It doesn’t matter how much you love someone, when God is ready for them to leave your life, there’s nothing you can do.
Losing people is hard. I’m not talking about people dying either. Death makes sense. We live and we die. It has to happen, right? But when the curtain comes down on a relationship you’ve held on to, probably longer than you should have, it’s a different kind of pain.
This person could have ruined your credit, blacked your eye, and spoiled the endings to every one of the highly anticipated movies on your Blockbuster list, but when…
I was 6 years old when I was introduced to racism.
It happened in first grade. Before my elementary school was predominantly black. Before white flight. Susie introduced me to it.
A chubby white girl with brown hair and a round face. She wasn’t the nicest kid. In fact though I can’t recall having issues with most kids my age back then, Susie made it a point to remind me that she didn’t like me.
Imagine a 6-year-old coming home to unsuspecting parents in tears because, “Susie said that Ronald Regan is sending all black people to the moon.”
I listen to vinyl records and rummage the new inventory at Goodwill to find hidden gems that someone graciously donated.
I have a stack of VHS tapes that were purchased not ironically. My husband and I enjoy the low definition and marvel at the time it takes to rewind tapes. I prefer to wear glasses that remind me of the proud nerd that my dad reminded me that he was. His way of trying to make me feel better about not being considered cool in school. …
I’ve seen God work too many miracles to not believe that things will work out for the better.
There’s a lot of anxiety evoking news in circulation. You can’t avoid it. From the very beginning, people have been glued to computer screens, TV screens, phone screens in a desperate search for life-saving information. People are so tuned in, that they are spending more time online, hoping for an ounce of relief, than they are spending relying on their religious and spiritual beliefs.
At the start of all the pandemic mess, I had just embarked on my first serious try at…
It took 35 years to learn the value of silence
Silence is necessary
Over committed, overwhelmed, over everything
Deciding to sit in silence
Embracing the sounds of nature
Watching the people casually stroll
Conversations outside my window
A brown skinned woman
With a heart filled laugh
Watching life happen in the world surrounding me
Reminding myself to breathe
Taking a moment to appreciate the shades of green
Fresh tulips sprouting from rich dark soil
Continuing to move, without needing my interference
Through the silence and stillness I’m learning to let loose of control Exhausted from over caring, not sleeping…
The world is in crisis. Thanks to our collective inability to focus on what’s truly important, the COVID-19 Coronavirus has people across the country buying all the toilet paper, and oddly, lamb shanks.
Yes, according to the empty shelves in the meat department, someone is preparing to cook a rack of lambs, duck, and baby back ribs during a non-holiday. I’m awaiting the sweet aroma of barbecue in the wind; someone is undoubtedly out grilling, in the midst of the pandemic.
The media would have you think that we should be preparing for the zombie apocalypse. Every quarantine movie and…
Watching rhythmically challenged people dance is one of the greatest joys of my life. Knees wobbling, joyful wiggling, and passionate head bopping are my top faves, hands down. Before you judge prematurely, know that I am no Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott. But much like these fine individuals, I don’t care if I look funny on the dance floor. But I dance on beat. Most of the time.
Who knew an invitation to a company party would bring peace and clarity to my anxious and exhausted brain.
As ridiculous as their dance moves looked, I admired them. Behind the drunken rendition of…
I am feeling a lot these days. More than the normal anxiety that I’ve lived with since I was a kid. This overwhelming, towering feeling that the world is crumbling, and there’s no way that I can stop it.
The simplest thing, like going into the city, having to drive through the perceived landmines that my psychological thriller, true crime loving brain highlights in my most ridiculous, outlandish post-apocalyptic nightmares.
Ah. Where would an anxious person be, without their super-realistic nightmares?
I love my family. The quirky inside jokes about getting couch cushion stuck in noses. Memories of my father in thigh high “booty shorts” with 80s dad glasses, tube socks and penny loafers. Family tributes to our beloveds and departed, in a style that only a black church going family can do. I was raised in a family that understood struggle and perseverance.
By no means has life been easy, but we know that through faith and family, things generally turn out alright.
My family prays. A lot. In some ways, I think our time spent in church, and the…