A Woman’s Work

Funny, the title entered my mind as I began typing.

Clock reverses and steers back into time.

There was a time when at West Ga the only song on the radio was Maxwells’ “A Woman’s Work.”

That song enters my heart and space at a convenient time.

Earlier today, I texted Chantal that “Us girls are fighting a legacy of rejection and hatred. The only way to win is the faithfulness to the Lord and success in a holistic fashion. #rise up”

When I looked over the message, I realized that the alarm rang louder and more true than I originally thought. At a time when chaos seems to the the main order of the day, women over the globe are doing what they can to keep one another encouraged in such a travailing journey.

Yes, in 2015, prayer circles, book clubs, social media groups, text messages, video/cellular calls, and letters hold together generations of women. We still find ourselves at times on the receiving end of male hatred whether from our fathers, brothers, cousins, employers, lovers, pastors, doctors, or random strangers.

In spite of these attempts to disintegrate the heart and will of women, we stand. Sometimes our stance comes from no room to fall at all. But in those moments, a supportive voice of another female voice from the past or now, helps us keep the towel off the floor or the middle of the ring.

We have too much to lose if we quit or stall. Rest and relaxation sometimes evades us until a willing soul tags us out of the ring of life. Cheers to the sisters and scores of women around the world that check in on their friends, sisters, old colleagues, cohorts, or dismayed strangers in the street. Thank you. Many of days and nights, you kept my soul from growing cold.


Dreams Reborn

Joseph and the Coat of many colors are hands down my favorite biblical story. I’ve many times referenced myself as Joseph through life’s triumphs and travails. It was just this summer when every morning commute I listened to the Yolanda Morning Show pick apart each passage of Genesis 37-39 for a six week period. Those morning explorations of the story of Joseph set my soul on fire while building yet another rope of hope for me to hold.

See over the summer, I began a period of transition. I was leaving the strain and comfort from the non-working life to return back to full-time employment. I began in an environment that was coupled with good people but a few leaders with no vision (or mercy for the needs of people). Eventually, the Lord would see it that I would gain full-time employment in a region far away from my permanent home. Even now, I find myself recounting a few tales of Joseph.

Frankly, that is it. The points that I love so much about the story of Joseph is that he navigated valleys and peaks. This has always been my life. I am a dreamer by trade and shoot for the moon daily. My journey has taken me far and even dropped me through the netherworlds below the Earth’s crust. I saw a meme months ago that describes the Lord’s journey as crooked for most instead of linear (as we plan).

That’s when the story of Joseph helps me to hold out. See, every twist whether fair or unjust served a purpose. As every battle or imprisonment encroaches, closer Joseph draws nears his purpose and execution of his dreams.

This morning, I opted to rest instead of journey to my place of worship. I felt bad but had that feeling, like many other times, that I would still gather what I needed in spite of. Yes, I tuned into Beulah land Baptist Church in Macon Ga for a guest pastor Linda to speak of dreaming again.  The tears welled up in my eyes and soul as I realized the source of my inner ache.

As life gets tougher, harder, I near the threshold of my dreams. As, my enemies grow and obstacles rise, my purpose manifests itself. I am currently in a moment where I chose to stay and fight versus run. I doubted myself until I thrived through a week of miraculous blessings from above. This morning reminded me today that I am much closer than I think. Just as I began making mental preparation to settle into mediocrity, God showed me his hand.



that feeling of not being concrete.

for some, the feeling is relative to quicksand nestled under your feet.

Daily, there are triggers and nuances that leave us feeling less than the 100% we began the day.

Even in those moments of doubt, confusion, or illusion parts of our inner truth fight towards the surface.

A song, meme, memory, or random text.

A billboard, conversation, question, or commercial.

Some material provides context and realign moments of not being sure.

These are not mere coincidences. These are acts of providence using life’s resources to prompt  sway you to stay the course.

Still Letting Go

I can hear myself humming Ant Hamilton’s “Can’t Let Go” as I prepare for this moment.

Actually, I’m humming that tune as I relay a recent event to you.

“Band on the Run” was the actual tune dancing around my head as I made my way to the DMV BMV.

Another license to surrender, another registration to seek, another title to present.

Yes, it was time officially become a lawfully registered citizen of Indy.

Sure, I’ve done this a few times now. It’s supposed to get easier with age and every step state you take.

Setbacks met me on my drive to the BMV as I left part of my life story (SSN, Passport, and your cousin’s info too) in the closet at home.

So, I would be returned home to grab my documents like a school child in trouble to line up with policy.

I returned nourished and more rested clear-headed than I did the hour before.

That setback was the divine providence that allowed me to check in with my wellness and preparation for the book/written exam. Aced it, shazam.

My eyes are still in great shape as I read through a line of words and numbers with great pace.

My new license picture…that’s a story for another day. Apparently, you can’t smile for your photo in this beloved state.

Next up was my registration for voting rights and finding my polling station.

Smooth sailing you would think. Naw, not quite yet. The worker threw a solid brick that did not miss.

“You know that license has to stay here with me today,” she said.

My heart tightened, and a tiny tear in my right eye stung the crease fold.

I belted out a fake but delighted, “Yep, I know.” All the time, my heart ached below.

I never felt attached to S.Carolina, I thought. But, I guess even she made a southern imprint along the way.

I’m a Southern daughter, belle. Filled with grace. I like my breakfast and language direct.

I’ll take my lemonade and affection for others sweet, if you please.

It was yet another rude awakening that day, that on paper, the South could no longer stay.

I am a mid-western local now with a soul as southern as the greatest bbq and college football team will ever reside.

I realized on the drive home, that God is still chiseling away at my identity.

He’s never going to pull the prideful, Southern woman out of me.

But he will state by state get me closer to my destiny.

“I Don’t Know Freedom, I Want My Dreams to Rescue Me”

“I don’t know freedom, I want my dreams to rescue me…apparently”

Those are the words my head bobbed to

as the prose from J.Cole arose through my soul

inviting me to acknowledge a deeper pain from within.

Apparently, my mom, sisters, dad, and a few friends here and there

believed in me.

Apparently, apathy, fatigue, frustration, delirium, and the faceless

haunt of depression departed from recess as my heart began to regress.

Apparently, it was time to stop wishing my dreams would launch me

towards the confines and beauty lines of clear water beaches.

Time crept upon me yet again with my goals far out of heaven’s reaches.

Yeah, that last word was a stretch.

I felt the widening of my heart as my breaths filled with air.

It had been months since I tasted freedom and smelled the aroma of dreams swirling near.

My mind became absorbed by an intruder name fear.

Did I make the right choice. Did I miss an opportunity.

Long-distance travel is not new to me but a rewarding change was overdue to me.

Maybe that was it. Maybe I forgot the cost of freedom or daring to harness a dream.

Perhaps, the ivory tower world in which I work was not too much for me.

It may have been the removal of tension for a while that welcomed naivete.

Life is hard and even harder for some of us.

Rough days happen, people sometimes are unimaginable to deal.

Yet, God reminded me in my toughest moment to keep both hands on the wheel.


Ability versus Attitude

Today made for an interesting day. I faciltated a meeting in which a colleague interjected a challenge of ability versus attitude. In a time where social justice undergirds  the work we provide, it is important for us to use caution with terms such as micro aggressions and trigger. Sometimes these words of significant meaning are tossed around lime candy on Halloween night with very little gravity of depth.

Taboo as it may, sometimes these words become buzz or trending topics that mask areas such as disengagement, comfort, complacency, or apathy. The roots in these situations tend to be distrust, disenfranchisement, and disord. If we neglect to dig deeper, the gap of communication divide will only widen.

Black Lives Matter Too

The passing years have seen the phrase “Black Lives Matter” as the catch-all for discriminatory or inflammatory acts to be referenced in our social hemisphere.  Typically these horrific events center with the justice system or civil unrest around poor interactions between African-Americans and those of privilege

Take a step back and re-read the last sentence. Those of privilege. Bubbling under the radar for years has been the dissonance between Men and Women of African ancestry. Too often oppression is seen as an external force, but quite frequent is the dismissal of persons within the African American culture by one another.

Easily one of the most divided ethnic groups whose historical context paints an accurate picture of self-hatred. Over centuries, the African-American culture has fought for visibility and humanity while secretly at home fighting marital abuse, neglect, hunger, rape, incest, alcoholism, colorism, and many other obstacles that separate the fabric of our homes.

So, why “Black Lives Matter Too?” Some days of the week, as an African-American female, I have to hold up a mirror to remind others who self-identify in similarly that we matter. We have to role model what matter means from time to time. I’m not digressing from the traditional movement but we have to look inside.

Just this summer, I served in a temporary capacity before relocating from the South to the Midwest. I worked with an amazing team minus an incident that took me back 100 years that I have yet to live. I had the unfortunate experience of being supervised by an African-American Male who made harassing jokes about my identity. The culprit dismiss reminders that this day in age such conversation has no place in higher education. He would laugh and utter “angry black female.” I remember taking a phone call and having the same belligerent male standing over me calling me an angry black female in the midst of my phone call with a customer. I’m not one for passivity, but my need for sanity overrode the need to report to HR. I had 72 hours before relocating to my new state and I had to make a choice in favor of my health. Some who have never had to report hostile environment to HR have no idea how taxing the process is.

It’s important to make these reports but my health was far too important for me to educate a man who knows better. Yet, the same male supervisor stands clueless to his words being as lethal to the bullets that have taken lives of many African Americans in a three-year span. Such cowardly, self-hating persons do not see the impact of their actions. Hence, I hold the mirror today to remind all that the life of a Black person matters. Especially, those who hold that verify identity.

Down Memory Lane

I didn’t make it to Church tonight. I told myself, I wouldn’t miss Bible study. I’ve enjoyed it thus far but I decided I had no space left for traffic and people (combined). Instead, I chatted like a teenager on the phone with one of my favorite Georgians, Chantal.

We had a ball checking on each other and exchanging lessons learned within the past 24 hours of life. Somewhere down the line, we took a Minnie Ripperton stroll down Memory Lane. Our chat delved back to the beginning days of co-dependency work. It had been ages since we did some of that reflection work. We snickered and giggled at how ‘overconsuming’ our actions could be on others. I recall referencing that in my 20s and early 30s I would shift from one extreme to another. One minute I’m throwing the baby out with the bath water and telling folks to duck the tub that would be following suit.

Essentially, growth has taken her course and allowed us a moment of maturity to see know what was foreign to us then. Little girls robed in grown women’s bodies parading as adults but still crying out for the attention we should have received as youth. Towards the end of the conversation, I remember laughing and sharing that I prefer that journey any day over some of the other extremes that I have witnessed in my time.

Glad, I shared that journey with many then and sit in a better place now. Temptation to resort back to co-dependent ways always find a way to surface. However, boundary work becomes more natural the more you stick to it. Love that my journey with a trusted friend tonight happened.

Sometimes Church happens outside of a building (un-hunh says all the believers). *Wink*


Wow, plans change. Life is really that simple. I remember one of my besties, actually my twin telling me moons ago that I get bent out of shape when my plans fall through. I remember it like yesterday, disputing that truth. Resistance, is typically the first sign of something holding at least a grain of merit.

Over the years, I have come to realize that my plans are truly not HIS God’s plans. Never in a million years would I look on a map and find a city in the mid-west to call my new home or adventure at least. Yet, here I stand in the heart of a metropolis over 500 miles from the state I know as my home.

I’ve been meaning to write this post for three weeks now, but I think life and the Lord needed me to add a few more vegetables to what has sized up to be a great meal. When a person arrives, they grow to be okay with uncertainty. When a person arrives, they put aside the familiar and try something new. Life does not have to go the way it was envisioned nor does it have to feel comfortable as hoped.

Two weeks ago, I re-read a card that I looked at yet again from my Sis Ericka. She quoted someone worthy and I want to share that with you. I found this blessing prayer as I stood boldly in the apartment of my new city with no certainty of tomorrow. My heart found peace after reading this.

Blessing prayer by Susie Larson

“Start a Day Blessing: May God give you a sense of what He’s up to in your life. May you see glimpses of the breakthrough that’s just up ahead. May you-with all your heart-believe that trusting Him over what your eyes see, is totally and completely worth it. May you shift your weight off of your logical reasonings and onto the weightiness of His powerful promises to you. You’ve got help and resources that go far beyond anything you could ever need. Smile with joy and walk by faith today. He’s got you.”

More Bags

“OOOOOOO Wow,” my Mother exclaimed as she basked in the view of my, freshly retrieved from my former storage unit, array of bags. Suitcases to gym bags to University swag bags, to colorful grocery eco-friendly bags gathered together in unity around one of the bedrooms of her home. I would like to believe there were on the cusp of singing we shall overcome as I unpacked them one by one, shifting my belongings into vacuum seal bags.

I never saw the room that way and actually found myself tilting my head to behold the same view that my Mother expressed. It was true. I couldn’t help but perk up and smile as I saw a wealth of experiences and journeys enveloping my being in that room. I was able to see each trip I took to Miami to visit Ailin and family. I saw the many Universities I worked with and the moments of connecting with others on both similarities and differences. I also saw the invaluable experiences gained through personal experiences from my 20’s & 30’s.

A feeling of relief entered my heart. I am currently embarking on a healthy, holistic journey. In the past, if I mentioned bags-it had more to do with where I had been and issues unresolved. Now, as I look at the bags surrounding me, my eyes are anew with appreciation for purposeful steps I am taking towards the life I want to live. I am no longer, running from what scares or shares my being.

Yes, my Mother is right. The bags in that room are amazing and I deserve to be awestruck in their beauty as well as wonder. For those bags hold memories of my life’s work, passion, purpose, and promise.