Mother’s Love

I can write anything: poetry, essays, songs, screenplays, etc. I can even write about almost anything. Yet my greatest challenge is writing for my mother. Perhaps it’s my fear of being completely vulnerable with her, about her. Maybe I’m still trying to appease her rather than give her my heart. Perhaps I love her too deeply to express words. Whatever the case, I have spent months thinking about my mom. Yes, she’s alive and well, and I am forever grateful. Though I’ve been thinking about what it took for her to be my mother. Yes physiologically, she got pregnant, and carried me in her womb for 7 months, then birthed me. I know this! I understand this! My mind wishes to understand what it took for her to raise me; to put up with my attitude; to deal with my rebellion; to keep me safe; to give me what I need, and sometimes what I want. My mind wishes to comprehend her passion for me. 

The obvious answer is love. The simple answer is love. Everything I write after this sentence is wrapped up in love: A mother’s love. My mother endured pain for this. Indeed this pain I speak of is physical. She gave birth! which means she pushed me out of her. She pushed life out of her; creativity came out of her; passion came out of her; uniqueness came out of her; oh my, a work of art, she pushed out of her! It took pain for her to be my mother. 

My mother sacrificed for this love. Yep. She sacrificed money, time, rest, and sleep. She put all her energy into my siblings and me. She attended basketball games, dance recitals, and college football games specifically for the halftime show, as my brother was in the band at THE Tennessee State University. She attended talent shows. She paid for field trips to go out of state, and bought uniforms for sports; she did for us even when she didn’t feel like it. Now, of course, some of you are reading this and thinking “well, duh, that’s what a mother does!” Yes, it is what a mother does, yet some mothers don’t. And I appreciate my mom, in her singleness, working to provide, and then working to support, and then working some more to raise us in such a way that her fruit does not go unnoticed. Her sacrifice humbles me! How dare I think, believe, or imagine that she doesn’t love me. Her sacrifice! No one sacrifices like that, except for love.

Patience is one of my mother’s superpowers. You know, I don’t remember being a toddler, however, I have heard the stories. And I was a terror…allegedly. I got into things, I had the potty mouth, and I was quite the handful. I just had so much going on….allegedly. I know that no one would babysit me, other than a couple of aunts. I was…pretty bad….allegedly. I do not know the patience level my mother had at that time, nor have I any clue about it when I was growing into adolescence, however, I lived to see 34 years and I got a job, I ain’t in prison and I ain’t dead, so she must have gotten a Ph.D. in this thing called patience. Now, I’m grown and speak to my mother daily. And still, she has to have patience with her woman child. I’ll never understand it. And I’ll never spend another day not appreciating it. 

While it takes so much more to be a mother, those are just a few things that I’d like to highlight about my mother. And I choose to face the fear of being completely vulnerable with her about her.

To my mother: I could say I love you; I do that every day. Yet this time that I speak of my love for you, it is with every part of me: The mind which you fed with structure, creativity, and a knowledge; It’s with my heart which has been scarred and hardened, yet still soft enough to possess the possibility of love. I am convicted here for every time I did not obey your instructions; every time I did not respect you; every time I did not honor you; and every time I did not recognize your demonstrations of protection, kindness, chastisement, and sacrifice as love. Within my soul, I love you deeply and desire to be a better daughter to you. Thou art my mother. Blood of thy blood; flesh of thy flesh, I am. There’s no greater gift on the earth than love: a mother’s love. Thank You for being my mother. I love you! I appreciate you. No money-bought gift will ever measure up to your unrestricted, unbound, unprovoked love for me. I can only hope that you’ll receive my heart in its fullness, in its raw form: soft, open, and willing to embrace love: my mother’s love. 

Lord, thank You for my mother. Thank You for the pain she endured to be my mother. Thank you for her patience, her kindness, and her protection. Thank You for her life. Thank You that she pushed life out of her. Without her, I exist not. I’m not always respectful and I don’t always honor her. I repent. She is the vessel in the earth You chose to carry me, birth me, love me, provide for me, comfort me, hold me. God, I thank You for her well-being. Thank You for preserving her. Thank you that there’s no greater love on the earth than that of a mother’s love.

I’ve Worked Hard to Become This

My confidence is increasing, I have worked hard to become this person.

From the I am app: https://iamaffirmations.app/download

Thy confidence is increasing. Indeed I’ve worked hard to become this person. You know, I am still angry, though not to the point of punching walls and threatening people. I am still loving and giving, though I tend to have many more boundaries. I worked hard to not be reckless, to wake up every morning with even but the least amount of hope that my today will be better than yesterday, even in the smallest way. I could get rest today that I never got yesterday. That’s better. I could have breakfast today when I never ate anything the day before. That’s better. I could write a song or a poem. I could bake and master a dessert I’d been working on, all of which I probably didn’t get to do yesterday. And that’s better. I’m so grateful to have done the work to become this person – creative, productive, thoughtful, giving, loving, passionate, hardworking, relentless.

I remember taking one of those Facebook quizzes and the result said something along the lines of “throw me to the wolves, and I’ll come out leading the pack.” I know it’s just some quiz with randomized answers and sometimes it means absolutely nothing. However the wolves I’ve been thrown to, I’ve overcome, otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting here writing. The pack I lead may not be on the front lines for the world to see. We may not be on TV nor well known like Beyoncé, Kanye, or Jay-Z; however I am still leading in some capacity. I’m grateful because I’ve worked hard to become this. And I’m still working!

This is heart. This is Truth. This is my encouragement

#HTE #I’mBoutThatLife

Benefits to Moving In Silence

Wow! It has been quite some time since I have posted. Oh how I have missed writing and posting here! How I have missed pouring out my heart to you, sharing my truth with you, and encouraging you! I am back in action, ready to speak life, which is truth.

So, I’ve got a question. Have you ever met an ambitious thinker with no ambition? Yes? No? Maybe? Well, they are most certainly out there. Ambitious thinkers lacking ambition are those who can talk you through their thoughts and ideas, yet have no aspiration to actually get it done. These are people who are successful in their minds; yet mediocre and stagnant in reality.

For many years, and at the start of this year, I talked a lot, yet I was producing NOTHING! And what work I did accomplish was mediocre; average; not my best. Indeed, I have heard people tell me that I am anointed, that I am gifted, that I am just amazing, all that and a bag of chips with a Nehi peach on the side! However, what good is any of that, if I don’t believe all those statements; if I don’t speak it to myself; if I don’t walk in it? If other people can see that I stand out among the average, and I choose not to see it, believe it, nor walk in it, then I am making an executive decision to settle for mediocrity.

People who settle for mediocrity are those who possess the seeds, which are visions and dreams, yet they do not plant them. They walk around with their seeds, telling everyone what they have, and then they put the seeds back in their pockets and do nothing with them. These are people who make excuses for why they cannot plant or sow their seeds, such as “people won’t be happy if I put everything into my passion”, or “I just don’t have time; I’m always working”, or “I just don’t know”, or “I can’t afford to do what I love”, “I can’t this, I can’t that” – EXCUSES!!! Here’s the one we all know: “oh I can do it tomorrow.” As we can see, especially during this pandemic, TOMORROW AIN’T PROMISED! DO IT TODAY!

Being content with mediocrity is often the fruit of procrastination; and where there is procrastination, there is no productivity. Trust me! I am a recovering procrastinator (Pray church). Even today, I have moments where I am stagnant and unproductive. So by no means am I suggesting that you won’t have days like that; however I am expressing that it cannot be your story EVERYDAY! You cannot come in every single week and think about and talk about all these amazing things, and sit back and do nothing- LIP SERVICE!

I have learned in my experience of procrastinating and producing nothing to simply SHUT UP ABOUT IT!! Hey you, SHUT UP ABOUT IT! Get some where and do something with it – the ‘it’ that keeps you up at night, the ‘it’ that you eat, sleep, and breathe; the ‘it’ that you’ll do for free because you love it so much. DO something with it. We have talked about it, we’ve thought about it, and at some point, we’ve got to get down into dirt and plant something that will yield fruit!

Since the very beginning, we were made to yield fruit. In fact, God made EVERYTHING to be fruitful and multiply – the birds of the air, the creatures that scurry along the ground, the fish of the sea, the grass and trees, AND He made US to yield fruit (Genesis 1: 9; 20-25).

Even more fascinating is that When God made man, He made us in His likeness. We are the only thing God created to be like Him (Genesis 1: 26-27). Since that is the case, just as our Father is a creator, His DNA has been passed down to us and by spiritual genetics, we ARE CREATORS. God created me and you to be creative; to produce; to bear fruit. We are branches, and that which does not bear fruit is cut off, according to John 15:2. WE MUST BEAR FRUIT! When we are productive, we are pruned in preparation to yield much more fruit . WE MUST BEAR FRUIT!

Now here’s the deal: The more time we spend talking about our seeds, which are dreams and visions, the less time we spend on actually planting or sowing the seed. PROCRASTINATION! Smoove talking with no action gives birth to procrastination. We cannot grow a tree from a seed we won’t plant. The more we talk, the less we do. So, then the remedy for our unproductive, procrastinating, gifted selves is to MOVE IN SILENCE. There’s power in doing so, and there are benefits to it. While there are many, I will only provide three which I have experienced for myself.

The first benefit is that we minimize the risk of people NOT assigned to us, volunteering their opinion about a gift that doesn’t belong to them. Profound, right? Silence is an answer (a lesson I learned the hard way). Silence is a task, especially for people who just have to tell someone. It is an active choice and effort, and in some cases, silence is wise.

The second benefit to making moves quietly is that there are no outside voices competing with God’s voice. If you are anything like me, and believe that your gifts belong to God and that you cannot move without Him, then you’ll find peace and joy in hearing Him speak to you and through you. Real talk, you may find frustration first; maybe a little agitation at the sound of nobody; however, when you hear from Him, you’ll stop playing checkers, and begin to make chess moves.

The third benefit, which I am seeing happen in my own life, is that we become the “talk” while walking the “walk. For people who know me, this is not news to you; and for people who do not know me, allow me to share a fun fact about me: I am not “braggadocious” about my gifts and talents: I allow them to speak for themselves. That said, I did not talk to, nor ask anyone to grant me opportunities to recite poetry in the UK. I did not talk to, nor ask anyone to grant me the privilege of being a featured poet in West Africa. I consulted with NO ONE to grant me the opportunity to battle against the best of the best in a poetry showcase. Every opportunity was because I moved quietly. The volume of my mouth muted; the service of my lips surrendered to the fruits of my labor. MY GIFTS SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES.

To everyone reading this, YOUR GIFTS SHOULD SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES. You’ll know that they are speaking because people will find you; you won’t have to go looking for opportunities. You’ll know because doors will open without you knocking. Move in silence. Let your work precede your sound.

It’s a Fight to the Finish

It seems like we are in a global boxing ring against Tyson, Holyfield, Ali and Frazier; we’re being hit from every angle. COVID-19 attacked the world and silently took life from thousands upon thousands of people, young and old. Then, there were natural disasters to ravage through the southern states of America, killing several people. It happened and we had not even gotten good and comfortable in the quarantine yet. And we are still aching. 

While all this is going on, many have been furloughed from work, creating an unemployment rate that’s unspeakable. Soon after, we learn of the brutal and ruthless murders of many people of color, practically all in the same week; it’s been like a combo of hits, with no opportunity to gather ourselves; we get up only to be hit with a protest turned violent and a curfew across the nation due to riots; we’ve been hit by racist white people mocking the malicious, intentional death of George Floyd; murders are happening all the time – senseless murders! And to add to that, the mental health world is suffering, and many have and are choosing death in an attempt to end their pain. We are being attacked from all sides, and it hurts. This pain makes us cry; it makes us angry; it causes unnecessary fear, anxiety, worry and paranoia; we’re also dealing with a hypersensitivity to everything because we’re in this global fight against spirits and demons and questions and worries; and we just haven’t had a chance to even get back to our corner for a water break. I mean WE ARE HURTING!

Though our hearts are bruised, though our spirits are crushed, there is still some fight in us. Don’t put your hands down; keep your stance; it’s a fight to the finish. Keep fighting with love against the hatred we are enduring; keep fighting with hope against these seemingly hopeless circumstances. 

Let’s not put our hands down. We need them up and in position.I have heard people say that you can lay hands on yourself and declare a thing in the matchless name of Jesus and by faith, it will be so. So, then we gotta keep our hands in position to declare peace for our minds; healing for hearts and bodies; deliverance from illnesses and struggles we can’t seem to shake. Let’s keep our hands up. And let’s stay in the fight. 

Trust me, I know the thoughts and feelings of giving up. I mean, if there were a champion for quitter of the day, the week, the month AND the year, it had my name on it. Today, I fight! I fight every thought that’s to harm me,  I fight every weight and ache of depression, I fight for peace of mind. I want to win because I’m a champion – not of quitting. 

You, too, are a champion. Keep fighting; don’t let your hands fall. I want to see you win!!! Keep fighting! Keep pressing! It’s a fight to the finish and WE WILL WIN!

#MyHeart #OurTruth #OurEncouragement #htelife

You Are Not Alone

2020 has been a year of global trauma, as we are enduring one pandemic called COVID-19, which is currently incurable and has taken and is taking so many lives. While the virus does not discriminate, it is killing African Americans at rates that are unbelievably frightening. 

In addition to this invisible killer, there is another pandemic, which has reached global attention, and that is the systemic racism and police brutality, and pretend-police brutality against black men and women. Our nation and our world are grieving the outright murders of black and brown people, and at the same time, trying to be hopeful about the positive change that is going to come, as many officers and culprits are being held accountable for lives they stole just because they were black lives. 

These two pandemics are major, and we are seeing them and hearing about them everywhere; however, there are several pandemics that are hidden behind the obvious, one of which is mental health. 

Depression is very real and many people are suffering. Many are hurting and unable to articulate what’s wrong because there is so much. So many are coping unhealthily with alcohol and drugs; some are coping with sex; some are coping with self-harm. There are many who are merely coping in silence, afraid of trusting someone with their vulnerabilities. 

It’s not that there aren’t good days; it’s just that depression can sneak up on you and depending on the day, you can shake it off you easily with positivity and healthy habits, or it can be a beast and you work the whole day to stay afloat to resist drowning in hopelessness. 

Depression is one that many do not understand and some choose not to understand. It affects people differently, with one end goal in mind and that is for them to self destruct, resisting the pain and struggle of the illness itself.

Depression is heavy! For those suffering silently, depression is just too much to carry, yet too fragile to trust other people with, for they, too, could grow weary on the journey. It is so heavy at times, it seems to grab at you on your most wonderful day, and you’re steady trying to shake it off, trying to break free of its grip! Indeed it’s tiring. 

For those struggling with depression, depressive thoughts, especially in the quarantine, YOU ARE NOT ALONE! 

I know, all too well,  the struggle and weight of an invisible enemy attacking your mind,

settling in your body and pushing you over the edge

I know, all too well, the dread of waking up in the morning

Still feeling empty, like something is missing

Not wanting to get out of bed,

Giving up with no strength to keep the fight going

I know, all too well, adopting an addiction to numb the lack of desire for existence

I know all too well, and 

YOU ARE NOT ALONE

Keep fighting! It will not kill you because this weapon that’s been formed against you cannot, will not, and shall not prosper. 

Keep fighting! It won’t kill you; it’s gonna make you stronger, better, wiser. It’s going to make you stand a little taller, smile a little harder, and love YOU a little fiercer.

THIS TOO SHALL PASS!

AND YOU ARE NOT ALONE

So smile today, keep your head lifted today, look in the mirror and love you today.

#MyHeart #MyTruth #MyEncouragement #htelife

Heart, Truth, Encouragement

Here is my heart: I am grieving with a National community of African American kings and queens, as we have watched too many fathers and daughters, too many mothers and sons, too many husbands and wives, too many nieces and nephews, too many aunts and uncles and cousins; we have watched too many best friends and colleagues and educators and leaders and advocates be executed by trigger-happy-hateful police, and pretend police, and neighborhood watch and neighbors, and random supremacists who truly have made themselves into destroyers of life. We have watched our loved ones be shot down and left in the street for hours like stray dogs. In fact, the stray wouldn’t be on the street nearly as long as that of a black man. It’s hurtful.

We have watched our beloved race be denied the basic human rights to jog, to go to the store, to just work, to go to the movies; we have been denied the right to record videos of blatant injustices. We have been denied the right to have family barbecues, the right to sit in our own home with a bowl of ice cream. WE’RE ANGRY! We are denied the right to birdwatch in Central Park or any park for that matter; we have been denied the basic human rights to live and make it home at night. We’re denied the right to play loud music in our own cars at gas stations; the right to make a living without the presumption that we are criminals. We have inhumanely been denied the right to even breathe. 

We have vividly watched our black men plead for a mere breath, gifted to them by God, yet remorselessly taken by hateful blue-uniform-wearing, badge-having, KKK-Trump-rally going devils, professing to be good God-fearing people. OUR HEARTS ACHE! 

We are disgusted by those who have eyes to see and still choose to be blind. We are NAUSEOUS of steps in the right direction resulting in another sad, hate crime, and we are SICK of singing the same sad songs. It’s like we are looping in agony of the bloody, racist, hate track. SOMEBODY TURN THE SONG OFF! THROW THE WHOLE RACE-HATING RADIO IN AN OCEAN PLUGGED IN! 

We’re drained of hashtags, EXHAUSTED of saying their names, we are BLEEDING CRIMELESS DEATHS, MANY INNOCENT DEATHS, and OF COURSE, there are many blue lives who only protect their own and serve their own, so WHERE DO WE GO? WHAT DO WE DO? We are groaning with RAW, indescribable emotion; and both literally and metaphorically, the oppressors REFUSE to take their knees off our necks. I CAN’T BREATHE! WE CAN’T BREATHE!!!!!

Here are our truth and reality:  much of what is happening today is nothing new; it’s all merely the same racial barriers and struggles our ancestors endured. the same oppression and the same racism; only it has evolved to fit current times. 

While the metal neck collar is no longer used to inflict punishment, the oppressor has resorted to using his body as a weapon to, mercilessly, impose death upon the oppressed.

Indeed, the leg irons of the 19th century are out of date; the tar pits, out of date; the whipping post and its whip, too. So the oppressors have LONG since graduated to the ground as the post, with modified whipping instruments of hate-plated bullets, violently piercing black and brown bodies; or the whips are enraged hate-filled flesh and bone functioning for the sole purpose of African American and Hispanic demise. 

The truth is that our black power does not equal white oppression; nor does our black love equate to white hate. Yet unsurprisingly, their white hate equates to a bloodlust of a people who bleed the same color they do—black and brown bodies riddled with bullets; black and brown bodies asphyxiated via chokehold and/or viciously and relentlessly kneeling on the neck of the subdued; black and brown bodies suddenly turning up dead in jail after heated altercations with police. Black and brown bodies lifeless in their own homes by plainclothes, non-knocking, KKK cops making lethal mistakes, and being justified while sentencing us to death for accidental mishaps and misdemeanors. 

TRUTH! 

The truth is that the silence of self-proclaimed non-racist Americans is louder than the genocide of black and brown people, and they are silent because they don’t see what’s wrong. And they don’t see because they choose not to see and because no one is doing this to them. No cop or citizen is punching their 14-year-old sons in the chest over cigarettes. No cop or citizen is kneeling on the neck of their loved ones, while they plead and cry out for one breath. No cop or citizen is deliberately running them down at a peaceful protest. No cop or citizen chasing them while they jog and firing the ammunition of a shotgun from the bed of a pick-up truck. No cop or citizen is lynching the privileged white American. 

TRUTH!

We are in a global pandemic all Covid-19, however, it seems the most deadly pandemic is racism. 

This is our truth: When they see us, they still don’t see us.

And somehow, we’ve got to be encouraged. We’ve got to be encouraged that God is still sovereign and He sees the oppression of His people; that He sees our blood spilled in the earth for no other reason but being black. We have got to somehow be encouraged that the same way He rescued and delivered Israel out of Egypt, He, too, will deliver us from this Egypt. Somehow we have to hasten to His throne, believing that He is doing something. 

We have got to be encouraged to continue to do right when they do wrong; to still display love even while they hate us. 

Let us be encouraged. Let us stand in hope that people in power positions will soon have hearts; that those who have eyes to see will finally see us; those who have ears to hear, will raise up off our necks when they hear us pleading and crying out to breathe. Let us stand in hope that advocates are on the way, who do not and will not allow themselves to be blinded by the false perceptions and presumptions of guilt and crime of the African American people.

Let us be encouraged, even as we bleed from the constant war against us. I know this is hard on all of us because when we see the murderous videos, we see ourselves and our loved ones, realizing it could have been one of us or someone we love dearly. 

Somehow, we’ve got to be encouraged that the change is still coming; that our lives matter; that we must keep breathing. 

For those of you who are not black or brown, and you see, DO SOMETHING! SAY SOMETHING! 

To those who are speaking out and standing up, thank you. Keep speaking so we can keep breathing

#GeorgeFloyd #ICan’tBreathe #WeMatter #OurHearts #OurTruth #OurEncouragement

#htelife

P.S. In the words of Nephew Tommy, Im leaving in the morning. I’m going to 2021 cause 2020 is too much!

Speak Life, or Don’t Speak

As a lyricist and poet, word expression is at my core. I have experienced life and death both verbally and lyrically. I have even been guilty of setting fires with my tongue as well. What I have learned is that what I say produces a mindset, and whatever that mindset, good or bad; positive or negative, it contributes to the final results or outcome. 

While speaking life does relate to positive words, I would like to articulate is that it is not solely about speaking positive words; speaking life is about being authentic and sharing truth. Consider Jesus who is ‘the Way, the Truth, AND the Life’ (John 14:6). It is impossible for Him to be Life and not be Truth. In the same way, as creatives, it is impossible for us to speak life and not speak truth. The two cannot be separated. Even Jesus said so. 

Truth doesn’t mean downright breaking, with intent to destroy people with words. It does not mean being careless and spewing whatever comes to mind, lacking tact. However, it does mean, speaking your truth: the good, the bad, and sometimes the ugly. And when you speak that truth, do so with love and no apologies. If you are already living your truth, don’t be afraid to speak it. If you are speaking your truth, don’t be afraid to live it. Speak life. Proverbs 18:21 says that death and life are in the power of the tongue. It’s in what we say. 

Do you want to live, or do you want to die? It took me years to ask and answer this question. I am not speaking of physical death; rather, a creative death. I made a decision to live life and get all that is in store for me. And you know what? It started with my words.

I know the language of death, because I’d been fluent for years. I was the dead girl walking, attempting to speak life to everyone but herself. I was her.

Today, while not perfect and with struggles along the way, I live. The change in my speech keeps the fight in me. The constant development of love for myself pushes life out of me. And the unconditional acceptance and love of God provides hope to me. 

Stay tuned as I will elaborate on the language of creative death. Stay safe and protected. 

#SpeakLifeOrDontSpeak