located them in the bus terminal. My sense of curiosity ran wild:

Who’s sitting by themself?

They have long hair, I wonder how long it took them to grow that out?

He has a Walkman, I wonder what kind of music he’s listening to?

She looks very sad. I wonder what happened?

Wonder upon wonder ran through my mind. Not that I wanted to interview all these people. Trust me, momma wasn’t about to let me act a fool on that bus like that. But it never stopped me from wondering and caring, while doing so at a distance.

ASALH: An Inspiring Immersion

This week I presented on a panel in Jacksonville, FL at the 108th annual conference for the Association for the Study of African American Life and History. ASALH was founded by Carter G. Woodson, the father of Black History Month (which actually started as Negro History Week in February of 1926). It was truly an immersive, inspiring, and invigorating experience. I will try to capture  the essence of my short visit to the conference in a subsequent blog. But, for today, I’d like to capture a bit of how my childhood fascination with people and their stories continues to unfold over the course of my travels.

Navigating the Airport: An Anxious Experience

I don’t know about you, but going through security at the airport these days stresses me out. Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful for the many folks working hard to keep us safe but, my goodness, every time I walk up to that conveyor belt my anxiety rises.

Does everything go in a bucket, or do the bags stay out on the belt?

Do I need to take my laptop out, or can I leave it in my backpack?

Hoodie? Do I need to remove it or do I leave it on?

And so much more…

Then it’s time to board the plane…and that’s a whole other ball of confusion. Yes, we all have our group numbers and it should be pretty clear that we all have a ticket, therefore, we are all getting on the plane. But that doesn’t stop the mob of a “line” that forms, spilling out onto the concourse. Everyone is in a desperate rush to get in that “comfy” airplane seat and sit there for however long their flight is. As for me, I sit back and watch. People’s body language says a lot.

A lady walks in front of another lady to get in the boarding lane. The look says it all – “I know you didn’t just jump in front of me!”

A guy who’s clearly had too much to drink (by noon), tries to scan in before his group is called. After a brief engagement with gate agents, he’s almost denied entry onto the flight.

A family with 5 kids of ages (roughly) 2-13 gets into the boarding lane. As they move up in line I can see the look on many faces saying “Oh Lord, please don’t seat me near them!”

There’s a couple who clearly adores each other by the way they look at one another. And the way they can’t keep their hands off each other.

And so many more. But you get my drift. Perfect strangers, we prepare for our journey tens of thousands of feet in the air inside of a metal tube.

Perfect Strangers: Stories at 30,000 Feet

It’s quite fascinating for me to watch the loading on the plane. This process is dependent on cooperation and coordination. While there may be times that are definitely smoother than others, it always seems to work out.

I watch a man help a mother who’s on her own with children to store their belongings in the overhead compartment. Further up the aisle, I see this action several more times – strangers helping strangers store their belongings.  A lady gives up her aisle seat to switch with a father in another row so that he can sit with his precious family. 

As I settle in my seat, I notice the family with all the young children heading my way. I hear murmurs from those around me. As for me, I’m really pulling for them to be in my area. Y’all know I’m all about the kids. They end up seated across the aisle from me, two rows back. You can tell it’s already been a long day for them in preparation for this early afternoon flight. But we all settle in and off we go.

In flight, the man behind me is sawing logs (snoring) and the kids are having a blast, much to the displeasure of many around them. I give huge props to the parents – they tried every trick in the book. 

Community in the Skies: A Microcosm of Society

During the flight I thought about all the stories that were unfolding, simultaneously, throughout that plane. Everyone with their unique life journey, together on this shorter journey through the air. The conversations are rich, even amongst strangers.

While I know that this plan is definitely not a utopia, I believe that most of us are all just trying to navigate life as best we can, from moment to moment, to get to our destination. There are no questions regarding political affiliation or religious preference when the need arose for help with storing luggage. We’re all riding the same plane. It didn’t matter how you got there or what you were getting picked up in, here we are, together for this brief moment in time. People from all walks of life joined this small community. All carrying literal and figurative luggage with us on our trip.

The plane is a microcosm of our communities in our daily lives. We’re all going through something on our way to various destinations and checkpoints along the way. The luggage we carry with us throughout our distinct journeys can be heavy, at times. Our lives can be filled with anxiety as we wait in the TSA checkpoints along the way. At some point, we will encounter people from various walks of life. And we encounter and endure a great many things that may bring us displeasure or discomfort.

Unity in a Divided World

But what I’ve seen to be true over the course of my life is that, the majority of us, simply want what’s best for our families and each other. Trust me, I’m very aware of the forces that exist that seek to steer us from this reality. Whether it’s extremely biased news sources, social media algorithms that force-feed us specific information to keep us in silos, or perhaps just some members of our families or friend group who are dead set on buying into the most far-fetched conspiracies. We’re inundated with things that tell us that we’re so very divided; that we don’t care for each other and, if we do care for each other that, somehow, that means we’re weak.

In reality, that couldn’t be further from the truth. No matter your politics, religion, social status or classification, I want good for you. And I know that you want good for me. A better you, and a better life for your family, makes us all better. A better me creates better outcomes for my family and, thus, the spokes of my family wheel touches those around them, creating a better world. And that is what life is all about – working together to create a better life.

The Challenge: Embracing Unity and Empathy for a Better Tomorrow

As I reflect on this, the Mayan greeting, ‘In Lak’ech’, comes to mind – I am you, and you are me.

No matter what we may be led to believe by the media, politicians, and the likes, I know this to be true. 

Don’t believe me? I have a challenge for you. 

Find time to visit with someone in your community from a different walk of life and commit to listening intently without jumping in with your two cents. Ask them about anything related to daily life and their hopes for the future of our country and world, and just listen. 

Then, try to get in touch with your elected politician to have that same conversation. Should you get through to actually have that conversation, I think you will be strikingly surprised by the difference in these conversations. *Regardless of political affiliation

My hypothesis: 

One conversation will be authentic, real and, most likely, strike an emotionally connective response. 

The other will be generic, simply-worded talking points that may, too, draw an emotional response. 

One of the emotional responses will be rooted in care and connectedness. The other will likely be rooted in othering and fear. 

Keep on keeping on. This thing called life is a team game. We will rise together or we will crumble under the weight of divisive rhetoric, which leads to othering, hate, and intolerance.

In Lak’ech, my friends. In Lak’ech.

I’ll leave you to your experiment and look forward to hearing how it turns out.

 

Weekly With Whitfield – Paris

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I’ll be real with y’all – I’ve never understood people’s obsession with their pets. I had two puppies over the course of my crazy childhood. And, much like a tragic plot twist of a play, they’re were ripped from me before I ever really got a chance to feel the power of their presence.

Losing them just brought on more hurt. And I had enough of that, already. So, from an early age, I threw in the towel on pet ownership.Then I met Kerrie back in 2003.

I know what you’re saying…“wait, Kerrie’s you’re wife, not a pet”…hang in there with me, y’all!In her I knew I had found someone who I could spend my life with. The feeling was instantaneous. But there was one very big issue. I was very allergic to cats. And she had two of them. You’ve gotta be kidding me, I thought!

Whether it was just placebo or the fact that Kerrie didn’t play around with having cat dander everywhere, something worked. Over time I’d come to embrace Panther and Precious as my fur babies, and loved them so much, but it still wasn’t that particular obsession I’m taking about.

Panther and Precious passed on after two good, long lives spoiled by the best cat mom ever and we would go on to adopt two more, Toby and Tyson, as kittens. Without question, a deep love formed for them both, but not that “talk to em like they a real human” type of love, ya know?

An Unexpected Birthday Surprise

Then, just after Thanksgiving last year, we travelled out to east Texas to celebrate a rad little two year old (love you, Jaggy). It was a cold and rainy day, but all was bright inside as we celebrated his birthday. Towards the end of the party, in walked someone with this little kitten who’d lost her way from the rest of litter. She couldn’t have been more than a week or two old. Enter, Kerrie. Within minutes it was decided (against my vehement denial) that we’d inherited one more kitten.

In a matter of hours, as we traversed the highway back home with this kitten in Kerrie’s lap, something felt different about this pet. But I was still kind of in my feelings about not wanting ANOTHER cat.

Kerrie woke up many times throughout that first night to feed her. The next morning she whispered “honey, we don’t have to keep her if you don’t want. We can find her a good home.” In an instant I responded, “no ma’am. She is home.” I could go on and on about all the adventures with the little girl we affectionately named “Paris” (Paris, TX, ya dig?).

Who Rescued Whom?

But, most importantly, I just want to say to all the obsessive, over-the-top, pet lovers out there – I GET IT, now. You’ll have to check her out over on Instagram (Paris_Kitty_Whitfield), where you can get a glimpse of what the journey with her has been like. She’s brought so much joy to our lives.

Some would say we saved her but, truthfully, she’s the one that did the saving. I can’t imagine life without my girl!

Weekly With Whitfield – Unscripted

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As the days of 2023 dwindle down, only 16 weeks remain in this calendar year. To those who have faithfully followed my weekly reflections, thank you for being a part of this introspective journey. For those joining for the first time, a warm welcome. Regardless of where you stand, know that your presence is valued, and I’m genuinely delighted that you’re here. My wish is that this year has unfolded just as you’d hoped it would.

The Weekly Reflection Challenge

Writing this weekly blog has brought with it a unique and beautiful challenge. I have always been a deeply reflective person. But I cannot think of a time in my life where I dedicated time at the end of each week to reflect on what that time had presented me. There have been many weeks where I’ve struggled to find a word that truly captured my thoughts and feelings. But, every time, God laid something on my heart to share.

This journey has been an unscripted one. But such is life. I have no earthly idea what I’m going to write about at the beginning of each week. I won’t lie, early on, I tried to force it. But it never fit. The things I felt I needed to talk about or wanted to talk about never seemed to be what I actually wrote about, in the end. And this has made the journey more genuine, authentic, and therapeutic for me.

Unscripted Lessons

Life’s unscripted moments often hold the most profound lessons. While plans have their place, they can sometimes pale in comparison to the grand design that the universe, or in my case, God, has in store for us. We may attempt to force our personal narratives into the script, but more often than not, they fail to fit. Life’s greatest surprises, blessings, and revelations emerge when we relinquish control and embrace the unscripted. 

Reflecting on these past weeks, I am reminded that the most impactful adventures often arise when we surrender the pen that drafts our life’s script. I’ve gazed up in awe at the grace, mercy, and provision that God has bestowed upon me.

An Unforeseen Journey

This past holiday weekend I had the opportunity to visit Seaside, Florida with my family and good friends. This trip was not something we planned, but a generous opportunity was extended by some good friends. Completely unforeseen, all of a sudden, we were loading up the Expedition, headed to the Florida panhandle. 

Though brief in duration, those three days were filled with unforgettable moments, too numerous to recount in this humble blog post. What we lacked in time, we made up for in moments.

Finding Joy Amidst the Challenges

The trip was an absolute blast, not because everything unfolded perfectly – quite the contrary. We encountered our fair share of unexpected challenges, from navigating a busted golf cart in the dark to a tangle with jellyfish, and even a near mishap with a stop sign. Yet, in these seemingly exasperating moments, we found joy in these “you’ve gotta be kidding me” moments that popped up. 

This trip served as a vivid reminder of the beauty inherent in an unscripted life. Had I known about the golf cart’s sudden breakdown on our way to dinner, I might have opted for the car and missed out on the deep belly laughs and crazy commentary that filled that peculiar ride. There’s so much more to share, but some experiences defy adequate description – you truly had to be there. What I can attest to is that, despite the chaos, it was so much fun!

Navigating the Unchartered Waters of Life

As I reflect on the past week and the broader journey of my life, I’m so grateful that I’ve not held the script in my own hands. Many of the trying moments, pains, and frustrations I’ve endured would likely have been edited out in a quest to construct a “perfect” life. In doing so, I might have overlooked the remarkable treasures hidden just beyond the curtain of despair.

I don’t possess all the answers, and I’m content with that uncertainty. My path is one of faith, a willingness to embrace challenges, and an unwavering commitment to celebrating the moments of joy that grace my journey. I will continue to navigate the uncharted territory of this unscripted life, knowing that it is in these unanticipated moments where the true essence of existence thrives. And I hope you will, too.