I don’t know about you, but yesterday I was glued to the TV, watching as Barack Obama became the first African-American President of the United States. Yes, it’s been a long time coming.

I kept my tissues handy. I alternately cheered and cried, soon earning myself a baleful stare from my trying-to-snooze cat. I was moved by the power of Obama’s speech — not only the words themselves, but by the strength of their delivery and the hope undergirding it, like a new foundation bolstering an old, decaying structure, straightening tired bones and giving it new life.

My fascination with this historic event really began forty years ago, birthed in the belly of the civil rights movement. I remember watching the images on our TV, ironically in black and white. I saw black children walking to school through white-faced, angry mobs; Martin Luther King, Jr. marching with the crowds through streets barricaded by armed police. I saw the smoldering remnants of charred churches, firehoses turned on innocents, heard the rhetoric of hate and intolerance, and the power of Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. I was disturbed by the violence and hatred, yet I was inspired by the hope and courage.

In the evenings, gathered around the family dinner table, we talked about the events of the day. We talked about Martin Luther King, Jr. and the meaning of freedom, dignity, and courage. Was freedom the right of every human? Freedom to have an education, to be treated equally, and with respect? Through these discussions, my parents taught me to look beyond the color of a person’s skin and to value each individual for who they were. It was an incredible gift given to me during a time when my own race made me ashamed.

Now, more than forty years later, Dr. King’s dream has come upon us. Across the nation, and even across the world, people of different colors, socioeconomic classes,  and religions are clasping hands in a common vision — a vision of peace and justice, a vision of a world community that flourishes and encourages rather than maims and dominates. A world community where little children can grow up to the sights and sounds of laughter and freedom, hope, and mutual respect. The question becomes, will we regress into familiar patterns of intolerance, or will we truly step up to take upon Dr. King’s dream as our own? Like anything of value, it will take intention, commitment, and a desire for something greater than our little selves can aspire to. For me, I will continue to embrace hope and to stand up to injustice wherever I see it.

Thank you, Dr. King. Thank you, Barack Obama. And thank you to my parents, and to all of you who cheered and cried yesterday and felt hope stir in your chest. Yes indeed, it’s been a long time coming.