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Called to do Better

3/3/2021

His name is President Joe Biden.
Her name is Vice President Kamala Harris.
His name is Governor Greg Abbott.

Calling any of them anything other than their names, particularly as it relates to their religion, race/ethnicity or their disability is immature, mean, and does not reflect any value set that I hope anyone reading my posts would have.

They will each make policy decisions or take positions with which we will not agree. They may make statements that infuriate, disappoint, or even put us at an emotional, social or financial disadvantage.
And, we can respectfully disagree while working to reverse said decisions.

But, we cannot continue to berate, belittle and mock those with whom we differ. We must not.
Have we learned nothing almost a year into this pandemic? Have we considered that we are our own undoing? That our lack of compassion, grace, and basic decency is why we yet remain in the wilderness? We ask God to release us as we mock His children. How would any good parent respond?

It is heartbreaking to see and read some of things being posted by children of God on any given day. In these last few days, and specifically, the last 24 hours, I have been dumbfounded at these personal attacks on our elected leaders.

These sexist, racist, and ableist comments must cease. We are better than this. If we are not, shame on us.

I’m all for attacking policy. Point out the systems that cause harm to us or create biases against certain communities. I’m excited to vote for and elect leaders who want to help my community. I just don’t have the stomach to hate those who I perceive that may not have my best interest at heart. I can’t give my energy to darkness if I am trying to be the light.

Besides, I’ve got Canaan in my view.

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Imagine That.

1/21/2021

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If your timeline is diverse enough, on yesterday you likely saw images of women wearing Chucks (Converse) and pearls in tribute the incoming Vice President and her footwear and neckwear of choice.

You may have seen alumni from Howard University or other HBCUs wearing their respective college gear.

You may have seen little girls posed next to the television while the VP was taking the oath.

You may have seen images being shared of the former FLOTUS in her amazing outfit and flawless hairstyle or the Young Poet Laureate whose words both stilled and rocked the nation or fist bump between the new VPOTUS and POTUS 44.

You may have seen hashtags like #BlackGirlMagic or #myVPlookslikeme or #kamalaharrisday.

If you saw any of this and it left you feeling uncomfortable or disconnected or confused about all the pride being displayed; just for a moment stop to imagine how your friends doing the posting have felt for literally ever other inauguration (except the ones in 2009 and 2013.)

Imagine reading your nation’s history in most books and not finding any respectable connection to it.

Imagine seeing man after man after man take these sacred oaths and wonder if a woman would ever be trusted to do the same.

Imagine proudly choosing to attend one of the many Black colleges in this nation and having your degree held in question or deemed less than simply because of its origin or HBCU designation.

Imagine finally having a woman, a woman of color no less, to win the vice presidential election only to have the results challenged in courts with unsubstantiated claims and lies that she did not win. Then, on the very day her election was to be confirmed by the US Senate, rioters storm the Capitol to attempt to stop the process.

Imagine seeing the colors of your sorority being rocketed into the sky as part of the inauguration fireworks display over the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool and to see those colors fly just as high and bright and beautiful as the red, white, and blue.

Imagine that all of these things occur 400 years after the first slaves were brought into this unsettled land to literally build a nation that would systemically abuse, berate, and oppress the descendants of those same slaves for centuries. Yes, centuries.

We do not beg your pardon for our excitement yesterday at the election and inauguration of Vice President Kamala D. Harris nor do we wish rub it in your face with our social media posts. We are simply proud.

And, the old adage “act like you’ve been there before” simply doesn’t apply because we haven’t been in this space before.

Yet, here we are. Here. We. Stand.

Here’s another little secret: We like it and we will be back.

Imagine that.

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Goodbye, 2020.

12/31/2020

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I had anticipated writing my annual Top Ten moments of the year. But 2020 has been the master teacher and we the unwilling students.
She has done what she wanted during this twelve months without regard for our plans.
This very last day of this year was a mirror of who she is and what she aimed to teach us.
She was cold and dreary yet I found warmth inside my home.
She rained consistently yet the brief respites allowed us to move about as needed.
She restricted the loud, boisterous company to which we were accustomed yet the quiet brought peace I never knew I needed.
She was not the perfect day yet I cannot complain with what she wrought.
Her presence was strong but also fleeting.
This year, this 2020, wrecked havoc on many while bringing fortune and long chased dreams to others.
She stole loved ones but she could not snatch memories.
She forced tears but could not prevent smiles.
She has done what she might and she is now part of our history.
She has given me many moments that could qualify as “Top Ten” but I will not let her limit me this year. I could go on and on and on about the goodness this year has brought me despite her attempts to steal my joy. She did not win.
She might very well be the teacher but I am the keeper of the lessons. I was taking notes.
I am ready for the next professor, 2021.
Thanks to her predecessor, Miss 2020, I am more prepared than ever.
Goodbye.
And Hello, 2021.

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The Post Election Worship Experience

11/8/2020

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Many are worshipping this morning with a heart of jubilation; for answered prayers; for relief that appears to be on the horizon.

Yet many are worshiping through a sense of loss, disappointment, and sadness on a path forward that seemingly doesn’t include their own hopes and dreams.
Our God welcomes it all.

He welcomes each shout and each tear. He embraces every praise and every fear. He is Lord of all creation. He holds us all in the palm of His hand.

Perhaps this is the day we release ourselves from the pendulum that swings these very human emotions every four years during presidential elections in our nation.

Perhaps today is the day we see each other in Christ and not through the lens of our politics.

Perhaps today is the day we recognize how disingenuous it was not to properly acknowledge the Commander in Chief as Mr. President instead of the terrible things many of us have called him for four years.

Perhaps today is the day we become better than those we have loathed for the four years when they referred to the President as simply a number by choosing today to address the President-Elect by his title and not a belittling nickname heard throughout the campaign.

Perhaps today is the day we let America do what she has always done throughout her tumultuous, chaotic yet beautiful history: we let her evolve into who she has always wanted to become. We let America be the land of opportunity, freedom, justice and liberty for all.

Perhaps today we just worship and thank God for the chance to bring all of our emotions to His feet.

To be fair, I am overjoyed that a woman, yes, a Black woman has been elected to the second highest office in the land. But I have experienced the gut-punching pain of political loss and I understand deeply what it feels to have your personal ideals rejected by others.

This one thing I also know: God invites us all to experience Him in the most personal way in our victories and in our defeats. And, when that happens, the politics of life gets smaller as He is magnified.

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When it's your turn...

6/5/2020

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The week before my wedding, my Daddy was admitted to the hospital. The doctors stated his condition would require surgery and at least two weeks recovering in the hospital. Miraculously, his condition changed within a few days and he was released on Tuesday in enough time to walk me down the aisle.

When people told my mom they “knew” God wasn’t going to allow him to miss my wedding, she responded gratefully yet humbly with a statement I’ll never forget: “It won’t always be someone else’s husband. It won’t always be someone else’s daddy.”

She couldn’t have been more right.

While that wasn’t our case in 2003, it is our situation in 2020.

Today, it was her husband and it was my daddy.

We are in unfamiliar territory yet we are not alone. We have felt the love and support of family and friends both near and far. We have always been able to saturate ourselves in daddy’s light. Please continue to cover my mom, brother, Victor, the boys and me as we attempt to walk in the light of his love from a distance.

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#ShelterInPlace

4/19/2020

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One of the few things I love about the #ShelterInPlace is the stillness of Sunday mornings. No hustle and bustle to get out of the house.
No double-checking for forgotten phones, class workbooks or bibles.
Just stillness.
Awaking to gather to worship.
The boys huddled together listening to the sermon. Often humming the songs.
The eyes of my parents fixed on their own worship service, their minister, and their own fellowship announcements.
Then there’s us.
I usually join Victor midway through worship after my daily work calls. The information on the calls is generally worrisome but I leave it behind to go worship.
Sitting by his side.
Praying.
Singing.
Hoping.
Trusting.
It’s Sunday.
It’s quiet and reverent.
And while I desperately miss the fellow saints, I am enjoying these moments to pause and experience God in this way.

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If you are...

3/13/2020

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As COVID-19 reaches our shores…

If you are a believer, pray.
If you are a policy maker, collaborate.
If you are an influencer, advocate.
If you are a scientist, research.
If you are a caregiver, love.
If you are civil, comply.
If you are confused, listen.
If you are anxious, breathe.
If you are wise, do all of the above.

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Taking Down My 2016 Sign

1/13/2017

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While driving with my sons one afternoon, we passed the building where our church used to meet before any of them were born. I pointed to it and told them of the building’s significance. They asked relevant questions like “how long we were there” and “when did we move.”

My youngest son asked why our sign wasn’t still on the property. I explained that we took our sign down when we sold the building to another group.

Wanting a better answer, he pressed again. “Couldn’t the sign say we used to be there?”

I explained that we had taken down our sign because we were no longer going to be in that space. Our church was moving on to a new location. If the sign remained, people would assume they could find us there and they wouldn’t. The signage needed to be in our new location.

“You wouldn’t want a sign where you used to be. You need the sign where you are actually going to be,” I said.

His questions pulled at me because they came at a time when I was struggling with various signs in my own life that needed to be taken down or replaced.

Signs of disappointment, fear, and frustration were still hanging around my heart. I had allowed temporary situations to impact my disposition on far too many occasions because I hadn’t moved on. I still had some of those signs permanently affixed to my life.

Sure, I had voiced on many occasions that I had taken those signs down but the echoes of those hurts were still ringing in my head.

If I truly wanted freedom from those situations, I had to stop reliving those moments from the past and visiting the pain they caused. I needed to uproot those old signs and toss them in the trash – not the recycling bin.

I needed to move on.

More than that, I had to put up signs in my new territory. I needed signs of forgiveness, peace and hope as permanent fixtures that reflect the prosperity and joy of my life.

There is new territory to occupy and greater things to accomplish in 2017 if we’re willing to make the commitment to leave the past exactly where it belongs.

Happy New Year. Happy New Me.

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My Marriage (Like My Dress) Doesn't Fit Anymore

1/9/2017

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It’s not unusual for brides to become laser-focused on getting in shape for their big day. From personal trainers to weight loss programs to fad diets, I did it all to be in the best shape possible for my wedding. It worked! I felt beautiful and my wedding dress fit perfectly.

Thirteen years later. I’m not the size that I was on my wedding day. If I’m honest, I wasn’t that size at our one year anniversary. I’ve been varying sizes throughout our marriage, and in fact, I’m not the same size I was last year.

Recently, I was frustrated looking through my closet trying to find clothes that fit. The struggle was real. Some of my favorite outfits didn’t look or feel like they once had. I couldn’t even remember why I liked them so much.

I had to acquiesce to the fact that I wasn’t the same size anymore. I needed new clothes.

While wearing one of my new dresses, my husband walks by, then stops and turns around offering this remark that made my day, “Wow. You look great!”

My “size” hadn’t changed but my clothes had. They fit.

Marriage can be like that in many ways. We aren’t the same people we were when we took our vows, and I don’t just mean physically. We’ve grown in ways we couldn’t even imagine.

Our capacities for tolerance, compromise, and love for our spouses have stretched beyond belief. Our successes have transformed our marriages in the same ways our failures have strengthened them. The addition of children, the death of parents, illness, job loss or an empty nest places your marriage in different seasons. The only constant in your marriage is the two people.

The problem comes when we respond to our ever-evolving marriages in the same manner we did as newlyweds or even previous years. You’re different and so is your marriage.

Our premarital counselor encouraged us to write a mission statement for our marriage and we did. He warned us that whatever we wrote at the beginning stage wouldn’t be applicable in the next three years or the next thirty. He was right. Our mission statement has been rewritten twice in our thirteen years marriage.

If you feel as if your marriage is in a rut, examine it closely. Maybe it’s wearing a dress that doesn’t fit anymore.

Are you struggling to be the spouse you were five years ago? Is it time to review household or kid duties again? Is the husband spending more time with the family since his promotion? Is it time to buy a new house or add a new room?

Discuss the mundane and challenging parts of marriage with your spouse to see if that’s what is keeping your marriage moving to the next level. Decide together to try and find the right “fit” for your marriage in its current stage.

And, when you find the right fit, you’ll love how your marriage makes you look and feel!

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An Open Thank You Letter to Hillary Clinton

11/14/2016

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Dear Secretary Clinton:

Today, my second-grade son Caleb assumed the presidency of his class and gave his official acceptance speech. He’s been practicing this speech since the day I arrived home from Philadelphia where I was one of your Texas delegates. His campaign theme was “Stronger Together.”

After looking at the many souvenirs I brought home from the convention, he disappeared in the restroom and returned later with a self-recorded video espousing the values on the strength of America’s collective diversity. (It’s a pretty awesome speech. I’d love to show it to you sometime.)

Caleb was a fan of yours and rooted with me for a successful presidential bid.
However, that wasn’t always the case.

Last year, when he discovered I was supporting you, he asked why I wasn’t supporting another Black man for president. To him, his twin brother and our other 11-year-old son, having a Black president was the norm and they knew there was another African American man in the race. I explained that I was casting my lot with a candidate whose decades of experience and commitment to human rights just happened to be in the form of a woman.

“Can a girl be president,” he asked?
“Mommy is a girl. Do you think I could be president?” I followed.
“Of course,” he exclaimed.
“Then so can she,” I stated.

From that moment, he and his brothers followed the campaign until the end falling asleep with half-colored electoral maps last Tuesday night.

When they awoke last Wednesday, they were greeted by their father who explained that I was still in bed and couldn’t take them to school. I was curled in a ball crying unwilling to face the day. I kissed them goodbye, gave a few words of comfort, and sent them on their way.

Caleb stayed back a little and asked, “What will Hillary Clinton do now?”
“I don't know. But, whatever she does, it will be great,” I responded.

After forcing myself to move through the rest of the week, Caleb reminded me that his acceptance speech and reception was today. So, I went out and bought patriotic-themed cupcakes and he signed autographs on red and blue cards with tiny American flags to distribute to his classmates.

As he practiced his speech, I could hear the “Stronger Together” sentiment was still there.

Then it hit me that I was right you doing something great in the future. You've taught the next generation to dream BIG. And, you've encouraged the rest of us to keep believing. That's some major greatness in itself.

Thank you for an amazing journey these last 18 months.

And, thank you in advance for what your candidacy will do for my son's future.

Sincerely,
Caleb's Mom

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Who's Shay?

Shay is a married, working mother of three boys whose interests range from politics to sports to cupcake tasting to classic television. She's seen every episode of "Friends" and "A Different World" and searches for "Law & Order" whenever she has the remote. Insightful and perplexed, Shay writes when her heart is full. Some are based on her Christian faith; others on her whimsical observations of life. The power of the pen gives her peace keeping her grounded in a challenging, overwhelming yet fulfilling world. All writings have copyright protection. Writings from a previous blog are being combined into this one.

Called to do Better

Imagine That.

Goodbye, 2020.

The Post Election Worship Experience

When it's your turn...

#ShelterInPlace

If you are...

Taking Down My 2016 Sign

My Marriage (Like My Dress) Doesn't Fit Anymore

An Open Thank You Letter to Hillary Clinton

Who's Shay?

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