Look for your Rainbow

I used to think that I had everything all figured out. I thought I knew what I wanted out of life. Who I wanted. How I wanted them. And when I wanted them. But in releasing my expectations into the hands of the Creator, I find myself much more satisfied; content. I can remember a time when I would exhaust myself trying to be on every set, doing what I thought was my best to be everything to everybody. I ended up drained and resentful; disappointed and discouraged. I got to a place of surrender after my house caught fire, one daughter was diagnosed with a heart condition, and the other with a thyroid condition. I lost a longtime friend, a job, and my home within a span of weeks. To say the very least, I was undone. Like most people, in the midst of turmoil, I cried out to God. I would use my car as my prayer closet; riding to quiet places where I could be alone and really speak to God. I thought he wasn't listening to me. Maybe it was me that wasn't listening to him. I was all but ready to give up and then one day while driving, I saw a rainbow. It was huge and it covered the sky revealing a spectacular array of beautiful pastels. It warmed me in a way that I can hardly explain. It was like the arms of God reaching down out of the sky and encompassing me; comforting me and quieting my anxious mind. I immediately let go of my problems and began to see them as windows of opportunity. I think now, "what if I hadn't LOOKED UP into the sky that day?" The rainbow reminded me that God is the author and finisher of all things. It brought back to memory promises that He has made to me about my life and the lives of my children. I am not done yet. It is NOT over. In fact, now that everything has been torn down, the rebuilding can begin. I am seeing him rebuilding and restoring. When everything is falling apart around us, it is hard to remember that God is still working. Everything is not always what it seems. God had to clear some things, some mindsets, even some people out of my life in order to give me the things for which I had been praying. I couldn't be mad about my house. I had asked him to take me from being a renter, to a home owner. Now the door is wide open for that to happen. I couldn't stress over the sickness in my children. I had asked him to make believers out of them as well. How else would they come to trust him, if they never had to lean on him for themselves? I asked God to teach me how to be a good friend and he challenged me in the friendship that I valued the most. I can't be mad. I asked him and yet I have no control over how he performs a thing. I can only pray that a rainbow will manifest itself even in that situation. I asked him to make me a business owner, and in the midst of this struggle he has opened a door for me to do exactly what I asked. How could I ever doubt? He is faithful.

The most I can hope for you today is that when everything around you seems to come crashing down, you will remember that sometimes what we are looking at is just an illusion.

Stop looking at the illusion, and look for the rainbow.


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Momma

Presidents’ Day to me is not about honoring the fathers of this great country. Yeah, sure, I can rattle their names off and detail their accomplishments; tell you what they did to help mold and shape America. But still, a day set aside for them; many of whom were slave owners that stood on the bloody backs of my ancestors, is something to which I pay very little attention. Instead, I regard that day as Black Monday. It will forever be remembered to me as the day my mother passed away. Six years and counting, but I can still remember each and every moment leading up to the last time I saw her in the land of the living. The good thing is, that after all this time, I don’t agonize over it the way I used to. Her memory comes back to me often just like a boomerang and her spirit lives on in me, my children and her friends. I choose to reminisce over times when she would take me to the lake as a little girl and we would “jook” until late into the evening listening to the Gap Band, Teddy Pendergrass and Rick James. We’d have crabs and barbecue and some of the best potato salad you ever tasted. Man, my momma sure could cook. There are times when I am in the kitchen cooking and I can hear her reminding me to “clean as you go.” I have never forgotten that advice or the tricks she taught me in preparing good food. Her spirit lives on in my heart as well as my kitchen. She would probably toss over in her grave if she knew that as a child, sometimes I would be listening at the walls late into the night while her and her boyfriend were getting busy. My cousin would spend the night with me sometimes just so we could eavesdrop and fantasize about what it was like to be grown. It was funny to me then, but now memories like that make me conscious of the presence of my own children. Eyes always watching, ears always listening, minds quickly scanning and processing all of the information placed before them. I can only be thankful for my time with her. I stand on her back now, the same way past presidents stood on the backs of weary slaves. Her life is my platform. Her memory, the podium from which I speak and her spirit is my well. Millions of people got the day off, slept late and didn’t think once about our country’s revered forefathers. I, on the other hand spent the day remembering, honoring, and missing the only mother I will ever get.



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Comatose

Life can make you so tired sometimes. Kids and work can make you so tired sometimes that you just want to give up. There have been days when the pressure of life has bore down on me so heavily that I just want to grab my purse and walk out of my home, closing the door behind me, never to return. I read this story once about a man that woke up from a 7 year coma. For SEVEN years, he lay sleeping while the rest of the world moved on. His family kept going, and the earth continued to revolve as he lay sleeping. I was jealous of him when I read how he just opened his eyes and asked for his wife. How lucky I felt he was to have been able to step away, put his life on pause, and then resume. Now I know this may seem silly to all, but unless you have ever known what it feels like to want to literally give up, you won't know what I mean. I started daydreaming about going to sleep. I didn't realize that was a spirit of suicide. Little did I know that my desire to give up, was inviting death to my dinner table. And see the funny thing about death is, once you dance with him, he begins to entice you. I started to feel like giving up was the only option I had. As me and death did the tango, he whispered to me, "Your kids will be okay." Maybe they didn't need me. Maybe they would be better off. I was doing my best to fight off this sleep, but my eyes were getting so heavy. Tired of seeing all that I was seeing. My feet were getting so heavy. Tired of walking up and down these rocky roads. My arms were getting so heavy. Tired of fighting. My spirit was uncooperative. Maybe I'll just sit down right here and drift off.....

I wrote this poem to God during my battle with depression. I am happy to say that I have overcome. Living is my only option.


Comatose

Lord put my flesh into a coma

So my soul can come to life

If my flesh would go to sleep

I’d be walking in the light

While my flesh was catching z’s

I’d move through my days with ease

Trouble all around me

But I’d be as calm as you please

Lord put my flesh into a coma

So my soul could take control

I’d be walking in the spirit

Watching my promise unfold

I would look right through temptation

As if it wasn’t there

I’d soar on high as an eagle

High up in the air

Lord put my flesh into a coma

Let my emotions slumber deep

I need my soul to do the leading

Cause I have a charge to keep

Put the fear in me to rest

So I can move without restriction

Take this anger out my chest

So my dreams will come into fruition

Lord put my flesh into a coma

Let my soul be wide awake

Be a lamp unto my pathway

Order every step I take

And while my flesh is in this state

Would you purge me of my sin

Would wash my hands and cleanse me

Give me new wine and new skin?

Lord put my flesh into a coma

I’m desperate for a shift

I need my flesh to sleep here soundly

Cause it’s my soul that needs a lift

You know every time I try to find my soul

My flesh gets in the way?

I know you all have been there before

You just might not want to say

But see I must be real about it

I got to always be me

I got to tell the truth about it

Cause the truth will set me free.





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Love, Unconditional

I have been MIA from my blog for a little over a month now. Honestly, I have had so much to write about, but not enough quiet time to write it. Death and sickness in my family has had me in so much turmoil that the words to express how I have been feeling would not come. But today the thought heaviest on my heart is how much love we are often surrounded with, but often are too busy and preoccupied to notice until something happens. Since I was a little girl, my Auntie Clytie has been a strong pillar in my life. Her genuine kindness and concern for all are character traits of which I am in awe. She has been my rock, my prayer warrior, my conscience and my guide. Her life is rooted and grounded in biblical principal's and unlike many, she lives by the word; walking the walk, and talking the talk. When life has been too much for me, she is the one that has comforted me with the wisdom gathered over her 92 years of living. When my mother died she embraced me and assumed the role of my "surrogate momma" without me even asking. Even when the advice she gives stings, she follows it up with a good dose of love to make it go down easy. The word of God flows freely from her belly and each and every time I talk to her I gather strength, courage and wisdom. Since I was 8 years old, she has sent me a dollar a year for every birthday; never forgetting. My friends, my family, or my man may forget, but not Auntie. Even though she wasn't well this year, her card along with $36 dollars was in my mailbox prior to December 2nd. Just like clockwork. I have always been able to count on her card and birthday wishes. I don't know what I will do when they cease to arrive anymore. I have never known her to be ill. She doesn't like to go to the doctor, but right now she is laid up in the hospital recovering from major surgery. The thought of her mortality has rushed over me like a mighty wind of reality. How blessed I have been all these years. What a wonderful thing it is to be loved unconditionally. To know that despite fault or flaw, love still remains unchanged. She has been an excellent example for me to follow. I know it is selfish to say, but I wish she could live forever. There is a part of me that realizes that the goodness that is within her is rare and I just want to hold on to it; preserve it. Save it all for me. But then there is another part of me that realizes how tired she must be of serving. It is exhausting to always give without thought of what you will recieve in return. I find comfort in knowing that her reward will be great in heaven whenever she gets there. And knowing that God made it possible for me to benefit personally from her love, unconditionally, makes me smile today because I realize how blessed I am.



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Give Out, But Don't Give Up!

Today I got a phone call from the principal at my son's school. It seems my son can't seem to make it to school on time. This is extremely hard to understand considering we live two blocks away from the school. In addition to reporting my son's excessive tardiness, he proceeded to inform me that my son had an attitude problem that he could no longer tolerate. "Anytime I say something to him, he immediately gets on the defense." I didn't say anything to him, I just listened. But I was saying to myself, join the club. Lately my son has been smelling his underarm. Backtalking, sucking his teeth and challenging everything I say to him. For months we have been battling. Earlier this year he spent 45 days in the alternative school, stole some shades out of Target, and ran away from home (for only 2 hours). I have tried Big Brothers. I have tried arguing and cussing and fussing. I've taken away all priviledges. I've reached out to every male friend, platonic and otherwise, for advice, understanding and whatever else they could offer. To date, nothing has worked. No words have gotten through.

But this morning, I couldn't do anything but fall down on my knees and pray for him. It hurts so bad as a mother to see him slipping through my fingers. I look at him and see him trying to make the transition from boy to man. He's struggling to emerge into a set of shoes he ain't ready to fill and there is no one here to help him but me. For whatever reason, he doesn't want to accept my guidance. So when I was crying out to God this morning, I had to tell him that I give out, but I won't give up. I have given out all the advice I can give to him. I have given out more tears than a little bit. I have given my heart, my soul; anything and everything I know how to give. But I won't give up on him. I know it's hard for young black men out here. I know it's hard growing up without a father. But he is too gifted and too talented to just give in to the temptation of being a thug or another statistic. I said to him last summer, "Do you know that there are a million niggas in prison and only 400,000 make it to college?" He just looked at me. "Which number are you going to be in son?" He told me he didn't know. All I could do was shake my head. I have realized, with much dismay, if he doesn't want more, me wanting more for him is a moot point.

But you know, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, the hardest thing for me to deal with is that I am the one that caused him to have to grow up without a father. I think that's why it took me so long to let God have it. I was trying to fix him myself because I felt like I was the cause of him being broken.



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