My Daddy's Daughter

This year my Christmas was spent in a hospital room with my father.  He came there with what he thought was temporary blindness, caused by a fall, but it actually ended up being something much more serious. Colon cancer.

I remember standing in his room and watching him while he slept.  He had yet to learn I was there. My husband, children, and I stood around his bedside quietly so as not to disturb him.  Fear crept into my bones, because to me, he looked to be knocking on death's door. When he stirred I felt a temporary surge of relief, until he opened his eyes and I could see nothing but blankness behind his lids.  It was as if he'd already passed from this life to the next, yet with mobility still allowed in his body.  I prayed to myself that he would be alright. In truth, I needed him to be alright because no child is ever prepared to lose their parents.

To some in my family this may sound weird.  One would have to know the back story behind me and my father's journey in order to understand this.  You see, my father didn't raise me; nor was he apart of my life while I was growing up.  My mother constantly reminded me that he contributed all of $50 to the financial requirements it takes to support a child.  He and my mother divorced when I was only 4, and from what I knew of my father, he was nothing more than a monster who lived to control others.

This knowledge not only came from what my mother told me, it was also witnessed through personal experiences. In my young life I had seen my father raise a hand to my mother countless times. I spent many nights living in fear of what he may someday do to her. His habit of ruthlessness not only extended to my mother, but even lent itself, on many occasions, to his own mother.  She walked in consistent fear of her own son, yet she treated him as if he were a prince.

With all the knowledge I had of what my father was capable of, I was still his little girl, and up until the point where my mother and I were able to sneak out and escape, I was the only one he didn't hurt...

After my mother was finally able to break free from my father, he punished her by staying out of my life (at least from her perspective). But what my father failed to realize, until I became an adult, was that he was punishing me as well.  So many things happened to me as a result of his absence, and over time I grew bitter.  Gone was the little girl who wanted nothing more than to curl up inside her daddy's arms; she was replaced with an attention seeking woman who looked desperately for male approval.

I began to slander my father's very name.  Every thing about him embarrassed me, and when any one told me I looked like him, I vehemently denied it.  I did not want to be apart of anything associated with him outside of his family, who I dearly love.  My mother saw how this root of bitterness was taking hold of me, and in order to try and rectify it, she took to telling me stories about his time spent in war.  She described how he would wake up in night sweats, and move in bed as if he were in battle.  This was all due to his PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder).  Yet he sought no professional help for it.  She explained that he was a fierce soldier who saw the death of many comrades, but was brave enough to continue to fight on the front line of the battle.  With these explanations her hope was to turn me from my sour feelings, and help me see the other side of his story, so I would have a better understanding of the person he chose to be.  None of this worked.  It was only when I was able to write a book about growing up fatherless, (Paper Walls on Amazon.com, or any online book seller) and vent all of my frustrations out with pen and paper, that I was able to be set free from the unforgiveness I harbored for him.

Fast forward to my twenties and thirties, where my father and I actually spent time building our relationship regardless of the past.  After the book purge, I was able to allow room in my heart for the man I didn't want to know.  I was open to listening to him, and hearing his reasons.  He told me many stories which helped to shape my view of why he was who he was.

One story in particular affected him so gravely, when he spoke of it, its as if he were reliving the memory every time.  I sat and listened, as if for the first time, to my father tell me of the nun who told him when he was only a nine year old Catholic school boy, that he would die old and alone, under a tree.  In response to this nun's words, my nine year old father pushed that nun down a flight of stairs. My father will never know that I have heard this story told before, from his sisters on several occasions.  When they tell it, they speak as if my father was designed to be mean from the beginning of his life.  And though I hesitate to admit it, I have to agree, but he is still MY daddy.  There was a reason God called me to be his daughter, so I feel he can't be all bad. My hope is that his current season of incapacity will help him review his life and make a change for the better. Yes, its true he's hurt a lot of people, and he would still prefer to "shoot" someone rather than make friends, but God has given him the blessing of more time, and I pray he uses it well.

My heart hopes that while he is down, but not out, he remembers who holds his future, and that it can still be a bright one.  I long for the day when Daddy doesn't need my husband to stand by while he takes fifteen minutes to struggle into a pair of pants and I wait discreetly outside of his hospital room.  I most definitely want not to be a helpless witness to his weak cries of, "why me," because he no longer has the strength to continue dressing after a taxing attempt at brushing his teeth. I hope that my husband and I will never have to carry his feeble body back to his bed because he is too dizzy to walk.

I wonder sometimes if God is calling him to wake up.  Is he showing my father that He is the one who hold's his whole life in His hands, but yet still waiting for daddy to rectify his choices?  Instead of spewing hateful words with his tongue, God has given him more time to share love with members of the family that he fights so hard to keep to himself.  Eight out of the eleven children my grandmother had are still alive, and my father only allows two of them inside his inner circle.  I wonder how much time The Father will give Daddy to forgive his brothers and sisters the way he expects God to forgive him?

I wonder these things because I want to meet my father in heaven one day.  Hate is a powerful emotion, but love can conquer it all.  I pray my Daddy, with the rest of his time on earth, will choose to love, because there is a great freedom in it; one like he's never known.

The doctors were able to perform the surgery on Daddy's colon, and successfully carve out all the cancer, but the road to recovery is still a long one ahead.  Though the guilt of not being there for me when I needed him eats away at my father, I'm still going to be there for him as much as he needs me to be. I just hope he will conquer all of his demons and be the hero in this life that I always dreamed him to be. I am my daddy's daughter, and that will never change.

A Night to Remember

Recently I attended a wedding fit for a queen.  It was straight out of every girl's fantasy, complete with a chateau built like a castle.  Though I was not the bride, who I must say looked every bit the part of royalty walking down that isle; she was stunning,  I still felt like a princess being escorted on the arm of my own Prince Charming.

The Marcion Wedding

We walked in to a room filled with violinist music.  I looked up, and there she stood on the balcony of the great room, greeting us with her beautiful tunes.  My heels clinked against freshly polished marble floors, which shined so brightly I could have checked my makeup in it.  For one night I was able to be a member of the "elite," at least this was how I felt when we walked over to the check-in table and our names appeared on the list along with the other specially invited guest.

My husband and I were escorted up the stairs where behind silk curtains we walked into the "chapel" with a stone hearth being the focal point of the alter.  This would be where the bride and groom would say their "I do's" and pledge to spend the rest of their lives together. I was in awe. We walked the candlelit center isle to our seats, and I folded the hem of my dress over the 5 inch heels I wore to accommodate its length.

The music selection through the whole ceremony seemed the most appropriately ordained sound to entertain a host of love and matrimonial connections. Afterward, we were led back downstairs to a waiting area where we were served delicious hors d'oeuvres from the tradition of the brides cultural family roots in Louisiana.  Then we entered the dining hall, which also served as the ballroom.  Elegant crystal chandeliers adorned the ceiling and matching centerpieces sparkled brightly in the glint of the dimmed lights.

The event was luxurious, and such a perfect date-night get-away for me and my honey. We danced the night away on the marble dance floor, and toasted one another with flutes of champagne.  I felt amazing because its not often my husband and I get to dress up and be "fancy," but this wedding served as the perfect occasion.

To top off all of the festivities, the bride and groom were airlifted away directly from the drive up in front of the chateau's doors.  One would think a horse drawn carriage would be the dream, but this couple took it one step further, and showed all other couples how a wedding should be done.  While I'm not one for all the glamour and glitz, I could truly appreciate all I was fortunate enough to experience.

Instead of being taken away to Wonderland inside of a private helicopter, my Prince Charming opened my door to his brand new sports vehicle and we drove off to our own type of dream spot; home.

To the bride and groom, Mr. & Mrs. Franklin Marcion, I say congratulations.  I pray the Lord blesses your union to see many years, and that through those years you will share beautiful experiences and make lovely memories.  God bless you.

Gloom and Doom

I thought I was waking up from a bad dream this morning.  Trump for president?  A man with no political background and a hefty lack of self control will run this country come 2017.

It seems as though my fellow Americans are filled with the Springfieldian's complex. You know, the residents of Springfield, Wherever from the television show The Simpson's.  Their minds also seem to change with the shift of the wind. It almost becomes humorous to watch citizens fall for self-absorbed propaganda which compromises their interest and values simply because its wrapped in a rage they wish to impose on others.

America, how ignorant have we become?  Are we so determined to lash out against those who don't look like us, don't earn the same income, or don't share the same nationality that we would vote in a man who so blatantly boast of his prejudices? Not only that, but I shake my head at the women who support such degradation of their own gender.  This man has grown up with enough entitlement to believe he can just grab a woman in her genital area and get away with it.  It was a joke to him! Yet we put him in office.  We want this man to lead us, but lead us where; to our own demise?

America's  solution to this country's problems has become like that of a humorous cartoon.  It leaves one to wonder what is next for us under the direction of a man who claims to love war.  I,for one, don't want my children being raised in a world set up like a battle zone.

The hardest thing to open is a closed mind, so I don't expect much in the direction of progress for the next four years.  Obama, you will be truly missed.  I will savor the time we have left until January when all hell breaks loose. Reality will hit when America has to face the consequences of their decision.

Vote

Yesterday I voted and just as I said I would do, I wrote in a candidate.  My husband told me that I wasted my vote, but I don't feel I did.  Change starts as small and simple as a whisper; or in my case, on e ballot.  If it had not been for those in our history bold enough to be willing to let their one voice be heard above the many, we would still be sitting still, steeped in the ashes of our faults.

Whether we move forward or backward in our society depends on the people we place in leadership.  It seems other countries get this, but the "world leader," America, seems to lack enough people with the courage to fight back against its governmental injustices.  For those who are willing, they are quickly shut down by advertisements and support groups who show how "fairly" they treat the people versus the truth in their crimes. Some how those get covered up under the blanket of making the persecuted look like the real villains.  This happens through mass media, and the not so subtle subliminal messages in television and theater.

I'll bet most citizens didn't even know there were candidates outside of Clinton and Trump running for the office of president. I myself never really paid much attention, because they aren't spotlighted in the news.  Gary Johnson represents the Libertarian Party and Jill Stein represents the Green Party.  They have accounts of what direction they think this country should go in as well.  They debate serious issues, one of which are in the headlines.  Why not?  I want to hear what they have to say as well.  This way I can have all the information I need in order to make an unbiased vote when I go to the polls.

That's the way its supposed to be right? I wish!  You'll find people, few and far between, who are are willing to vote unbiased, and most of the time those who say they are, are probably lying. Voting unbiased sounds cute, sweet, and politically correct, but even the best of us have a preference which clouds our ability to hear any part of what another candidate has to say as long as they are not members of our own party.    This is why you see so many former Republican presidential candidates, who staunchly spoke out against Donald Trump and his policies, suddenly advertising in his favor.  They've mysteriously had a change of heart over night and now support the man and his mess.

You see what I did right there?  I just showed you my own bias.  Because even though I don't consider myself either Republican or Democrat, I would still like to think that I'm considering a leader based on his principles and not his party.

Whatever happened to Ralph Nader?  Is he still alive?  As far as I know he is the only Independent Party candidate who never gave up running in each election no matter how bad the defeat.  I have to respect a man like that. He was willing to, despite the odds, keep moving forward so his voice will be heard.  Will anyone else be willing to do that come November 8th? You may not be running for president, but you still have a voice.  Change starts with one person, then snowballs into something big enough to make a difference.

The Forgotten Child

The other day my son and I were sitting down at the table. I watched him while he ate his breakfast because he likes company when he eats.  While we sat, I began to reminisce about my grandparents and some of the things they used to say and do when they were alive.  One of the expressions my maternal grandmother used to say about a relatively thin person who seemed to eat a lot, but yet not gain weight, was such a funny-sounding kind of oxymoron, that it took me a while to ponder on before I was able to understand the meaning.  Even though the expression may not make much sense to a young mind when first heard, on the day I sat across the table from my oldest son while he ate his breakfast, it made perfect sense to me.

My grandmother used to tell us all the time when we were young, "you eat so much it makes you po' to tote it."  Some Southerners will get this, while those in the North will write if off as just another one of those mindless sayings they say in the South, but simply put, it just means that no matter how much you eat, your weight goes nowhere.

Thinking back on those times we used to run around Grandma's house, I also remembered how Grandpa used to relate to me as opposed to the other grandchildren.  His feelings for me, or lack there of, were quite sour.  As a matter of fact, he was not fond of neither me nor my mother, and she was his child.  My mother and I used to put our heads together and wonder if it was due to the rumor that she was the daughter of the neighbor across the street.  This rumor carried around the neighborhood and among my grandmother's friends, and was seemingly confirmed when the very neighbor, who so happened to be one of my grandfather's friends, told my mother when she was eighteen that he was indeed her father.  Both my mother and I were inclined to believe this because she didn't look like her other brother and sisters, nor did she act like them.  She spent her childhood wondering why she was different, and singled out by her parents.

This is not to say that I believe my grandmother was some sort of worldly woman.  She was a woman strong in her faith; one who showed great love to her family the best way she knew how.  I honor her memory and feel privileged to be called her granddaughter.  She, along with my Aunt, was the one to rush in to my rescue the time my grandfather lifted a blunt object to strike me in the head with.  I was only about eight or nine and couldn't understand how the sheer sight of me angered him so much.  All I wanted was his love.

Sitting there across the table from my sixteen year old, I began to remember all of these things.  I sat there engrossed in my thoughts while confessing to him my experiences.  I told him of the time when I was nine and my maternal grandfather was handing out loose change he typically kept in his pocket to all the grandchildren.  I sat on the sofa watching at first, not thinking he would even consider giving me any because he usually shewed me away. But then something came over me, a sudden hope that this time would be different.  I longed for his acceptance more than I realized, and it was that hope and longing which propelled me from my place on the sofa to go and join the circle around him.

As he took his time counting out change and extending it to the little hands waiting to be filled, he got to me and stopped.  The glare in his eyes reflected sheer contempt and he told me to go away because he wasn't going to give any thing to my "Gerald-looking a#!."  Yes, typically when my grandfather spoke to me, his initial response would be followed by a series of expletives, and for some reason, he never referred to me by my name.  I was always called by my father's name because everyone said I looked so much like him.

I pulled my hand back and returned to my spot on the sofa.  All the hope I had conjured was now gone as I sat back and watched as the rest of the kids get their portion of the change. There would be more times where I was left out from the gifts my grandfather shared with his grandchildren, but that one in particular has always stuck out in my mind.  It was a turning point for me, because it was then that I determined in my little mind  I would do everything I could to get him to love and accept me the way I did him.

I didn't really know much about my paternal grandmother at the time. My parents divorced when I was four years old, and both of them lived in two different states.  But, what I do remember is a night when my parents went out and left me, along with some of the other grandchildren on my father's side of the family, with his mother.  I called her Mama Lucy because she had sternly warned me to never call her grandmother.  She said that she wasn't anyone's grandmother, though she really was, but at the time she was still grasping for a fleeting youth.  Any way, on this night at bed time, I remember getting really excited because Mama Lucy was inviting all of the grandchildren she had to come and sleep with her in her bed. Everyone there was privileged to be around Mama Lucy all the time, I was the only one who lived out of state, and therefore; didn't get to see her as much.

I watched as all the little bodies scrabbled into her room.  Then I got up and proceeded to follow them, but before I could make it past my grandmother's bedroom door,  she stopped me.  I was told that I couldn't fit in the bed with the rest of the children, and that I would have to go and make a place to sleep on the living room floor.  My face fell, and I found it impossible to hide my heartbreak.  In my little mind, I had been rejected in favor of the other grandchildren even though I belonged to her as well.

When my parents came in later that night, on the floor is where they found me, curled up in a little ball, trying to stay warm.  Of course, my father blew a gasket and asked why his child was the only one on the floor.  My grandmother had told him that I wanted to sleep there.  I knew this not to be true, but I refused to speak up about it.  I figured if I told, it would just be a strike against me, and if I was ever going to earn Mama Lucy's love, tattling would not be a good choice.

When I was done reminiscing, I looked over at the face of my son.  He looked just like I had on the night my paternal grandmother made me sleep on the floor, and the day  my maternal grandfather denied me his gift of coins.  I was suddenly struck by the sadness he was feeling, not because of what happened to me, those things no longer bother me, but because my story had such a profound effect on him.  As his mother I would never want him to feel left out the way I did when I was growing up.  It would make me feel an indescribable devastation.  I live my life so that he doesn't have to know the pains of not knowing how special he truly is.  Every child deserves that.

I thank God  I am no longer affected by the hurts in my past; hurts suffered from my own family.  Sometimes the very ones you think are there to protect and care for you, can be the ones who make you feel the most insecure.  Growing up, I tried my best to please those I loved in hopes that it would make me more acceptable.  I am just learning now, as an adult, that there is no way I am able to please everyone all the time.  The most important thing is to be secure in who God made me to be, and try my best to live peaceable with people.  If who I am is not acceptable to some, even those within my family, I have come to know that it is okay, I am still called good by Him who made me.

Dinner for One?

No one wants to be alone.  Connecting with someone outside of ourselves is a natural human need.  We all know the fear of being left behind.  We have all felt that aching need not to be the last one picked for a team on the school yard.  Many of us also feel the flush of embarrassment when we are forced outside of our comfort zone and have to dine alone for lack of company to share in the experience.

I used to be among those who felt as if all eyes were on me from the moment I hit the restaurant door if I came in by myself. I had never experienced dining alone until I was fully grown.  Even then, the urge to run out before anyone I knew saw me, picked away at my resolve. Yet I was determined to "be a big girl," with confidence enough in who she was for it not to matter if I had a person sitting next to me just to eat.

There were many first to be experienced as I entered adulthood. Not only did I take on the fear of being seen out alone, I also went all the way out and took myself to a movie.   Mind you, these "alone" experiences happened during pregnancy when my husband was off at work, but the change in hormones provided me with an outlet of minimal self-consciousness.  I no longer cared if I was seen out by myself.  I was happy to be doing something I wanted to do without having to submit to the insertion of another's opinion on what else I could be doing. I was having fun too!

So why do we have this natural need to connect? The answer is simple... We were made that way. Everyone knows the story of The Garden of Eden.  Even if you're not a Christian, you are familiar with it.  In the garden, Adam was enjoying all the bountiful blessings God provided, but even with everything he could seemingly need, God made him a mate because he said, "it is not good for man to be alone"(Genesis 2:18). Adam needed a partner to commune with, because God did not see among the animals, or the trees something that was suitable to Adam for companionship.

You see, God built in us, from the beginning, the desire to gravitate to a connection to another human body.  We need these connections in our lives to grow, to endure, to support, and to help us. The list of reasons can go on and on. This is not to say we can't function in society alone, we just function better with company.

Studies have shown that those who live alone actually have a longer life expectancy when they have a pet (ie: dog or cat) to care for, and even communicate with in some shape or form. Though pets may not supply the same type of connection as one human would to another, they do provide a listening ear and warm body which can help us to cope with the dread of being alone.

 I believe denying ourselves connections with others outside of ourselves is a deprivation of what is necessary. Some do it all for the sake of what they categorize as "independence." They become a type of hermit in a world full of people. But why do that when such richness can be found in bonding with others inside of a relationship?

Most people, when they hear the word relationship, typically think about the one between a man and woman, but relationships are so much more.  They are friendships, brotherhoods, sisterhoods, acquaintances, mother/daughter, father/son... All of these are important in the fulfillment of life.

Many will say that we can't make it in this world alone.  And though physically we may survive, mentally we won't be living.  The connections I have with my family and friends run deep.  My best friends also happen to be my sorority sisters.  I cannot imagine a life without their influence, their support, their listening ear, or their help.  If there are any out there who can vouch for the notion that they have made it in this world all alone, I would certainly like to see the list of names.  My belief is that it would be a taxing effort to find them.

*photo provided by: raykiwsp.wordpress.com/2014/10/21/i-wish-you-great-companionship/

Setting Our Children up to Fail

Its so amazing how I JUST wrote about the dangerous turn our society is taking when it comes to rearing our children, and within a few days I'm elbowed in the face by one of the students at my school.

This incident happened all out of the blue.  I was walking down the hall after my last class, looking forward to a peaceful lunch break, and time away from the hustle and bustle of the middle school educational system.  Walking down the hall, I remember joking around with a couple of young ladies I have in my classes.  I was smiling real big, and thinking about the sandwich I was about to order from one of my new favorite sandwich shops just across the street from my school. 

 When I turned the corner, I saw nothing but chaos playing out in front of me.  The PASS teacher was being dragged behind one of her students, calling for him to stop.  He was trying to run away, and she was struggling to hold on to him.  Being a fellow teacher, of course I stepped in to help her.  The student was twice her size in height and weight, and being that she and I are both 5'2", adding my extra body support was only going to be a questionable means of stopping him; yet it was worth a try. 

He was leaning almost completely forward, and I didn't want to take the chance at being tackled by standing in front of him, so I came to his right side and hooked my arm into his.  My effort was to try and slow down the velocity of his movements. It worked for a quick second, and I held on while asking him what was wrong. The PASS teacher had lost her grip by this time, and it was just me and him.  He was working even harder now, trying to get away, and I dragged behind until he pushed back with the arm I was holding him by, and clipped me on the right side of my face near the chin with his elbow..  This is when I chose to let him go. Though there was no pain from the impact, it  rattled my teeth, and I decided at that moment, it was better for me to let go than lose my temper just to keep this kid from running.  I only prayed that he would not attempt an escape, and run away from the campus.

The PASS teacher and I stood back and watched as he ran through the building, dodging other students as they made their way down the hall to the cafeteria.  We then made our way to the Counselor's office to report what had just happened. After we left, we went back into the hallway in search of the student.  By this time other teachers, and an assistant principal were running through the hallway as well trying to find him. I made sure the PASS teacher was okay before going to find the security guard and alerting him to what was going on. Then I pulled my purse up on the hook of my arm, slid on my sunglasses, and headed out of the nearest door.  It was past time for lunch, and I needed to get away from that place for a moment.

A day later I was approached by another student asking if I was okay.  I, of course said yes, and proceeded to ask her why. She tells me that the student who was running through the hallways the previous day had posted on Snap Chat that he had punched me and the PASS teacher in the face. She retold the story about the post as if he were bragging about what he had done. I was left to wonder, after hearing her story, how it was that he was still allowed phone privileges after the stunt he pulled at the school, and also how truly valid her version of the story was.

I spoke with the PASS teacher, and went to pay a visit to the Assistant Principal about what I heard. I was deeply concerned that my name was possibly being used on a social network site in a slanderous manner.  The Assistant Principal told me the previous day that I could press charges against this student for what he had done, but I declined to do so because I felt it was an accident, and again I didn't get hurt.  On the day I went in to report what I had been told about the Snap Chat post, she told me that she understood my concern, but didn't want to go and talk to him on his first day back in an effort not to upset him.

You see, though this student knows right from wrong, and is fully cognizant of what he did, he would not be receiving any real consequences from the school because he is in the PASS program and has a BIP. For those in education, you know what this means.  Apparently the Behavioral Intervention Plan allows for the enabling of the fantasy world in childhood in exchange for reality preparation. 

This student is being protected from the harsh consequences of reality in order that he may grow into the societal menace we are so readily preparing him to be; at least from my perspective. Yet we wonder how prisons are almost bursting at the seems, while the drop out rate for continuing education never seems to disappear. 

Where is the accountability?  When I was growing up, I remember learning it early on.  I was taught respect for my elders and self control.  Sometimes these lessons had to be learned in unpleasant ways, but I am better for it.  If discipline produces go character, then I see no reason to hold it back. There are many policies and procedures in place to protect the student, but what procedures are set up to protect the teacher? If one bad teacher ruined it for the many, and now all of us have to be subject to abusive behavior by students AND their parents, how many bad students will it take before they offer us safety?

Old-School Parenting

What has the world come to when adults walk around afraid of their kids?  That's backwards!  There is always a certain level of respect in fear, and today we seem to be teaching our children that they are the only ones worthy of the respect.

I don't understand this new age way of parenting. I guess I'm too old school.  Sometimes I wonder if I'm apart of the last generation who was actually scared when a teacher told me they were about to call home and tell my mother about my behavior, or grades.  I knew if a teacher called home, my mother would come along side the teacher to make sure that my grades were straight, or my attitude was adjusted. They worked together!  That was the key.

Now-a-days, kids want you to call their parents so the parents can come up to the school and curse the teacher out.  What kind of accountability logic is this?  And in the school systems, what the parent's say goes.  This in turn makes the children feel as if they have power over the teacher.  Every thing done, or said has to be carefully examined, but the one who suffers the greatest consequence is the teacher.

I have personally been told what I'm NOT allowed to say by a student. Not that I would disrespect any student, but the fact that this particular student felt it necessary to come to me out of the blue and tell me  I was not allowed to tell them what to do; yet they spoke in such a disrespectful manner, not only to me, but other adults, gave me pause.  I had to wonder who it was that taught this child to have such an attitude of entitlement.  My mind could only race to one conclusion. The parents...

The nightly news reported on the arrest of a young single mother who was called at her job by by a witness who had seen her children attempting to break into a neighbor's home.   Her response was to leave work the moment she found out, and return home to reprimand her children.  She chose to discipline them by using the good old-fashioned trusty method.  A whooping.  After doing this, one of her children, who said they had been taught in school to call the police if their parents hit them, did just that.

Without taking into considerations the mother's side of the story, the police came to her home and arrested her.  Watching the tears stream down her face as she explained to the reporters the whole ordeal bothered me.  She told them that she was only trying to keep her children from falling into a system that had already claimed the freedom of their father.  She felt that by going home and immediately handling the problem with corporal punishment, she was showing her children that there are harsh consequences which follow a choice like the one they made.

She went on to explain that her discipline was not cruel or excessive, but necessary in order that her children (young black males) would not have to face the brutality from the current  legal injustice system on the Black community.  Personally, I agree with her logic, especially being the mother of two young black males myself.

After seeing their mother arrested for what she felt was giving them proper parenting, what type of mindset do those children have now?  Law enforcement, in that case, did those children an injustice, because now they feel entitled to go out and repeat the same action without the consequence of having a mother ready to perform her job as their parent.  They have been empowered to be entitled, and this is my problem with the way American society is raising up their children.

Not long after this mother's arrest, and elderly grandmother was arrested for swatting her grandchild's behind.  This time the grand daughter called the police because her grandmother swatted her for speaking disrespectfully to her.  This woman was picked up by the police like a common criminal, and she didn't even have the luxury of full mobility.  Who comes to pick up a grandmother and takes her to jail simply because she didn't want to be disrespected in her own home?  American law enforcement to the rescue... I guess.

I cringe to think of the world we face in the future with the types of children who are upheld in their wrong by the so-called justice and school systems.  If we are not making it our jobs to teach today's children about respect and discipline, what type of world will they be prepared for tomorrow?  I am certain they will not be equipped to face a law enforcement they are sure to encounter with the type of teaching that tells them they are entitled to behave the way they want without any serious consequences.  Yet, no one is telling them how serious the consequences get when they grow up and attempt to do the same things they did as children.

So far, from my point of view, those parents who are too scared to raise their own children, either through intimidation from lackadaisical rules impressed upon them from an outside source, or just plain scared of their own children, better get ready to be cared for with the same recklessness they've allowed when they become senior citizens.

Its not too late to steer this ship called parenting in the right direction though.  Old-school parenting does not always entail beating your children into submission. As a matter of fact, I don't feel that is what is meant when the term is used.  It is a stigma attached to the phrase, but what is really meant by old-school parenting, is the demand for respect when you are in the position to do so.  Everyone needs to know the harsh realities in the consequences of their choices, otherwise; they are prone to repeating mistakes, or worse, not learning from them.

Don't get me wrong, I am a firm believer in NOT sparing the rod. If the Bible says it will spoil the child, as a Christian, I must believe that corporal punishment, done the right way, is good for a child.  Especially if the lack of it is said to "spoil the child."  No one wants to deal with something that is spoiled.

I believe society as a whole in America is getting it wrong when in comes to the direction we are taking in rearing our children.  I myself have noticed good, polite, obedient, and respectful  foreign children becoming Americanized in school settings where they are pressured to feel assimilated to fit in.  These children have gone from valuing the privilege of an education to the irresponsible behavior in the lack of hard work being taught to them by their peers.  They have also lost the discipline in self control which had been instilled in them before they came to this country.  This is a harsh reflection of a fault in our own values. So when are we going to turn things around?  The direction we are sending our children in is dangerous, and change is dire.  If we do not become more strict with our discipline we hurt not only ourselves, but the children we are trying to send off into this world.

The First Signs of Love

picture provided by:  http://weknowyourdreams.com/love.html

Have you ever been in love?  If so, do you remember how it felt when it first happened?  Many believe that love is just a feeling, but as you grow and mature, you learn that love is more than the butterflies you feel fluttering in your stomach when that special person walks into a room.  Love is an action word. It is something that requires more than the sudden quickening of the heart.  It is constant work, and many may not be equipped for the task.

I remember being in college, free from my parent's roof and rules for the first time.  My mother had told me to keep myself free from the bonds of a relationship.  I was young and just beginning my journey into adulthood.  There would be plenty of time in the future for me to settle down, but for now I was to enjoy my freedom.  I took that to heart, and fully expected to go out and get to know people on a different level than the ones that bound me to a commitment.  This is not to say I planned on being "loose," I just wanted to date around without being tied to one person.

That all changed though, not long after I started my Freshman year.  I met a guy who was a musician in our school's gospel choir.  He was not what I would call conventionally handsome, but he had a good head on his shoulders, and he had goals I admired. The bonus to me was that he had his own apartment, and he was a very clean housekeeper; this showed a plus in his character.  

I never expected to fall for this guy the way I did, and it happened so suddenly I didn't have a chance to try and resist it.  One day I was lying around in my dorm room with nothing to do but think about him, and was hit by something I had never experienced before. It was as if it just dropped out of the sky and landed on me.  I knew immediately that what I was experiencing were the first signs of love.  I had found it in the most unexpected person, because when I entered the relationship with him, we both agreed that we would not get too serious. But there I was, spellbound, and totally smitten.

I told myself I would never admit how I felt to this guy.  At the beginning of our relationship, he confessed to me that he was still in love with his ex-girlfriend, and at first, I was okay with that. Unbeknownst to him, he wasn't the only one I was dating. I knew though, that things were getting serious just as soon as I stopped seeing that other person, and started spending every free moment with him.

We carried on in our relationship as if we both felt the same way about each other, but I knew better.  Like a fool, I continued seeing him, even though he told me that if it wasn't for his ex-girlfriend, I would be the one.  That was him blatantly admitting  I was second in his heart, and I allowed it because of my love for him.  He did eventually come to learn of my feelings, but not through me.  I had confessed this deep secret to who I believed was a trusted friend, and she soon went and told him what she promised me she never would.  I knew his only source of knowing came from her, because not only had I not told him how I felt, I had not told anyone.  It was a secret I kept close to my heart.

Everyone thought we were this happy couple, what with him coming to pick me up on Sundays to attend church with him, or bringing me and a friend to his apartment so that he could cook for us.  He also helped me escape the tediousness of campus life by picking me up for movie nights at his house.  My overnight bag stayed ready.  We seemed happy, but on the inside I was miserable.  With me being so new to love, I felt that if that was how love was; to place second in someone's life, then I didn't want any part of it.

I knew it was over one day when I called him and he told me he was sitting there with his ex-girlfriend.  She was in town and wanted to see him, and he was all too eager to oblige her.  I thought on this for a while, then realized it was time for me to let him go. The one thing I could be grateful for was the fact that I had never shared myself with him on a physical intimate level.  It made the process of a break up a little easier; although it was still a struggle.  He fought against it, and if I had given in, he would have won, but eventually, with my persistence, he was able to let me go.  It was then that I met who would go on to become my husband, and who I call my one true love

With my husband, in the beginning stages of our romance, there was no second place.  We were both caught up in that thing called love, and it seemed we couldn't get enough of each other. The broken pieces of my heart were gradually mending back together as I spent time in the company of who I now call my first TRUE love.  There is no better feeling than the one you have when your love is reciprocated.

The beginning of our relationship was so passionate, I was almost overwhelmed by the intensity.  Yes, we did follow the cliche acts of not being able to get off the phone with one another unless the other had counted to three, and then giggled when it didn't happen. We would even keep the line open just to hear the other breath while we took sporadic naps throughout our conversations. I was experiencing a security I had never known.  Growing up in a single-parent home, with no active father in my life, I desired to have the male companionship that went along with the acceptance of who I was no matter what.  I was grateful to be able to finally experience it with who I believed to be the man of my dreams.

In the beginning... Its a term one hears a lot in a relationship.  In the beginning things were so beautiful.  In the beginning he treated me like I was special.  In the beginning he took me out more. In the beginning she used to cook for me all the time.  In the beginning she dressed up more...  Why is it that all the good stuff in a relationship always seems to happen "in the beginning?"

When my husband and I first got married, we set out with goals that would help deepen our bond throughout the years of marriage.  The one thing we said we'd never consider was a divorce, but as time goes along and challenges face your relationship, divorce sometimes seems like a welcome relief as opposed to the pains of working on building a solid commitment with someone who no longer makes you happy.

Over time people change, some grow up, and others just seem to only grow old while trying to hang on to to a youth that has long since been fleeting.  The powerful thing about choosing to stay when everything in you is telling you to run, is that you are able to overcome all the obstacles meant to not only tear apart your relationship, but tear you down as a person.

Character is built in the midst of adversity.  How you handle the relationship you vow to stay bonded to "till death do you part," says a lot about who you are inside.  Who is it you want to see staring back at you when you look in the mirror?  Is it someone you can say fought as hard as they could with strength from God to defeat those things meant to break you down?  Or is it someone who cowers at the face of adversity, and jumps on the first thing smoking out of the relationship?

I am the first to admit that fighting for a relationship is hard.  It is taxing on the mind, and the heart, but you have to determine within yourself that it is worth it, because when its all said and done, it will be.  The key is to re-do those things that you did IN THE BEGINNING.  Its a practice which can easily become apart of the norm in your relationship if you set out to make it a priority.  Practice makes better, and anything you do for 21 days becomes habit; habit in turn forms a part of our character, and the type of character you have determines the outcome of your future.

For those who long, like me, to experience the butterflies you had when you first fell in love with your mate; you can have that.  You don't have to go out and find somebody else to do it either.  Start with a new attitude, AND KEEP IT.  Then exchange the things you're doing now for the ones you did to catch your mate's attention .  IN THE BEGINNING. I promise you your relationship will feel brand new even with the same person if you do it right.  Its all in the approach, and endurance you have to go along with it.  Don't wait on the other person to change first.  Start today with you.

Butterfly Dreams

Photo provided by: Pintrest.com

In as shell    
Trapped inside
I grow to learn
That I must hide
Inside these dreams
And longings to be
Set free to become
My true me
I wait for a crack
An opening of light
To give me hope
To continue to fight
What of these dreams
I have every day?
Are they to be lost
And washed away?
The light has not come
All hope seems yet lost
I am left to wonder
If its all worth the cost
Then I hear this sound
A grinding roar
My hidden world erupts
Fear draws me to the floor
Should I stay well hidden
Inside this dark shell?
Being trapped seems to fit
I have freedom to not fail
But the urge, it still haunts me
Its grip is still strong
If I'm to escape
I must carry on
The roaring won't stop
Filling my pit with its noise
"The time is now here!"
Cries this bittersweet voice
I hear this great boom
As light fills my space
The warmth of its beams
Caresses my face
I stretch my whole body
And burst through the shell
Crawling out to a freedom
I crave to know so well
Inside of this liberty
I'm overwhelmed all the more
My wing-span is boundless
And my dreams, they can soar
This colorful beauty
Is mine all alone
I've finally made it
I can fly, I am home...


*To those who want to fly, but think they can't... You will...

We

I don't regret anything
I don't
Do I wish I could go back
And change the depths of time?
Yes
If I could I would
And never meet you in the first place
Because the feelings
Were too good
Raw and fresh
Shameful and bliss
And I could never take it back
What's done is done
Absolute and complete
There is no changing that
So I don't regret anything
Not one thing do I regret
I just react

There are many days
logged into my memory
That I steal inside of
When life gets boring and or tough
See everything you were to me
Does not sit ill so easily
Inside the depths of my being
Yet everything we are together
As a whole
Leaves me feeling so sickly
I almost need to be
Hospitalized
Medicated inside the care of my Master's arms
Only His touch is healing

Each day that passes by
Every changing of the seasons
I grow to love you less and less
Then more and more
Depending on the shift of the wind
The current of electricity
Refuses to release its hold on me
Though I struggle to be
Set free
From the grip in the depth of its seas
I can't let go
Not yet at least...
Because not only am I holding you
I find continually that you won't let go of me

Relationships

picture provided by: http://chameleonresumes.com/

Relationships are hard.  I am a testament to that. You can be in your world thinking everything is fine, and walking around as happy as a lark, then BOOM!.  Suddenly, the person in the relationship with you blows up your spot, and that happy world you thought you were in turns dark.

A few months back I wrote a story about struggling with depression.  I wrote this because  I am married to someone who does, and I wanted to draw awareness to the seriousness of the condition.  Sometimes, for those who struggle with it, they unknowingly cause destructive situations for themselves and the ones they love.  This pattern of destruction is never intentional, even though it may feel like it, but it is something that, for them, is hard to control.  So for the person in the relationship with one who struggles with anxiety and depression, your level of strength has to be enough to carry both you and your partner during those times when they aren't strong enough to carry their own weight.

In the beginning everything is SO right.  You sign on to spending your time with someone you can't imagine a life without.  It all seems feasible, and if you decide to get married, "till death do us part," doesn't seem like enough time.

I remember years ago, when my husband and I first got married, we were driving into San Antonio from Dallas to honeymoon.  To this day, I can't tell you how we got started, but from the time we got into the car to head out, until we pulled into the parking lot at our hotel in San Antonio, we argued like cats and dogs.  I can't even remember why we were arguing, it just seemed like one argument led to another, and on that trip we had many.  I can tell you that the minute we stepped out of the car my husband told me, "Lets not argue any more. Lets just have fun," and we did.  We stayed out all night long doing everything we wanted and just enjoying each other's company.  It was one of the best times in my life.

I think it says something when couples argue and can't remember what they were arguing about, but then can turn around and tell you every detail of the good times they had together.  It is the good times that count the most. It has been 18 years since that day, and both me and my husband still laugh about our experience there in San Antonio, bonding together on a deeper level.

I'd like to say my husband and I are very passionate people. We are driven by it. It is the force behind many of our disagreements, but it is also the driving force behind what makes us work hard to achieve our goals. One of those goals was to always stay together no matter what; and absolutely NOT, under any circumstance, mention, or even consider the "D" word. Divorce.  It just wasn't going to be an option.

What a difference years can make though, as you go along in your marriage relationship.  All of those goals you set out to achieve in the beginning, and we had a lot more to add to the first one, dwindle over time when you add in kids, job stress, and the regular every day issues of life.

My husband was diagnosed with depression after many years into our marriage.  I had never before associated his outburst of anger with a chemical imbalance in the brain.  They didn't happen very often, as my husband was typically a man to make peace.  He was the one who could be found making the first move to apologize, or as others so often refer to it, "be the bigger person."

He was always overly concerned with how his words may affect someone, so he chose them wisely as a result.  This was the man I knew and fell in love with, but I have to admit, there were times in our relationship that I took advantage of his gift of peace making during the very few  disagreements he and I had. .

There is a saying that goes, "All relationships go through hell, but those that are real (meant to be) get through it."  Sometimes we may wonder, in the middle of our difficulties, if it is destined to be.  Some may even see a future together as bleak.  Things like a betrayal of trust,  financial troubles, the inability to communicate how you truly feel (irreconcilable differences), or physical abuse loot divorce documents in our nation's court system daily.  They are even, under certain circumstances, good reasons for couples to go their separate ways; most especially the last one. These things are building blocks which contribute to the wall already being built between the two people inside the relationship, and when there is a marriage between the two, especially one involving children, bringing the relationship to an end becomes all the more complicated.

So how does that wall in the relationship get misplaced and go up between the couple instead of around them?  The answer is simple... There were two people who entered the relationship when it started, and there are two people building on the wall together.  How you build is what makes the difference.

We allow more bricks to stack up when we refuse to deal with our true issues.  We allow them to mess up our way of thinking, our commitment to the other,  and compromise our values.  We try and solve these issues by buying into our comfort habits instead of facing the storm head on. For some, comfort habits can look like shopping your way into debt, and for others it may be turning to someone else and hoping they can medicate your troubles by helping you escape them inside the comfort of their arms.  These things are never the right answer to a temporary problem, but they can turn what's temporary into a permanent end.

My husband and I have dealt with many issues designed to break us apart, but yet we still remain.  Recently we celebrated 18 years of marriage on 9/12/2016, and I have to admit that it is only because we take it day-by-day.

 I don't feel that I can necessarily give advice on how to have a successful marriage, because I don't always have one.  I myself wonder sometimes what the future holds for me and my husband; when ten years ago, I would never have even considered the thought.  What I can say is, if you are with the one you know you are supposed to be with, and you've faced challenges that make you want to run, DON'T.  Pray to God for direction; fight as hard as you can, not only for yourself, but for your partner; stick around because things do change, and block out the advice of those who don't have your best interest at heart. In doing all of this though, you must also remember that you can't fight alone.  It takes both people in the relationship to win, and neither can give up on the other.

For those who are connected to someone who suffers from anxiety and depression, your fight is going to have to be even stronger, because there will be times where they will try to push you away on purpose, so build your muscles.  Some of those things are out of their control, and when its all said and done, they really don't mean for you to leave. Read your Bible. You'd be surprised how many scriptures hit on just what your going through.  Be the mental strength for the one you love during those times they are too weak to have strength on their own.  They need you; more in the bad times than in the good.

The Infamous Murderer

Apparently George Zimmerman is back in the news trying to cling to every last extended fifteen minutes of infamousy he can get.  According to witnesses, he had been in a restaurant with a friend bragging about being Trayvon Martin's killer.  When authorities were called, Zimmerman said that he had been attacked while having a conversation with another patron in the restaurant, but on further investigation, and witness testimony, he was actually heard giving the patron a compliment on his tattoos, and trying to gain recognition by saying, "I'm George Zimmerman, you know, the one who killed Trayvon Martin."

I don't know if he expected to get a high five for that, but what I do know is that another patron walked up, upon hearing him, and punched him in the face. Now it must be said that my first thought was, "that's what he gets!"  Then I thought again about my position as a Christian, which comes before anything in this world.  Christ teaches us to love our enemies, even to pray for them-which is an expression of love.  How hard it is though, to do something so simple for someone who seems so blatantly evil.

I can't say I'm at that point right now, but I can say I feel sorry for him...  What a pity to live life so consumed with the devil's emotions. It is what our TRUE enemy feeds off of (the devil of course- and you will not see me capitalize his name. EVER!), yet people buy into every day. HATE.

Motives, that's the key word.  So many judge the outward appearances, even outward actions as if those alone define the situation; but it is the motive, a condition of the heart, that is judged by God. This is where I believe George Zimmerman fails continuously.

Since making the news, and his first claim the infamousy back in 2012, there has been nothing but a string of negative coverage for this man. His brute temper has been exposed in a series of battery charges, one which caused his wife, who stood by him during his murder trial, to pack her bags and leave.

Does he truly feel that taking the life of an unarmed young man who was just approaching the prime of his life, and could have lead an amazing one full of promise, is a note worthy deed? If so, where do his motives lie?  What is the condition of his heart since there seems to be no conviction on the inside telling him what he did was wrong?  He walks around as if he's done the world a favor, and yet I wonder if it was his own son taken out, would he still feel the need to gloat?

Here-in lies the reason for my pity. It seems as though the condition of his heart is in much worse shape than his face must have been after the angry patron got through with him.  Many have used the term I'm about to express (about George Zimmerman), and often so loosely its almost cliche'. Still, it does not make it any less true...  He needs Jesus!

We The People...

As I write this, I have just learned of the death of Korryn Gaines, a 23 year old black woman shot and killed in front of her 5 year old son.  A son, who by the way, was shot as well during the rain of fire aimed at his mother sitting next to him. They claimed she was "holding him hostage," but the child was recorded saying that he did not want to go out there and face those officers.  So this mother, thinking that she was protecting her son, sat by his side with a shot gun in her lap and a cell phone in her hand.

The saddest part of the whole video was when she asked the young boy who was outside, and what they had come there to do.  In his small voice, you could hear him say that the police had, "come to kill us..."  Not that I agree with holding a gun and having a stand-off with law enforcement, because I DON'T, but a rational mind would beg to question why SWAT would be called out for traffic violations?  One would also have to wonder if these officers were taught during training to use deadly force while there is a child present?

This woman, who felt she was protecting her son, addressed the officers at her door by their title, and even calling them sir.  No disrespect was in her tone, yet the words you hear on that video are the last words she spoke before being killed by them.  I wonder if she felt that this would be her end?  It was said that she actually spent time, prior to her death, filming police brutality in her Baltimore neighborhood. Could that be another reason why SWAT was sent out in the first place?

WE THE PEOPLE, the ones who help/ed to build this nation are in a stand-off with the hired exterminators (and those who allow/support their actions by not speaking up) who pray on the powerless. But aren't we all really?  Powerless I mean, because the only side the law is on is their own. It is a modern-day Civil War under the guise as one of the world's greatest countries.

On September 27th, of 2011, Chad Chadwick, a Ft. Bend County Caucasian resident, and father, went home after having a few drinks, and fell asleep in his bathtub. A concerned friend called the Missouri City Police to go over and check on him.  Approximately 5 members of the city's SWAT unit were sent out instead.  They arrived, and without announcing their presence, kicked down his door, and entered his apartment without a warrant.  They found him sleeping in the tub, but instead of checking on him, they chose to pull him out naked and snap photos of his body.  After that initial humiliation, they proceeded to knock him to the ground and shoot him with a 40mm non lethal round (which if he was black would have been a SUPER lethal round). To add insult and more injury, they tazed him in the back of the head and beat him until he had permanent hearing loss.  This gentleman was then hauled off to jail with no known charges, and no prior record.  I can only imagine what they would have done to someone who had a record (RIP Alton Sterling)...

Not only had these officers wrecked Chad Chadwick's life with their violent unlawful acts, but they also tried to ruin his reputation by covering their tracks and saying he was holding hostages as the reason why they used such brute force.  I saw the video, there were no hostages.  These lies they told under oath, have put a barrier between he and his child, as he is being kept from performing his parental duty as her father because of the false charges on his record.

In Austin, TX Breaion King, an elementary school teacher, who so happens to be my sorority sister, and Black, was pulled over for a minor traffic incident by an Officer Bryan Richter.  Without provocation, I watched as his dashboard camera caught him pulling Ms. King from her car and slamming her into the ground; holding her there by what appeared to be a knee to her neck.  He then commenced to man handle her while drawing cuffs from his belt.  Pulling her up sharply by her arms, which were so far behind her, I was afraid they might break, he and his partner finished cuffing her together, and shoved her into the back of their cruiser.  She did not resist, or provoke the officer to produce this type of treatment.  Her only question as she was being carted off to jail was why.  Why was this happening to her?  In response, the officer posed a question right back to her, one as ignorant as his actions had just displayed.  He asked if she knew why people were so scared of Black people.  He then went on to answer his own question by saying that it was because Black people had "violent tendencies." Even though HE was the one who had just BEAT HER without reason or provocation.

Needless to say, all the charges against her were immediately dropped by the court, and a public apology was issued; not by officer Richter or his partner, but by the city's Chief of Police. Though I'm sure the memory of this experience, for her, will never disappear.

I thank God for the bold citizens who are willing to risk their own lives to film police brutality, and those dashboard cams that capture the corrupt actions of ones who should not be members of the systems law enforcement.  WE THE PEOPLE are at war, in hopes that one day our current system of injustice will be turned on its head and held accountable.  These amateur videos bring to light what has been long since looked over and even dismissed.

More power-hungry cops eager to flex their position, were recently caught on camera brutally beating a motorist in the middle of a busy street.  A passer-by noticed and took it upon himself to start filming the incident so that he may publish it on social media.  One of the officers noticed, and chose to cross that busy street so that he could take down the passer-by using his defense weapon. Now why would he do that if what he was doing were legal?

I'm not one to judge the whole group by the ignorant few.  As a Black woman living in America, I already know how it feels to be on the receiving end of someone's hatred simply for being different. It seems only skin color to be a curse in the mind of a fool.  A dog can be different, so can a horse, yet these animals are accepted as some of the most beloved pets by the very people who don't accept others because of the shade of their pigment.  A pigment that only runs 1/16th of an inch deep in skin. Yes, 1/16th of an inch separates us, but this same color in a dog, a horse, even a cat is of no consequence.

There was a woman, a Black woman, taken into custody for a first time minor shop lifting offense. What baffled me was not the crime, but the punishment.  She was sentenced to 75 days in jail and during her initial three day, while waiting to appear in court, had her pants taken away; totally unclothed from the waist down. To top that off the jailers refused to provide her with feminine products, and they escorted her into court this way.

The judge in this case was blown away, as anyone in their right mind should be.  Did this woman deserve to be stripped of her dignity and stand in front of a judge with a courtroom full of spectators because of a first offense with no previous record?  I think not! And neither did the judge. She called the jail where she was being held and asked how such a thing could be allowed.  She also reduced her sentenced to time served and gave her a credited $100 fine; saying in essence that it was absolutely ludicrous for them to give that woman such a lengthy sentence, and shame her in that way.  Would the story have been the same if the woman's skin was pale, eyes blue, hair blonde, and came from more income than those who reside in a trailer park?  You know the answer...

These things are not all happening in the past!  This is not 1964.  We are no longer in a Civil Rights Movement, yet things that happened then are still fresh on the screens of the nightly news. When will law enforcement honor the oaths they take?  When will the injustice system stand for justice?  Did you know citizens that you have a lawful right to resist unlawful arrest, even to the point of taking the life of the arresting officer?  DID YOU?  I'll bet that is a law that will never be told, you have to research it for yourself.  Check it out, its in the books.  Know your rights, you are a citizen, you have a right to be treated with dignity and respect, but without the knowledge of those rights, and an accountable system to back them up, we will continue to perish. WE THE PEOPLE have a right to know.

White Supremacy-A Message to the KKK

What is white supremacy?
Really?
Is it an insecurity complex rooted
So deeply
That the mind is watered down with
Foolish falsely educated idiocy?
Who gave you the right to reign supreme?
In the Bible it reads that there is only
One true Supreme Being
Are you, the created, attempting to take
The place of The Creator?
Well, that won't succeed
Just ask Lucifer, now called the devil
Yeah, you know the story,
And we all know where it leads...
Is there anyone, other than yourself, who said
You're better than me?
Just because we're created different
Doesn't mean
I don't meet the classified standard of beauty
Besides that, my value comes from a place
Rooted much deeper any way
Than what is plainly seen
I am part of a royal priesthood
Therefore called into royalty
And if you can't see your worth
Past being better than me
I can only move on, and shake you off
As the dust beneath my feet

AT&Thieves

Its a shame when a phone company who is supposed to be providing you a service takes the liberty to ROB YOU BLIND without giving it a second thought.

I have been with AT&T since they were Cingulair (I guess that's how you spell it...).  You'd think I'd get some sort of "grandfathered in" benefits, but no.  Somehow, with my being the one who had the initial account with Cingulair, and then later adding my husband after we got married, just before the company was bought out by AT&T, I was pushed out as the account holder.  This prevented me from making any decisions on an account which used to be owned solely by myself.  According to them, everything now needed to be verified through my husband. Huh??? When did that happen?

But that was only a minor issue in my list of grievances with this company.  One of the main concerns I have is their lack of communication in regards to pulling extra money from my bank account. The first major issue happened during the 2012 Christmas season. Our family plan had two upgrades as a credit on our account, and I decided to use them to get our boys new phones as one of their gifts. I made sure to stay in that store as long as I could to get reassurance that what they were giving me was not a scam. I spoke with not only the representative, but also the store manager who reassured me that by taking advantage of this holiday special there would be no extra charges on my account. Basically we were getting a duty free upgrade according to the impression they had made.

I was excited for my boys because they would be getting the latest model of the LG, the G2, which had been introduced to the market that year, and was a wise investment (that I would be getting for free) according to the store reps.

I walked out of the store after signing the necessary paperwork with trepidation on one shoulder and reluctant enthusiasm on the other.  Something inside me would not allow me to believe the words I had just been fed in that store. (Btw: if you're ever in the Katy, TX. area, and visit the Katy Mills Outlet mall DON'T stop in to that AT&T store.  It's a trick!)

When it came time to get my bill, I was expecting discrepancies, but was fully blown away when I saw that the total charge was over $700.00, and that was only for one month. Included in this $700.00 were a number of fees which were not communicated to me upon purchase, and some I was promised would never show up on my bill in the first place. I was livid! I wondered how any company could justify racking up over $500.00 in fees with loyal customers who paid their bill every month.  Oh, and did I mention this particular account, one which I was not allowed to make decisions on prior to this purchase, had been given over to my husband with full rights to all decisions made?  YES I DID!

I wish I had caught on to the scam the moment the representatives decided it was okay to allow me the decision to get the phones for my boys, but yet did not allow me any other rights to changes on the account other than that.  My mind was so clouded with the excitement of being able to give my sons this type of gift for Christmas that this major flaw in service was overlooked.  My husband had to step in and go to a downtown location where those employees noticed the apparent discrepancies on our account, and the negligence of the AT&T representatives at the Katy Mills location.  Thankfully those gentleman corrected the problem.

The fun didn't stop there though.  Just last year my husband was due for yet another upgrade (Oh those upgrades... What a trap...) Now mind you, we were used to our upgrades being free as long as we were willing to sign on to another two year agreement (the trap).  Since he was ready for a new phone, my husband went ahead and signed on the dotted line while under the impression that this particular phone would also be free.  But, what AT&T failed to tell him when he got the phone is that they no longer provided free upgrades with contract renewals, no, my husband and I would be paying the full cost of his new phone in addition to our monthly bill. This would not have been a problem if they had let us know before signing the agreement, because then we would have promptly decided that his old phone was good enough, picked up our things, and walked our behinds right out of the store.  That choice was taken from us, all in the name of getting more money.

So for all of you current, or prospective AT&T customers be prepared to bend over and take it for how ever long they have you locked in.  As for me and my family, we'll be done in two years... (I hope).

A Mother's Woes

Sometimes I feel like I'm just not good enough.  No matter how hard I try I end up doing the very things I set in my mind not to do.  Losing my temper with my children seems to be a recurring event as they grow deeper into their teens, and all I want to be is the best mother I can be to both of my sons.

As my children so often to refer to my chosen method of communication, and as is so popularly coined when in reference to women who continuously speak their mind; I nag.  Am I proud of this? No.  Do I want to continue? Heck no!  But when I clearly communicate my expectations, and the matter of time in which I expect them to be followed, it irks me when I hear the constant excuses that my words were forgotten, or for that matter, not even heard... Every day?  Does the hearing mechanism in their ears only operate when I'm saying something they want to hear like, "Hey y'all want to go out to eat, or would you like a little money for your pocket?"

It is only when I become so frustrated with the daily recurrence of  a power struggle between my children and I, and then say something out of that frustration which causes my son's feelings to be hurt that I begin to feel  that maybe I'm just not good enough for my position.

Just last week my youngest son "ran away" after I told him to reclean all the mess he had left behind from his initial cleaning.  I remember telling him that I would prefer for any child of mine to leave versus not taking care of the small responsibilities that I give them while living in my home. This, of course, was not what I truly meant.  I could never see my sons living anywhere but with me while they are being raised, but it took a conversation with my husband for me to see that maybe he had interpreted my words the wrong way.

After saying this to my son he dropped what he was doing and began to walk out of the house.  At first with nothing, but then deciding to turn around and retrieve his phone.  A phone I quickly confiscated, reminding him that I still paid the bill.  He left in a huff and began the long walk out of our neighborhood in 90 degree weather.

I was hot on his trail. trying to give tough love, but at the same time having a protective mother instinct that immediately takes over whenever I feel one of my children would face even the slightest bit of danger.  I followed him for about a quarter of a mile until I noticed that he was becoming increasingly tired.  This is when I decided enough was enough and pulled up beside him so that he could see that I had been following him.  He chose to run from me, yelling that I only cared about myself; the same thing he had said on his way out the door.  I ignored this because I knew he was angry, and parked the car waiting, because I knew eventually he would turn around.  He did, and when he got back into the car he told me that if I really cared about him I would have never let him leave.  Oh, but how far from the truth he was.

When we got back to the house we had a long conversation about tough love, and I apologized if I had given him the wrong impression, and had been too hard on him.  I also made sure he knew that I was still mama, and had rules which I expected to be followed.  Our conversation ended well, as we both reached a better understanding of how the other operates.

I can only hope now that my 16 year old is mad at me, he and I can come to the same understanding.  If only there was an instruction book on how to raise teen-aged boys out there, it would be a number one seller, and I would be first in line for my copy.

Woe is me...

What Hate Looks Like

What does hate really look like? For me, growing up in a Christian household, hatred always tended to look like red horns with a demonic face.  Hatred was evil, born straight from the father of lies.  Hatred was the devil.

Whatever it may look like personally to you, it is real, it is here, and it comes in many forms.  In the spirit realm, it has existed since before man was created.  This we learn through the story of Lucifer, one of God's highest angels, who came to know hate through his desire to take God's place. His prideful lust for The Creator's throne resulted in him being cast out of heaven by the very God he was trying to be. But hatred, thankfully does not follow mankind through the birth canal in the process of labor.  No, we come into this world not caring about the differences between one person from the next.  The ignorance, bound in hatred, is a learned character trait passed down through generations as a way of boosting the human ego.

It is natural in any man or woman to want to feel more secure in themselves.  Some people go about this by reaching for higher career goals, or buying a whole new wardrobe.  Some even find a deeper level of security in their religious beliefs, and lessons of encouragement they receive as a result.  Yet there are others who have been taught that security comes from the belief that they are superior to someone else based off of their differences.

America as a whole has learned to put on a pretty mask.  We parade around in an effort to cover our true feelings and call it being "politically correct."  We practice our curtsy and give an esteemed bow to keep up a show for this masquerade ball of a nation.  We do this until something so drastically historic happens that it ruffles our feathers, and lifts the mask right off the faces of the hateful.  Historic happenings such as the election of the nation's first Black president, which happened nearly eight years ago, but yet has netted a drastic amount of ignorance which has been swelling for so long that it has been pricked to the point of explosion.

Being politically correct, even in the media, has somehow become  a thing of the past.  Bill O'Reilly, a journalist with his own nightly show, has made claims that Black Americans are "ill educated," and apparently they also have tattoos on their foreheads.  I also remember that there was a point in time where he claimed that Black Americans were responsible for the nation's level of violence.  While admittedly there are some people who are Black and do those things, it is also true that the same can be said about people in other races.

It is a sad thing when someone who has such influence on the nation, can take his platform and use it to display his ignorance so boldly.  He is only one of the many.  Time after time we have been exposed to hatred through slanderous words, and even acts of violence.  The terrorist attacks of 9/11, and more recently the shootings in an Orlando night club where 50 people were killed. show how hate can infect the human mind and permeate the outcome of other's lives. This recent attack has been said to be the deadliest mass shooting in the United States and the worst terrorist attack since September of 2001. and it was all driven by, and laced in hate.

One thing I know about hate is that it always comes to steal your mind, kill your existence, and destroy your destiny.  Never have I seen a hateful person walk around daily with hearts filled with utter delight.  They are drenched in their negative emotions, and search miserably for how they can inflict their ignorance on the one's they feel more superior to. It is a heavy burden that I choose not to bear.  Martin Luther King Jr. said it best, "Nothing in the world is more dangerous than a sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity."  If you need proof of this, keep tuning in to your nightly news.