Living Well
The Father’s Comfort
Looking to our heavenly Father for the comfort we need
I
By Terrance Stevenson
n high school, I was in a relationship with a
young lady that happened to live in a neighborhood with few African Americans. I had met
most of her neighbors and they, for the most
part, treated me, a male, African-American
While I wept deeply, he tried to comfort me but seemed at a
loss for words. My father knew I was deeply hurt by this traumatic event but he didn’t know what to say or do to help me
frame or understand what happened.
teenager kindly.
What I learned from my father that night escaped me for years
One night, I was leaving her home after watching a movie. I
until I had children of my own.
drove the main streets that were well lit because I feared having
One day, my oldest daughter came home upset because of becar trouble on a dark street in an unfamiliar neighborhood.
ing accused of doing something she didn’t do at school. Instantly,
While driving, I noticed the local police following me. I started
the instance between my father and me leapt to the forefront of
to panic on the inside
my memory. I felt
but then realized that I
inadequate to
was not speeding. As I
come up with
continued to drive, I
words to offer her
saw the blue and red
comfort so I did
lights come on and I
what my father did
pulled over.
for me. I went to
Two white officers
where she was and
approached my car with
I held her in my
guns drawn and orarms and let her
dered me to exit my
cry. Between her
vehicle. I lay on the
sobbing, she tried
ground with my arms
to state her case as
and legs spread. I comto why she was not
plied for fear of being
guilty of what she
mistreated by the offihad been accused
cers.
of and I just lisTerrance Stevenson and his daughters, Olivia and Annah.
They searched my car
tened. I allowed
and when they found nothing, they got back in their car without
her to get it all out.
a word leaving me in the street. Frozen with fear, I stayed on the
After she calmed down, I shared my story with her. I talked
ground because they had told me not to move. After a few minabout how I was mistreated and how I felt. She asked me what
utes, I realized they were gone and not coming back.
did my father do about it. I smiled. She looked at me with wonIt was late, well past my established curfew. I walked into the
der as if to ask how I could smile after something so tragic haphouse and my father was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for
pened.
me. He clearly was upset that I had disobeyed the established
I was proud to share with her how my father— with no high
curfew and wanted an explanation. I began to describe what
school diploma, no college degree and no training in interperhappened and in between my tears, he moved toward me, emsonal communications— knew exactly what to do. I shared with
braced me and let me cry.
her how my father came along side of me and offered me exactly
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The Well Magazine Fall/Winter 2013