Blind Faith;heart lessons at a rest stop

The kids look forward to our annual beach vacation all year. It’s an opportunity to get away from the day-to-day pressures and routine of school, home-life and chores and simply sleep, eat and play! I look forward to it as well. It’s the only week of the year that we are all home at the same time with no obligations and I am not the only one in the house they can go to for whatever they need. Here they have other adults and older cousins who can drive and are responsible enough to take them to the beach,the local recreation center or keep an eye on them at the house. It’s also a gift to spend quality time with my youngest brother, my god-daughter, nephews and their friends. So much laughter shared among us and I take the opportunity to inject some elder wisdom into our conversations when the subject permits. To have all of this goodness occur at the beach is the icing on the cake!

I plan and save all year. This year, right before our scheduled trip my largest client fell behind considerably on the payment of my monthly retainer. As a precaution I always keep a reserve in my savings but I reserve it for emergencies, and a vacation does not fall under that category. I thought for a minute about cancelling the beach trip but I knew how disappointed the kids would be and I was looking forward to and deserved a break before the school year began. I was angry and frustrated but I moved some money out of my savings, made sure the bills were paid and the fish was fed before I packed up the three of us, and prepared my mind for the six-hour drive ahead of me. Six hours with three anxious and excited kids, and I couldn’t stop worrying that this could be our last trip down here for a while. If my client couldn’t bounce back from their financial problems, could I manage until I found more work? I was supposed to be relaxing but I have to admit I was a little on edge and still wondering if I made the right choice to continue with the vacation.

At about the four-hour mark, my bladder insisted I pull over at the rest stop in Virginia. Stuckey’s is famous for their variety of nuts. Anything from fajita almonds to honey salt cashews; most travelers stop for their fresh pecans and peanuts. I walked in and was instantly reminded of my grandfather Jabez (Pop Pop we called him) known to bring a bag of fresh peanuts home every time he went south to visit his Southern Baptist church family. He grew up near Jimmy Carter’s family peanut farm and founded a Southern Baptist Church nearby Bainbridge, Georgia. I grabbed a few cans of cashews to snack on for the remainder of the trip, handed them to my daughter for safekeeping and hurried to the women’s bathroom.

When I came out of the bathroom my daughter had both cans and a piece of wood shaped like a heart in her hands. She smiled and began to say as if reading my mind “don’t ask Mommy, just buy it..you have to trust me.” I gave her a look that translated into “what are you up to now, Janai and how much is it going to cost me?” I asked her if she could at least tell me the price. She wasn’t sure and again she said “Mommy, just buy it.” My daughter has such a kind heart. She is always giving or creating something to give to a friend or family member, usually at my expense. I love her compassion but it sometimes comes with a high price tag. I finally gave in figuring it must be important to her and I could always return it if it’s too expensive.

Somehow the woman at the register figured out what she was doing because she didn’t say the name of the item, just the price and smiled behind me at Janai. I had to chuckle and was relieved that it was under three dollars and not another high-priced souvenir. When I turned around to go to the car she ran in front of me saying “just wait a minute Mom, I have to do something, just wait.” and shooed me to the passenger side of the car. I still hadn’t a clue what she was doing until she gave me permission to open my car door and reveal her gift. I saw this beautifully painted heart hanging from my rear view mirror with the words “Mom, you are a blessing”. I had to hold back the tears. It’s a special moment when you feel that your children understand all of the strain, struggle and sacrifice you have to go through to make their lives more joyful and take the time to show you how much you’re appreciated. It’s a rare moment and I had to sit there a moment and take it all in before I grabbed the wheel and continued to drive two more hours to our destination.

Later that evening, as I sat back on the balcony with a glass of wine enjoying the sounds of the crashing waves heard from the nearby beach and children’s laughter coming from the pool below I thought about that moment at the rest stop. Not only was my daughter being her sweet thoughtful self, but maybe she was also being used to send me a message from a higher source. I know that there are often times in my life where I am fearful of taking a step and doing something because I can’t see the outcome and I don’t know what lies ahead for me. I want to know what I’m getting into. I don’t trust what I don’t see. Then I’m reminded of one of my favorite anonymous quotes. “God’s gifts put man’s best dreams to shame”. The blessings I often blindly receive are such a powerful statement of love that I never know they are coming. And they are always much more than I could ever have thought to ask for.

This was yet another reminder to trust the process and have faith that something greater is going to be revealed to me. All I could see in my daughter’s hand was a piece of carved wood, but when she was ready to present me with my gift I found it to be more beautiful than I could have ever imagined!

September 5, 2016 3

March 21, 2016 0

A Snowbound, Single-Mom’s Prayer (Original Poetry)

A Snowbound, Single-Mom’s Prayer (Original Poetry).

January 22, 2014 0

A Snowbound, Single-Mom’s Prayer (Original Poetry)

Well, it’s day two of this winter blizzard, and the schools have been closed both days. When you’re homebound with two young, energetic kids you have to keep a sense of humor and an attitude of faith and hope! I enjoy sleeping in, and I love my kids dearly, but boy am I looking forward to the dog days of summer! I wrote this poem for fun. It’s titled “A Snowbound Single-Mom’s Prayer”. Hope you like it:

Now I come in from the cold
No help with groceries
Nor hand to hold
The kids are excited about the snow
And my only prayer is that the lights won’t blow
Please keep the heat and the television going
So I’ll have a little peace and work flow while it’s snowing
And after movies, popcorn and snuggling of course
And the kids are finally tucked in their bed
May a handsome and thoughtful neighbor arrive
To lay my salt and shovel a path around my…shed.

January 22, 2014 3

Back to life…back to reality…

Well, today’ it’s back to school for the kids, and getting back to the mindset of prosperity, writing and productive work for me! This year was the first year that I stayed home with the kids for their entire winter break and did not schedule them for day camp at the Y or any other place. I thought that I deserved to have just one day to myself during their ten day break, but intuition told me to just enjoy them. Sometimes when I hear that voice that whispers to me to take time out for them, I can become fearful that I’m getting a message that something may happen to them or me and that is the reason we should cherish this time. But then I realize that sometimes it may just be their subconscious speaking to mine and they just need more mommy time. So, I made sure we had groceries and that the cable bill was paid and made no plans other than to attend a local Kwanzaa celebration and enjoy our family and friends during the holidays. We had a few impromptu yet fulfilling lunch and dinner gatherings with friends, some football, board games, reading, lots of movie time on the couch, a few pajama days and even some days that they were both not feeling well, and recovering. It was the first time that I purposely chose not to try and “use” the time to cram in every library, museum or other extra curricular event that looked exciting and intriguing during the holiday break. They both get so over-worked (in my opinion) at school that I wanted them to just do nothing for a change. Yes we may have put on a pound or two and the kids may be raddled due to the relaxed sleep schedules, but their bodies are healed, they got lots of love, snuggles, family time and cultural enrichment, and most of all a break from the day to day stress of school and extra-curricular activities.

They are not over-scheduled like many suburban kids I know of these days, but I do try to balance the lack

of gross motor activities in the schools with sports and dance and other physical recreation. Aside from the recreation, they both will be taking Mandarin Chinese this semester on Saturday mornings (my son is in his sixth year, and my daughter wants to do whatever her big brother does), so we have a few commitments but not excessive. I don’t do more than one sport in a season unless it’s swimming lessons, and unless they are with their father for the weekend, or beg me to see the latest Disney movie, we spend Friday and Sunday nights at home. Even energetic and/or brilliant kids need down time too. They need time to relax and release and not worry about time and schedules and assignments. And for this reason Friday nights at our house are sacred. They are almost always reserved for what the kids refer to as “movie night”. We get early showers, get in our pajamas, pull out the fleece blankets, search for a great family movie, pop some popcorn (or grab a bag from the Wawa) and head to the couch for snuggle time. It’s the most inexpensive way to treat them to a special night and after all of these years it’s still their favorite night of the week. They love it because they get uninterrupted quality time with me and I love it because I know there will soon be a day when Friday nights will be spent with a blanket, myself and a good book because they’ll be at the mall, going to a movie or a party with their friends. So for now, for reasons I don’t necessarily share with them, it’s my favorite night of the week too!

January 2, 2014 4

Why does being gifted sometimes feel more like a curse?

Janai getting comfortable with the piano at Suburban Music School

Here we go. Time for Parent/Teacher conferences, and once again I anticipate hearing the dreaded and extremely over-used words “we need to work more on focusing, and transitioning.” Ugh!! {deep breath} I have to meditate twice as long on days like this because I get so tired of trying to explain to teachers why my kids don’t fit inside their square box. “No, he/she is not like Johnny Appleseed because he/she is gifted/talented”. I get frustrated with the need to defend them and it sometimes gets exhausting trying to compensate for the enrichment that they are not getting in school because everything is so “standardized”. All of the intense focus on testing is torture for their little creative minds and it sends the message to them at an early age that the way they process information is not “normal”. Because of it, instead of teaching and it’s the teacher’s job to spend the rest of their elementary school days helping them to conform to the norm. It makes my skin crawl. But I digress…

Although I was identified gifted in middle school and the gene is reportedly transferred from the mother (though I often feel motherhood slowly reverses my intelligence), I still did not identify the traits in my son. I was told by my pediatrician that most two-year olds, especially male, cannot count to 30, recite the alphabet, and identify all shapes and colors. Really?? It was my first child, and I knew he was ahead of the doctor’s normal checklists, but those Baby Einstein commercials made me think all toddlers could read! Even still, after being tested, identified and accelerated, I was faced with the same comments by teachers who just didn’t get him. And it’s so frustrating for the child and the parent because we know there are so any resources out there and we don’t understand why the teachers aren’t educated about the pros and cons of being gifted and/or talented. He was in preschool reading chapter books and about to start on multiplication tables, yet the school’s director never thought to have him tested. Even more so she received a copy of his IQ test results, and never once mentioned them. She, the founder and Director of the school – an educator – never met with me to discuss their findings and never said another word about it. So, we left.

I am so thankful for the S.E.N.G. http://www.sengifted.org/Organization’s conferences on the Gifted, and the conference I attended on the education of blacks in suburban school districts, because they both armed me with the courage and information I needed to be his advocate and get him the support, effective teaching and curriculum that he deserved and needed. It took a few years of personal and academic success before his elementary school was convinced that acceleration could be effective, even with a male student. When he was admitted into his elementary school’s gifted program, he was the only African-American male in the entire school district who was identified gifted. That’s four elementary schools. How sad and intolerant… and a whole other blog post!

So here we are again. Now my daughter Janai could care less about reading or memorizing sight words, hasn’t been given an IQ test, nor exhibited any academically gifted tendencies (as of yet), but I do believe she has an extraordinarily creative mind and ear for music. James’ strength is visual, and hers is auditory. He has a photographic memory, and she has sensory gifts that even astound her new piano teacher. Janai has more energy than the Energizer bunny and it takes a lot of effort for her to have a full course at dinner without getting up to dance or taking a quick spin around her seat. She is constantly singing, and I am convinced that she hears music in her head most of the time. After all,my grandmother MaryBelle Bumbrey was a trained pianist, and her cousin is Grace Bumbrey http://www.musicianguide.com/biographies/1608000604/grace-bumbry.html , a world-renowned opera singer so it is quite possible.

The other night, after practicing at home to prepare for her piano lesson, she asked if she could play her own composition for me. After she was finished, I suggested she play it for her instructor later that evening, and she did. I adore him because he sees past her age and her occasional spins around the classroom, applauds her creativity, honors her musicality and is going to work with her to fine tune her piece and put it onto paper. After only five lessons, and not quite six years old, she is already attempting to write her own melodies. I don’t know about you but at that age I was making (and eating) mud pies with not a thought about composing music!

And all this from a kid who’s teacher thinks that we need to “work on focus”. Yet when I watch her at the piano, I see nothing but.

And yes I understand the concerns of the educators, the importance of structure, transitioning, and testing, etc. – well maybe not the testing – but I also believe that it’s the role of parents and educators alike to make sure that the two worlds meet. We both need to educate ourselves, seek out the resources that these young, gifted and talented beings need to embrace their truth and ensure that the gift and or talent is experienced as a joy and a pleasure rather than a burden and a curse. These beautiful souls have so much of their world to share with ours if we just let them be perfectly themselves.

How do you support yourself and your children in recognizing and embracing your/their gift(s)?

February 28, 2013 10

From Whence Cometh My Help…

I don’t know why I thought of my grandmother MaryBelle this morning, but her face popped up in my head when I awakened to start my day. I am up at 6:30 am each morning now that my first-born is in middle school and the bus arrives at 7:15am. I am not a morning person, but I’m glad that he is, because he is up, dressed, fed and on the bus in 40 minutes! I hate getting up so early, but it does give me some quite time for myself before my little firecracker of a kindergartner awakens. These past few days my little one has been sick with some type of stomach virus, and even though she’s the one who’s ill, after a few days it tends to take a physical and emotional toll on me. With no parents or grandparents to turn to, I start to feel so alone doing this all by myself. My ex chooses not to help me since he supports financially, so that door is closed. And though my friends are so kind and helpful, you really can’t ask a friend to sit around and clean up your child’s vomit all day while you run off to work. Sometimes when you’re sick, you just want your mommy. I know the feeling. The really difficult part of being an entrepreneur is that your clients are but only so understanding when you’re unavailable day after day and there’s no one else to replace you. I don’t get much sleep, I’m doing way more laundry than normal and it’s tough trying to juggle work and a sick child, while still recovering from a mild concussion myself. After the day is done, I sit down in exhaustion and look around, and there’s no one else there, and it’s tough not to have a pity party.

So I guess my grandmother (we called her Mom-Mom) showed up to help and to keep me from partying alone. I made it to Whole Foods yesterday to buy an Organic, whole chicken to make home-made chicken noodle soup. Now, this is something I’ve never done, so why I even embraced the idea is beyond me. Must have been Mom-Mom in my ear. After my daughter left her lunch on the floor of the supermarket and we headed (quickly) for the cash register, I went home to start my project. And yes, I did tell someone there was a cleanup in aisle four! 🙂

For some reason once I started cooking at the stove I turned into someone I didn’t recognize. Now I must say I think I am a great cook, but there are still some old southern recipes that I haven’t yet mastered, and home-made chicken soup is one of them! The chicken smelled so good and as I put away some of it to freeze and use later, the thought came to me to leave some in the pot to make gravy and serve it over biscuits and rice. I then reached for the yams I just purchased, put them in a pot and started making my list of herbs and other items I needed and added a bag of black-eyed peas to the list of things I would make for dinner.

It was as if I were channeling my ancestors and that they had taken over my thoughts and were helping me to take care of my daughter and to remind me once again that they are around. I had to smile and think that if anyone would show up to give me a cooking lesson it would be her. Mom-Mom was the one who showed my mother around a kitchen when Mom was a new bride and soon to be mom at the young age of 19. Mom-Mom was such a small, quiet woman of few words, and I miss her. I used to wash and braid her silvery hair until she left this plane, and I always enjoyed our girl talks and moments alone. She gave me such full seeds of wisdom and was the most compassionate woman I knew. And I’m thankful she’s still around sharing her wisdom. I am still exhausted, still wishing for Supernanny to come do my laundry and wash my dishes, but when I put the chicken soup, candied yams, biscuits and gravy and black-eyed peas on the table for my family to eat, I will smile and know from whence cometh my help. Thanks Mom-Mom.

Do you ever feel your ancestors near?

October 24, 2012 7

God Has Answered

It’s so amazing when you can look back on the major events in your life and see where God has not necessarily answered your exact prayer, but gave you exactly what you needed. I wanted so desperately to have another boy. My son was so easy-going, mild-tempered, played happily by himself, ate whatever I put in front of him, weaned himself off of me before the age of one and was willing and excited to go anywhere and do anything I suggested. He was such a bright and happy kid and definitely a momma’s boy. I wanted another just like him!

When they told me (because I could never be one of those women who find out the sex of the baby on the operating table) at the ultrasound that it was a girl, I almost cried. I felt so disappointed. I knew what a handful I was as a young girl, and how much I resisted whatever my mom said was the “right thing to do” when I was a tween, and I was not ready for the challenge. I wasn’t ready to release the boxes and boxes of beautifully preserved boys clothing that I had so carefully packed away in anticipation, and did not want to paint the nursery pink or buy all new pink fluffy clothing. I grew up in a houseful of boys – three brothers and a mass of their close friends whom I considered my “play” brothers. I knew how boys thought, what their interests were and was comfortable being around them.

What was I going to do with a girl?? My friends and family were all excited that we would have the “rich man’s family – one boy and one girl. They all told me that I would love having a daughter, that one day we’d enjoy laughter over manicures, tea cups and pretend cookies and that we would be the best of friends. If it weren’t for the close relationship I had with my mom, I would not have believed a word they said. But my mind still went fast forward to her teenage years where I saw us fighting all the time and her sneaking out the bedroom window to run away with some foolish boy. After all I had nausea the entire nine months I carried her and it couldn’t have been a more miserable pregnancy. I thought, “this is not going to be good”, and secretly hoped the ultrasound was wrong. But God knew best.

This pregnancy came after suffering three miscarriages within a two-year period, and yet I still considered trying again. I wanted to give my son a sibling. The specialists we saw couldn’t find any reason for the lost babies and I started to think maybe my Creator was telling me that it was just not in the plan. The doctors suggested I try again. I prayed to God and asked for a miracle. Another positive pregnancy test. I made a deal with God that if this embryo did not survive, I would accept that God’s plan for my life was to just have one child and I would not try again. My next ultrasound confirmed the pregnancy, yet the visit several weeks later presented us with potentially devastating news. They saw a blood clot right by the embryo and there was a high possibility that I would miscarry. I spent the next week on bed rest, and in prayer. My prayers were about to be answered one way or another, and I wanted to have the strength to handle the outcome. By the next ultrasound the clot had disappeared. There was no trace of it. The ultrasound technician was dumbfounded; the doctor said it was a miracle and I couldn’t hold back the tears.

As soon as I got home, I looked up names for the little baby girl growing in my womb. I had already chosen her middle name, but I searched for a name by meaning. I wasn’t sure what name it would return, but I knew what I wanted her name to mean. My eye was drawn to the name Janai (Jah-nay). Janai means “God has answered”. I surrendered and accepted and held strongly to my faith. Absolutely God had answered. Not my prayer for a boy, but I was rewarded for my faith. My God!

I am writing this so that when she’s spending way too much time in the shower, or dating some boy I don’t approve of, or just plain giving me more grey hairs, I will read this again, take a deep breath, hold her in my arms and as I did the morning she was born, cherish the beautiful gift I was given when God answered. I hope it works!

Happy Fifth Birthday “sweet cheeks”!

Love, Mommy

March 22, 2012 3