THE MARAUDERS

I wrote the following about a year ago.  It seems like the perfect time, in my life to share this especially as I awoke to these circumstances - again - on this very day!  I can't help but feel that some days parenting is about winning and losing.  You'll be glad to know that I continue to dream of winning...

I recently had a working lunch with a couple of friends.  After solving all the problems in our work system, we moved on to quick updates regarding our personal lives.  The topic turned to parenting dilemmas and the question was posed whether or not one of my lunch partners had gone overboard in dealing with the matter of “stealing” with her 5 year old.  

They both looked at me – I guess because I’m the “alleged” professional in that area.  I’ve raised a couple of birth children (and still have good relationships with them – smile); have taken part in the upbringing of other kiddos in our “family system” (and they still speak to me and talk about me in their general conversations with each other); I’ve had the privilege of being a step mother to an outstanding man/son/father/uncle/husband (I never would have thought the teenager that was driving me CRAZY would be such a lovely man); and I’ve foster parented and recently reconnect with the very first kiddo that lived with us (my other daughter).  I’ve worked with children and families for a great many years and recently have been “gifted” the opportunity to start parenting all over again with my nieces and nephew (6, 5 & 3).  Oh yeah, I’m also a grandmother.   

I thought through the story of the “offense” and the punishment that was meted out to the 5 year old.  Now, I’ve met this little 5 y/o and had to enter into negotiations with the said 5 year old kiddie.  I want you to know - that kiddo ain’t no joke!  The kid is so smart and logical that I thought about sweating when I was working out the deal.  So, understanding the personality and temperament of the kiddo and the concern of the mother, I honestly thought the chosen course was a great one for them.    

However, that evening I worried and worried that perhaps I had misspoken because I hadn’t taken into consideration whether or not the consequence fit the youth’s race and social class.  However in the end, I remembered the true key to good parenting – you have to know and understand the child in front of you for the tools to work best.  Everything doesn’t work with every child in the same way and if what is being offered or taken holds no value to that child – one is wasting their time.  

It has to mean something to the child to have impact.

See, I too had been dealing with small thefts of candy, lip gloss, gum, etc… in my home by the band of merry bandits lead by the relentless 6 year old.  I thought we were making progress in that area on the day of the lunch and only mentioned having thrown away all the candy and gum in the house (you would be surprised at how much candy people give little kids and to think I’ve been guilty of this myself) and the fact that they had no cavities in passing.  But I learned over the holidays how very wrong I was as the nature of the missing items increased in number, mess and destruction.

In fact, I felt so broken and defeated (yes, by a 6, 5 & 3 year old – don’t act like this has never happened to you) that I had to go to bed early (and I’m already famous for being sleep before 10 pm) right before Christmas!  I felt a total and complete failure and determined we had gotten WAY off our rhythm and routine. 

I became more determined than ever to re-calibrate the natives to my voice and command.  I had them MARCHING over the break and then we all got a break from each other when they stayed the weekend with our cousin (I told that girl I wouldn’t be taking any phone calls from her from the time I dropped them off to the time I picked them back up – good luck and God bless you ALL). 

I thought we had turned the corner and was feeling upbeat the first morning the children were to return to school.  I gave the normal speech of “please be on your best behavior, pay attention and pick up all the KNOWLEDGE from school, blah, blah, blah.”  Only to have my bubble busted at 2:30pm when I got the call from the 6 year olds teacher indicating MY 6 year old had stolen her cell phone from a drawer in her desk.

I sent out the text to my girlfriend/child care provider (6 year olds property victim the previous week) and to my mother as they would be the first to see her and so we’d all had to be on one accord – NO LOOP HOLES!            

The Relentless Six Year Old

The kiddo spent time in the time out chair; visited the police station and the county jail where she met with an officer and guard who explained to her how people who steal are processed; wrote “I will not steal” sentences; called family and friends to report what she had done so they would hear it from her and would know to monitor their things when she’s around; wrote apology letter to teacher; no snack and early bedtime. 

However, she appeared to be un-phased by her actions and the consequences (she had a smile like a Cheshire cat).  So I knew we were going to have to make the consequences more personal. 

I lost a bit of sleep that night trying to figure out how to best reach “the relentless one.”  I seriously considered stealing one shoe to each pair of her shoes but in the end decided that she would just consider herself setting the curve on a new style by wearing one shoe from two pairs. One of my co-workers said the one shoe would work if I took all the right foot shoes or all the left foot shoes (and I thought I had good strategy abilities). 

I watched her slink around the following morning and my mind continued to maul over the dilemma.  Half way through the morning the solution came to me.  I placed a call to my son who carried out my instructions. 

That evening, “the relentless one” was so upbeat – announcing the many ways she’d managed to follow all the rules during the day.  We complimented her and kept the evening schedule rolling.  She was the last to go and set out her clothes for the following day.  When she went to get her clothing – she had none. 

THAT IS RIGHT – I STOLE HER CLOTHES!

Why?  Because “the relentless one” is a fashion diva and requires that her hair be combed to her specifications (or it’s an awful morning) and has been known to take up to 20 minutes on one item of clothing. 

She couldn’t believe all of her things were gone.  We eventually discussed how it feels to find one’s things missing and how she felt when she saw her things were gone.  We helped her put into words how her teacher must have felt to find her cell phone gone. 

We discussed what she would have to do if her clothing didn’t show up (wear the same clothes she’d worn that day).  I really thought we were getting some internal work done!  However, on her way to bed, over her left shoulder she asked me if her things would be back in the morning (it really sounded like “told”). 

I had to follow through the following morning and allow “the relentless one” to wear those dirty clothes. 

You will be glad to know that the kiddo continued with her usual flair; I heard her sniff the clothes and say, “don’t smell too bad.” 

Our saga has continued – but for one day – brief as it was (and it was brief)  –

I WAS THE WINNER!

SHAMED BEFORE THE LORD (SBTL)

I think a lot in my own head.  I think about various people, I pray for those on my prayer list and sometimes I just think about life in general.    Lately, I’ve been pushing through some rough thoughts about what I see happening around me. 

I began asking the Lord to show me what I needed to know about these circumstances that were pressing in on my mind so.  I made some calls and exchanged some chats with my trusted confidants to see what they’d been observing/hearing/feeling – just to double check myself.  The feedback wasn’t comforting as we discussed just a few of the things going on in the news – I hadn’t even taken those things into my considerations. 

My considerations even began to wear on me in my sleep (and if you know me – I believe in sleeping the sleep and not anything disrupting that).  I ran and ran and struggled and struggled and fought and fought so in my sleep several nights in a row!  I just didn’t have any peace nor did I feel rested.

Sometimes, things can get so heavy that one feels convinced that all is lost and that a matter has finished its course and is well…dead.  For a few weeks now, my heart had been heavy and I even heard myself asking – WHAT THE HECK IS REALLY GOING ON that matters seem so bleak?

I went back to my petitions to the Lord.  And as the year moved closer to the end and my rest was further disturbed I felt the best place for me was in the house of the Lord (smile).  And it was with bittersweet joy I entered into the house of the Lord (maybe sometime I will be able to put into words what it was like watching an era come to a close).  I also heard echoes of my Grandfather and other dear friends that have moved over to glory, within the walls, which added to my melancholy (nice word huh). 

Then in the midst of all this I got my annual upper respiratory infection.  So, I had more time to contemplate the “meaning” of things and what thus said the Lord. 

Believe it or not, I’ve always thought that I know the real truth about some things (smile).  You’ll be pleased to know that with age has come some restraint and I’ve learned that just because I think I know the truth doesn’t mean it’s mine to tell.

Okay, okay, okay, what am I talking about?  Well, I’m going to have to tell what I believe is the truth in order to bring this conversation home – so let us agree upfront to disagree if you don’t see this matter the way I see – Okay?

That night, in the house of the Lord, I heard two good words.  I’m only going to share one today.  The scripture centered on Matthew 25:1-13; the 10 Virgins.  For the sake of this conversation (and the fact that I’m nobody’s teacher), let us refer to this as the parable of the wise and the foolish; SOMEBODY BETTER SAY SOMETHING.  (Now as an aside, I’ve always wondered how the wise ones could justify not helping the foolish – but I’ll ask my childhood Sunday School Teacher this one.  I’m sure she’ll set my mind straight – smile.) 

The truth according to Toi

So many of us are very blessed and greatly favored by God himself.  However, we walk around like oppressed people.  As my dear friend would say, “like we’ve been sucking on lemons.”  I’m shamed before the Lord to admit it but I too am guilty of this very same thing!

God has made a way for some of us out of nothing.  Instead of walking in the freedom and Grace he’s provided – we keep looking back and complaining about what was!

As I lay around working through my annual respiratory infection – I had the nerve to act like I was at the end of my life.  I told my mother I was just so miserable and she told me I was making everyone else miserable and to go to bed.  It amounted to a cold – and I was acting like a jackass while others are dealing with REAL LIFE THREATENING ILLNESSES – SBTL!

Some of us have received mercy on top of mercy and show absolutely no mercy towards the next person.  WE SHOULD BE SBTL!  And while we’re behaving this way, the next generation – our children- watch our behavior and we have the nerve to wonder what the matter with these kids is?   

There is a scene in Barber Shop 2 that I just love.  It’s the scene where the community is rioting and the guy comes to the barber shop to burn it.  Cedric the Entertainer’s character is at every window and door the man comes to saying one simple thing – “NO.” 

Through the course of my contact with my comrades, I heard a piece of wisdom that I’d like to share with you:  Can you love more than you hate?

Now it is with some trepidation I declare the following (cause God always holds me accountable and I don’t always want to comply):  I’m going to endeavor to live better so I don’t have to be so SBTL; to stand in the gaps and just say “no;” and to love more than I hate. 

Will you join me? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9td6ZZuTbsk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFtf0WJc3i0&feature=related

WON'T GIVE UP!

You would think by this time in my life I would have learned this one valuable lesson; children will rarely participate at the same level of my fantasies!  BUT I JUST CAN’T SEEM TO GIVE UP THAT HOPE!

Perhaps I’m just a glutton for punishment and disappointment; perhaps I just need to maintain hope; perhaps I really am just CRAZY – but whatever it is…. I just believe that children should be introduced to certain things so… I keep trying.   

I guess in a way I have improved because I now seek out folks to help me with my “projects.”  I no longer have to be the beginning, middle and end of the matter.  Blessedly, God seems to send all the right folks just when I need them for one of my schemes – oh, I mean “projects.”

I won’t tell you how many different little craft things I have tucked around this place just waiting for me to have the right energy/patience or correct “assistant” in the house.  I will also steer clear of mentioning my bright idea for gardens this past hot season. 

For the record, I’m not the only one with these ideas in my family.  My daughter starts a lot of projects and howls in defeat at the end because she just can’t imagine what she was thinking at the time.  Her husband usually comes in and pushes the “project” on to completion. 

I’m also sure my mother would like for me to forego the story of the flower planting idea she had.  I will just say that the children were very interested in watching her do the digging and we never noticed a flower blooming despite the children regularly checking. 

I determined, despite the failure of my garden plan (it was hot ya’ll), the children still needed to experience laboring and sharing the fruits of that labor with others.  So, I bought a box of craft things, talked my mother her best friend and a sister/friend into joining us for some crafts (Grandmas/Aunite).  It must have sounded like such a good plan that my male co-worker (Daddy/Uncle) brought his children over to join in the fun (his wife was the smartest of us all – she didn’t come over).  We also had another kiddo and adult join us (Grandma/Auntie) a little after the crafts began. 

But I was very smart (minus the glue thing but I corrected that by buying some glue in the middle of the project).  I bought a large bottle of wine.  I opened the box of stuff put it on the table and had my very large glass of wine (11am ya’ll).  I was feeling no pain and was doing no crafts so it all went well for me. 

The children were interested at first but somewhere along the line, they broke camp, escaped the house and were running wild in the yard.  None of the involved adults (Grandmas/Aunties/Uncle/Daddy) seemed to be all that worried about them escaping.  We had food and wine and the house was quieter.  We were happy.

However, an hour or so after the children made a break for it…. I heard grumblings from the worker bees.  They had figured out that my co-worker had slipped away.  But he’s wise to being around women so he would shuffle in and out of the room (when a commercial was on the TV). 

Then they wanted to know why I wasn’t doing any crafts.  I explained that was the reason for inviting them (smile – you can imagine how well that went over).  They wouldn’t accept any of my advice on how to make the crafts stick together (got a little snippy too something about “the one that isn’t working has ideas”) so I was forced to show them how it’s done! 

I used spray adhesive – which they had discounted as being ineffective without ever trying it.  My lovely little Christmas tree dried and was done in no time.  I cleaned the kitchen; bagged up all the left over craft stuff and put all the stuff up in the time it took them to keep checking on their wet crafts (wait - you don’t think that was their plan - do you?)

The Rest of the Story

I don’t know if we have enough projects completed to give as gifts but I truly enjoyed the singing that went on against my mother’s wishes (but you’d be glad to know that she and my sister/friend dug way back in the hymnal archives and broke out in an oldie but goodie). 

I enjoyed the children being free of us always telling them stop it, quit it, don’t.  And, I especially enjoyed the fact that our family-friends would give up their time to attempt my plan with the children. 

I wonder if the children know how truly blessed we are?  I guess I will have to develop a new scheme to teach them that (smile) but I know and feel full of joy and gratitude that God always sends who and what is needed when it is needed;  which must be the reason WE WON’T GIVE UP.   I thank you Lord! 

TRIBUTE

I have a friend that is from El Salvador.  I always smile when I think of her because she speaks with this lovely accent and I can’t help but to hear it when I think of her. 

One day, we were discussing the matter of culture and how different cultures are communicated.  This of course was a very interesting concept to me (the nerd in me).  We kicked it around for a few minutes until somehow the topic of my nieces and nephew living with me became the lens through which we kept considering the topic. 

She indicated that the children living with me (it’s not really me – it’s “us” but for the sake of this conversation – I will stick with me) is a choice.  I told her “absolutely not – no choice in the matter.”  She said, yes, you didn’t have to agree – and I explained to agree or disagree didn’t even bare weight – because they belong to us and we take care of ours.  What a strange idea to have choice in this type of matter. 

I further shared with her that I once had a job recruiting Black Adoptive Families for Black children.  I always found the cognitive dissonance interesting to maneuver through because older African-Americans just didn’t believe there were black children without family or community – that were in foster care. 

In fact, throughout our entire family (immediate and extended; Kansas, Colorado, Texas, Oklahoma to California) one way or another the children stay in the family.  They may not have been raised with the part of the tribe they were born into but they’re still in the tribe. 

To me, it isn’t a choice – it just is.  Anyway, did you ever meet my Grandmother?  No way could I ever not have offered help and face her again when it’s my time to move to Glory. 

I know a very exceptional woman.  I’m blessed to call her my Aunt.  She raised my cousins as if she birthed them and to this day they huddle at her side.  I’m always reminded of Proverbs 31:28a when I think of her; “Her children arise up, and call her blessed.” 

She and her siblings recently lost their Father.  I knew her Father.  He was one of my friends.  He always had a smile and some little joke for me. 

The biggest thing is I always felt like he was genuinely happy to see me.  My air seemed to get caught when I heard his health was not well and I felt, yet again, the world was less safe when I learned he’d moved to Glory. 

I was away and not able to be with the family.  But I had the opportunity to think about them.  And, I have to tell you the thing that I like about my Aunt and her siblings; they take care of their parents! 

I don’t know if they had some kind of calendar meeting or what but there was never any doubt about supporting their mother and father as their health has declined.  “Granny” is still living – doing well.  And, they move when she says move - smile.  (Granny is a wonderful woman and still very feisty!  I pity the fool that tries to tell her 90 something self what to do!) 

Now are you ready for this?  They did and do all of this with a grace and graciousness unlike any I’ve seen before.  They don’t whine or complain (unlike myself; I bet if you look up whining and crying they have my picture in the book; I’m so good at it.)

They respected their father’s life and important relationships – even in writing.  What a tribute!  I know they miss their Daddy.   

I’m thankful that my cousins have my Aunt for their mother and her family for extended family.  See how God works?  I get to be in the extended tribe as well because I’ve been exposed to these exceptional folk and the experience adds to my desire to be a better person.

My friend from El Salvador and I haven’t had the chance to revisit the topic of culture – but it helped me to verbalize the fact that although I didn’t “have a choice” (the alternatives weren’t options) I’m not a “victim or hostage.”  It’s with the Grace of God - a tribute to which I embrace this - my life.       

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.