Brother Ben

As if we needed anymore foolishness in the coming election season, Ben Carson recently put his foot in his mouth by eluding to the fact that President Obama hadn’t truly lived the ‘black experience’ because he didn’t grow up living in the projects, going to failing schools. What?! Yes, I have whittled down what he said quite a bit but in a nutshell, many, myself included, are saying old Ben was saying that Obama isn’t quite ‘black enough’.

We currently live in a world where people are fighting to prove that black people are not just a  stereotype that’s portrayed by mainstream media, music, movies, and certain TV networks. And yet here we are with someone who wants to be POTUS questioning another black person’s blackness.

Enough already. The beautiful thing about the black experience, heck the human experience, is that it doesn’t fit neatly into any particular narrative. If I sat down and chronicled the experiences of every black person I know there would be some similarities, of course, but there would also be vast differences.

Brother Ben, let me help you out. I didn’t grow up living in the projects. There were no rats and roaches and people getting killed on the street corners every night. I went to public schools but they weren’t failing and I actually received a good education. And guess what Brother Ben? I’m black. There is zero doubt on my part, or the part of anybody who looks at me that I’m black, my mama is black, and my Daddy. And my two little black kids? They are living a ‘black experience’ similar to mine.

So I’m going to keep living my black experience…even if it doesn’t fit your narrative. And I’m going to wake up every day and be black enough.

Until next time…

The Other Side of the Fence

Those metal poles, my friends, are posts. We are getting the rest of the fence of our backyard completed this week. What’s the big deal? It’s a fence, Corliss. Well to me, as a person who is chronically worried about what could go wrong, who prays daily for her faith in what God can do, and someone who is ridiculously impatient, it’s kind of a big deal.

In a couple of weeks we’ll be celebrating two years in our second home. If you know the story of how we got here, you know that the hubs and I don’t take it for granted.  We ‘sold’ and moved out of our first house once, had three contracts on other homes we had to walk away from, and almost didn’t get this house. Almost. God had something else in mind though.

We’d wanted to live in this area since we got married but couldn’t afford it. And honestly, we didn’t get the ‘best’ house on the block because we choose tithing over a gigantic mortgage payment. And although the countertops are the original 1976 Formica and random cabinet drawers fall off…don’t even ask…this house has felt like home since the day we schlepted all of our stuff in here.

One huge concern was that our backyard was missing part of the fence and we were facing a vacant house. With two kids and a dog, it was worriesome. But we knew THIS was the house. And about a month ago, we got a call that an investor had bought the vacant house and wanted to split the cost of the fence. For a FRACTION of the cost, our fence is getting finished…and just in time for Josephine’s birthday party.

Lots of folk are going to say, that’s just a coincidence, Corliss. Okay, believe what you want. But I know that if I don’t pay attention to God building and working around me, I’m going to miss Him. And miss thanking Him for all things…not just the big ones.

Until next time…

Raising Little People

It’s 2:45 in the morning. I should be fast asleep, dreaming about our summer beach vacation, resting up for the busy weekend ahead. But instead I’m in bed, rubbing my four year old’s tummy, hoping he’ll fall asleep soon.

This isn’t an unusual occurrence. He wakes up most nights around 1:00, runs down the hallway, climbs in our bed, and snuggles into ‘his’ spot. On the nights he falls back to sleep quickly we take him back to his room. Other nights are spent with me sleeping on the edge of the bed, elbowing the hubs that we have company, and going back to bed until my wake up call from my mom. And then there are these nights. Nights when I wake up before he does, full of a unusual amount of energy, within moments realizing it’s because I’ll be up with the kiddo for awhile.

Now I know somebody out there is thinking I’m insane. Sleep train him! Make him sleep on the floor! Just say no! Why doesn’t Jacob get up with him?! We’ve tried all of that. And some nights the hubs will stay up with him. Am I going to be exhausted tomorrow? Probably. Am I going to let him sleep in and go to school late? You betcha (Judge me if you will but trust and believe his teachers thank me for this one.)

About three weeks ago I realized that my children are, well, children. I mean, okay, I know they are children, but sometimes I would find myself having expectations for them that didn’t make a lot of sense. Do I get cranky and want to cry about random stuff when I’m really tired? Yep. Do I get very frustrated when I’m misunderstood or confused? Yep. Do I sometimes just need my Mom or Dad to talk to or hug me when life is tough? Oh yeah. But I’m an adult and for the most part, I have to behave like one and regulate my emotions and not ‘lose it’. I have to get up and get to work on time, even though I’m so tired I can’t stay focused or make a coherent sentence. I have to adult.

My kids. Not so much. At some point I want them to grow up to be emotion regulating, all night sleepers who adult, and adult well. But they are four and five, and right now they won’t or they simply can’t. And that’s okay. Because every night I pray that God shapes them into who HE wants them to be…not who I think they should be…and that they both embrace my love and appreciation for sleep 😃.

Well, he’s asleep and I have a load of laundry to wash. Until next time…

Make it Plain

As I’ve said in the last couple of posts I had been having a bit of trouble talking to God in earnest. However a week or so ago my dog woke me up at 2 in the morning. Fueled by that and my bimonthly dose of Prednisone, I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I decided to start praying. I mean no-fooling, put it all on the altar, praying. And I couldn’t stop.

I had the book ‘Fervent’ on my nightstand and it contains prayer cards. I yanked them out and started writing down prayers. Prayers about family, prayers about work, prayers about whatever was on my heart. I filled up ten of them. When I was done I read back over them. I expected them to be random and incoherent. But it was obvious what I wanted to say to God. I had ‘made it plain’.

I had heard that phrase used before, most often when someone is speaking the truth about a particular situation. When I Googled the meaning for this post,  Habakuk  2:2-4 (ESV) “And the Lord answered me: “Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so he may run who reads it. For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay. “Behold, his soul is puffed up; it is not upright within him, but the righteous shall live by his faith.” was the number one result. Here it was…right in my face…God saying simply tell Me what you want, tell others what I’ve done, and you’ll be alright.

And most nights since then (when I didn’t pass out before 8)  I’ve read those prayers every night at bedtime. And day by day, the fog has lifted.

Until next time…
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Lessons From Superwoman’s Cancer

As many of you know my aunt Ruby was diagnosed with cancer towards the end of 2015. Since the diagnosis and all that has come with it, I’ve been in a bit of a funk. Along with her diagnosis I’ve been sick, the boy child has been sick, work has been ridiculously stressful, hubby is grinding HARD for our future, and my sweet Mama has been down and out this week. In a nutshell, I’ve begrudgingly relented to God’s will but haven’t really been deeply engaged…see my last post.

All the while, Superwoman (the new nickname I’ve given my aunt) has cancer and is KICKING ITS BUTT. I have lost count of the number of radiation and chemo treatments but it’s more than I probably could endure without a meltdown (I’m a big baby). In the process she’s changed the water hose on my Mom’s car (in a parking lot), babysat my kids so I could go to work, driven herself to radiation a couple of times, served tirelessly at her church, and a myriad of other things I could name.

And you know where she gets her strength? GOD. He has given her the strength and spirit to KICK CANCER’s BUTT. She rarely complains and for the last few days has worried more about my mom and me than about herself.

I know God is watching my reaction to all of this. He’s wondering if I understand the lessons of faith and being a true tither (time, talents, and money) –like my aunt- that I’m in the midst of. He’s showing me the blessing of obedience. And although I may be very weary and anxious…I see it. And I know that when I have a clear heart,and mind God and I will have a very lengthy conversation. In the meantime I’ll watch Superwoman and thank God for all He’s doing through her life. And through my moans, and groans, and tears, I’ll find peace in her strength.