My Dad

It used to bother me that my Dad wasn't like other Dads. When I would meet my friends fathers, there Dads were playful, fun and charasmatic, but my Dad (the preacher) was stoic and walked around with a bible, even at work his coworkers called him "Rev".  He refused to let us date, have company, listen to music, go to parties or anything "secular" and oft times I hated the way he treated us.  I would pray and ask God to change him, make him like other fathers and to make me proud to talk about him. As I began to get older, my inquisitive side began to take over and I started asking him direct questions I knew he couldn't back out of.  Surely there had to be a reason he was like this and I wanted to know, I needed to know. The more I probed, the more I found out things about him that shaped my opinion. 
My Father and his two siblings were given up to foster care as children. My dad was the oldest and aged out of foster homes much earlier than he had hoped for.  He had to find his way, often times in what felt like a constant state of darkness. He met my mother at a young age and became a father much sooner than he wanted.  He screwed up.  A lot and often. And most of the time, those screw ups involved US.  Most of those mistakes haunt him and all of his children to this very day.
Recently I spoke to my dad about raising seven (7) children with an iron fist and the choices he and my mother made and what changes (if any) he would make if he could.  He took a deep breath before he replied and said...
"At times I feel like I failed every one of you, including your mother.  I didn't always make the best decisions.  Sometimes I let my anger, my baggage, lead me and I never felt you, as my children, deserved an explanation for my actions and reactions. I didn't begin to let God lead my relationship with you all until you were grown and by that time it was too late for explanations and excuses. I should have eased up a little, I should have made better choices but I was young and I was lost at times myself.  It became the blind leading the blind and I should have let God lead me, so I could better lead my family. I wasn't the father I could have been to you when you were a child but now I am a better man and can be a better father now."
His words sat with me.  Everything he said filtered through me and I interpreted what he was saying and have begun to apply it to my relationships with my children, my siblings, my family and people I meet. You have ONE life.  You will most definitely make mistakes in your life and you won't always make the best decisions for your children but if you step away from the guilt of your past and design your present and future to be inclusive of your own personal struggles, you can learn to be apologetic and work on a better relationship with the people you love today. 
I am proud of my Dad today.  His story is a lesson of hope for me.  I govern my home and my relationship with my children very differently and I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong and sometimes when I open my mouth, my parents come out.  Through his mistakes he taught me things and although I don't say it much, I am thankful for him. 

Death has not won...

Recently I lost a college friend who was the 3 Cs, caring, charasmatic and constant.  I wrote the following poem at her funeral.  There is no dying, only living!  Even in her death, she lives.  We will miss her.

Death has not won.

There will come a day when the ease of losing her won’t be as difficult to take. 

There will come a moment when we will hold an image of her and our hands won’t shake,

but for now...I am here to say, Death has not won.

Today our hearts are heavy, our spirits are wounded and it feels like people are constantly slipping through our fingers.  And as the emptiness lingers and we remember Sonya,

I am here to say, that Death has not won.

There will be pain before there is complete peace and the feelings of what if and what now won’t cease and we will often ask God why, why her, why now and HOW could you let this happen, but in our anger we must remember that death has not had a victory here.  God’s complete love has wrapped around Sonya and she has transitioned into a place where death dare not celebrate.  I want to set the record straight, Death….you have not won.

Even in our suffering we rejoice in having have known her, having loved her, having worshipped or worked with her and eventually the phones will stop ringing, and it will sound like the birds have stopped singing and the tears won’t stop streaming, but remember that when Sonya left this place, that death did not, will not, won’t ever, win.

We Love You Sonya.

That Baby is all grown up...

I was 21 when I had my first child.  I didn’t like to admit I was young, single and a statistic back when she was a baby and I was ashamed for most of my 20s of what people thought about me.  I never wanted to be that girl, raising that baby, that way, so I walked with my head hung low very fast until life taught me a valuable lesson, walk proud and purposefully.  The only thing I was guilty of back then, was loving the wrong guy. Even though I was pregnant young and raising a baby on my own, I knew I had to continue my dreams so that she could have dynamic dreams of her own.  I raised her with the assistance of some really GREAT girlfriends that took turns watching her while I went to class and worked a full time job.  I couldn’t have done such a great job or completed my degrees without them, but I knew I didn’t want her to have the same difficult task as I did.

It dawned on me today that baby, my baby is 18 and in several months is headed to a University very soon.  For the majority of her life, I have prepared her for this phase of her life, but it frightens me immensely.  After all, it still feels like yesterday that someone let my hand go to let me walk on my own., even if sometimes the walk was brisk, cold and relentless.  I recognize she is about to walk out into the world, but I don’t feel like letting her hands go just yet.  I would rather hold her by her fingertips, so I still have a little grip in case she falls (or fails). What dawned on me is that some statistics are not all bad.  There are good statistics.  There are statistics that people shake their heads in disgust at in the beginning and by the end, they are applauding.  What I know for sure is that it takes a village to raise a child and as my baby leaves her village, I hope that she is among nobility. After all, I think I (with the assistance of the people in my village) did a great job so far.  I love you baby girl!  Make us proud.

Look how much she has grown….

My friend- Amyr!

What I learned over the past few days is that no one and nothing can change what is deeply rooted inside of a person, but it is life and experiences that either support or contradict a person’s testimony.  As my friend stands in the gap today for her ailing mother that is in critical condition, she is reflecting on her mother’s life testimony.   It is only with deep remorse of losing my own mother that I understand every challenge and every obstacle and although the pain is deep at times, there are memories of happier times that will hold her.   Life sometimes has a way of making you come into your own understanding in ways that some might find unimaginable, but what I learn every day is we are all significant.  We are all remarkable and key contributors to an amazing existence. 

To my friend Amyr, be great!  Your mother is proud of you.