TMI

A line in one of my favorite hymns says, "Oh what peace we often forfeit; Oh what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer." It's good to talk some things out. It can be downright therapeutic to get things off of one's chest, but it's better to be able to trust the person to whom you are talking. There's an urgent need for information these days--detailed information. We seem to want to know everything, and news is traveling faster now than it ever has. Are we losing a sense of discretion to our own detriment? In our eagerness to tell all, express all, are we delighting in lacking wisdom?

When the resolution of a matter in the life of someone else has spared one from having to reveal one's own embarrassing part IN the matter, one SHOULD be relieved, grateful, ecstatic even. Sadly, many just don't know when to shut up. You can listen to a person going on and on about a situation for hours, and come away with just one question: "How do you know?" It's ironic when one is so busy bringing attention to a matter that they don't realize when the attention has shifted to them, and their motives.
Bitterness and an unforgiving spirit will cause a person to talk way too much about a thing--so can the need to cover one's indiscreet tracks. People who feel wronged and demand justice certainly need support. They want to be heard. They want someone- anyone to see their point; be on their side. However, it is so important to know that you're actually on the side of right in a matter, AND have clean hands before you set out to expose it, or offer your commentary about it. In an attempt to righteously judge someone else, many do nothing more than implicate and indict themselves.
Light has an uncanny way of not staying in one place, and revealing things on which you are not focused. If you're going to shine the light, you have to know that you are not in TOTAL control of where it goes.
Constantly harping on a situation; purposely slipping it into every conversation, in spite of its relevancy, will eventually raise suspicion about your actual role or interest in it.
Either settle it, or let it go, but talking incessantly about it, to any and everyone within earshot, is unwise. Some listeners are empathetic, while others are reading between the lines, confirming their suspicions, and building a case.
Your own words can trip you and cause you to fall faster than an enemy's strategically placed foot ever can.

MONDAY THOUGHTS: WHEN OPPORTUNITY COMES

There are some things you can do, but just don't want to do.

There are other things you initially think are great opportunities, but after a second look, you realize the green grass is actually artificial turf. 

Some things seem designed just for you, and you weren't even looking for them. Then, there are some things from which you have to walk away, no matter how appealing they may see to others. 

You know what your capabilities and limitations are, but sometimes people take chances on you--see something that you either don't see-- or don't want to see.

Whether you're recommended highly and first, or desperately suggested at the last minute (because no one else is available), it's STILL up to you to perform. The better you do, will lessen the need/demand for an undeserving hookup, should another opportunity arise. 

Do your best, check your ego, attitude, and drama at the door. Do the job well, CARE about the work, lay aside your agenda, refrain from butt kissing, understand your role, study, be prepared, and NEXT time, the person seeking a particular service just may contact you PERSONALLY (sometimes to the dismay of the person who recommended you and expects your eternal gratitude. 

Yes. Some people have no problem taking credit for what God has done, and want you to be beholden to them no matter WHAT happens in your life). 

You don't ever have to toot your own horn. Let others take up that activity if they choose. Spend YOUR time competing with yourself--not in some obsessive way that sucks all of the joy out of what you do, but in an attempt to do an equally effective, or better job than you did the last time.
The biased word of a friend, or the favors you're owed might help you get a foot in the door, but let your value be based on your consistency, competence, and effort, and don't ever let that competency cause you to think more highly of yourself than is reasonable. 

A lot of very talented people still haven't figured out that, although they are excellent at what they do, their own bad attitude is a repellent. They're also paying much too much attention to people with authority, as opposed to people with responsibility. The person with authority is subject to change, and the next person may not be as fond of you to ignore that you aren't cutting the mustard. 

Your gift will make room for you-- the same way a bribe can get you a good table at a restaurant, or a place at the head of a line. When a positive opportunity comes, there are enough external, extenuating factors that can cause it to disintegrate without you being one of them.

SUNDAY THOUGHTS: GIRLS, RULE.

The other day, the following message was posted on my Facebook page:

"I just heard Beyonce's "Run the World (Girls)". 

The First woman, Eve, that tried to do that, messed things up for all of us. Adam messed up by obeying his wife rather than God and the world has been out of order ever since. Only through Christ, His People, especially the Church, through the Holy Spirit do we have some order in this chaotic, mixed up, hell-bound world. Beyonce is sadly, disgracefully mistaken. That's why I thank God for Godly women like my wife,____, my late mother,_____, and women like you Vanessa and the other godly women of Vision!!!"

I deleted the message. It's VERY difficult to take a compliment that is prefaced by an insult to another person--especially if that person is a stranger. The flattery just...well...falls extremely flat. 

My first thought was, "Now what were YOU doing watching a Beyonce video, Reverend? What exactly did you expect from it, a lesson in Biblical Hermeneutics?"

While I wholeheartedly agree that order is of God, and best achieved by way of his principles, I'm not so eager to bash Beyonce or her new song. It stands to reason that my views about it would be different than the Facebook poster's because I'm not a man. The femininity of a woman is constantly under scrutiny, or is often identified as the motivation, or excuse for some guy's unacceptable, unsolicited, criminal behavior--as opposed to blaming it on his own lack of self-control, missing ethics, and paltry moral fiber.

The Bible contains the biographies of women who engaged in questionable behavior, but God used them for his purposes, nonetheless. If we all knew the WHOLE story of our friends, neighbors and acquaintances, we might be less apt to consider them "godly", and more inclined to thank God for his mercy and grace, and gladly extend it to people whose stories we only learn of courtesy of our TV screens.

Judgment will begin at the House of God. That tells me that Beyonce might have a better chance of a home in Heaven than the pastor who wrote the note. 

Fortunately, one's salvation is predicated on confession of who Jesus is, and belief in what God did through him on behalf of humanity. 

Many are quick to add a lot of conditions and extra qualifications to God's plan, because we can't imagine the depth of God's love for ALL people. We make salvation difficult, and try to make access to God virtually impossible. 

Imagine the thief on the cross, and how he had lived his entire life before encountering Jesus. In an instant, he was redeemed. That tells me there's hope for everyone, and everyone would include Beyonce--and who's to say that she isn't a believer?

We give Eve a bad rap, but she wasn't seeking power. She already ran her world, and had been given the authority to do so. She just didn't know it, apparently. She also wasn't alone in her blunder. Adam proved that he wasn't that bright, either. 

Eve didn't order him to eat, or trick him, and remember, HE was the one to whom God first gave instructions. So just how well did he communicate those instructions to his wife? 

The mistake Eve made, was entertaining the words of one who envied her, and hated God. 

There are a whole lot of crafty individuals around TODAY doing the same thing to women that the serpent did. There are power hungry, too familiar, narcissistic, false prophets misrepresenting the Word of God, and persuading naive, trusting women to make foolish decisions-- and then turning right around and using their pulpits to criticize and ridicule the very women to whom they preach! In Eve's quest to gain wisdom, she did something unwise. She wasn't trying to rule/run the world (the way Satan desired to), she wanted to be like God--and who knows what that meant in her brand new mind? Even if her intentions were honorable, it teaches us that one can have the best of intentions and still be wrong.

Some give Beyonce a bad rap as well, but if nothing else, she is a testament to hard work and perseverance. Her message is in no way literal when it comes to "running". Even God said "Have dominion", but these days, "run" can also be defined in the following ways:

1. Produce something higher in quality

2. Succeed

3. Do things exceptionally

4. Endeavor to be better

There's nothing wrong with ANY of that, as long as it doesn't create unreasonable expectations, or an unhealthy sense of self.

Beyonce is a dancer. I've seen more inappropriate moves, and less clothing displayed by church dance ministries. I don't think there's anything disgraceful about giving a girl confidence--not just in her physical attributes, but her personal, professional, educational, and social potential. I have to admire Beyonce's ability to identify and capitalize on her own strengths, and suggest that other girls and women do the same. Any girl who wants to be like her, can't just stop at a good weave, fit body, expensive clothes, and high heels. One can boast, "Oh, I can do that!", but is one willing to do the work? That's the danger of wanting to be like ANYONE. You don't know their back story. They can be one way in public, and quite another way in private. There are women who only APPEAR to be godly, but please don't follow them home. You'll be sadly disappointed. There's also danger in critiquing another person's artistic work. All we see is the finished product, but we don't see the extent of the time, investment, and sacrifice.

Considering the path Beyonce has taken, the work she has done, and her popularity in the world, it would be no surprise to find that she stands by EVERY word she is saying/singing in her song--and rightly so. When it comes to the standards of the entertainment industry she is a profound success. She never professed to be anything other than what she is--an entertainer.  I can't always say that about the self-professed "godly" people among us.

Eve heard that she could be like God from a creature that Bible itself describes as "more clever, shrewd, and subtle". Does that mean that as women, we should aspire to be snakes so that we are not deceived? No. But it does make an excellent case for knowing the word of God, knowing his voice, and trusting that he knows what's best for us. Eve thought that merely eating a fruit would improve her condition--not to BE God, but be LIKE him. Just as it was foolish for her, it's foolish for any girl or woman to think that being Beyonce, in an instant, is an easy thing. That's why an imitator's only option is to be superficial and inferior. Whether one wants to be like God or Beyonce, or both, it takes work.

There's also a bit of sarcasm in her song, as well as the suggestion to be versatile. I hear, "Be feminine, nurturing, independent, and powerful. Embrace education AND a loving, committed relationship with a man, and motherhood. Aspire to be employed, have the means to support oneself, AND be able to purchase what one likes with one's OWN money. I don't hear, "You are a god", I hear "Be strong; be responsible. Have healthy self-worth".

I don't think the song is making any statement that's dangerous to culture or morals. It's not threatening to the authority of a man, nor should it be. If a man is threatened by ANY woman, it seems to me that the proverbial virtuous woman (with HER bad, multi-tasking self), is more of a threat than any contemporary woman like Beyonce could ever be.

I saw portions of the video. Beyonce is an entertainer, not a prophet, intellectual, or politician, although, if you look at the definition of a philosopher, she certainly is one.  She's not advocating prostitution, drunkenness, drug use, or Satan worship. She is a businesswoman and has done well in her field. She is an artist communicating feelings, ideas, moods and experiences, through song and dance--not starting a religious movement. At no time does she deem herself the epitome of godliness, so I tend to respect her a lot more than some people who self-righteously hail themselves as the pillars of morality. We should ALL do our respective jobs as well as she does hers! If our daughters are looking to her for guidance and instruction, or lessons in womanhood, it's our fault, not hers. If we are competing with Beyonce for the affection and admiration of our daughters, and condemning her because she has their attention, that TOO, is our fault.

Perhaps there ARE women who have adopted Beyonce's new song as an anthem, much in the same way women have proudly sung Peggy Lee's "I'm A Woman", Dolly Parton's "9 to 5", Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman", or Chaka's "I'm Every Woman". The lyrics aren't particularly deep and profound, and there aren't any hidden conspiratorial messages.

Women in every generation, for whatever understandable reason, need to feel empowered--even if in their own minds, and contrary to abusive, seemingly hopeless, or menial situations. If Beyonce's repetitive song empowers even ONE girl to get up, get moving, rediscover her dreams, walk away from a loser/user, and reach her true potential, then more power to her. Perhaps the method she used to deliver the message wouldn't be fitting for Sunday morning, but I don't know ANY responsible mother who HASN'T told her daughter that she should be smart, feminine, independent, and financially responsible. What mother hasn't told her daughter that she is capable of achieving her goals, is strong, intelligent, great, worthy, valuable, deserving of the love, respect and care of a good man, an education, AND a wholesome family life?

Some of the most ungodly people dress to fool the public. Some of the most mixed up, hell-bound, disorderly places in the world are NOT the stages on which Beyonce performs, but religious institutions where, what some women and men do, say, and wear, in the name of the Lord, make Beyonce look like Mother Teresa.

As a mother of a daughter, I don't find the song offensive, or threatening to contradict or overshadow any responsible mother's message to her daughter. Girls, whether they are from Houston or not, need all the encouragement they can get. So many women are broken, wounded, feeling rejected, demeaned, defeated, limited, weak, and overwhelmed.

While I prefer to cling to the knowledge that I am the apple of God's eye, fearfully and wonderfully made, and can do all things through Christ, Beyonce's catchy cry in her song just might be the shot in the arm someone needs to get up, ignore naysayers, shake off discouraging words, reject negative pronouncements, and get moving toward abandoned goals and dreams. She is a performer. The person responsible for teaching, nurturing, modeling, and instilling positive ideals in your daughter(s) is you.

I'd like to think that God can use anyone, and anything.

DARE TO BE DIFFERENT

They hadn't been the least bit successful with it, but they said David needed armor like theirs in order to slay Goliath. They thought it would be a good idea--good for him. David just ended up being weighed down, uncomfortable, and looking like an idiot. Their armor, their suggestion. Were they looking for a way to get some of the credit? David already had everything he needed-- and he got the job done without all of the trappings other people wanted to impose.

For some people, it's not enough that you're doing a good job. For them, you will always be lacking without their input, no matter how insignificant and unnecessary it is. Watch those people who think that in order to execute A, you have to have B. Get outta here! A was, and is already being done! B found A doing its thing--and doing it quite well! B just wants in, so it has to find fault, make suggestions, and nitpick! B needs to take a good long look in its mirror; find its own flaws. One of them is the penchant to discourage, be jealous, and expect conformity. 

The superficial ALWAYS aims to eclipse the principal thing and argue how much it is needed. It really isn't--AT ALL. That's like telling a singer she won't hit the right notes unless she's wearing false lashes. One has nothing to do with the other. It, in its insecurity, the superficial just seeks a prominent place. The principal thing doesn't need help to shine. It has power all its own. 

Don't allow anyone to make you feel inadequate, especially if they couldn't do what you do unless they hired a magician AND a genie. DARE to be different. To heck with people always trying to change what is already valid.

MESSAGES

When one needs to get a personal message to someone else, and seeks out a messenger, it would make sense to select someone with whom the recipient is familiar. If nothing else, the messenger has contact information. The messenger, however, is not responsible for the recipient's failure to respond, in a timely manner. While one could conclude, after getting no reply, that the message was never delivered, it is pointless to interrogate the messenger--especially if several attempts to deliver the message have been made. In these days of email, cell phones, text messaging, and a myriad of social networks--and the ancient home phone, NO one can honestly say "I couldn't reach you", or "I didn't get the message" unless they live under a rock, in a cave, in some severely underdeveloped, uncharted part of the universe.
If one REALLY wants to know why there has been no reply, the best person to ask is the recipient...Oh...wait...that's right. If they didn't respond to the initial message, fat chance they will explain WHY they didn't respond and run the risk of finding out why the message was sent, what it contains, and what they are being asked to do.
If messenger A relays a message on behalf of sender B to recipient C, and C doesn't respond, B may conclude that:
1. A either forgot, or deliberately failed to give C the message.
2. A's relationship with C is not strong enough to merit an immediate reply.
3. C knows what B wants, and doesn't want to be bothered with B's request...or B for that matter.
4. A now knows that B is an opportunist.
5. B needs to deliver the message personally.

When you know that your relationship with someone is raggedy, or non-existent, and you enlist someone to relay a message to them, don't be all shock and awe when you don't get a response. What you shouldn't do is hound the messenger. It may make them wonder why, (if you're such good, close friends with the person with which you are attempting to connect), you needed someone else to relay a message for you in the first place.
Sometimes, people seek out those who not only have contact information, but influence and power of persuasion. They assume, "If YOU ask them, they'll do it". Never expect people to manipulate their friends, or test the strength of their business relationships on your behalf. If there are proper channels through which you can go, use them. It may go a long way in getting you the response you desire.

THE IMPORTANT THINGS

Last night, I got a phone call suggesting that I tune in to the news. Out of all of the inspiring, challenging things that Brendan V. Sullivan said to the graduates of the Law Center, the local news thought something else was more newsworthy. They didn't mention that Judge Gladys Kessler received an honorary degree, or highlight the valedictorian and salutatorian of the Class of 2011. They didn't mention the brief rain, the number of students who signed the Pro Bono pledge, The Washington Metropolitan Brass, or the interfaith invocation. They didn't mention the young man who walked across the stage to get his diploma while cradling his infant child in one arm, and holding on to the hand of his toddler. Nooooo. The evening news decided to go with a spelling error.

I usually pick up on spelling errors. This time, someone else had to point it out to me. No wonder, as we left Healy Lawn, there were so many booklets left on the seats and grass.
There, printed on the front cover of the commencement booklet was "GEORGETOWN UNIVERISTY". I looked at it, as the newscaster spoke, and laughed. I'd usually be a stickler for that kind of carelessness. This time, I couldn't care less. I am, and will probably be indefinitely in Hysterically Happy Mother mode.
Let's see. How about this:

Univeristy- n. a single entity founded upon, and committed to realism and truth

There. A made up definition for a made up word. Problem solved--for ME anyhow.
As long as my baby's whole name is spelled correctly on her diploma, and on page 324 of said booklet, I don't care if whomever was responsible for the unfortunate blunder, had spelled "university" with a Y, two C's and an apostrophe. I'm much too overjoyed to care. I have THREE of the booklets, and doubt if I'll email the university for a corrected copy. The boo-boo is a part of the day. A lovely punchline to the highly satisfying, commendable, and thankful end of 3 years of extremely hard work and sacrifice.

I heard my baby's name called, followed by "Juris Doctor". She graduated in February, and walked proudly across the Gaston Hall stage yesterday afternoon to shake the hands of her professors. She also sat for the bar exam in February--and PASSED (Praise Jesus). She will be sworn in soon in Annapolis. She has a job she enjoys at a firm where the partners appreciate, value and encourage her.
No typo can change any of that, or dampen my spirits. No amount of needling, giggling, or finger-pointing will change the way I feel. I am beside myself (a little tired from the festivities of the weekend), but STILL smiling.

It's the avoidable mistakes that seem to sting the most. Critics and hecklers, who can't wait to take a swipe at the people who make them, can be cruel. I couldn't care less about them either. I'm too hilariously proud of my baby, and every other hard working student who is now considered a daughter or son of Georgetown University.

MONDAY THOUGHTS: HIGHS AND LOWS

Life is something. After the high of my daughter's commencement ceremony yesterday at Georgetown, sad news came this afternoon. These days, news of someone's death is taken lightly, until confirmed by a reliable source. I was hoping the news was another unfortunate misunderstanding; a tacky mistake, but it wasn't. 

First, my sister called; then Lucy; then Herman; then Robyn. 

I logged on to Facebook, and read one condolence message after another, speaking of shock and sadness, and promising prayer.

It was just like him to joke in his Facebook status on Saturday, "Lawd have mercy....Yall still here? Is dis de end?" 

It made me remember lines from one of his original songs, "You've got to work out your soul salvation. You've got to get it together for yourself...Get yourself together. Do it soon. Get yourself together- don't wait..."

In the 70's and 80's, he brought drums, guitars, and fantastic singers and musicians to Bethlehem Baptist Church, courtesy of the music departments of the city's Churches of God In Christ. 

He'd invite Dale Talbert and the Dimensionals, Kenny Spears, Tony Scales, Tim Linzy, Charlene Nelson, Danny McCrimmon, Pat Barnes and others. 

Clad in Super Fly-esque suits, and sporting a wild Afro, he brought contemporary gospel, and original music to the very traditional church on Howard Road. 

You could hear his foot stomping all the way down in the Maggie Brown Auditorium, as he tested the strength and endurance of the keys on the church's new grand piano.

He was an integral part of DC's pre-Bobby Jones gospel music television programming, as musical director of "Spread A Little Sunshine". 

It was nothing for him to play piano off camera, if a guest or group was missing a musician.

He was one of the few musicians I've ever known who always had (and kept) a good job, his own house, and car, and didn't depend solely upon a position at a church, or random gigs to support himself and his family. 

When he decided to record a musical project, it wasn't a matter of economics, or a desire for notoriety. 

He did it because he just wanted to.

In Young Adult Choir rehearsal one night in 1975, he wouldn't stop playing those chords until I started singing. 

I kept shaking my head, "No". 

I had never sung a solo, and liked it that way. 

I was hoping he'd just give up, and move on to the next choir member. I was about 15 years old, and really scared. He kept saying, "Come on. You can do it", so I just closed my eyes, tried to channel my inner Tramaine Hawkins, and have been singing ever since--with my eyes closed.

He was recently in the audience at Blues Alley. He loved music, and encouraged so many to love it as well.

Rest in peace, Crevante Anthony Proctor, Sr.
My condolences to his son, Crevante, of whom he was extremely proud, his family, friends and the New Bethany Baptist Church congregation and music department.

AIR TRAFFIC LULLABIES

I didn't realize I was counting. By 1:00 AM there had been 7. The eighth plane flew over around 1:14. Whoever says that landing planes aren't noisy, doesn't live on a flight path. Funny thing is, when the air traffic controller took a nap on the job not so long ago, I thought I'd heard 8 planes flying over. Turns out it was only 2, circling until they could land.
Yesterday, I got out of the car just as a plane flew over. It was so close--so low--it was a little unsettling. What about noise abatement? Environmental issues? Did I mention noise? "When did THIS start?", I asked myself. So I turned to google, and sure enough, found an article at arlnow.com explaining my neighborhood's new nighttime lullabies. It seems there is work being done on a runway at DCA and flights have been redirected to a runway that requires them to fly directly over my condo community.
I live close to 2 hospitals, and a fire station. I'm used to noise. The planes, however, remind me of summers in Addis, Louisiana. My grandmother's house was off of Addis Lane, and the sound of trains was as regular as breathing. Just as I soon got used to the sound of the trains, then, I suppose I have to get used to the planes, now--at least until the end of the year.
It's 1:55. Perhaps that last one that flew over, (that I just happened to snap a cell phone photo of from my kitchen window) was, in fact, the last one.

ADVICE

My rather quiet day was impacted by opportunities to listen. It's hard to give advice sometimes. Sometimes you simply don't know what to say. You feel cautious, so you're happy when you get help--even from the most unlikely places. 
I'm convinced that few things are happenstance. 
Three strangers helped me today to pass on good advice: talk show host, Dr. Phil McGraw, actor, Tom Selleck, and visual artist, Sam Gilliam. 
I hung onto Dr. Phil's words and tried my best to paraphrase, because his words couldn't have come at a better time. Someone was struggling with a difficult person, feeling defeated, and not understanding why they were being treated so badly.
In essence, the good doctor said:

"It's the weakest time you'll ever be in your life if you've declared yourself a victim in some way. The strongest that you will ever be is when you are in control--making rational, compassionate decisions, not being paranoid, suspicious, negative, sarcastic, combative and unreasonably/unnecessarily defensive. Anger is a symptom of hurt, fear, and frustration. Be sorry that things happened to people, and understand that they may be damaged."

His words were just the script I needed. It's so important to remember that by no means do you internalize another person's bad behavior, blame yourself for it, or question yourself about it. It's not you. He said that abrasive people "behave as if they have a bad sunburn". It's so true! If you even attempt to get close to them, reason with, correct or even help them, and they'll freak out. They'll lash out before you even touch them. 
He continued with the revelation that they will not change until they heal whatever has removed their peace. It's true. Hurt people who bully others need help. They don't hear themselves. They're oblivious to their tone or intent. They need to be the center of attention--so they adore anyone who will suck up to them, or submit; laugh at everything they say; be at their beck and call; or puff them up. Someone who really loves them and can actually help them, will be met with suspicion. They will reject, and treat badly the kindest of people. It's critical to avoid taking personally anything they say of do. Just pray for them.

Actor Tom Selleck provided words of wisdom for another situation. A friend was recommended for a task that they can do, and are talented enough to perform well, but are fearful about. Selleck's words were:

"To risk, and fail, and pick yourself up, and start over--that's how you learn...First, develop an appetite for failure and what it teaches you, because you're not going to be right every time...The nerves are gonna get to you, and you're gonna fail....You learn to handle nerves...you gotta make friends with those nerves, cause they'll kill you otherwise. They're part of your talent, so when your hands get sweaty before walk on stage, talk to 'em and say, "Thank you for coming. I'm glad you're here 'cause you're gonna make me better"...If you don't risk, you can't really succeed. The fear of failure is holding so many of our young people back..."

...and then artist Sam Gilliam's words were just for me:
"I used to paint without green...it's an experiment every time. I still read, I still look, I still see...There is never anything that you do that is collective in one moment...Go someplace so that you learn something that is not in front of you. The sense of real success in any media is difference. Go somewhere so that you're not the same...Go so you can have something to actually add. The world is quite beautiful."

I admire thoughtful, discerning people. 
Today is also the birthday of two of the wisest women I have ever met, my friends Carolene Adams and Wanda Neal. It's good to know that if you ever need to talk, there are people who won't just bring their opinions and personal experience to the table, but godly wisdom.

PROUD MOMMY

I don't know how many times I've looked at these results today. http://www.courts.state.md.us/ble/examresults.html

I keep staring at my daughter's number. I'm not dreaming. It hasn't changed. Neither has the 3 letter word next to it. It's the same 3 letter word that was on her car inspection results on Friday. "PASS"...My daughter passed the bar exam. I just like the sound of that. MY DAUGHTER HAS PASSED THE BAR EXAM!!!!!!!!!!

*happy dance*

I have passed the salad bar many times. She PASSED THE BAR! THE bar. The FIRST time! She didn't pass out AT a bar, in front of a bar, or behind a bar like so many people tweeted about the heavily inebriated folk in their lives...lolol...SHE PASSED THE BAR!

I know. I said that already. Oh, God, I am so proud, grateful, thankful...RELIEVED! My baby worked and studied so hard. She had a plan. She wrote it down. She stuck to it. She didn't quit. She has excelled above my high expectations, prayers and dreams.

This really is a Happy Mothers' Day...God, thank you so much. I couldn't have asked for a better child.

Speaking of children, it was fun reading and singing with the kids at The B Spot today. Hopefully, more children will frequent the gallery over time. They seemed to like the space, and their ideas and opinions about the Art they saw were encouraging--and funny. Paul Williams was nice enough to make them all complimentary smoothies. It really has been a good day...: )

FRIDAY THOUGHTS: POEMS FOR MOMMY

When my mother died, writing helped me cope. 

I didn't know that our last time together would be so, but I'll never forget it. 

I miss her.

I read and hear such horrible sentiments that people so brazenly make about their mothers. 

I don't know what their relationships are like; I don't know what they've suffered. It's hard to tell people not to feel the way they do. All I know is that I'd give anything to be able to talk to my Mom, and not drive to Fort Lincoln cemetery. 

I wrote this poem not long after she died. 

Somewhere there's an old home movie of her sitting on the steps of my grandmother's house. In it, I'm playfully fluffing her hair, and she's trying to get me to stop. 

I wish I knew where it was...: )


MOMMY'S HAIR

She said I'd always wait until she was about to leave
I'd wait until she had every strand in place
I'd wait until our ride was pulling into the yard
Then I'd play in her hair

I'd fluff it
I'd muss it
She said I was "playing"
I thought I knew what I was doing!

She wasn't Mommy
She was my client
Just like all the white Barbies
Whose hair never stayed like it was when they were new
I'd cut it, curl it, wet it, tease it, and braid it
Even tried to straighten it on a light bulb
(Not Mommy's hair, silly- Barbie's)
Barbie's hair didn't take well to heat like Mommy's
Mommy knew how to heat that comb just right
Protect her cotton curls with thick grease
Then sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
It would fall straight and shiny onto her shoulders
Then she'd find the pins and curl it up for Sunday

Even when the medicines wracked her body
And turned her skin from caramel to gray
Her hair remained strong

She managed to sit up that day
She seemed happier
"Before you leave, I want you to brush my hair"
I laughed and said, "Okay. So you want me to "play" in your hair?"
We both laughed.
I cut the old nylon stockings into pieces, and covered the bristles
One piece after another
On and off of the brush
Tossing them into the wastebasket until
Her hair was clean
Auntee Lillian said it was a good way to get out the dirt
Auntee Lillian was right

Mommy couldn't wash her hair.
She wanted to wash her hair.
I brushed and brushed
Just like I'd done so many years ago
It glistened and shocked my fingers
No heat this time
Just static and timing
Strands like threads of silk danced in the air
I gave her one French braid.
"That feels good, child"
I brushed it as if it was my last time.

It was.

FOR MOMMY

Another Mothers' Day is approaching. I don't need it to remind me that my Mother is no longer physically with me. 

I think about her every day. I'll either do, or say, or notice something about myself that reminds me I was definitely her child. 

I gaze at her pictures in a way that I never did before. I'm not sure what I'm searching for or hoping to see. 

I wish she were still here.

I wrote a poem not long after her funeral. I knew she was special, but there's something about the end of a person's life that reveals wonderful truths you never knew--even if you think you knew them very well. I'm still learning about my mother. 

Just today I saw a photo of her that I'd never seen before, and it made me smile. 

She was so much more than just my mother, but I'm glad to have had the honor of being her child.

DID YOU KNOW?
For Mommy
February, 2003

Was the smile on your face a genuine one?
Did you do all you wanted to do?
Did you find, if you had any happiness
It was entirely up to you?

Were the sacrifices you made worth it all?
Was there something you wished you could change?
Did you find that the more you looked for the different
The more things just stayed the same?

Did you know? Did you see?
Did you find? Did you know?
Did you know? Did you see?
Did you find? Did you know?

Did you reach all the heights that you wanted to reach?
The very sky was yours. Did you know?
Was the head of the class that you wanted for them
A place you neglected to go?

Did you know all the things that you wanted to know?
Did you see all you wanted to see?
Were there open doors that you never passed through?
Was there something you missed 'cause of me?

Did you know that so many adored you?
Wish you could have heard all the things that they said.
All the times that life left them broken and bruised
You gave them reasons to get up again.

Did you know? Did you see?
Did you find? Did you know?
Did you know? Did you see?
Did you find?
Did you know?

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: TEACHER APPRECIATION

Abram Simon Elementary School. 

St. Thomas More Catholic School. 

Notre Dame Academy. 

Howard University. 

The University of the District of Columbia. 

Trinity College. 

Prince Georges Community College...

I sat down and wondered if I could remember them all--every dedicated professional who ever taught me:

Mrs. Leona Williams, Kindergarten (She was the first person to encourage me to paint. She entered my painting of a clown in a PTA auction/fundraiser, but another parent bought it before mine arrived! She could sing and play the piano that was in our classroom. Almost every day she would give us milk and cookies that tasted like the wafer of an ice cream sandwich.) She decided mid-year that I was ready for first grade, and walked me to Mrs. Thompson's class located at the end of the hall on the main level of the school.

Mrs. Vivian M. Thompson, Grade 1 (She wasn't much taller that we were, but she was firm and loving. Her classroom was so neat, and so was she! Learning to read was like magic, and she read the best stories--used voices, too. She smiled a lot, and acknowledged when we'd done well. Her form of discipline was to make a child stand in a corner right outside the classroom and face the wall. That actually used to work. Disruption was not allowed.

Mrs. G. M. Pritchett, Grade 2 (Mrs. Olivia Swinton, our Science teacher, held down the fort until the diminutive Mrs. Pritchett was hired. I STILL remember Mrs. Swinton's lesson on simple machines, and the walking field trips she led to the creek behind Eastover Shopping Center where we'd search for tadpoles.)

Mrs. R.S. Jefferson, Grade 3 (She had a grandmotherly way about her. Her silver hair and very fair skin kept people wondering about her nationality, but no one would dare ask. She passed away near the end of the school year. It was my first encounter with the death of a teacher. 

Mrs. M.P. Brown (She replaced Mrs. Jefferson for the rest of school year 68-69.)

Mrs. Lenore C. Hall, Grade 4 (I enjoyed her class. She created lesson plans and used other resources because she felt that our textbooks were lacking. She insisted we keep Black History scrapbooks and cut out articles from the newspaper any time a Black person did anything noteworthy.)

Mrs. Elizabeth Stansberry, Grade 5 (She and her husband A.C., an architect, were from Louisiana. Her classroom was in one of the "demountables", annex classrooms that faced Mississippi Avenue. She was my first teacher who was also a friend of the family--so she had SPECIAL permission to use that ruler when I left school grounds with friends and went to the candy truck that parked each day on 6th street during recess.) Obviously I had a lot to say in the third advisory...lol

 Mr. Richards, Physical Education (He was never without his whistle, and his relay races on the large field behind the school were so much fun.)

Mrs. Sally Letterlough, Counselor/Sponsor (She started a Charm Club, and sponsored talent shows.

She encouraged us to improve our posture and public speaking skills. Ms. Letterlough was hip and fashionable. I used to think she was the tallest person on Earth. She was so graceful, articulate, stylish and poised--and her perfect Afro was like a crown.)

Mrs. Ruth Frazier, Counselor (She was like the school mother--someone who students could talk to at any time of day. Her office door was always open. She was a church member, too.)

Mrs. Reamer, Librarian (She read stories and made you feel as if you were there. She taught us all about the Dewey Decimal System and encouraged us all to get library cards so that we could check out books when we visited Washington Highlands library.)

Mr. Daniel Austin, Art. ART!!!!!

 (I still have an Art certificate he gave me. Back then, there was a portion of certain days when you could choose an activity. Going to the Art room was always my choice.) Even as a child, I wondered why everyone wasn’t afforded the opportunity to experience his skill and enthusiasm. I don’t remember the room ever being crowded. Those memories played a big role in how I hoped my students viewed my class— not as a treat for a special few, but a legitimate course of study.

Mrs. Flora M. Bertman, Grade 6  (She was the first teacher referred to as "lay".  She was a wordsmith! Her spelling bees were great...Mrs. Bergman was so animated; and wore a different, colorful wig piece every day, too. I remember her telling us not to ever listen when others said we couldn't learn.)

Mrs. Duarte, Grade 7 (Such a pleasant lady. She was also one of the few lay teachers on staff. She helped a lot with my transition from public school to Catholic school.)

Sr. Mary Dorothea, Mathematics, Penmanship (She was the first teacher I was afraid of. She was tall, wore a full, beige habit,  was stern, and rarely smiled. I was awful in Math, and my workbook was filled with her red marks. She conducted penmanship lessons every day after recess, and her handwriting was flawless. There were no guidelines on HER blackboard. She would select a letter for us to concentrate on, and write a paragraph and words on the board that included that letter. I wanted to write beautifully like her, and she would compliment my effort. I made sure my penmanship was flawless, because she walked around the classroom with a wooden yardstick....)

Sr. Mary Jennifer, English/Creative Writing/Art (She included Art in everything. She played guitar and had a nice voice, too.)

Mrs. Dorothy P. Strange, Science ( Her class was exciting, to say the least. She practically sang when she spoke. She LOVED Science, always had an experiment going, and frowned on the use of anything other than scientific terms when referring to body functions and parts. She wasn't kidding about us dissecting pigs and frogs...)

Mrs. M. Harper.  I feel badly that I cannot remember what she taught, but my conduct/effort report from her was satisfactory, so I must have enjoyed whatever it was...lol

Mrs. Katherine Zegowitz, Religion (She was a competent, walking billboard for Catholicism). For some reason she gave me a poor conduct grade. I do recall asking a lot of questions. (Who do the priests confess to? Why do Catholics have to marry Catholics? Why do you pray to Mary?) Even as a child, I respected the faith, and even participated in Mass, but knew I did not want to convert to Catholicism. I remember asking why children didn't have an option in choosing their own faith. I guess I frustrated her, but did appreciate her lesson on the "Stations of the Cross".)

Mrs. Donna Tissue, Homeroom/World Cultures, Grade 9 (She was my homeroom teacher, very pleasant and soft spoken, loved discussing History, and was the second teacher in my life to pass away during the school year.)

Mrs. Laurie Siegel, Art, Grade 10-12. She ranks among my favorites. (I visited her classroom whether it was scheduled or not. Her door was always open. She was a practicing artist. She taught me how to use calligraphy pens, work with silver, prepare art for the school yearbooks, and encouraged me to attend Howard University.)

Sr. Regina Vincent, Algebra (Brilliant woman. She walked hard, was serious, and had shocking black hair and chiseled features. There was something Elizabeth Taylor-ish about her face, but she was all about Math. She loved it, and wanted us to love it, too. I earned the first "F" in my life in her class. She would walk in and begin class by inviting us to "get on the train". After failing miserably to solve an equation, she would shake her head and say, "Williams, you're not even at the station." Somehow, I made it out of her class with a "C" average, and she acknowledged my effort.)

Sr. Joyce Feddon, Psychology (She could read you like a book; played a mean guitar, too. We could discuss practically anything in her class.)

Sr. Julie McDonnough, French (I loved the sound of her class. Her voice was lilting and sweet. She would speak a line of French, and then say, "Répéter". 
Had I known what my future held, I would have paid attention even more.)

Sr. Elizabeth Charles Durbano, Latin (She loved words, and insisted that Latin was the key to mastering English and expanding your vocabulary. When we understood she was so elated. When we didn't, she took it personally. It was nothing for her to turn to the blackboard and bang her head against it, then turn around revealing a forehead and habit full of chalk dust. It was important to her that she get through to us. She was brilliant, kind, and funny. 
Daughter of Charles and Lucy Durbano, my dear teacher passed away on December 14, 2009.

Mrs. Geraldine Wingfield, Home Economics (She was always sewing or cooking. I doubt if she even thought what she did was work.)

Sr. Mary Dunfey, Religion (She was very pleasant; encouraged us to ask questions and challenge her. She never wore a habit and was also the most stylish nun ever. )

Mrs. Elaine O'Colmain, English (Our hip, young, yearbook advisor was an outstanding communicator, voracious reader, and she passed on her enthusiasm.)

Mr. Michael McGuire, Political Science (He was funny and very smart. He encouraged keeping up with current events by reading newspapers, and watching local and national news. He referred to us as the "Peanut Gallery" when our age would cloud our political views. He also encouraged us to think for ourselves.)

Mrs. Elizabeth Golibart, English/Drama ( She, too, encouraged us to love reading, and appreciate the performing arts. Her "A Tale of Two Cities" projects were legendary)

Ms. Willie Jackson, Physical Education (Gymnastics...whew...

Every one of her classes was a workout. She let us call her "Willie", and she had the neatest Afro. She always made sure you were "spotted" and safe.) She was one of the chaperones on our Senior class trip to Stone Mountain and Orlando.

Professor Julian Mayfield and Professor Eugenia Collier (Delightful, encouraging team teachers. They made their students look forward to Creative Writing, Fiction and Poetry.)

Dr. Erma E. Redfern Moore, Educational Psychology (My first post-graduate class. There was lot's of writing. I loved it.)

Dr. Beatrice Tignor, Teaching Reading In the Total School Program (A brilliant mind, and avid community supporter.)

Connie Parker, DCPS Teacher Recertification. Thanks for the seat hours!

There are more...I'm going to continue picking my brain. I don't want to forget any of the people whose love for teaching impacted my life, and helped shape the kind of teacher I became.

I definitely can't forget the FIRST teacher in my life, my Mom. Because SHE was a teacher; because we witnessed first hand the sacrifices she made for her own students, there was instilled in us a natural regard for others who chose the profession. Mom was dedicated and took her job seriously. To this day, her students are expressing their gratitude for her refusal to underestimate them.

Too often we are unable, or tragically too late at telling someone just how much their lives and life's work has touched our own. It's "Teacher Appreciation Week". I'm very grateful to have been instructed by some of the finest educators, and most delightful human beings in the world. They were not only good at communicating and sharing their areas of expertise, but demonstrated a genuine concern for their students. Their approach was parental as well as professional. Their office doors were always open. They shared their Art, their resources, their tastes in music, cuisine, apparel, books, their travels, wisdom, their ideas, and had great expectations for their students. Someone told me that college professors would be aloof and uncaring, and that in college, I would be on my own. They lied. My professors were accessible, sacrificial, and kind. They had dreams for us. They didn't hesitate applauding us when we we performed well, and correcting us when we we fell short. They were genuine, helpful, humorous, and hard working. They helped shape and inspire my Art, and enriched my life--and their own artwork was, and still is spectacular. Today, I am happy that some of my favorite teachers are on Facebook, and I'm delighted for the opportunity to publicly thank:

Martha Jackson-Jarvis -for encouraging me to explore a medium that I'd previously avoided. I will never forget her daily calming presence, pleasant disposition, knack for experimentation, and strong work ethic. When Winnie Owens Hart (whose incredible body of work always left me in awe) went on sabbatical, you were there to pick up the mantle.

Winston Kennedy- for words of affirmation, calm, clear, and concise instruction, patience, and providing skills that enabled me to succeed a few years after graduation in my accelerated apprenticeship with printmaker and photo engraver, John Fulton Gerhold.

Jarvis Grant- for walking us all through the wonder that is photography in such an enjoyable, humorous way, and teaching us how to "see differently". Thank you for guiding us to appreciate the design and beauty in the details of objects and places in the world around us that most people take for granted.

Lila O. Asher- for challenging my intense aversion to all things mathematical, and reminding me that precision and the use of technology is not an enemy of Art. I will never forget the walking field trip to the morgue...: )

E.H. Sorrells-Adewale- (one half of my Senior year advisory team, with the great Starmanda Bullock) Ade, you were our resident philosopher and, along with the late Lucille Malkia Roberts, and Albert Michael Auld, the inspiration for the manner in which I taught.

 (Malkia was like our surrogate mother, and Mike made sure we took a break from Blimpie's subs and Church's chicken to develop an appreciation for Jamaican cuisine at The Islander.) Mike Auld was probably the first person who convinced me that my Art could actually sustain me; that there were so many avenues an artist could professionally take; that it was OKAY to consider Art an actual business profession. When I became a teacher, I endeavored to make sure Art class was meaningful, not relegated to a lower rung on the educational totem pole. The HU "Design" team helped me to inspire another generation of Art literate individuals for the almost 16 years I taught at P.R. Harris Educational Center.

Thank you, Ade for taking time out of your schedule to visit my classes there. You couldn't tell my students that they hadn't been to Africa that day, AND had met a superstar!

(On a side note, I remember having a conversation with Richard Smallwood about HIS art teacher.He mentioned how she'd loved a piece of artwork he'd done and gave him an "A". It was painter, Georgia Mills Jessup, mother of artist, Rose Powhatan. HIS beloved Art teacher is MY beloved Art teacher, Mike Auld's mother-in-law.)

Frank Smith - "Blacks In The Arts" was EARLY in the morning, an 8:00 class, but a wonderful start to the day! Your presentations were delightful, NEVER boring, and introduced us all to individuals we otherwise would have never known. You taught us that it was perfectly okay to experiment and take chances with our work. You broadened our knowledge of those who were artistic greats...every day a smile...every day an affirming greeting. Thank you.

These remarkably gifted and talented individuals, in addition to Professor, and master painter Alfred J. Smith (who challenged me to draw more, and on a larger scale..."Get some GOOD paper, and use something other than a No.2 pencil! ), Authors Dr.Tritobia Hayes Benjamin and Dr. Raymond G. Dobard possessed brilliant minds, and a tangible love of Art! When they lectured on Art History, I tried to write every word they spoke in my notebook. Everything they had to say was important.), Doris Colbert (I LOVED her drawings, and admired her grace, and calm disposition), Dr.Kwaku Ofori Ansa (He was walking wisdom, and the inspiration for the use of Adinkra symbols in my own work.), Dr. Chi Chong Lee (inspired the thought of teaching art to children),

the late Jeff Donaldson (He was a great and enthusiastic lecturer! He introduced me to cranberry juice, appreciated my calligraphy, and encouraged me to never throw out a good piece of corrugated cardboard), and the late great sculptor Edward Love (He's the reason I like Gil Scott Heron, WPFW, and NPR).

I was excited to share Ed’s work with my students while on a field trip to the Smithsonian.

He, along with his colleagues helped to make 1978-1982 some of the happiest and most inspired and secure years in my life. At the former Howard University College of Fine Arts, my teachers demonstrated in word and deed that our artistic vocation involved so much more than making pretty pictures. Thank you all for unselfishly pouring so much into us, and promoting an honorable, valuable, positive and productive way to communicate feelings, ideas, moods, and experiences.

Bravo to great, dedicated teachers everywhere.

#thankanartsteacher

#thankateacher