It’s the photo of my three year old nephew, who barely escaped death as a newborn, wearing the light blue flannel of my departed brother’s childhood. It’s another young and innocent nephew talking to his parents about his Papa Charles in heaven and asking, “but did he drive dere?” It’s the bright yellow of theContinue reading “Wait”
It was love at first sight. The moment he held her in the palm of his hand I knew she’d become our little girl. He bottle-fed her, nestled her against his warm chest, and talked sweetly to her from day one. As she grew, she followed at his heels and loved him the best. WeContinue reading “Grits”
We’ve all heard the phrase, “Fake it till you make it.” Oftentimes, we use it as a mantra to help us through challenges. At least, in my experience, that’s when educators use it the most. As teachers, we are asked to create positive learning environments for our students. We are also told our attitudes setContinue reading “Fake It Till You Make It”
We sat in a crowded church on an uncrowded pew on Christmas Eve. The crowd triggered my anxiety but having a pew mostly to ourselves comforted me. At the end of the service, the pastor pointed out a small privilege we take for granted in this modern world – automatic street lights. As the sunContinue reading “Trail of Light”
You can’t stuff away life’s baggage. One day, you’ll open that closet in search of a special outfit for the most special occasion and the baggage will peak its head around that favorite dress you’ve saved for years because someday it’ll fit again.
I’m in the trenches over here trying to learn about self-compassion and how to ask for what I need. Having a conversation about things I need from others for my own emotional well-being takes my body to panic attack levels because past life experiences programmed me to believe my emotional needs make me weak. Unlearning is difficult.
This season is teaching me a little bit about gentle self-love and compassion.
I grew up calling Shannon “Mom” because that’s what Daddy and all his siblings called her. That’s what we, all of her grandchildren, called her. She died this year as the leaves of October peaked. I didn’t get to say goodbye or hold her soft hands or thank her for loving me or to whisper,Continue reading “Sweet as “Mom””
On February 14, 1992, I was sitting in my second-grade social studies class learning about Martin Luther King, Jr. and the 90-mile march from Selma to Birmingham when the infamous question preyed upon me. What side of history would I have been on? Today, in 2021, I cogitate why I didn’t interrogate my teachers more.Continue reading “What Side of History Am I On?”
The sun had not risen yet as I drove to work one random morning about a month ago. My mind was busy with all the day-to-day worries that I should hand over to God but have trouble doing because I’m human and because I’m fearful of losing control and of the unknown.
More of perspective than a story; ranting more than enlightening