By Kenneth L. Hardin

As I look back over the rollercoaster that has been my existence on this third planet from the sun, I marvel at times that I’ve made it to nearly 60 years fairly unscathed. I’m proud of the many accomplishments I’ve achieved throughout my life, but my greatest has been raising three sons who never gave in to the challenges of life or succumbed to the pitfalls associated with living in a world teetering on the edge of insanity. I’m happy that I nor my children have never so much as walked to the edge of this craziness and looked over into the abyss. Instead, I guided them into getting advanced college degrees, entrepreneurship, gainful employment and helping those less fortunate through a life of community service.

When they were in middle and high school, I wanted them to have a sense of purpose and an understanding of the often-quoted idiomatic expression, “there but for the grace of God go I.”  My two oldest sons were junior volunteers at the hospital where I worked and were only required to put in four hours per week, but they worked 40 hours during their summers off. My youngest son worked seven days a week, 10 hours a day for two consecutive months pulling up carpet, cleaning floors, hauling trash and doing other labor to get the Veterans Social Center ready to open. He then volunteered every day for the first year to assist the veteran population who attended. It was important for me to show them tolerance, love and especially grace for their fellow man so that they understood that no one should feel judged, condemned or alone in this world. A passage I read recently reminded me that the path I traveled with my sons was the right one, “You never know how you’re going to respond to something until it happens to you.”

I look around and I see so much judgment and shame from people who’ve never been in these situations themselves. All I know is this — if you had walked that same path, there wouldn’t be judgment. There wouldn’t be indignation, contempt or shame. There would only be one thing — grace. You don’t know until it happens to you. You don’t know what you would do. You don’t know what you would choose. You don’t know how hard it is. You don’t know what it costs. What it feels like. What you stand to lose. So, the only thing you should give is grace. Just grace.”

As I reflected back over my life, I thought about the people who inspired, motivated and taught me grace. I’m who I am today because so many people believed and poured into me. The late Thoroughgood “Thurgood” Marshall, a U.S. Supreme Court associate justice from 1967 until 1991, said, “None of us got where we are solely by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We got here because somebody — a parent, a teacher, an Ivy League crony or a few nuns — bent down and helped us pick up our boots.”

I can look back to all my teachers throughout school and give honor and praise to those who bent down and lifted me up. Since my veterans business has been open in the West End Plaza, I’ve had the honor of reconnecting with my first and third grade teachers, who exercise there. I hadn’t seen either since sitting in their classes in the early ’70s. Another who practiced the art was a professor at Pfeiffer when I returned to complete my degree after leaving the military. I was working full time the final semester of my senior year and couldn’t attend the last class I needed to graduate. Dr. Randy Clark provided me one-to-one instruction in an empty classroom, every week, the entire semester so that I could graduate.

My need for guidance and mentoring didn’t end when I went to visit my Uncle Sam. I was barely 19 years old and had never ventured far outside of the 28144. After graduating from boot camp and technical training school, I was ill-prepared for the real world. I was blessed to have crossed paths with an older NCO, who hailed from Philadelphia. Hozell Odom III took me under his wing and taught me what I needed to survive in life and thrive in the military. From our first meeting back in 1985 to this day, we’ve maintained a friendship and now a business relationship. He retired after 27 years in the Air Force and another 10 as a civilian government employee. He graciously accepted and serves as the vice chairman of my nonprofit. There were other older NCOs who looked out for me and guided my career like master sergeants Alan Kyles and Oscar Jones. Kyles was my direct supervisor and was a stickler for accuracy and perfection. He didn’t allow mistakes. I was tasked with typing multiple-page reports with carbon copy paper inserts on a typewriter. If there was a punctuation, grammar or spelling mistake, he would circle it with red ink and make me type it over and over until it was perfect. Jones stood maybe 5-foot-5, but had a commanding presence. He always chomped on a cigar and had a scowl on his face making him look tall and intimidating. His primary rule was you always had a black ink pen in your pocket and knew what the day’s date was. I never thought he cared for me until I applied for officer’s school and he signed off on it saying to me, “Come here, zero (his pet name for officers). Why would you want to be an officer?” I was nervous until he told me how proud he was of me.

I’ve found and live my purpose every day serving veterans and my community because so many people bent down, lifted me up and helped me understand grace.

Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin is a member of the National Association of Black Journalists.