In a crowd of more than 3,000 fans at a right to life event, the Ex-GOP Vice Presidential running mate, Sarah Palin, admitted that for one "fleeting moment" she considered having an abortion. This after news that this 44-year-old politician learned she was pregnant. It was hard for her to grasp the concept of changing diapers again. In addition to this, she was faced with the reality of knowing that her unborn son had Down Syndrome. And in that moment I thought, what would I have done? What would any of us do if faced with the choice of making probably one of the toughest decisions of our lives? I certainly have no right to judge the choice of anyone either way but in fact found myself reflecting on the choices of my past.
I was a freshman in college and had been dating my first love for over 3 years. Both of us had decided to further our education as far away from home as possible. I was finally getting an opportunity to meet people who looked just like me who were from other parts of the world. It was also my best hope of escaping the "rules and regulations" of my mother's home. Freedom was here and I couldn't wait for the chance to exercise my independence. What that meant for me was being able to come and go as I pleased and do whatever I wanted to do whenever and how ever I wanted. There would be no more advisement from mom, and no more threatening lectures warning that if I ever came home pregnant that I better not come home. The only concerns I had were going to class, partying and enjoying my new surroundings.
When the doctor announced that I was pregnant, it really didn't matter to me. I never thought of "the life" that lay inside of me, just all of the things I'd miss out on if I didn't end it. There was hardly any discussion, my decision came from nothing more than a brief sigh and a moment of silence. I couldn't imagine myself sharing the news with the woman who sacrificed so much to get me into school. Nor, did I want to face the burden and stigma of being a college dropout within my first year. I was numb and all I could think about was staying on track with my plan of pursuing my degree in communications and finishing school. Besides, how would I be able to support and be mom to one of God's greatest creations, anyhow? I didn't know..I didn't know..I simply didn't know so I let fear take over the voice inside of me that I knew best. And I let the sounds and echoes of the voices of those who never knew me at all make that choice for me.
I often wonder how different life would be for me had I had my own "fleeting moment" back then. Unfortunately, I'll never know but what I know for sure is that I'll dew everything that I can, to appreciate whatever life may be in my future.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
In Her Honor
My heart sank this morning as I read an article in the Atlanta Journal and Constitution about a 48-year-old woman who died of cancer. Normally, I'm unaffected by the death of someone I never knew. But when I read her story, I realized that just like this young woman my day would also come. What intrigued me most were the words of her husband as he described her loving spirit. She was in his words, the type of woman who loved and gave of herself to others all the time. Never asking for anything in return, never raising a flag over her accomplishments or deeds. She just did. How many of us can actually say this? Or how many of us can actually admit that when given the opportunity to do for other people well, we sort of miss the mark. Now, I'm not talking about helping the people that we know, or throwing money in the offering plate at church, but using everyday opportunities as a way to bless others. While I'm no Mother Theresa, I can attest to the fact that a simple word or ear can change the way someone looks at the world in an instant. Far too often we run through life never allowing ourselves to experience the joy of relationships. If a person looks a certain way, sounds a certain way or acts a certain way toward us then there's no real reason for us to associate ourselves with them. But what we miss out on in these rare occurrences are chances to enrich ourselves. Everyone has a story just waiting to be told. Whether it's a top exec. at a Fortune 500 company who loss her job or a man contemplating paying child support in order to cover his bills, their lives matter, their thoughts matter, their struggles matter. And no amount of make-up or mask can disguise that. Perhaps in this season we'll plant seeds by listening, and honor ourselves in the process creating our own legacy of loving in this life.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Measure of My Success
Monday night I was amused as I watched the women of the reality show "Harlem Heights" talk about their views of success. For those who've never heard of it, it's BET's mature answer to the dreaded high school series "Baldwin Hills." The show explores the day to day activities of a few young, urban black professionals living in Harlem, NY. The women are intelligent, fashionistas full of attitude. Yet, as much as I enjoy all the flavor and controversy, I've often wondered how much of their spirit was actually in me? What began as a simple conversation about each of their professional walks became an internal dialogue within myself. And I reflected on all of the dreams I had when I was there age simply journeying through "Corporate America." Was I just as concerned as they were about reaching the "glass ceiling" or was I simply enjoying life as it came? As much as I would love to say I shattered the glass, this really wasn't the case.
When one of the characters shared her thoughts on not having accomplished any goals before reaching thirty, I was amazed. Here was a beautiful woman who was college educated, with management experience and well on her way to becoming a major force in the production world. Yet, this still wasn't enough.
Perhaps some of us are still making the mistake of equating "success" by the amount of money we make, the car we drive, the home we live in and the people we know. No doubt we've all been there. And while I agree that many of these things are necessary none of them define who we are. In my early twenties I was blessed with a lucrative sales position. I was working in pharmaceuticals and able to vacation, dine, and shop any time I wanted. But while the dollars satisfied my pocket they didn't satisfied my soul because all of it came with a tremendous cost. I wasn't saving a dime and had no concern about my future. All I wanted to do was enjoy my new found life. Was I selfish or just plain stupid? I guess only I can be the judge. Back then I was so caught up in the hype of having "things" that I was losing the very thing that was most important....me! My lessons in life became humbling experiences and opportunities to draw closer to God. In dew season I pray that I continue to dew better and continuously acknowledge that the secret of success is based only on who defines it therefore I'll choose to define myself.
When one of the characters shared her thoughts on not having accomplished any goals before reaching thirty, I was amazed. Here was a beautiful woman who was college educated, with management experience and well on her way to becoming a major force in the production world. Yet, this still wasn't enough.
Perhaps some of us are still making the mistake of equating "success" by the amount of money we make, the car we drive, the home we live in and the people we know. No doubt we've all been there. And while I agree that many of these things are necessary none of them define who we are. In my early twenties I was blessed with a lucrative sales position. I was working in pharmaceuticals and able to vacation, dine, and shop any time I wanted. But while the dollars satisfied my pocket they didn't satisfied my soul because all of it came with a tremendous cost. I wasn't saving a dime and had no concern about my future. All I wanted to do was enjoy my new found life. Was I selfish or just plain stupid? I guess only I can be the judge. Back then I was so caught up in the hype of having "things" that I was losing the very thing that was most important....me! My lessons in life became humbling experiences and opportunities to draw closer to God. In dew season I pray that I continue to dew better and continuously acknowledge that the secret of success is based only on who defines it therefore I'll choose to define myself.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Especially for You
Yesterday I took the day off from work to get some much needed rest. I was exhausted from a long weekend of moving and everyone knows how taxing that can be. When I returned, I noticed that I had missed my chance to show my support for National Autism Day. This was especially important to me as I have friends with children who are affected by this. Most of us, whether married or single with kids are completely unaware of how blessed we are. Having a healthy child is a gift that so many people wish they could share. One of my best girlfriends and her husband who live in North Carolina struggle daily with the task of raising their two autistic sons in a world that fails to except anything that seems "abnormal". Although a day late, I share a story from the book "Journeys of Love, Voices of the Heart," that I coauthored with Rose Mitchell. It's my way of offering acknowledgement of a disease that affects millions of men, women and children all over the world. "Bubble" describes a mothers love for her autistic son. To those who are facing this reality remember that you are never alone. Look toward this dew season as God's way of allowing you to experience his extraordinary love. He made all of us in his image, he just gave you someone extra "special".
"Bubble," by Lorena Smith
I listen to my son babble in the bathtub as I’m putting clothes away in the closet. He’s swatting at the bubbles and giggling to himself. I don’t know what he’s trying to say. He’s non verbal. That’s what the “official” report says. The report also states, “Jacob is a physically healthy, non-verbal, seven-year-old autistic child.” It looks so sterile written like that. It looks like it’s just a passing blip. They can’t know how much I long to hear him say something, anything. At this point, I’d settle for him even cursing me out. In all his years, I’ve never heard him spontaneously say to me, “I love you”. I’ve never heard him say what a good mom he thinks I am. I’ve never heard him ask for candy or mumble rude things under his breath because I wouldn’t give it to him.
As I walk up to the bathtub to get him out, he is staring at the big, beautiful, round soap bubble he has caught in his hand. He stares at the little rainbows dancing in the light reflecting off the soapy surface. I put my head close to his.
“Is that a bubble? It’s so pretty,” I say.
I have acquired the habit of just talking around him. I have hours and hours of one-sided conversations, just hoping that something, anything, will stick in his brain and make sense. Then slowly, very slowly he moves his hand so the soap bubble is directly in the middle of us. He moves his head and leans it against mine. We sit there, my son and I, him kneeling in the bathtub and me kneeling on the floor beside him staring at this beautiful bubble, this token of love he wanted to share with me. We’re at the movies my daughter, my son and I. We sit in the very back because there is no way of knowing what he will or will not do. However, today he’s pretty calm. My daughter and I laugh at the movie. It’s very funny. It has a British koala bear in it. Who has ever heard of a British koala bear? Occasionally, I look over at my son. During most of the movie, he has his hands over his ears. He flaps his hands in front of his eyes and focuses on everything but the movie screen. I wish desperately that I could reach into his world and see what he sees. I wish so much that he could connect with my world so we could laugh at the silly lion together. My daughter loves it. She nudges me and giggles at a particularly silly joke in the movie.
When it’s over, I wait for most of the people to exit the theatre and then get up to leave. Then suddenly, I feel his hands on my waist tugging me into the aisle. The credits are rolling and the tune is mellow. He puts his arms around my waist and lays his head on my side. Then he starts swaying to the music. I put my arms around him too, and my son and I have our first dance in the aisle of the movie theater. The girl who cleans comes in to sweep the floor and flips on the light. She sees the streams of tears running down my face and quickly turns them off then quietly closes the door. My son and I continue our first dance until the music stops.
Over the years, I’ve learned that people can’t always express the love they feel with words. And, after having my son, I’ve come to realize that words are overrated anyway. It’s not what you say but what you do; it’s the way you tell someone you love them, even when you don’t have the words. It’s a soap bubble. It’s a dance in the aisle of a movie theater.
"Bubble," by Lorena Smith
I listen to my son babble in the bathtub as I’m putting clothes away in the closet. He’s swatting at the bubbles and giggling to himself. I don’t know what he’s trying to say. He’s non verbal. That’s what the “official” report says. The report also states, “Jacob is a physically healthy, non-verbal, seven-year-old autistic child.” It looks so sterile written like that. It looks like it’s just a passing blip. They can’t know how much I long to hear him say something, anything. At this point, I’d settle for him even cursing me out. In all his years, I’ve never heard him spontaneously say to me, “I love you”. I’ve never heard him say what a good mom he thinks I am. I’ve never heard him ask for candy or mumble rude things under his breath because I wouldn’t give it to him.
As I walk up to the bathtub to get him out, he is staring at the big, beautiful, round soap bubble he has caught in his hand. He stares at the little rainbows dancing in the light reflecting off the soapy surface. I put my head close to his.
“Is that a bubble? It’s so pretty,” I say.
I have acquired the habit of just talking around him. I have hours and hours of one-sided conversations, just hoping that something, anything, will stick in his brain and make sense. Then slowly, very slowly he moves his hand so the soap bubble is directly in the middle of us. He moves his head and leans it against mine. We sit there, my son and I, him kneeling in the bathtub and me kneeling on the floor beside him staring at this beautiful bubble, this token of love he wanted to share with me. We’re at the movies my daughter, my son and I. We sit in the very back because there is no way of knowing what he will or will not do. However, today he’s pretty calm. My daughter and I laugh at the movie. It’s very funny. It has a British koala bear in it. Who has ever heard of a British koala bear? Occasionally, I look over at my son. During most of the movie, he has his hands over his ears. He flaps his hands in front of his eyes and focuses on everything but the movie screen. I wish desperately that I could reach into his world and see what he sees. I wish so much that he could connect with my world so we could laugh at the silly lion together. My daughter loves it. She nudges me and giggles at a particularly silly joke in the movie.
When it’s over, I wait for most of the people to exit the theatre and then get up to leave. Then suddenly, I feel his hands on my waist tugging me into the aisle. The credits are rolling and the tune is mellow. He puts his arms around my waist and lays his head on my side. Then he starts swaying to the music. I put my arms around him too, and my son and I have our first dance in the aisle of the movie theater. The girl who cleans comes in to sweep the floor and flips on the light. She sees the streams of tears running down my face and quickly turns them off then quietly closes the door. My son and I continue our first dance until the music stops.
Over the years, I’ve learned that people can’t always express the love they feel with words. And, after having my son, I’ve come to realize that words are overrated anyway. It’s not what you say but what you do; it’s the way you tell someone you love them, even when you don’t have the words. It’s a soap bubble. It’s a dance in the aisle of a movie theater.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
I'm Not Scared of Lions, and Tigers and Bears"
"I'm not scare of lions and tigers and bears, no I’m not, but I'm scared of.....loving you.” Okay, was Jazmine Sullivan serious when she wrote that song? Has she even seen the size of the bugs that run through the streets of Atlanta? If she had, then I'm almost certain that her lyrics might be a little different. Ever since I was a kid I've been tormented by every, single insect on the planet. My oldest sister and I joke about this all the time. As a child I remember being stung by a queen bee while playing kick ball with a few kids on my block. My middle sister Jocelyn had tried desperately to warn me beforehand and literally screamed at me to not touch my hair. Unfortunately, for me, it was too late. Hence began my rollercoaster ride through wild kingdom and my growing fear of bugs. When I moved to Atlanta I was so excited I couldn't wait to experience my new life. The warm temperatures and the rumors of it being a much slower pace is what lured me. But, my picture perfect dream faded just as fast as the flight I took to get here when I saw, what I thought, was a butterfly flying above my head. Only it wasn't daytime and my butterfly had more than wings, it crunched! And once I heard that, I knew that I was in for some big trouble. So I had to act fast with my interrogation process. After much research and interviews with my southern friends it was determined that I had seen a "palmetto". Oh, pardon me "a flying cockroach,” they said. What the heck?! When did cockroaches learn how to fly? I thought I had left Jersey behind, this can't be happening! I vowed that I would have a fresh, clean start and this was not going to include: crack heads, gang initiations or anymore wire hangers! I mean roaches! Now, I'm all for loving all of God's creatures but roaches aren't one of them; especially those that are the size of my size 8 shoe. When my best friend from college who lives out of state and I met up for dinner one night, I relished the opportunity of showing her all of the neat things to do and places to see in Atlanta. But, before we knew it, we were being followed by a team of groupies that were ducking and dodging us everywhere we went. This was becoming a problem and would continue being a problem every time the weather changed. It seems that my “palmetto” was a tropical insect who not only loved the outdoors but also warm climates just like me. Therefore, having weighed all of my options I had to do what any other person would do when his or her rights were violated. Stay in doors at night time, hire an exterminator, or relocate my little self right back to Jersey. Perhaps in dew season, I’ll muster up the courage, and make a better choice.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Role Rehearsal
"Take me back in the day when loving was pure
Love ain't going away, love is always secure
Life's not always perfect but love's always forever
Lets let true love connect lets try lasting together
I'm so ready to love, I'm so ready to promise my all
I'm so ready to give til' the day that my life is no more
I'll be everything that this woman can possibly be
Cause I'm ready to be like the olden days when commitment was golden"
(Lyrics by Chrisette Michel)
Oh, if this could only be me again...at least that's what I think the woman on the Good Morning America show would say. Yet, her actions and words said just the opposite. Today's segment entitled " When Women Bring Home the Bacon," (Role reversal creates emotional strain on Married couples)should have been called "When Women Bring Home the Bacon and Let their Men Fry." Why? Because it showed us exactly what happens to people who don't understand the meaning of the words "I Do." Now, now, now I don't profess to knowing everything about relationships nor am I the marriage expert, heck I'm not even married but what I do know, is that it takes uno, dos, tres to make anything work and that third wheel emphasis should be on God.
As I watched the interview, I found myself feeling totally disgusted. Not because their roles were reversed, but because of the lack of appreciation from both sides. Both had been, I'm assuming relatively comfortable financially at one time because they both had sales careers. Yet, when this woman's husband was laid off, all of the love, hugs and kisses flew right out of the window. Now, mommy was the certified financial power house of the home (working 14 hour days) and unable to effectively perform her wifely and motherly duties. Dad, on the other hand had become "mister mom" and something many women in this century, would have no problems with, certainly not me!
But when you stack them all together, what do you get? A big, fat glob of under-appreciated, non-loving, angry, bitter individuals who have sunken to roommate status. What happened to all of the love? She would no longer respect him because he no longer exemplified her idea of "head of household." You know, the one who worked 18hour days to provide for his family. And yes, I agree with her 100%, but we, are no longer living, in a time where we have the luxury to make this choice. Right now it's about survival...in our relationships...on our jobs and yes, in our homes. We have to learn how to weather the storms for better and for worse not just when we feel like it. He, on the other hand, wants to be appreciated more, to feel like she understands what he's giving up. He's no longer able to do the day to day visits with clients to bring home all the bacon fat he used to. But he, has to learn how to get over it and do everything he can as a man to provide love and support in other ways. What both of them are facing is a real life example of how the dew seasons of our lives can show us who and what we really are. My prayer is that their temporary role reversal is just a role rehearsal for the greater blessings and joy that will surely come.
Love ain't going away, love is always secure
Life's not always perfect but love's always forever
Lets let true love connect lets try lasting together
I'm so ready to love, I'm so ready to promise my all
I'm so ready to give til' the day that my life is no more
I'll be everything that this woman can possibly be
Cause I'm ready to be like the olden days when commitment was golden"
(Lyrics by Chrisette Michel)
Oh, if this could only be me again...at least that's what I think the woman on the Good Morning America show would say. Yet, her actions and words said just the opposite. Today's segment entitled " When Women Bring Home the Bacon," (Role reversal creates emotional strain on Married couples)should have been called "When Women Bring Home the Bacon and Let their Men Fry." Why? Because it showed us exactly what happens to people who don't understand the meaning of the words "I Do." Now, now, now I don't profess to knowing everything about relationships nor am I the marriage expert, heck I'm not even married but what I do know, is that it takes uno, dos, tres to make anything work and that third wheel emphasis should be on God.
As I watched the interview, I found myself feeling totally disgusted. Not because their roles were reversed, but because of the lack of appreciation from both sides. Both had been, I'm assuming relatively comfortable financially at one time because they both had sales careers. Yet, when this woman's husband was laid off, all of the love, hugs and kisses flew right out of the window. Now, mommy was the certified financial power house of the home (working 14 hour days) and unable to effectively perform her wifely and motherly duties. Dad, on the other hand had become "mister mom" and something many women in this century, would have no problems with, certainly not me!
But when you stack them all together, what do you get? A big, fat glob of under-appreciated, non-loving, angry, bitter individuals who have sunken to roommate status. What happened to all of the love? She would no longer respect him because he no longer exemplified her idea of "head of household." You know, the one who worked 18hour days to provide for his family. And yes, I agree with her 100%, but we, are no longer living, in a time where we have the luxury to make this choice. Right now it's about survival...in our relationships...on our jobs and yes, in our homes. We have to learn how to weather the storms for better and for worse not just when we feel like it. He, on the other hand, wants to be appreciated more, to feel like she understands what he's giving up. He's no longer able to do the day to day visits with clients to bring home all the bacon fat he used to. But he, has to learn how to get over it and do everything he can as a man to provide love and support in other ways. What both of them are facing is a real life example of how the dew seasons of our lives can show us who and what we really are. My prayer is that their temporary role reversal is just a role rehearsal for the greater blessings and joy that will surely come.
Monday, March 9, 2009
With Age Comes....
For years I’ve prided myself with having clear skin. While I may have had an occasional run in with acne every now and then none of that compared to what I have right now. It's the type of acne that will make you cancel a dinner date, wear a turtle neck or keep you awake at night just thinking of ways to get rid of it."Adult acne” has got to be numero uno on my list of pet peeves just under the dreaded grey hair that most women over 35 have to deal with. And if I had a magic wand I'd wish them both away. Oh well, I guess with age comes beauty..yeah right…if that was the case then why do I have all these marks on my face?! I never abused chocolate candy or sweets (whatever)and I’ve always been good about washing my face at night. So where on earth are these demons coming from?! My once clear, caramel complexion is now being bullied every, single month by the likes of a little man who dances on my face like it’s New Years Eve. And right now, he needs to know, that this party is over! The only problem is, I’ve tried everything, and nothing seems to help. Every article I’ve read states that if I keep myself away from stress my skin would greatly improve. Right…I got it; I guess when I see stress walking down the street I need to move right out of his way. R-i-g-h-t....Or maybe I should take a yoga class to calm myself down. Now, who has time for that?! Or better yet, maybe I should stay away from all the people and things that might be causing my stress. Like the hosts of family, friends and coworkers who talk about my acne like I’m terminally ill or act like I’m not even in the room. “Poor, poor thing, what happened to your face? “Wow, is that a mole, or a pimple? “Did you get into a fight, oh don’t worry it’s going to be okay.” “You’re such a pretty girl but you really need to take better care of your skin,” they say. “Have you seen a dermatologist?” For the life of me I can’t understand why anyone would think that people with acne have no idea that there’s a pimple on their face. Heck, we see it every time we look in the mirror so there’s no need to remind us. We also don’t need friends and family holding on to our faces like we’re new born babies. For goodness sake, this is probably how all this stuff got started in the first place! Have you tried Clearasil? Yes. How about Pro-Active? Yes. Retin-A? Yes. Tea Tree Oil? Yes. Alcohol? Yes. Witch Hazel? Yes. Have you tried running around in an ice storm with your face to the sky? Well, um, I think so, yes! Yes, yes, yes, oh yes! Folks, I’ve tried everything but holy water and prayer. Grudgingly, I’ve given up on fighting it and decided that life will always bring good and bad seasons. Therefore, I'm letting my skin dew its own thing.
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