DO YOU?

As the year comes to a close, I've seen more than a handful of comments about the way people intend to radically change their lives. Most of them involve getting rid of some of the people with whom they associate ( as if people are just disposable like that). People are talking about clearing their cell phone and email contact lists; blocking and deleting on social networking sites. Maybe the real task should be examining their OWN brains to determine how people, who are suddenly so undesirable, disgusting, draining, and dispensable NOW, got into their lives in the first place.

Is it possible that the problem is in the mirror, and it's not a job for Windex? God knows, sometimes it IS, but it can't ALWAYS be the infamous THEM. Sometimes, it's straight up YOU, and the time designated for fixing and arranging, dismissing, reorganizing and correcting should be spent alone with oneself. One must own one's own part in every situation. In every aspect of your life, the common denominator is YOU. You can't fix or change other people, but you darn sure can take a good, honest look at yourself, your choices, your decisions, your behavior, your words---unless that's just too difficult a thing to bear. Is it easier to put the blame on everybody else than to admit your schemes failed, your secrets and lies were exposed, your stories didn't add up, your judgment was flawed, your discernment was weak, you talked more than you listened, you rejected wisdom, and you have some jacked-up stuff going on in yourself, too? Failing to look inward means the finger pointing, blaming, puffed-up attitude, selfishness, and denial will simply continue...Why not give "do you" a new, less arrogant, self-centered connotation, and objectively work on yourself. Acknowledge, and tackle your own fixable issues as diligently as you criticize, ridicule and condemn others. Be true to yourself in those less attractive areas that you think no one sees. Address those areas that people talk about when you're not in the room, but are too intimidated or afraid to bring to your attention. Sincerely ask God to show you yourself. It might cause you to look at others in a different, more understanding, and forgiving light when you seriously consider how God may be--no--how God IS looking at you.

WE ATTEMPTED...

I didn't feel like answering the phone.
Lately, the still cherished and celebrated caller ID has given way to being able to actually hear who's calling. Somehow the old fashioned land line seems to trump the cordless phone when it comes to clarity. The caller ID-less landline is reminiscent of a time when you just answered the phone because it rang. There was no debating, screening, or scrutinizing. You just answered and the sound of the callers voice ID'd them---or not.

When my phone stopped ringing, it suddenly occurred to me that I was still waiting for another delivery--the last one. Maybe I SHOULD have answered the phone! (How many times do we complain that we were at home all day and don't know HOW we missed the UPS or FedEx driver?) It's sad when you have to find time go out of your way to retrieve something that someone was attempting to place into your hands at your own doorstep.
I ran to the windows facing the front of my building. I didn't see UPS, FedEx or USPS trucks so I assumed the call I missed was a telemarketer. I also assumed that if the caller had been someone I knew, my cell phone would have rung shortly thereafter. I went back to what I was doing, then heard a bit of a commotion in the stairwell. Then the knock came. It WAS UPS! The last of the gifts had arrived in time for Christmas--just like Amazon.com promised! I would have been so disappointed if I had missed the delivery. Further disappointment in my decision to let the phone ring would have come courtesy of the door tag that had already been prepared. The truth of the door tag would have smacked me in the face because the driver DID make an attempt.
"Good afternoon. Your call box isn't working, Ma'am." I didn't bother to tell him that it was. Perhaps I should have. I signed for the package, said an enthusiastic "Merry Christmas", and closed the door. I looked out of the window again. Where had he come from lugging all of those packages? He had my large box and 2 more destined for other last minute shoppers. There were few cars parked on the street, but none making it impossible for the van to have space right in front of the gate. Where was it? I watched as the deliveryman exited the gate and headed down the street. I went to another window to see where he was going. He went to the corner and crossed the street. There was the truck, running, with a driver waiting inside.
Looks like they're traveling in two's during this holiday season. "Smart move, not leaving the truck unattended", I thought. I wondered if that's just an east-of-the-river DC practice, or a general rule anywhere in the city as Christmas day approaches? Either way, I do so appreciate the effort to get the package to me in spite of my failure to answer the phone. Frankly, UPS has been on the ball, lately.

I also appreciate the convenience of shopping via the internet. Crowded malls during this time of year don't appeal to me at all, and anything I've forgotten--tape, wrapping paper, batteries, etc. can be easily scooped up at the neighborhood Rite-Aid...: )
Now I can get to wrapping...: )

JUST DO IT

Perhaps it WON'T get done unless you do it, but isn't it going undone or getting worse while you're waiting, pouting, nagging, questioning and complaining? Are YOUR two hands broken? Are you sick? Don't know how? Think you're too good? Feeling a sense of entitlement? Just plain lazy? If your answer to any of those questions is a reluctant, "No", then why not do it yourself? Don't exaggerate. If it never gets done unless you do it, it would be in a lot worse condition, wouldn't it? Maybe YOU don't particularly like the job you think others should do, or should assist you in getting done. Maybe you've started something you wish you could finish by passing it off to someone else. Maybe there's no glory in it unless others see the task being carried out.
If you're so pleased with the outcome of your effort, and it's the way you think it should be done, then why not continue and stop lamenting and broadcasting that no one else is doing it? Further, stop making yourself out to be a martyr because it got done. Perhaps you finally noticed it,(or are looking for a pat on the back). Forget about what other people ought to do, or what you think they should be doing. Examine your own motives. Are you looking for brownie points, or are you just passionate about doing things well? Are you seeking approval or are you just grateful to be able to lend a hand? If there is no impediment to you doing it yourself, stop yapping. Skip the fanfare and drama, and get to work.
What's important to you may not be on another person's radar or schedule. Don't assume you know what is in another person's heart, on another person's plate, what's in another person's wallet, or the scope of another person's ability.
If you see something that needs to be done, just do it.

ART: GIFTS

FREE INDEED

It is in some people's best interest to convince you that God is a bit of a snob; that He has very little to say to you. Don't buy it. Your lack of knowledge is key to their success.
Some people would have you to believe that THEY are your source--your last resort--spiritually, emotionally, financially, professionally, and/or socially. There are precious individuals, however, who, on the other hand, don't seek, expect, or demand that others to be indebted to them. They aren't seeking to boost their egos. They give God praise for what they're able to facilitate in the lives of others as a result of God's kindness and generosity to, and grace towards them.
Thank God for opening your eyes today. The worst thing the enemy could have done is allowed someone to teach you how to read, and not just call out words, but understand them as well. Then he messed around and let somebody put the Bible on tape. "Free indeed" means just that. Thank God for eloquent preachers, but read for yourself. (Think, now. At practically EVERY funeral you attend, somebody says, "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." and everybody shouts, "Amen"-- no matter how scarily hellish a life the deceased lived. It sounds comforting and encouraging to think that your loved one is in Heaven playing football or gardening with Jesus, but the Bible DOESN'T SAY THAT! Read it again.)
Ask for wisdom. Read for yourself. Have a mind of your own. Know that God is available to you, too, and doesn't play favorites. Check your behavior and speech and see if it lines up with the Word of God, or with someone's slick religious agenda to keep you ignorantly singing, dancing, AND picking the cotton on their plantation. Boldly exercise the liberty you have in Christ Jesus. When one knows better, one will do better, right?....Happy Saturday....: )

AS CHRISTMAS DAY APPROACHES

After so many years of being a gumbo eater, this past Thanksgiving proved I can be a gumbo maker, too. Armed with my Mom's recipe and my big sister a phone call away, my daughter and I got it done.
I'm really looking forward to my sister and her family visiting during the Christmas holiday. I'm looking forward to her gumbo, too. She's already thinking about the Christmas day menu. It's times like these that I really miss my Mom. She had special Christmas dishes and glasses, and table linen. She adored the holidays. Her shopping would have been done and the house decorated. There would be homemade tea cakes and egg nog, too. Her egg nog was the only egg nog I ever wanted to drink.

Sometimes I wonder what else my Mom would have achieved in life; what greater professional heights she would have attained, had she not sacrificed for my sisters and me. Then I remember my late Auntee Lillian's dramatic retelling of Mommy's birth. The persistence of a midwife, who refused to accept that baby Myrtle was dead, is the reason a 1 pound, 1 ounce premature baby survived that October day back in 1936 in Addis, Louisiana. That Mommy lived 1 day, let alone 66 years, was a miracle.
She was meticulous, and detail oriented, well-groomed and so very neat.
"If it's supposed to be white, let it be white. If it's supposed to shine, make it shine". "Take care of your things. If you do, they will last a long time".
"Never leave your house and you're looking better than what you left behind. You never know how you're going to have to come back home".

She was a brilliant woman--quick-witted, well read, articulate, poised and always learning. To her, knowing things was just as important as the ability to find information. She was a master teacher, a disciplinarian, mentor and guide, whose dedication to her students meant sure success for them. Her generous endeavors to see them succeed never translated into lack of attention and failure at home. She cherished being a teacher, but I have a feeling she could have been the CEO of some major corporation. Obtaining a good education was so important to her. Attached to that was the ability to be self-sufficient. I never sensed that she regretted being a wife and mother, but she made sure to communicate how the consequences of the choices one makes most certainly determined the road on which one would remain. "You have to think about the future." "You have be able to take care of yourself; stand on your own two feet", she would say.
As traditional as she was where roles between women and men were concerned, our independence meant a lot to her. "You have to get that piece of paper. You have to be twice as good". A woman who couldn't "do anything" puzzled her, though. A lazy "nasty" woman was someone she couldn't understand. As academically savvy and professional as she was, one could eat off of her floor. She could clean, iron, wash, sew, scrub, garden, and still hold an intellectually stimulating conversation with anyone. She was responsible, dedicated and resourceful. She was a committed wife, mother, grandmother, aunt, and friend--and Lord, could she cook. Daddy said she couldn't always "burn" like she did, and one of the first gifts he bought her was a cookbook. That cookbook is dog-eared, today; its pages out of order; its cover hanging on for dear life, and spruced up with green contact paper. That cookbook was one gift that didn't go to waste. Mommy was a master in the kitchen and the bearer of an incredible sense of smell. "Somebody check the oven! Is something burning?" If she asked, something was. "You can't walk away when you're cooking."
When she passed away early in the morning on February 4, 2003, I was there. She'd fought so hard to stay. It seemed unfair for cancer to have wracked the body of someone who wasn't abusive to herself. She'd survived rounds of radiation and chemotherapy, only to be stricken by a pulmonary embolism. Even in death, she was teaching. "Don't put off anything. Enjoy your life while you can. Don't let anybody hold you back, or tell you what you can't do. For God's sake, be happy".
I know there were so many things that she wanted to do. Writing a book was one of them. She told me in our last conversation. I'm so glad that my little sister found the recipes my Mom had written. (Her penmanship was beautiful, too). Perhaps Mommy knew we'd need them one cold day when "sandwiches wouldn't be enough." Perhaps she knew that one day we'd embrace all of the delicious fuss that holidays bring.
I used to hate passing by McDonald's, as a child, and wonder why we couldn't always stop. "We have food at home", Mommy would say. I know, now, what a blessing that is.

NO JOKE

One's tacky attempt at humor, criticism or judgment could just as easily be applied to one's own dear family member's notoriously shady past--or one's own. People really should mind making childish, cowardly swipes at others. I wonder if people forget? You don't have to chime in to every conversation to fit in. It's okay to exercise discretion and even compassion. You don't have to say everything you think. Yeah, this is America; we have free speech, blah, blah, blah...Don't let your thoughtless words, today, cause someone to publicly remind you precisely why YOU are THE last person on Earth who should be uttering them. Even if you think you're saying them in jest, ask yourself what purpose they serve, what damage they could do. A good way to ensure your dirt is exposed is to publicly criticize/ ridicule someone for doing the same thing you did. Some folks aren't going to get it until they are cold cocked by their own boomeranging words. They won't understand until they are slammed by the unwelcome words of someone who is fed up of listening to hypocrisy and insensitive drivel. Chances are they'll have the nerve to be offended.
Sometimes it's best to shut up and thank God--and the people who really know you-- for the ability to show mercy.

WORLD AIDS DAY: GETTING TO ZERO

I celebrated my 51st birthday on Monday. I was 28 years old when the first World Aids Day was observed. I remember when AIDS was considered a terrifying Old Testament-like, modern plague. Folks had embraced forgiving, loving meek-and-humble-lamb Jesus, and conveniently forgot all about the God of Exodus, whose wrath and judgment hadn't evolved with time and trends the way they'd hoped. AIDS was widely considered an indictment sent from an angry God whose patience with mankind's choices had worn painfully thin. Due to His hatred of, and our tolerance of homosexuality, the world would witness the puzzling effects of a mysterious form of pneumonia. For a long time, it was deemed a gay man's disease, and everyone who wasn't a gay man felt weirdly safe and spared. AIDS was the problem of someone else, in another place, that only visited some households courtesy of nightly newscasts, and talk shows.

Then, people who were idolized AND familiar started losing much too much weight, and dying much too young.

I remember being fascinated as a 20 year-old college student at Howard University, hearing my sculpture instructor, Ed Love's sister in-law, Dr. Frances Cress Welsing, lecture with conviction on the speculated, vicious, man made origin of the disease (which didn't seem so far fetched in light of the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment). 

I saw first-hand how AIDS wasted my talented, ambitious family member, who was active military and stationed at USAMRIID. 

I remember driving him to the hospital one night and watching how the emergency room staff attended to patient after patient, even those who came in after us. The doctors and nurses seemed to be uncaring and indifferent toward us. A nice nurse brought him a blanket when he complained of being cold, but we still waited for hours until he finally fell asleep in the waiting room chair. As he slept, I was finally told that his condition wasn't considered an emergency, since they already knew he had AIDS. It was the first time I knew. AIDS had visited my family. He never uttered the word concerning himself. Besides, he was Black and he had girlfriends, right? So much for my ignorance. As we waited into the wee hours of the next day, I asked him if he wanted anything from me. He simply asked me to hold his hand and pray. When his illness progressed and he was discharged from the military, and no longer able to care for himself, he went back to the childhood home he'd worked so diligently to escape, and died in his childhood room while in the care of his mother. He was buried in the colors of his fraternity of which he was very proud. His strikingly handsome lover died soon after.

AIDS has outed couples, exposed husbands on the DL, pronounced death sentences on wives, orphaned children, ravaged artistic communities, revolutionized how our nation manages its blood supply, welcomed innocent babies into the world, and rocked numerous religious establishments from pulpits to doors. It has challenged how we think and what we believe; who we trust and how much. It has driven us to our knees, deeper into our wallets, aggressively to the polls, and frequently to funerals.
Embarrassed, shame-filled families have tried to tactfully word their loved ones' obituaries, using terms like "long illness", "sudden affliction", and "brief sickness". Grieving loved ones have been relieved to be able to evoke the name of a disease, ANY disease as a cause of death, or defensively cry "blood transfusion", than to name the actual killer. If we were secretive before, we multiplied our privacy requirement exponentially.
After all these years, people are still living dangerously, living in denial, believing lies, testing the grace of God, ignoring or abridging His Word, and counting on--even demanding-- the help, understanding, compassion and so-called enlightenment, or open mindedness of others. Some people still press their luck and live by the adage, "You have to die from something." They still think "It could never happen to me."

Have we become lax and complacent as we often do after the novelty of tragedy begins to wane? The stigma of HIV/AIDS may seem to be gone due to greater access to information, celebrity input, medical breakthroughs, and patient longevity as a result of more effective medicines, but is it really? Do our private conversations with ourselves and others prove it's still there right alongside fear and several chilling, attention-getting Bible verses? Some people don't care if you call them ignorant, closed-minded, Bible-thumping religious fanatics if they emphatically believe that it is your own fault, and due to your own choices and darkened, godless mind that you are in your present situation. AIDS affecting the elderly, heterosexuals, hemophiliacs, women, children, sexually inactive, and drug free people of all age groups, nationalities, professions and socioeconomic levels, threw a monkey wrench into so many philosophies. Pandemic is not a word to ignore.

Are we doing all we can, with our ribbons and marches and quilts, and concerts, and commemorative days, and speeches, or are we quietly still viewing the AIDS pandemic as a deadly lesson in sowing and reaping? Is it still looked upon as a deserved consequence of sin?

No matter where AIDS originated, be it Heaven, Africa, Los Angeles, Haiti, affected monkeys, the military, vaccines, racist governments, or a strategically planned, controlled top-secret science lab, it is a horrible, devastating, lingering fact of life that has, no doubt, directly or indirectly affected us one and all. 

"Zero new HIV infections. Zero discrimination. Zero AIDS-related deaths".
That would be more than wonderful.