'Be anxious for nothing..." ~Philippians 4:6

Monday, February 17, 2020

No weapon...

Your “no” will not always be received or respected. It may even be shocking, particularly if you have a reputation for being nice, passive, gullible, or agreeable. 
Your “no” will reveal the true nature of your relationships. It will determine whether you, your time, effort, well being, beliefs, principles, finances, resources, or feelings matter or not. 
Your “no” will prompt some to demonize, question, slander, ostracize, criticize, be angry with, punish, or try to manipulate you. 
Your “no” just may be the key to your freedom from those who have never meant you any good; from those content with abusing you; from those who think they own you, or think that you owe them. 
Your “no” is liberating. Say “no”. See what happens. Note whether you’re extended understanding or doused with anger. Steady yourself if anger comes. It is a way of escape from shady folk; a way to purge your life of unnecessary drama. Just remember, whatever power people think they have to affect your life, livelihood, or emotions is measured by the degree of authority you’ve bestowed upon them. Take everyone off of those pedestals. (We really DO teach people how to treat us.)
Take that power back. Stop magnifying people and magnify God. Anything anyone boasts they’ve given to, or done for you that gives them some perceived leverage against your right to say “no”, isn’t worth having. 
Be thankful. Be appreciative. Don’t be a fool. Stop wearing yourself out for those who have made sport of sending unsuspecting people on guilt trips. 

Free yourself from the unfair, unreasonable, and arrogant expectations of others. Free yourself from those who cheat and shortchange you, but color their deception as if they’re doing you a favor for which you are supposed to forever be grateful. Get off of their merry-go-round. You will always disembark dizzy and in the red. 
Stop thinking you have to mitigate the anger of those who expect so much but give so little. Anyone who is mad because you won’t allow them to use you, IS mad. 
Respect the boundaries you set. You don’t ever HAVE to do ANYTHING. You ALWAYS have a choice. 


There are people who will do right by you. They exist. My hope and prayer is that you meet them—sooner than later.

Thursday, February 13, 2020

THURSDAY THOUGHTS: POETRY PROMPT: WE ARE NOT A MONOLITH


We are not a monolith
Our hues make some assume
We march lockstep to every beat
We all sing the same tune
We are not a monolith
When will they ever learn?
Cooning, conning, Uncle tomming 
Lurk at every turn
House and field; blue collar, white
Southern, northern, too
Still they think we’re not distinct
That I am merely you

“The Blacks” we’re called
As if we all
Reside on the same street
On the corner where PTSD
And reparations meet
Round another corner, and
You’ll find some are elite
“Stop and frisk” brought them great joy
No hoodlums on their street

Some have faith in God 
That others see as mental illness
No white Jesus in their homes
They preach “keeping it realness”
Each argument begins and ends
“The problem is “The Man”
No revolution’s happened yet
Some doubt one ever can 

“See? THAT’S why we can’t have nice things!”
Complain the neutral ones
Who hate their hue; argue with you
“We’ll never overcome!”
And so they strip themselves—their lives 
Of anything that can
Identify, or signify the African in them



Some reach new heights, flee from the fights
Want to go back, but don’t
Once free, they see what life can be
Could free others, but won’t

There used to be a time that some
Would not make any step
Unless their best foot led the way
No longer have they kept
The tenets and the practices
Of love, or pride, or care
Turning on one another
Is practiced everywhere

There is no “we” that I can see
But all goes in the box 
That says there’s no distinction 
The chicken and the fox
The lion and the lamb
The elephant and mouse
The owl and the ass 
Are all the same in every house

We are not a monolith
We know, but here they come
With pandering; apologies
Promising everyone
They know our needs;
Why our hearts bleed
They’ll be the one to save
Us all from one another 
The naive and the brave
The bitter and the hopeful
The ignorant; the wise
And paint us all with one big brush
To satisfy their eyes
To justify their plans
To guarantee a win
And once enthroned, 
The monolith, the kith, and all the kin
Go back into the box 
To wait four years, or more
Until they come back, hat in hand
Seeking votes like before.







VRWc2020

Sunday, February 9, 2020

SUNDAY THOUGHTS: IS IT A GIG?

The “ministry vs. gig” debate rages on. 
Is a person a minister, musician, minstrel, servant, Levite, volunteer, or employee? 
Are the terms ever synonymous?

Wherever they may be--whether in religious or so-called secular spaces--musicians are employing the same skills set, and the same twelve notes. 
Only in religious spaces, however, will mediocrity be praised and accepted, because excellence is viewed as arrogance, and an investment in excellence is considered unnecessary, or too much for the budget. 

There’s a tradition that musicians should work for nothing—and be happy to do it. If they don’t, or aren’t, the opinion is that they’re worldly, and don’t truly love God.
It’s ridiculous. 

I’ve observed that, in one environment, a musician’s skills—as well as the time, effort, energy, and expense necessary to attain and maintain them— is wanted, valued, applauded, appreciated, and respected. 
In the other environment, those skills are often used, overused, abused, minimized, considered dispensable, usurped, expected, or exploited.
In BOTH spaces, everybody wants the best, but in one space, less will be settled for, and viewed as a sign of commitment and humility. 

It is positively mind-boggling that suffering from, struggling through, and enduring week after week of badly performed music, and cacophonous singing, is considered godly or spiritual. Only in religious spaces will people blatantly lie about, prefer, and applaud poor performance.  

In both religious and secular spaces, if anyone is being paid, it ought to be the people doing the work. When it comes to musicians, though, some people clearly think they don’t deserve to be paid at all. Why not?

The conversation about how to refer to one’s assignment, should not push musicians further away from religious spaces, force them to choose how they want to make a living, or question their devotion to, or relationship with God. That’s not fair. 

I’m sure every working musician has had someone tell him or her to get a “real” job. 
That is not only insulting, but supports the notion that music is a hobby, and musicians aren’t professionals who should be fairly or adequately compensated. 
Everybody wants great music, nonetheless. 
The attitudes copped, and complaints hurled when it doesn’t come without cost, prove how entitled people think they are to the skills and gifts of others.

It is discouraging, and problematic, when the organization that boasts that it represents God, has such an abysmal reputation for devaluing people. 
It is tragic when the church employs the worst, under-the-table, questionable business practices, and the least concern for the well-being of those whose skills are utilized the most. 

When it comes to musicians, we conflate “ministry” with volunteerism. 
We praise being broke and struggling as if it’s a sign of integrity and work ethic. 
Why is it that every other professional can openly discuss compensation for the work they do without criticism, but musicians (and singers) should keep quiet, settle for less, not know their worth, or expect a fair AND timely wage for what they do—WHEREVER they do it? 

Is it that most people don’t view what musicians do as legitimate work
Is that why people who seek musicians expect something for little or nothing? 
Is the opportunity to work, presented to musicians in such an unprofessional, tacky, underhanded, manipulative, desperate, trivial, or shady way, that the work isn’t taken seriously? 
Is that why musicians pass on certain “opportunities” and eagerly accept others?

Do people assume that musicians are double-minded, hireling, heathens who don’t pray, praise, or worship? 
Is that why we turn up our noses when we see former church musicians making a good living away from sacred spaces?
 
Has “worship” become such a polluted, shallow, hyped, showy, and commercialized thing, that musicians (who have always had a bird’s eye view of leaders, and what’s going on behind the scenes in religious institutions), are simply calling it the way they see it—a gig?

Church culture and mishandling of scripture has caused us to be manipulative, harsh, demanding, unreasonable, judgmental, possessive, and cheap when it comes to the talents of others. 
We want excellence but don’t always invest in it, encourage it, or model it. 
We expect sacrifice from everyone except ourselves. 
We want OUR check in full, and on time for the work WE do, but we want everyone else to sow, sacrifice, and volunteer. 

Godliness isn’t gullibility, nor stupidity. 
Knowing your worth isn’t arrogance. 
Commitment shouldn’t mean being broke, burned out, miserable, and bitter. 
Doing right by people who work shouldn’t be so hard, but it is darn near impossible for those who are misinformed, selfish, controlling, greedy, and entitled. 

Is there a new crop of musicians who have determined that they will not be gaslit or bamboozled into being slaves?
If so, good for them.

Maybe young musicians are tired of seeing older musicians in financial trouble, not being able to take care of their families, in bad health, dying without wills; without insurance, and needing crowd-sourcing campaigns to have a decent funeral. 
Maybe young musicians are smarter than we’d like them to be, and not falling for the “reasonable service” racket. 
Maybe young musicians know that even if they don’t allow themselves to be manipulated into working for free, they’re STILL saved because they confessed Christ. They know that their redemption is not the result of sitting in a pit or loft for hours every Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday. 
They know that their relationship with God isn’t strong because they kept quiet about all of the short, late, rubber, or postdated checks they received, but because he genuinely loves them, and wants abundant life for them, too. 

It’s amazing how we get mad when someone else appreciates what we take advantage of. Why should we be offended when someone demonstrates their appreciation of excellence in tangible, meaningful ways. 

Who’s more like Christ? 
The principled one who treats people with respect, and handles business with integrity, or the trickster who always has a sob story, or is always trying to get over on people by using religious rhetoric?
 
Lately, some churches are stealing from recording artists by playing and broadcasting recorded, copyrighted music during services, because they don’t want to adequately pay live musicians—whose names are in the credits on the recordings!

We say “a workman is worthy of his hire” but we “pay” musicians with dinner plates, sheet cake, plaques, pizza, and corsages. 
We find money for everything else, except blessing musicians in a such a way that they won’t need, or WANT to do anything else except prepare for, and serve at weekly convocations. 

Maybe if the church wasn’t so fractured; maybe if churches would consolidate, and not divide communities by having a branch on, and in between every corner, there would be local church orchestras. There would be enough resources to maintain committed, resident musicians, who would then be happy to teach and mentor the next generation.
 
I want to see what would happen if every church member—every doctor, lawyer, plumber, clerk, electrician, driver, engineer, accountant, teacher, nurse, mechanic, entrepreneur, etc.—is required to provide their professional services, free of charge, for the same amount of hours that musicians work. 
Things would change, perceptions would change, and maybe musicians wouldn’t need to accept those dreaded “gigs” to make ends meet.

SUNDAY THOUGHTS: GOD’S GETTING READY

Is it habit, parroting, manipulative, cruel, encouraging, hype, a patience builder, a con job, or prophetic? If God does nothing else, my mind, concerning His actions, is sufficiently “blown”.

I admit, I hear, “God’s getting ready to...” and chuckle sometimes. It’s as if God is teasing or procrastinating; like He’s delaying gratification for dramatic effect; as if He’s biting his bottom lip, wide-eyed, giddy, and bobbing, weaving, and rocking back and forth like a little girl trying to decide when’s the best time to jump into Double Dutch ropes, so that she can dazzle everybody with fancy moves that most never knew, or doubted she even had. 

What does God’s prep look like? Is it signaled by the global chaos, tragedy, upheaval, and bad news we’re exposed to 24/7? Is this the stage and time for us to pull up a seat, grab some popcorn, and watch him work?

I don’t know what he’s getting ready to do, but I woke up today very grateful for what He’s done. 


Friday, February 7, 2020

BE ANXIOUS FOR NOTHING

I don’t know who drew it, but I like this illustration. I imagine there are a lot of people who need a hug right about now. It’s a wonder we don’t all drink. From Iowa to China to DC, there’s a whole lot of craziness going on. We’re discouraging integrity and empowering dishonesty; booing truth and applauding lies.

Who knew how many people could be bought; how many formerly principled people could play dumb and shut their eyes? 
There is, of course, nothing new under the Sun. This wackiness, too, shall pass. History won’t be kind to the principal players, though.
I watched some of the gloating fest yesterday. I’m not a doctor, but something is not right. I actually am praying. Never mind impeachment or removal. I’m praying for someone who genuinely cares to intervene. I’m not a fan, but is there no one who loves him? Not as a leader, or a wealthy man, but as a human being? 

I’m not a fan of blind loyalty, either. Marching in lockstep behind an unprincipled individual is unwise. Excusing untenable behavior is how brats and monsters are made—and what ever convinces anyone that a disloyal individual won’t turn on them, too? Maybe people were blackmailed, bribed, or threatened into complicity before, but they shouldn’t relax now. More of their souls will be required.

There’s admiration and respect, and then there’s narcissistic suppliers and opportunistic brown nosers. Leaders, it matters who’s in your circle. The people with whom you surround yourselves, matter. Are they smart? Thoughtful? Objective? Discerning? Honest? Brave?  Sober? Sane? Are you mentoring like Jesus, or collecting yes-men, enablers, and bootlickers? 
Those who don’t care will prop you up at your absolute worst as long as they are in the shot; they’ll cheer everything you say and do; they’ll co-sign and repeat lies and celebrate unwise decisions. They’ll be too invested, compromised, or afraid to tell you the truth, but will ridicule you behind your back. 
Choose wisely— and every now and then talk to people who have nothing to gain from you.

‪There are evil people in this world; so evil that they don’t even realize it. Their hearts are hardened and their minds are twisted. If not for those who enable, ignore, and minimize their actions, they’d not be able to inflict so much pain, and cause so much chaos. But, the world has always had evil people in it. They always lose eventually. No one ever gets away with anything. I am genuinely afraid for them. No one should trifle with the grace they’re being shown. So many leaders are too busy reveling in their perceived victories, conquests, schemes, and power to remember how fragile they are. 

Evil won’t  reign forever. In that, I find great comfort. It relieves— no erases— the anxiety and fear I’d otherwise have each day. There was a reminder in the rain today.

#beanxiousfornothing ‬

HEROES and GOOD NEWS






FRIDAY THOUGHTS: FICTIVE KINSHIP STRIKES AGAIN


Fictive kinship will always be with us, it seems. 
We don’t have to be present, or personally involved in a thing in any way, but we respond as if we are; as if everything is our collective business. 
We are fa-mi-ly. 

Oppression did a number on us; so did assimilation. We’re really hard on each other when we’re hard on each other.

With our collective reputation always on the line, we are compelled to tune-in to all things Black. 
We are the inventors, and frequent users of whataboutism. It’s an answer to injustice and hypocrisy. 
We absorb shame, embarrassment, fear, anger, grief, disgust, and joy. 
We pray, if there are atrocities occurring, that no one who looks like us is the ringleader. 

We’ve been conditioned to be each other’s critics, therapists, covers, keepers; defenders, saviors,  judges, juries, and executioners. 
We have to keep each other in line; make sure we’re all “acting right”, and not making each other look foolish in the eyes of a world that expects us to act like fools. 
We monitor success. 
We measure humility.
We keep score.
We read minds. 
We discern intentions.

We’re still fighting to prove we’re equal; just as good; just as human; just as competent. 
We’re still looking for recognition at ceremonies; seats at tables; security and freedom in high places.

We’re still struggling to be heard; still trying to fit in, and belong. 
We’re still trying to play a game by rules that weren’t written with us in mind, and are always subject to change—especially if we look like we are winning. 
We are deeply affected by the missteps of anyone who looks like us. 
We can’t get away from being perceived as a monolith. We fight against that so much, that we often go too far to be different. We code-switch like crazy until our speech is mind-numbingly fake, cartoony nasal, and harsh. 

It’s exhausting being us.

We study ourselves and everyone else, but we can’t shake this hue that apparently says we’re supposed to think, act, believe, and feel the same. 

We are taught to keep secrets; protect family business, and collectively call out, correct, and shun house slaves, coons, Uncle Toms, mammies, bed wenches, snitches, sellouts, bootlickers, Republicans, and anything, anyone, or any behavior that sets us back a century or two. 

Some, however, have refused to board the fictive kinship bandwagon. They are tired of, and don’t want to be identified or labeled any longer. 
They’re weary of all things racial. 
They’re in denial about the formulas and optics they satisfy. 
They’re tired of walking on eggshells. 
They’ve overcome--or at least, that's what they tell themselves. 
They’re often the “only” in the room.  
They think their work can speak for them; that there’s fairness, respect, equity; that rules of engagement are universal; that everyone in the corridors they navigate are colorblind; that the content of their character is the first thing people see. They move confidently, arrogantly even, until they are abruptly reminded that, even with all of their skill, accomplishments, longevity, degrees, awards, notoriety, philanthropy, and expertise, they are still Black—and not the least bit indispensable. 
It’s sad to see them hurled back to Black Earth after they were so warmly embraced over “There” and led to believe they’d arrived and overcome.

Fictive kinship has spurred the current dragging of a well known journalist, and the apologetic backpedaling is no surprise. 
Remember how she was praised for her handling of “Robert”? So, it’s my guess that she was tossed the latest Black man story, too. 
Someone wanted a scoop at the expense of a grieving WNBA player—who kept her composure, but her eyes told it all. “Oh, no you DIDN’T! You’re one of us! How COULD you?”  She was not going to tarnish the memory of her friend, or be backed into a corner for the sake of ratings. 

I'm sure the journalist forged on under the guise of being professional and impartial, but she went down Juicy Tabloid Road, and abandoned compassion. 
She wasn’t aware of her gaze or tone. 
She forgot that pesky, “We gotta stick together” rule. She forgot that fictive kinship overrules “I was just doing my job.” 
She crossed the line that gets people tagged with that tap-dancing Daffy Duck meme. 

It’s often too late and very sad when those whose statuses make it seem like we’re in a post-racial America, realize that doing their jobs actually means being props, plants, and puppets. 
Doing their jobs means maintaining the status quo; personifying the perceptions, parroting the rhetoric, promoting the stereotypes, and doing the dirty work of others. 

Viewers wanted the journalist to, at least, pretend to be a fellow mourner (after all, it’s Black History Month). Black America wasn’t looking for “tea” to be spilled, or a fishing expedition in the sea of forgetfulness. The questions were too soon, inappropriate, and the very dirt seekers that guarantee the “asterisk” spoken of by comedian Eddie Griffin.

The late White House press corp journalist, Helen Thomas said, "...what is a journalist without energy, enthusiasm, and integrity, plus insatiable curiosity, and courage?" The operative word is “integrity”. 
A journalist can be serious, hard-hitting, and objective without being petty, catty, insulting, offensive, or a jerk.

Some reach heights in their professions, and think they have the okay to do what all the others do; they inflict hurt and then declare “it’s not personal”. 
They think the machine will always defend them. Wrong. 
When you don’t own the machine, there will always be someone poised to tell you that you’re getting too big for your britches. 
The machine doesn’t like liabilities or pushback.

No matter who you are, throwing your own under the bus for the entertainment of others, and dragging for the dead is always a bad look.

Social media is having a field day. 
Black Twitter Cancel Culture is already rescinding cookout invitations, and proposing an immediate trade for Mitt Romney.




Wednesday, February 5, 2020

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: DECISION MAKERS



WHY is someone who doesn’t celebrate art or artists EVER tasked to spearhead an artists’ celebration? 
It all goes back to the motives, awareness, and respectfulness—or carelessness and cluelessness of decision makers. 

Artists are often subjected to condescending individuals, who have decided that the maintenance of humility is their job. 
These often insecure, frustrated souls labor under the misapprehension that artists are unintelligent, one-dimensional, self-absorbed, desperate, pampered, and naive; incapable of cogent thought, or speech, and unable to decide what’s best for themselves. Because of this, they think artists are to be controlled, berated, corralled, put upon, tested, manipulated, silenced, threatened, or intimidated. 

Even if an artist HAS a platform, it’s not his or hers to use without being told what, or what not to say, do, or be (by someone who couldn’t replicate what the artist has accomplished if their lives depended on it. 

Sidebar: Pay attention to those people who insist you NEED them, and push what’s important to them, but detrimental to you, i.e., it’s nice that the smoke machine works, but for a singer, the sound man is the main man, and the microphone is the principal thing. How about we invest in getting THAT right? But I digress...)

Unless you’ve been camping under a rock, you can google people you’re considering hiring, inviting, including, or suggesting for a job or event. 
If you know them, or have experience with them, you have an idea of their shtick, attitude, temperament, beliefs, strengths, competence, habits, etc. You know if they’re cooperative, kind, principled, skilled, gracious or pleasant. 
You also know if they have built their reputation or brand on being shady, rude, bourgeoisie, mean, arrogant, antagonistic, selfish, profane, disrespectful, offensive, demanding, pushy, or negative. 
You know if the fit will be good or disastrous— if you care. 

The shock and disappointment over behavior, or a performance, when someone has been consistent and true to what, and who they’ve ALWAYS been, is laughable. 
You know what you’re going to get when you enlist the services of some people. When they show out, you’re ready to label them “difficult”, “inappropriate”, “embarrassing”, or “controversial”. 
Why pretend to complain or be appalled when they’re merely meeting or exceeding your expectations? 
Don’t invite drama, bullying, or controversy, and there won’t BE any— or is that, too often, the plan?


It all comes down to the decision makers. Who’s in charge? Who has the final say?

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: AWARDS



Mother Teresa. 
A. Phillip Randolph. 
The crew of Apollo 13. 
Margaret Thatcher. 
Aretha Franklin.

They were all recipients of the Presidential Medal of Freedom. 

I’m convinced that someone thought it would be good television to baffle, bewilder, deceive, and further amaze people on Rosa Parks’ birthday...during Black History Month. 

That’s it. I must have been watching a show; a movie; a farce. 
This swamp-draining drama is very entertaining. There hasn’t been such obvious disdain of a character since J.R. Ewing. 
The paper ripping scene was so realistic! 
I wonder if the alternative script was too violent for prime time.

The audacity is certainly historic. 
Favor really isn’t fair, and compromised people really do know how to bootlick. 
(I think they all go home, drink, and cry). 
So many fearful, hardened hearts, guilty consciences, and sold souls in one room, applauding like trained seals would be hilarious if it wasn’t so painfully sad. Integrity and discernment  CAN be bought; ignorance and hatred can be rewarded. 
WHO rewards you, though, matters greatly, and determines whether you should be proud, or feel like a sucker.

Appointments and awards abound on this swamp-draining show. 
Every time you turn around, there’s a new one that’s designed to answer perceived deficiencies in an old one. 

You hope the aim is to promote standards, competence, and excellence. 
Some, unfortunately, are mere hustles; money makers that promote mediocrity in order to line the pockets of those who know how to manipulate egos and the insecure. 
Some awards are bribes. 
Some are to correct past wrongs and snubs. 
Some are rigged; fixed; political and shrouded in controversy and bigotry. 
Some are exclusive. 
Some are given in jest; others to infuriate or push an agenda. 
Some are worthless and merely for show. 
Some are to shine light on, and elevate the status of the giver or an organization, as opposed to the recipient. 

Given haphazardly, thoughtlessly, unfairly, or underhandedly, causes the value of an award to diminish. 
Once respected, coveted awards lose all credibility, value, and meaning when given deceitfully. 

Tiffany Haddish was right. Anyone can have a trophy made if they just want to have one.

Where is the honor if anyone is eligible to receive an award, whether they deserve it or not; when more obviously deserving candidates are in plain sight? Even recipients should know when they’re being used to minimize or make a mockery of a thing. 
Who’s ever proud of being a party to a sham? 

Being recognized for what you do is an honor, but do you really want something you don’t deserve and didn’t earn (other than God’s grace)? 
How arrogant, ruthless, and delusional do you have to be? 
Look around. Who’s in your circle and who’s the ringleader putting you on a pedestal? Are THEY qualified, respected and sincere, or are they using you to needle someone else? 
Who wants an award that’s a sympathy move, an afterthought, a slap in the faces of every other recipient, or a joke?

Someone with unchecked power, decided to bestow an award designed to recognize “an especially meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, world peace, cultural, or other significant public or private endeavors” to someone who deserved it as much as a hollow tree. 
I suppose he’s entitled to his opinion of what’s "meritorious". 
The award may as well be a Cracker Jack prize. 

I wonder what else will be cheapened before this show’s all done. 
So far, it’s playing like a bad dream, but Black people have seen iterations of this show before.

Suddenly I feel like singing “By and By”. 

Though I am neither discouraged nor anxious, I do anticipate the return of the lesser exciting and entertaining, but absolutely welcome Justice, Integrity, and Common Sense. 

Tuesday, February 4, 2020

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: EVERY FEBRUARY FOURTH

On this day in 2003, my Mom died. 
I still find it difficult to wrap my mind around the thought. 
I can't phone her. 
It's so weird, but I can still hear her voice. 
Whether it was public-speaking-proper, or tinged with a little Louisiana drawl as she chatted on the phone with friends, it was a wonderful display of proud, educated, southern Black girl magic.
 
Mommy always said, “Always put your best foot forward. Know when to turn it on and when to turn it off.” She knew how to navigate any environment.

Every now and then, I encounter people being disrespectful to their mothers, and I transform into Supergirl--confronting ungrateful, out-of-control, smart-mouthed brats (young and old), one department or grocery store at a time. I know it‘s a little dangerous, and I know it isn't, but in the moment, somehow, I feel it IS my business. 
I don't know how many people I've confronted over the last 17 years. "Excuse me. You have your mom with you. You can talk to her, yet you choose to talk like THAT? I would give anything to be able to shop with my Mom. If I want to visit MY mom, I have to go to Ft. Lincoln Cemetery." 
I don't know how many stunned and ashamed faces I've walked away from, hoping that they'd get it. 
You only get one mom. 
There may be many "play" moms, godmothers, aunts, and even teachers, but only one mom. 
For whatever one's mom may be, or may have been, the fact is, she chose to go through with the delivery. That, alone, deserves much respect, (according to the person who terrified a very pregnant me when she said, “Going into labor is about as close to dying as you’re gonna get.”)

I go through what has become a yearly ritual. 
I can’t sleep, or a restless the night of February 3rd. 
I look at photographs--no I gaze at them--especially the ones where it seems as if she's looking directly at me. 
I look at the viral, praise break clip from "Persuaded: Live in Washington" filmed at Jericho City of Praise. In a few, brief scenes, there's Mommy, smiling, and un-apologetically clapping away on 1 and 3. 

I try to remember things that she said. 
I read messages from her former students. 
I think about the years she spent teaching for D.C. Public Schools, first at Birney Elementary, then H.D. Woodson, then P. R. Harris Educational Center (formerly Friendship). 
I look in the mirror, and see more, and more, AND more of her face in mine. 
I enjoy some popcorn-- prepared the old-fashioned way. (Mommy LOVED popcorn).
I take a virtual trip to Addis, Louisiana, courtesy of YouTube or Google maps.

Although I can't erase from my mind the sight of the Washington Hospital Center emergency room staff working frantically to save her from the pulmonary embolism that claimed her life, each year I do feel a little more empowered. 
I was alone that morning, and saw what no child--not even an adult child--should see, but I thank God for the time Mommy DID have on Earth.
 
She was extraordinary. In every dream I've had since she died, where Mommy is featured, she is beautiful, carefree, happy, fit, and very busy with her wonderful life.

1936–2003. 
Someone said it's what happens during the dash that matters most. That she even lived as long as she did was a miracle. Mommy was a preemie. I still remember how dramatically my Auntee Lillian described her birth. The midwife had given her up because she weighed only 1lb., 1 ounce. 
"I kept working with her" Auntee said, and then she made a sound. Auntee said she fed her with a medicine dropper, and dressed her in doll's clothes. She said my grandmother was very sick and was fearful of holding her at first. 
That little baby became a remarkable woman, and her positive impact on so many lives is still being felt. 

Miss you, Mommy.
Rest in peace.