HOLD ON

For my sisters that have been abused by the hands and actions of the one that promised to have your back through sickness/health; in good times and bad.  I applaud your courage for not accepting less than your beloved’s best.

There are times in every life, I believe, that an individual is faced with so many obstacles that they just feel like quitting.  It’s a time when the individual has done all they know that is right to do but evil appears to prevail but remember... 

 … for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.  Matthew 5:45b (KJV)

I don’t know if you know the story of Job or not but the oppressions can leave a person feeling a lot like Job did.  But Job was a very interesting person in that God Himself had complete confidence in his ability to weather the storm. 

I’ve had some severe storms in my life.  I can honestly share that I didn’t do anywhere near as well as Job did.  There were even times, while I was inside the storms that I didn’t understand the total cost of the fight I was in and wasn’t always able to recognize myself in the person wading through the debris of my storms. 

Some years ago, I adopted one of Job’s sayings.  When asked how I’m doing, if the day isn’t all I’d hoped/I want to whine and complain (oddly enough, I still get a fair amount of this done despite what I’m about to tell you)/I’m angry/I’m hurting/tired/sad, etc… I will say, “holding on!”  I imagine that is what Job is saying in passage 14:14b (All the days of my struggle I will wait.  Until my change comes. NASB).  I’m holding on until my change comes because I know things will change at some point. 

But, the question, during these bleak times in one’s life, becomes how is one to hold on?  How does one keep breathing, moving, working, raising children to be all they can be, maintain personal relationships with family and friends, keep paying the bills, maintain sanity – HEAL- and not become the worse thing they’ve known; like their enemy? 

How does one rebuild a life that has been torn down by one that was to love, provide and protect?  How does one maintain when the system that was supposed to protect turns the opposite way and claims to have issued truth, fairness and justice?  How does one reconcile the loss one’s child to CRAZY and beat back the fear of what CRAZY will do the mind of said beloved child?    

How does one continue without growing bitter and resentful; without allowing such circumstances to twist and change the very core of themselves?  See, this is the kind of stuff that can corrupt the soul in such a way that even the very body twists and becomes crippled under the stress of such internal weight. 

BETRAYL is a heavy, heavy, heavy thing to digest.

Please hear what I have to say.  Sister, I’m talking to you.   Although you feel all alone – you are not alone.  I know you’d just like to disappear.  I see you - I won’t; I can’t let you disappear.   Although you’ve tried all you know to try – you’ve got to keep pressing.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;  2 Cor 4:8-9

You are so close to being clear of this thing that has consumed so much of your joy, hope, inner peace and self love.  You are so close to being free of this thing that often leaves you feeling shame and self loathing when you think about all you and yours have been through but hear me… don’t take the invitation to re-engage.    

You think we don’t know?  You think we don’t understand?  That is so far from the truth; so many women; live with and have survived like circumstances – we do understand. 

You’ve got to keep pressing.

Don’t operate out of the fear that has been built into your days and nights.  Don’t take the bait made up of your deepest desires.  Stay your course – you are so close now to reclaiming what has been stolen from you; peace of mind. 

I know the questions you ask yourself as you’re tossed and turned by this ordeal.  And, perhaps on some levels, you may have some heavy feelings of guilt.    But that can’t be your focus now.  Stay the course - sister, I’m talking to you.  Please hear what I have to say. 

 

…till I die I will not remove mine integrity from me.  Job 27:5b (KJV)

Be strong and of good courage, and do it: fear not, nor be dismayed: for the LORD God, even my God, will be with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee; 1 Chron 28:20b (KJV)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNDnF7QBO-g

Black and Blue

 

INFLUENCE

A few years ago, I got very interested in our Family Tree.  I had just begun to realize how short time is and wanted to have a concrete way of making sure my grandchildren and their children and their children beyond would “know us.”  See, this is the thing, we’re not remembered beyond two (2) generations.

I even joined a family tree site.  I actually found a cousin we’d lost touch with many years ago.  All I really had to go on was a nick name that I had tracked down via conversations with family when I was trying to figure out why we had the same people on our trees.  “Who your people is?”  I got a real kick out of calling this grown up the quirky nick name until I was told to take it easy on that name - smile.   

During the summer of 2007, my baby cousins (I’m the oldest everything in this branch of the family so all of my cousins are my baby cousins) hosted a “family reunion.”  When the call to eat FINALLY happened (I love my people but we were a-feared of dying from hunger), I watched waves and waves of “family” make their way to the shelter house for the prayer and the meal.  It was mentioned several times how as a family we hadn’t had such a family gathering since my Grandmother died.  All I could think about was how pleased my Grandmother would have been to see her “family” together and having a good time!      

The following year, another cousin (from the Denver branch of the family) began throwing a lovely little three day family get-together.  The thing about this get together is that it is a three day or so event and she won’t accept financial contributions.  I can’t imagine how many months in advanced she begins making plans and gathering items; but the food is excellent and plentiful and so is the welcome! 

She creates these cute little agendas and my mother keeps time (just to get my cousin going).  She turns her home over several times to fit the themes of the daily activities to include a carnival for the children.  They play games and win prizes and then go to the “store” with their tickets.   And it is an event that my nieces talked about all year; “remember when we went to our big (meaning older) cousins and the party?”   

This gift she grants us gives us a moment in time to get caught up and to just enjoy being together.  We get to see how the children are growing; hear about their successes and to check out how each other is aging (smile).  No drama; lots of laughs; lots of jokes; and a fair share of lies – in the name of kinship.  But I digress. 

Her mother is the older sister of my Grandmother.  In fact, my Grandmother was the baby.  My Grandmother was many things and perhaps the best I can describe my connection to her is to say my life has been less bright without her. 

I miss her and wish she could see my grandchildren and my little nieces and nephew.  I think she would have gotten some really good laughs just looking at and knowing them. 

My Grandmother had an exceptional gift.  She had a way of making all who knew her feel very special.  I can remember feeling sorry for my relatives at her service because I just knew I was her absolute favorite.  Imagine my surprise when I learned everyone there thought they were the center of her universe!

I haven’t made a great deal of progress on the family tree.  I’m seeking photos and stories.  Those old enough to remember the stories – really can’t always understand my interest.  I have sister/friends that can trace their family history back lots and lots of years – well beyond the two generations.  I want to be able to do the same thing. 

This is my bottom line: my Grandmother and her three sisters (affectionately called the Light & Dark Sisters by myself) have influenced my life and I want my grandchildren and their children and beyond to know them too.    So, one day I was talking with my mother and she said I will have to be the one to write the stories since cooperation, the way I define it, isn’t happening.  (I wonder what my Great-Aunties will think about me being behind the pen of their “stories” – smile.)  The longer I thought about what my mother said, the more sense it made to me. 

I want my children and grandchildren and those after them to know that my grandmother had a fantastic sense of humor and she would share with me how she made decisions so I could figure out how to solve my own problems.  She read me stories giving each character different voices –further igniting my imagination.  She also was an excellent cheer leader and always seemed to know what to say to me just when I thought I would fail. 

I want my children and grandchildren and those after them to know that my Aunt Frankie is my good friend and taught me how to cook certain things despite popular opinion about my ability to cook at all.  She even left me and my Aunt Ruby in her house with all of her pots and pans (knowing our kitchen repetitions – and we did burn up a few pots). 

And, after my Grandmother died, she knew how to draw me out of myself (I was struggling with maintaining my relationships because I had determined that everyone was going to try and leave me).  She and I use to have coffee and pastries on the weekends.  She called me and told me that she’d had her bath and her coffee and her pastries but still found that something was missing from her morning – “I’m missing you.” 

I want my children and grandchildren and those after them to know that my Aunt Laura reminds me of my Grandmother.  Anytime I get to spend in her presence gives me a sense of peace.  I can share my poems and writings with her and she has granted (trusted me) my request for a copy of her poems.  And when my family has hurt me in a deep way, I know I can share this pain with her without fear of judgment or reprisal.  I’ve also been honored to have her share some of her life’s journey with me. 

I want my children and grandchildren and those after them to know that my Aunt Ruby was a real trip.  My relationship with her didn’t begin to blossom until she was 65 years old and if she was “much too much” at 65 – I hate to think about what she was like at 45 y/o or even 25 y/o!  But the truth is she was my Auntie - which has become a standing joke between me and my family and I miss her very much.  I get to see her style and mannerisms in my nieces and my granddaughter and the truth being told – anytime you see me with some BLING-BLING on – I’m having a “Ruby Newborn” day (I’ve even convinced my co-workers to know this theme). 

And I can always count on one of my cousins to send me a blast from the past from time to time for which I can become the “keeper” over for my children and grandchildren and those after them.  So, at the very least, the influence of Light & Dark Sisters will be communicated beyond two generations. 

The Sisters!  None of us had seen this picture before.  You can imagine my joy to receive this special gift from my cousin. 

After all, it isn’t the dates of birth, the marriages or their careers that has made these women so influential in my life.  It’s the relationship they took the time to grow with me that has made the difference in my life.

SPARKLE

Have I ever shared with you that I admire and enjoy being in the company of men?  I really feel very comfortable in their presence and attribute this to my childhood experiences with my grandfather, father, my Dust and uncles (I felt like the cat’s meow).  

I’m like most women; I like looking at handsome, attractive men but must admit that I’m especially partial to African-American men.  There is just something about them that captures my attention.  I love their essence and I like the way they move (why has no one ever remade this song? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vrnDzOOlCI ).  They seem to have their own energy source – rhythm and style…they SPARKLE and SHINE. 

For years I’ve tried, without success, to capture, in words how much I’m moved by the very sight of black men in motion.  But, I think that Jill Scott states it best when she says; “I like your mannerisms and the way you carry them (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1OC_XmeIck).” 

Although I’ve not been “lucky in luv;” I hold men in high esteem.  Over the years, as I’ve grown as a woman, parent and professional, I’ve wanted to develop a special training session for mothers who have sons to help focus and clarify what and how we “raise” our sons. 

I think that sometimes we penalize our sons based upon the traumas we’ve personally endured during our childhoods and bid to navigate adulthood (swinging the pendulum from making sure he’s nothing like the men that have hurt us to being enmeshed/overbearing and not teaching or encouraging our sons to think/make decisions/to mature/assume responsibility for their own destinies – but this is not the discussion I’d like to have today). 

Okay, can we just agree – for the sake of this conversation - that it takes a very careful balance to properly nurture, mature and launch a male child towards claiming his manhood?  (I hope you will just agree and not force me to bring biological studies into this matter which clearly indicate it’s very difficult to just birth a male child; blah, blah, blah….)

I have seen the soul-less eyes of brothers that didn’t make the transition.  This is the one thing about brothers that just has a way of cracking my soul and causing a deep wailing down in my core; to see a black man for whom the light of life and hope has left his eyes.  Have you ever seen this? 

I don’t know if it’s possible to get the light back once it’s left but I can tell you that the pursuit of keeping said light lit in the eyes of my son has been the scariest part of being that brother’s mother.  Also, despite common belief (smile), I work diligently to be supportive to the men I’m personally connected to whether my brother/friends or romantic interests or professional peers.

I recently finished reading a book by Dr. Ronn Elmore called “How to Love a Black Man.”  Yes the book boasts that one can learn to give and get the love they want and build a relationship both deserve - but that really isn’t what moved me to purchase the book.  It was what Dr. Elmore said about who African American men are and aren’t that peeked my interest. 

What moved me the most about what Dr. Elmore had to say was the fact that he “defined” the Ideal Back Man and the Raw Deal Black Man and made it very clear that neither description truly indicates who black men really are.  He goes on to describe The Real Deal Black Man and it is in this description that I learned a very bone chilling truth; “is familiar with and expects severe losses.”      

That very brief bullet point messed me up for some days.  It sent the proverbial chill down my spine and loosened the grief I often feel on behalf of African-American men in my heart.  That grief bubbled to the surface and I had to face and deal with it to a degree before I could absorb more of what the good doctor had to share.

 I struggled to believe that all the times I’d attempted to:  pump up, prop up, stand up,  stand with, support, reassure, stoke the inner light – love brothers – you mean to tell me that he still might “expect severe losses?”   COM’ON NOW - WHAT THE HECK IS REALLY GOING?!!!!

I still find it hard to put into words how this point impacted my thoughts about my son and all the other young men I hold in my heart as my own child.  I’m telling you, I was messed up over this thought! 

Then, I saw a wall post on a friend’s face book page (yes, before the latest changes to the site – I like most other folks can’t figure out the site right now).  She asked this question:  What is it that Men need in order to feel Loved and supported by women?

Don’t get me wrong.  I do understand that relationships take a lot of work/compromise/overlooking and forgiving.  I don’t believe that a woman or a man should accept emotional/physical/sexual violence as part of their relationships (October is national domestic violence awareness month ya’ll). 

This means drawing the line and maintaining what you will and won’t accept from the other (while all the while knowing that the line doesn’t have to be solid it can also be perforated – thus allow for the passage of grace and forgiveness back and forth).  I understand about the love languages and verbalizing one’s needs but….

The resounding response I heard ringing back in my mind to the question was:  “will we let this man love us?”  Are we able to commit to this brother in front of us versus the potential we believe he has in the future (and I love me some potential)?  Can we allow him to approach necessary tasks his way without offering our commentary?  Are we able to truly comprehend how much of his worth is tied to how he contributes in all aspects of his life to include relationships with us?  Can we accept him for who he is and not require him to pay for all that another may have perpetrated against us?  Can we allow him to be and do all of that he must without taking it as an assault on our intelligence and viability? 

I may eventually be found by the brother whose pace is akin to mine but even if I never do; I want to say – no, I need to say thank you to the brother along the way that:   

·        Shared his inner most fears with me; I apologize if I didn’t always handle your fears and concerns  carefully – I saw you different from how you saw yourself in those moments

·        felt safe enough with me to tell me what hurts him emotionally and to trust that it will never be used against him by me

·        sought my advice despite knowing bitter truth might flow his way from me

·        told me he’d never been loved so well in his life time until he was loved by me

·        recognizes I deserve a God fearing man; I think you’re a remarkable man and I deeply appreciate your willingness to share with others how the valleys in your life lead to your peaks as you encourage the next brother along the way

·        never fails to ask me if I’m ready to let him love me – despite the obvious difficulties between us; I know he loves me

·        took the time to explain that he doesn’t need me to fix it – he just needs me to remind him that “everything will be okay baby” 

·        was courageous enough to ask; you bring light to my days just by being you

·        who held the line when my tantrum was in full force; brave enough to say “no, you don’t get your own way this time” (@#$%%^^%- smile)

·        was confident enough in who he is as a man – to let me have my way; you move me to poetry

Ya’ll know I live alone – so I’m not saying I’m perfect or even good at all that I’ve said.  However, I recognize (in the infamous words of my sister/friend) that his bid to be him isn’t anti-me. 

I respect each of my sisters that have taken the unusual stance and have stood on behalf of brothers that struggled to find their footing in this life (I may not have always understood and I may not have the same capacity but I absolutely respect you); and we’re not talking about that compounding foolishness that leads to self destruction and our destruction. 

I just CAN’T encounter a brother (personal/professional; a moment in time or for all time – no foolishness ya’ll) and not try to add fire to the sparkle and shine he already possess.  I’m not suggesting I will change his world – I’m just pledging to not dull his shine.  Are you in?  

IN THE MEAN TIME – SHINE ON MY BROTHER!  YOU ARE MOST BEAUTIFUL TO ME.

THE WATCH

I enjoy watching people.  In fact, when my son was about 12 or 13 years old, he named me “The Watch” because he felt I was the total definition of the phrase – neighborhood watch. 

I recently had the opportunity to attend a professional conference in San Diego, CA.  The flight out went well as did my flight home.  However, the flights home had some very interesting “people watching” moments.  There is absolutely no way I can pass up sharing this experience with you!

First, let me be honest and say that I always take too much stuff with me when I go on a trip.  I NEED OPTIONS! I have no way of knowing what my mood will be on any given day.  The morning of my departure both my bags were packed full (I had to buy - at the Ross store - the second bag while on the trip) and very heavy.  I double checked that I had my cash handy because I knew I was going to have to tip heavy for the weight of the bags. 

Upon arriving at the airport, a very nice and handsome African-American man helped me at curb side.  He actually walked about ¼ of the block to get my bags for me!  The longest part of getting checked in curb side was finding my money to tip that brother!

I moved on to the security check.  I thought I had dressed down and should avoid having to get naked at the gate but I was wrong.  After taking lots of stuff off and having my bags riffled through – I was treated to the infamous full body scan.  I didn’t like it at all!  Something about standing next to the machine with legs and arms spread wide seemed like an accusation within itself.  What the heck is really going on – I was just waiting for the flashing red lights of the law.    

I passed that part of the examination and moved on to try and put my bags back together.  As I was doing this, a lovely TSA employee let me know that I needed to step to the table.  Upon arriving at the table I was notified that the $8 snow globe of San Diego, CA had to be placed in my checked luggage or left with someone. 

My checked bags were downstairs somewhere in the airport and I knew no one in the city.  The TSA employee patiently waited to find out my choice – I calmly told her that I was on my way home, luggage was downstairs somewhere and I knew no one and certainly had no interest in staying with the $8 snow globe versus making my way home.  She was totally serious - who would waste the gas to come and get the $8 snow globe? 

I continued on my way, but felt compelled to call a friend that works for TSA to tell him about his people.  As I walked and talked - I came upon the airport convenience store.  Lo and behold – they sell $8 snow globes in the store past the security check point!   My friend, the TSA employee, tried to convince me that all the stuff in the store had been checked prior to being placed on the shelves in the store.  YEAH RIGHT!!! And the tooth fairy still flys (really – ask my children). 

I diligently searched for a seat in the gate area of my pending flight.  I sent a text message to my mother to let her know that she would not be getting her customary snow globe this trip and found a seat next to some of the folks connected to my employer; one of which had made a presentation. What I most liked about his presentation was the fact that he likened the type of work done as “God’s work” because we stand in the gap on behalf of people that can’t protect themselves.  I’d also like to share that I’ve found folks that are perceived to have mega power in a system to be most friendly as is true about the fellas I sat near – but I digress. 

I sat down and ate my little snack while brooding over the whole body scan thing.  Being who I am, I was actively searching for a positive in this situation (aside from passing the test and being on my way home) when a grand idea hit me.  The fellas were discussing some book one of them was reading and kindly entertained my interruption; “I wonder if folks that are under-insured can get copies of that whole body scan to give to their doctors” was my question. 

At first they had great doubts but I pointed out to them that one year I gave blood and told some folks that is a good place for the uninsured/under-insured to go because they check iron, cholesterol, blood pressure and a few other things and the following year there was a large article in the local paper saying the tests were a side benefit of donating.  So, we kicked the thought around a little but they assured me that the TSA folks don’t keep the scans and don’t know me so they can’t send them on.  We talked about ways to get copies while standing in the line but they decided they were more likely to miss their flight by trying to help me than actually helping me (you know the infamous, “come with me please” line). 

While all of this conversation was going on there was a woman at a gate insisting that she be allowed to run back and get her cell phone that she’d left somewhere in the airport (outside of the security check).  The only thing that the ticket lady could say is, “we will not hold this flight for you.”  Another employee, (older gentleman) listened to her and took off jogging to try and get her phone before the plane left.  The whole time, the ticket lady just kept saying, “you’d better board now because this flight won’t be held while he looks for your phone.” 

About five minutes later, the employee came jogging back up.  The ticket lady said with triumph, “you didn’t find it did you?”  The man said, “Yes, I had success!”  They both took off through the door to the plane and got the lady her phone.  I really thought we all should have applauded his efforts; I mean he didn’t just stand around telling her what couldn’t happen – he got about making it happen! 

But I was too consumed by the loss of the $8 snow globe, and my bid for a copy of my full body search to clue the crowd in on this one man’s good deed.  I will tell you that once that gate shut down, I saw the employee walking by – probably off to his next work section and he looked beat.  I guess that little jog was more of a sacrifice than we all knew.

Oh and did I mention the passenger that showed up to the gate about 40 minutes prior to the boarding time?  She let the poor unsuspecting ticket taker know how pleased she was with the way the pilot set the plane down in an emergency in the Hudson.  For one minute, I really thought she was going to start applauded them. 

We began boarding the plan and the number one fan of American Airlines was calmly looking for her seat.  When she got to her seat she noted that there was no room for her bag above her seat.  She lost her cool and demanded that the bags be moved because they were where her bag should be.  The flight attendant attempted to place her bag above a few seats forward but that only served to upset her further.  She wanted to know why her bag had to move – “why don’t these bags have to move?  They’re in the spot my bag belongs.” 

In the end, she attempted to get the flight attendant to agree to watch her bag because (as all aboard learned from her loud exclamation) “my underwear are in there – I can’t lose that bag” (she said with complete seriousness as the little 8 or 9 year old boy standing behind her smiled widely – showing off the cutest dimples).  I would later watch the same little boy pray with his mother as the plan approached take off and also allow his mother to kiss his face without any shame. 

I got the attention of the flight attendant that was close to my seat and explained that the bag lady passenger is obviously mentally ill and to just move the bag or the people.  The attendant’s response was she was trying to be the most hands off attendant of the day and had no plans to intervene.  As I explained my desire to not spend the rest of my day in the plane on the ground – a smart passenger got up and traded the lady seats.  Again I felt the need to applaud. 

Now, I’d had the strong urge to get out my netbook so I could write during the flight but figured the flight wouldn’t really be long enough to get deeply involved in such a project thus being more trouble than it was worth.  The problem with that line of thinking is the flight was longer than 3 ½ hours! 

So, I turned my attention to the information in the pocket in front of my seat. Did you know that micro-greens are packed with mega nutrients?  I bet you didn’t know that vegemite is real and eaten regularly in Down Under?  J.D. Robb has a new Eve Dallas book out; oh and I saw some of the sleekest cowboy boots too.  But the biggest thing I learned was that I was on a really cool plane and could listen to different channels to all kinds of music. 

So, I checked out the “spirit of R&B” channel but didn’t seem to recognize the song that was playing.  So, I moved on to the “smooth” channel.  I didn’t recognize that song either so I went back to the previous channel; and what should they be playing – Tony, Toni, Tone’s ‘Anniversary.’    

But I had to leave the music alone when I realized I wasn’t going to be able to not sing out loud.  I also needed to just stop that madness because the last time I was jamming to Tony, Toni, Tone I pulled a muscle in my backside and it took 2 days, liniment, heating pad and a pain patch to work that knot out!   

So, I decided to take a little nap.  The best I could hope for was not to totally embarrass myself by snoring loudly.  Just as I began to doze off, we all heard the quick moving feet of a little person tearing a streak down the aisle of the plan.  I remember thinking to myself, “that kid has got to be four because no one else would be courageous enough to run all out on a plane. 

See I know cause I live with a four year old and his boldness is limitless.  In fact, while I’m trying to get my whole body scan I figure I may also just write a petition against four year olds cause they’re just too big for life!  Yeah, I will tell him the minute I get home, “you ain’t the boss of me boy!” and for once I will win. 

I could tell you about the second flight home and how I had to calm down my seat mate because the flight attendant told her and her obviously new husband – “no talking.”  I explained to the bride that the attendant was just kidding and the fact that even if she wasn’t to pretend she was because I wanted to go home.  I could also mention the fact that when the same attendant came back for trash, as she glided by folks with the bag open she requested, “Cash, wallets, purses, jewelry and anything else worth money. 

But hey, all in all – they were good and funny flights; may your next plane journey be so entertaining. 

The Sweetest Day; The Marriage

I wondered how to start to share this one sweet day our family had.  I guess like most things it’s best to begin at the beginning…

There once was this guy that spied this chick and thought, “she’s cute.”  He introduced himself and they shared a conversation. The chick liked the guy and their conversations grew to LUV.  So, a baby, an apartment, a degree, a house and a second baby later… I received a call in the middle of the work day from this guy.  The guy wanted to know if he could stop by and visit with me. 

I being me (never calls me in the middle of the work day – what’s going on), ask if all is well or should I stop by the mall on my way home and pick up a taser?  He said all was well and would explain that evening. 

Him being him, he began with, “I really appreciate the way you all have taken me into the family…” and then asked if it would be okay if he asked my baby chick to marry him.  It was so very sweet!

And (a baby, an apartment, a degree, a house and a second baby later) I gave my consent.  He showed me the ring he picked out.  The guy being him-self; decided that he could trust the four year old to keep his secret and showed her the ring as well.  My grandbaby chick being her-self – told my chick everything she knew and then some (smile).     

Finally the ring was offered and accepted.  The second baby slowed the plans down a tiny bit (the girl was just sick) but eventually, things picked up and got moving.  We went to look at gowns and I had to remind my chick to tell the dress lady she was very pregnant so the woman wouldn’t try and choke off her air with tight girdles and such (I believe she was six-seven months pregnant at the time). 

I was looking forward to getting the ceremony behind us because the bride had begun to wear on my nerves.  Don’t get me wrong, she was nothing like the Bridezilla’s seen on television – but she did have definite ideas of what she wanted, didn’t do a grand job of communicating that to those who would help. 

I forged ahead with lighting fires to get the church secured and reception plans made - so “save the date cards” and the invitations/RSVP’s could be put in the mail (I confessed to my father – I didn’t want the day to be a hot mess so I was feeling some pressure too).  With cost and low drama in mind, the couple determined each would have only one person stand with them. 

As the date drew closer, I made some other moves (just trying to help move things along) to try and make sure the “day” would come together.  The save the date cards, invitations and programs didn’t match in color – but I already had all we would need thus saving a bundle.      

The bride, while not like the Bridezilla’s often seen on television, exuded a tenseness that shifted back and forth towards temper tantrums.  She’d determined that she wanted to plan and execute the whole ceremony herself.  No matter the number of times she was asked what needed to be done – she just kept saying, “I got it, I got it, I got it.” 

Finally, at the bridal shower, the nonsense was cut through and a clean plan developed (she has a lovely set of friends that called her out on her slow-ful-ness).  Last minute items were purchased, a photographer secured and a set up/tear down crew formed.  But, trust me, we were still looking to make assignments a day or two before the nuptials (thank-you pianist and soloist – my brother/friend).   

The day arrived and of course we were running late to the church.  We had so much to do but all the plans fell into place.  The sanctuary looked very nice.  The groom, his best man (him’s baby brother), and the ring bearer (him’s nephew) looked fabulous in their white tuxedos. The flower girls (her baby cousins) had on very pretty dresses and actually dropped the petals on the floor as planned!

The bride’s maid looked lovely as did the mini brides’ maids (the couple’s daughters) in their mini bridal gowns.  Even Grandma’s Punkin Stew was decked out in a little white satin tuxedo (okay – I admit it – I lost my sweet Stew so many times that day I should have been jailed!  I finally had the good fortune to place him in the arms of my girlfriend’s mother – I knew she wouldn’t let him go and all his needs would be met). 

The bride’s brother looked stellar in his black tuxedo.  He was very serious about his role of giving the bride away and I was reminded of how serious he was a young child.      

My sister/friend had to shew  the Mary Kay lady away (we didn’t really want me to catch a case on such a fine day did we) from the bride and lots of folks put the girl in her gown. 

My other sister/friend started the program off with the scripture; in came the Man of God with the Groom and the Groomsman; the doors opened at the back of the sanctuary and out came the handsome ring bearer – high stepping his way towards the alter; next came the little flower chicks with the mini brides and bride’s maid close behind. 

It was time for the “Aunties” to roll out the carpet for the bride.  The only thing was it wouldn’t unroll as it was designed to do – in the end – a very remarkable thing happened; everyone sitting at the end of a pew put a hand on it to assist with the rolling out. 

The doors opened again and in came my baby chick, the bride with her serious baby brother.  The minister began, (and got my baby chick’s name right which had been a point of concern for her brother the day before) and My Dust said the prayer, but before doing so, he remarked on the fact that everyone touched the carpet and everyone present was a resource for them as they moved forward in their life together. 

The couple shared a serious kiss and was announced as man and wife.  The groom heartily embraced his brother and smiled the biggest smile. 

I really thought I would get a chance to cry a little but every time the events got so sweet to me I felt a tear coming on – the couple would start giggling and ruin the moment for me.

I did get a chance to dance with my father.

For weeks after this very sweet day, the little flower girls and the mini brides discussed the events of the day.  The bride had given them all the chance to wear the veil and to wear the dress.  I overheard one of these conversations.  “…un-huh remember we were at the marriage.”

I like the way those little chicks think; “the marriage” sounds much better than a wedding. 

Happy marriage anniversary!   

   

RESTORATION

Several years ago, at my home church, I heard a sermon that I thought I would never forget.  In my mind, I called it the 3 R’s.  Well, a lot of years have passed and I can only remember two of the 3 R’s from that sermon (repent & restore).  The thing I liked about it the most was the “restore” part. 

Then, the year my oldest child graduated from high school, I had the opportunity to travel an hour and be a part of a service that Pastor Jim Cymbala (Pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle – perhaps better known for their award winning choir).  I didn’t know about the choir but had been introduced to his writing by a book club (you know the kind they send you so many books a months and you have so much time to send back the ones you don’t want – and of course I was never quick enough). 

I had run out of interesting things to read and found his book on my shelf and read it.  In the end,  I read all of his books.  His writing style resonates with me somehow.  But, I digress…on the evening in question, he indicated that the sermon he was going to share with us wasn’t the initial one he had in mind but the Holy Spirit had pressed upon him to go with; “God Can Restore The Stolen” (see 1Samuel 30: 1-20).

The understanding I got from all of the above is that – God can fix broken situations.

As I’ve mentioned before, I have been blessed with special friends (please know I’m not bragging; I’m praising).  I have a very special friend that I met on the job.

This lady extended me friendship, care and concern when she really didn’t know me very well.  She’s listened to my woes, laughed at the unbelievable, shared the Word of God with me; shared her woes (it takes a lot for folks to share their hurts with others); she’s shared her successes with me; she tried to teach me the language (Spanish) and discontinued my lessons for my own safety (apparently I really mispronounced something); and she’s even the one that introduced me to the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir – smile. 

When her child reached the point in development where all parents wait with baited breath to see if said child will turn the corner into adulthood in the manner one prays for; she entrusted her worries with me.  Together we walked around the issues, fretted and prayed because like most young people; “our” child left the path of home training…”our” child was stolen.

Have you ever witnessed the heartbreak of a mother?  I’ve never seen a more fierce love than a mother’s love and by the same token, I’ve never seen such soul wrenching heartbreak.  If you’re a mother (I’m not saying this isn’t true for fathers – but I really want to address the mother perspective), I know you’ve had at least one night of crying yourself to sleep over your child (come on now – ya’ll give me one – I’m sure it’s been more but …).

Here is this kid that has often surprised you with their depth of understanding and expression of their views; made you feel so proud you could just bust into small pieces; find yourself bragging because you just like your kid and look forward to seeing what new things they have to share.  Here is this kid that makes you think you’re really good at parenting only to break you down to conceding you don’t know much about it at all!       

Here is this kid that you nurtured before and after birth; I mean held to your breast; patched bloodied and scrapped body parts; held in your arms during the early hours of their first heart break; built up their self esteem; and broke it down when they got too big for their britches!  Here is this kid that you sacrificed for on many levels even putting your own health (physical &emotional) at risk to meet a perceived need (sometimes real and sometimes not); and busted up on the scene in defense of & ready to do bodily harm (I know I’m not the only one that has had to ummm…. offer physical ramifications to those I thought was messing over my kids) on behalf of said child. 

And you finally get to what you thought was going to be the good part; watching your master piece child launched off in the world to do great and good things; and that sucker takes every turn you have spent your life’s energy trying to keep them from taking!

I watched my friend try and manage her broken heartedness.  I watched her walk the halls, hug herself, search the scriptures; pray; ask others to pray with her and for “our” child; I watched her cry… and I even cried with her.

There were days we really struggled over some choices she was facing.  We fussed over the scriptures.  We struggle with anxiety, sadness, depression, and our grief.

 

These circumstances existed for a while.  We discussed intercessory prayer.  I eventually wrote a prayer and gave it to her and encouraged her to have all the others she’d asked to pray about it to join us in the prayer.  For real now, by the 30^th day, things changed in “our” child’s life. 

The biggest concern we had rolled up & away and out!

“Our” child joined the military; struggled through basics but made it and finished up in the training course with honors.  “Our” child’s first duty station will be Germany in a non-deployable position. 

And while all of that was very sweet; the sweetest thing was this:  “Our” child came home to surprise my friend; arriving in the middle of the night way after her bedtime – which of course was taped.  I rated a viewing of the tape and let me tell you what I saw:  I saw a mother embrace her child with tears of joys streaming down her face (much the way I believe the father of the prodigal son did upon his child’s return; see Luke 15: 11-32).  I am the witness; I saw restoration.   

God restored the mind and the relationship to the right state.