Simple yet profound wisdom once was passed around in hard working agricultural America. Sayings that summed up years of experience were spread by elders who had little time for small talk.

Yet there were tales to tell beneath them which gave each an untold importance and perhaps even a touchstone to guide if the listener was willing to ponder. My grandfather, Ches Baum, was one who spread these old sayings around. He was well educated and successful, but often pulled one of the old idioms out in its colloquial form. I was too young and headstrong to understand what he really meant when he applied one to a situation at hand. Sometimes I was amused and other-times rather annoyed. But now they all make sense, and their secrets seem precious.

Once, during a the turbulent 1960’s Civil Rights Movement, a family member was redressing protesters and lack of authority the government was showing by not stopping them. Another family member was arguing that it was high time the demands of demonstrators were met. Ches interrupted the debate by saying this. "Tain't nobody perfect." His comment was a conversation stopper.

It's true. Tain't nobody perfect.

We all bring our stories to every situation. None of them can be free of bias. Many have been learned and incorporated with some degree of prejudice. It's impossible to experience life without picking them up and strewing them about as we make our way. Understanding this is central to freeing ourselves from their bondage. Addressing issues, finding common ground, and cooperating towards mutually beneficial outcomes should always be the goal in any conflict. I’m sure that’s what the Constitutional framers had in mind as they considered the First Amendment.

We cannot employ a hammer mentality in which my beliefs are the only valid ones. Because, as Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury once told us, "If all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”

It's my opinion that we have been hammer-heads long enough. It's time to make some significant changes in how we deal with systemic racism and social injustice. We will discover that many of the things we think we hate can be mixed together with all of our own imperfections to make surprising new creations.

Jo Jones a pastor from Bentonville, Arkansas retold an old familiar country story that seems very relevant today. It was one that Ches loved to tell and I adapted it to his version.

A visiting Methodist preacher and circuit rider was attending a gathering at the church in Indianola, Illinois. An old-timer, fresh out from the fields was asked to return thanks for all of the well filled baskets which had been assembled for the picnic. His wife, and several other women had baked biscuits. Here was the prayer he offered:

"Lord, I hate buttermilk", the farmer began. The visiting pastor opened one eye to glance at the farmer and wonder where this was going. The farmer loudly proclaimed, "Lord, I hate lard." Now the pastor was growing concerned. Without missing a beat, the farmer continued, "And Lord, you know I don't much care for raw white flour." The pastor once again opened an eye to glance around and saw that he wasn't the only one to feel uncomfortable.

Then the farmer added, "But Lord, when you mix them all together and bake them, I do love warm fresh biscuits. So Lord, when things come up that we don't like, when life gets hard, when we don't understand what you're saying to us, help us to just relax and wait until you are done mixing. It will probably be even better than biscuits. Amen."

Always keep in mind 'you go to school all your life' and tain't nobody perfect. That goes for everybody.

Photo by Liana Mikah on Unsplash