Change

Some like it.

Others abhor change.

Change keeps me growing, morphing, even mending more daily.

Moving back to Detroit after decades away in Macomb County, Michigan, finds me loving the move and transition home again.

The nine of us lived at 7107 Arcola Street on Detroit's east side until the '1968 riot and a robbery pressed my mother to convince my dad and the rest of us to be safe and secure and leave.

We left.

After assignments as a pastor in Detroit Saint Raymond, St. Gerard, and St. Christine in Brightmoor, I moved to Sterling Heights after the bishop wanted me to do counseling.

"You're good at it," his aide said, unappreciative of the fact that I had no license, insurance or credentials to function without lawsuit, and more.

Ever since this "cryptic" assignment, I find myself not trusting those who requested this change of assignment.  In fact, the current boss decided that the counseling is a non-ministerial assignment, go figure.

With little experience, if any as a pastor, the present bishop changed my assignment for a so-called, Special Assignment with dog tags IDs and all, without even letting me know.

Interesting.

That change I can do without.

One goes with the flow even though some authorities have their own agendas.

But the move back to the City of Detroit is a welcome transition.

People are engaging and friendly in the Harbor Town market, and more.

They stop and listen as I engage St. Paul's Street Evangelization along Jefferson/McDougall Streets where I reside in River Place that overlooks Detroit jewel, Belle Isle Park, and the Ren Cen GM Building, among other historic buildings, churches, and nearby parks I walk daily with my dog, Katura, along the Detroit River.

Change is good.

I've downsized again and freed up massive amounts of books, and more.

A feeling of liberation buoys my attitude of letting go any attachments to things, property and more.

Bring on my Motown.

I'm glad to be home again in a booming city filling with restoration, renewal and vitality once more.