Unplugging

Unplugging

weary of positions

the divisions

protests and opinions

Unplugging

tired of the lying

vying

rants and accusations

miseducation

flawed leaders

defective parties

the best of two evils?

How about “No.”

Evidently there is no solution

only illusions

of greatness

and more perfect unions

Deception and rose-colored pupils

Evidently there is only

one solution

that no one dares to utter

or dare to admit.

Unplugging

not part of the matrix

not part of the brainwash

Plugging, rather,

into hope

My hope

the hope that is in Him.

Only Him.

Jesus Christ.

Yeah. I said it.

There are no perfect churches, just a Perfect God.

Since the pandemic and the racial reckoning of America since 2020, I have struggled to rejoin my organized Christian community with motivation and passion to connect. While I am still a member of my congregation, I have distanced myself from the intimate connection I used to have with my fellow parishioners. I actually prefer doing church online rather than attend church in person right now.

For the past year, I have visited other congregations in my community, exploring the different ways of worship, preaching and fellowship. It was a welcome change, for the most part, meeting new people, experiencing the sense of anonymity within a new church community. But I always found myself coming to the same conclusion: that a “new church” with a different pastor and different parishioners will eventually wind up being the same as the church I was leaving…imperfect. Why? Because the church is made up of imperfect people.

In a climate of dividing political, economic, and judicial systems, it was only a matter of time that this climate would affect the nation’s religious and church systems as well. Pastors did their best to address the quickly changing American landscape as a result of a Presidential election and its impact on its communities. Once “social justice” issues were introduced or awakened (although these issues were always here, just overlooked by the mainstream population), pastors were faced with whether or not to address them with their congregants. On a personal level, my pastor chose to address these issues as we are a racially diverse church community. While the results of this effort were met with mixed responses from members, I believe it took courage for him to make this attempt not to be silent. If it did nothing, it opened my eyes to the underpinnings of some American churches, and the history of its involvement in, or resistance to, the systemic racism in this nation. I found myself doing more research, more reading, more exploring. This really didn’t help my already challenged mindset of staying connected to my church. While for a time we were doing church virtually, once churches started opening up, I found myself wanting to remain in my home…”doing church” alone with my family. Guess I felt “safer” this way.

Now, some would disagree, but I don’t think this period of withdrawal from my church community negatively affected how I saw God or my relationship to Him. Some would renounce God if there was an offense made from the organized church or from a person within the church. On the contrary, I found myself seeking God more on my own. I continued to read the Bible, prayed, meditated, and connected with other Christian believers in person, online or via phone to pray and study the bible together. In fact, I sought God more because I realized, if anyone was perfect and trustworthy, it would be HIM!

…. And that is what I’ve learned most from this personal journey: there are no perfect churches, just a PERFECT GOD. There are no perfect people, just a PERFECT GOD. While I found myself pointing the finger at others for their lack of interest in social awareness, there were three more fingers pointing at me for my own lack of compassion and forgiveness extended to others. While I questioned “Why can’t people of different races really love one another?” in the American Christian community, I flipped the question to myself: “Why can’t you love and grant mercy and forgiveness to those you don’t think deserve it? You know, like the same mercy and forgiveness the Lord granted to YOU?” Crickets.

So again, I conclude that there are no perfect Christians….just a perfect God. Period. And His name is Jesus Christ, the Son of God. And when I have a hard time watching the sickening acts of our country’s racism and social injustices, and deal with its triggers to my own prejudice, I better look to the perfect God, who, by His Spirit, will help me to see a little clearer, and extend the hand of mercy and love a little farther.

Immanuel. Whether We Feel it or Not.

These past two years have been a challenge celebrating our American version of Christmas. The Coronavirus epidemic have ushered in massive losses that have impacted families and communities in ways we sometimes don’t care to admit. But it has. We’ve lost family members, friends, colleagues, jobs, homes, our trust in government …. all while trying to keep the “stiff upper lip” of American culture, trying to maintain this stoic attitude of strength and toughness.

“Get tested! Get vaccinated. And then, go out there and spend your money! Buy, Buy, Buy!!! Keep our economy going! That will make it alright. Decorate! Bake! Wear those ugly sweaters! Travel! Even though the newest variant tells your gut to keep your butt at home! Just keep going. Try to maintain a sense of normalcy…… no matter HOW you feel!”

But…the reality for some of us is this: “normal” went out of the window once we lost someone or something. Trying to maintain the traditional sense of a holiday is a push for some of us.

Christmas of 1993 had my husband and I filled with so much joy and excitement. I was pregnant with our first child, and February 2nd was the due date of delivery. I remember being in my Harlem church the Sunday before Christmas, December 19th, and enjoying serving my Sunday School class of 8 year olds. I had been up the previous night making their gifts, and I was tickled to pour out and into them that Christmas. A full day at church (’cause you know in a “Black” church, you are in church ALL DAY). That night I went to sleep, tired, but just filled with such joy from a full day with family and friends. God was with us.

Early that next morning, my body went into labor. By the time we finally got to the hospital, and I was taken to the delivery room, the doctor informed my husband that my blood pressure had risen to a dangerous 250/180. So weird, as I felt nothing unusual other than labor pains. Unbeknownst to me, I was experiencing toxemia/pre-eclampsia, and death was knocking on the door of my unborn child and I. All I wanted to hear was my daughter’s heartbeat, but there wasn’t one. And a few hours later, after enduring pushing and praying that this child would make it, I lay there with my dead baby in my arms. A dead baby. That is almost an oxymoron. Babies represent newness and life. But not that day. My husband shared with me years later that the doctor told him that only one of us would have survived that event. Christmas that year was quiet and still. Yet, God was with us.

This year, our second child, Chloe, was supposed to come home for the holidays from South Korea. However, due to this new strain of the virus, her adopted country has restricted travel outside of their nation at this time. So, we will not see this daughter, who we haven’t seen in person in two years. Another parental ache. Quiet. But God is with us.

There are many today that are experiencing a quiet and still Christmas this year. No matter what pressures there are to get with it and be merry, there is a quietness and stillness that saturates the soul. A thought of remembrance. A memory. A snapshot of times that were “normal” once. But God is with us.

God IS with us, because no matter what we experience in the here and now, one night, over 2000 years ago, a baby was born…ALIVE. And for a purpose. To be the living God among us and with us. To remind us that we are not alone. We are loved. We don’t have to do this life alone. (Who would want to???) God IS with us! Through life. Through death. Through success. Through failures. Through our mistakes. Through our joys. In the birthing room and in the cemetery. In the schoolroom and in the courtroom. On college campuses and in prisons. On the plantation and in the White House.

Immanuel. God with us. Whether we feel it or not. Merry Christmas.

“The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call Him Immanuel” – Matthew 1:23

A Simple “Thank You” Will Do!

Undoubtedly many of you have had the experience of being in a public space where you held the door for someone, coming or going. Did you notice whether or not that person you held the door for ever said “thank you”? And when you held that door, did it matter if you received an acknowledgment or not?

I remember the many times my husband and I held doors for others, and some responded with a “thank you”, and some did not respond at all. The lack of response would infuriate my Wayne, as the simple social grace of acknowledging kindness being offered is a culturally acceptable trait in our society, right? But I have learned, over the years, not to expect much acknowledgement. Just hold the door. I am thankful if someone says “thank you”, but not surprised if it doesn’t happen. We aren’t doing it for the response….are we? What I’ve learned, rather, and need to focus on is this: Am I saying “thank you” to those who show kindness to me? I’m sure I’ve missed opportunities, and if it were my hubby who extended that kindness, you KNOW he’d probably be PISSED!

So, before I start the day finishing the cooking and preparation for “the meal”, I’d like to pause and extend a simple “Thank you” to those who held the door open for me with love, kindness and grace over the years.

THANK YOU:

  • Wayne Sr.
  • Chloe
  • Wayne Jr.
  • Keith, Pam and Imani
  • Aunts Chickie, Peggy and Effie
  • Dave, Cathy, Emily and Eric
  • Emma and all my sibs in love (Williams, Pitts and Mayes)
  • All my nieces and nephews, blood and in love
  • Cousin Regina
  • Cousins Warren, Wayne, Joyce, Aquansa, Ty and Jon “Groove”
  • Cousins Sidney, Christopher and Bernice*
  • Auntie Ann*
  • My supervision group…you know who you are!
  • GCC small group …you know who you are!
  • Tina, Trace, and Rose
  • Betty and Frank
  • My Chester neighbors
  • Linda and BWFM
  • My Flannery Family
  • OUBOCES Staff
  • Pastors Jarrod, Adrien, Jim et al, and GCC Church Family
  • Bishop Carlton Brown
  • Bishop Ezra Williams *
  • Lady Dorothea Williams
  • Johnnie-Mae Phelps, Karen Felton, Bebe Edwards*
  • Rev. Faith Brown*
  • Dr. Augustine Akalonu
  • Urban Youth Alliance International alum
  • Dr. Ruth Onukwue
  • My Bethel Family
  • Dr. Sharon Arrindell
  • My FB family
  • Our U.S. troops
  • Our elected officials……..whether I voted for them or not.
  • My grandmothers, Lula and India*
  • My grandfather, Henry*
  • My parents in love, James and Emma*
  • My father, Derek*, and
  • My beloved mother, Viola*

Whew! I am sure I missed some….

….And finally, to Jesus Christ, my Lord and Saviour. THANK YOU.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

*Deceased

Healing Starts with Mourning

Last month I watched, in tears, as then President-Elect Biden and Vice President-Elect Harris initiated a nation-wide moment acknowledging the deaths of 400,000 Americans who lost, and are STILL losing, their lives to COVID. The lighting of the Lincoln Memorial, the humbling words to “Amazing Grace”, and the simple and selfless words that spoke to simply honoring and remembering the “fallen” of our country currently and during 2020. Gotta tell you, the dam could no longer hold the water that had been building in me since March of 2020. Tears finally began to fall, followed by bawling and shaking shoulders. I had finally broke.

Up until that moment, I believe my own heart had been developing a hardened, yet numb, shell. I couldn’t understand then with the climbing numbers of COVID victims, as well as the political, racial and social climate in this nation this year, was I not in tears from this traumatic time? I think, internally, I had shut off emotion. The more I heard about the climbing numbers of COVID cases and deaths, as well as another racially provocative incident, the more numb and irritated I was becoming. I wanted nothing to do with people, so this pandemic was PERFECT for me! My human and canine family were all the company I needed, as far as I was concerned.

As much as my counselor/therapist brain reminded myself that the students I worked with were experiencing trauma from this pandemic and this crazy, political climate, I neglected to see my OWN response to trauma. I, too, have been traumatized! I think we all have! It took the actions of an incoming President and Vice President to bring me to my breaking point where the hard shell of trauma had begun to crack. 400,000 PEOPLE DEAD. It was time for me to finally mourn. Because I’ve been so angry and numb, I couldn’t begin to heal until I mourned the dead. Mourn this country’s failure to be the country it idealized itself to be. Now I, and this nation, can begin to heal. President Biden made a wise move forcing the nation to STOP, look at itself and at the massive loss of its people, and mourn.

In order to heal, you must first remember. And, my God, we’ve got a LOT to remember.

21 Things I Have Learned From the Year 2020

I’VE LEARNED THAT:

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  1. God is the only One that I can trust. Period.
  2. I have everything I need as long as I have God and my family.
  3. Tomorrow is not promised. COVID has proven that. Don’t waste time.
  4. I must find ways to love people…TODAY. However that looks.
  5. Kindness does not cost much….just one’s ego.
  6. The greatness of a country is not how wealthy or economically stable it is, but rather, how that country treats its PEOPLE.
  7. The word “unprecedented” has been used so much this year, it is now unremarkable and all too familiar. (Time to find another word………)
  8. I am GRATEFUL for essential workers like the military, doctors, nurses, all medical care professionals and hospital staff; but I am even more grateful for those who work in supermarkets, local stores and restaurants, school custodians, caseworkers and crisis workers. Teachers, guidance counselors, social workers, school secretaries. Postal workers, delivery drivers, O&R and Con Ed workers, bus and train drivers. (Should I go on?… There are no words.)
  9. The United States isn’t as “united” as one would think. Maybe we should be called “The Divided States of America”?
  10. I miss seeing people smile. But I will wear this mask for the rest of my life if it means it will keep others safe.
  11. Reckoning inevitably comes. The architects of oppression, terrorism and genocide will have to give an account at some point.
  12. The Church will have to answer for its silence during oppression, terrorism and genocide in our history.
  13. Along with social injustice, the pandemic also revealed my own biases and prejudices. Not a pretty sight, I might add.
  14. I’ve got an oak tree in my eye, so I don’t have time to take out the branch in yours.
  15. Abortion is genocide in the womb, while terrorism and lynching is genocide outside of the womb. All those lives matter.
  16. Somehow I think we all have been duped this year. Somebody, somewhere has benefitted from this chaos.
  17. It is EXHAUSTING being a “Black” person in America!! (It’s a Black thing. Some wouldn’t understand.)
  18. Though exhausting and infuriating at times……I wouldn’t trade being a Black person in America for all the money in the world. I’ve never loved my “Blackness” more than today.
  19. Our inability to follow the arrows in the supermarkets to keep distance and safety is an indication of how stubborn we are about this pandemic. I’ve never been more frustrated with people. (It took all of God’s grace not to yell and curse out my fellow shoppers!! But the image of my being arrested for fighting in Shoprite calmed me down, though…)
  20. Jesus Christ must understand what it is to be “Black” in this world. “He was despised and rejected of men. A man of sorrows, acquainted with grief”. (Isaiah 53:3) If ever there was a people who have been (and still are at times) despised and rejected in this world…….
  21. Hmmm…..This is why I can trust Him. Period.

The Room

Today is my grandmother’s birthday. She would be 101 years old on this earth if she were still living. I took the day off today to somehow honor her memory. But to be perfectly honest, I spent most of the day curled up in bed, sleeping.

That was until I came into the room. The “room” is the guest room in my home that I furnished for guests…but we hardly have any these days. Especially during this COVID-19 pandemic. The room has, instead, become the room where I previously self-quarantined with coronavirus symptoms from my family and waited for my test results. During that week of waiting, this room became my bedroom, dining room, office and retreat from the world. But there was something additionally special about this room.

This was the bedroom that my grandmother, mother and mother-in-law all slept in when they visited and/or lived with us. Now that all three women have passed into eternity, this room holds a special place for me. While I quarantined in that room last month, I felt a sense of peace being there. I would almost venture to say that I felt God’s presence there with me…as well as the spirits of these “mothers”. I felt them holding me in a way that I would feel no where else.

With the recent death of my mother 9 months ago, I felt a particular maternal spirit in this room. While I worried and perseverated about whether or not my virus test would come back positive or not, I would remember my mom’s words to “stop worrying”. Or my grandmother’s words “Stacey, please don’t worry so much”. Or my mother-in-law’s hands holding mine sitting in our den. Just thinking about them now brings a lump in my throat and tears to my eyes. These women hold such a special place in my heart that can not, and will not, be filled by anyone else. These are my matriarchs. And in my world where mothers led their families, these women…these beautiful Black women of my heritage, fill this room.

Alabama to Harlem. Harlem to the Bronx. The Bronx to PA and Orange County, New York. From factory worker to postal worker. From bank teller to construction flag worker. From renter to homeowner. Unashamedly descendants of slaves. No man to lead, comfort, cover or provide. My grandmother and mother gave all of themselves to my brother and I…to extended family members…to neighbors and friends. Often, so often, used and manipulated. But to the untrained eye one would think they were just vulnerable women. Not so. They knew they were just a game to others, but their heart led their hand, and they would give anyway. One day the game would be over…for the others.

How I miss my grandmother, whose passing 15 years ago seems like yesterday. And my mother? There are no words to describe the pain and grief I still feel from her passing last August. Every breath she took, I breathed with her. And her last breath is probably the last real breath I took, as I watched her leave this earth. I feel her, I see her, I love her so. And yet, I feel her, see her, and experience her comfort…in this room.

My soul loves this room, because it is a room of tears, wonder and hope. Searching, longing, transparency and faith. I think better, clearer, and become my best sense of self, at least I think I do, in this room. It is the place where I am loved and accepted unconditionally. It is the place where dreams are born and nightmares cease. It is the place where I believe my God and the spirits of my ancestors visit me. Reminding me that I am not alone and that I am standing on the amazing, powerful shoulders of my mothers…and fathers. The great cloud of witnesses cheering me on in spite of myself.

In this room.

Happy Birthday, Grandma. And Happy Mother’s Day to you, Mommy and my dear Mom in Love. I love and miss you all so very much!

You Want to Go to Korea…NOW??

“Annyeonghaseyo”! Hello. That’s the only word I can speak in Korean. And according to my beloved daughter, Faith, I don’t pronounce it very well.

Faith knew that she wanted to live in South Korea when she graduated college. It was during her sophomore year in high school that she got exposed to, and bitten by, the K-Pop bug that accelerated her interest in the Korean culture altogether. From that moment, she watched videos and K-Dramas, enrolled in a Korean language class in a local church (Yes, she was the ONLY African American in that class!) and began, almost feverishly, studying the language and culture as if she were on a mission. By the time Faith reached her junior year in high school, she had her eye on Binghamton University in New York, which offered Korean Culture courses that would lead to a study-abroad opportunity in South Korea. That was all she needed.

Fast forward to today, K-Pop having been abandoned long ago, and having earned both a bachelor’s and master’s degree in Linguistics, Korean Studies and TESOL….Faith is now living her dream and mission: she’s an English teacher in South Korea…now. (NOW?) She is experiencing her new adult life on the other side of the world during, what promises to be, perhaps, one of the most unprecedented moments in our world’s history witnessed by our generation. By the time Faith completed her master’s program this past December, she was already waiting for all the paperwork she submitted to her host language program to be processed for a February, 2020 start. And it had come through effortlessly! Not at all like the snafus and hold-ups in May and June of 2019, when her paperwork was held up. When Faith was told in June that she would not be able to start in August, but rather, have to wait until February of the following year, she was heartbroken. It was only as the summer progressed and she became privy to the death and dying process of her maternal grandmother that she saw God’s hand on timing. Timing. Now it all made sense. So when Faith was cleared by both governments to leave for Korea in February, all paperwork and documents approved, she braced herself for the new adventure in her new “home”. At the time, we honestly had no idea what else was about to take place.

At the beginning of 2020, the world was beginning to change due to news coming from China. Then, subsequently, news from South Korea. The COVID-19 virus was spreading en masse in China and had just begun it’s spread in the Seoul and Daegu areas of South Korea. OK. Faith was due to leave in a matter of days, and she was faced with the decision again of delaying relocation. As her parents, we asked if she would consider postponing this trip again? (Fat chance.) She didn’t hesitate: “nope”. Now, if she were 17 or 18 faced with this decision, as her parents, we would have pushed our parental authority and said “wait”. But she’s an adult now. We don’t have that authority anymore…we just advise. So…….she left. And amidst our own grief of having her leave us for, at least, a YEAR, the additional challenge was the anxiety of this virus spreading in the land Faith would now make her adopted home.

I was doing fine for a few days after Faith’s departure. Not one to get caught up in the news, we stayed in contact with her several times a day. We monitored the Flight Tracker, she had registered with the American embassy in South Korea before she left, and she navigated traveling…ALONE…to her destination like a pro. As soon as she entered the country of South Korea, she was taken aside for a medical screening. Right away. She was then joined by her team of teachers for orientation before moving into her new apartment. That was when I had my own mini panic attack. The fire of excitement in moving into her own place was quickly doused by the condition of the apartment.

When we video-chatted with Faith, she had just moved in, discovering the apartment filthy and unheated. No doubt due to the previous teacher’s neglect. (Who had moved on without cleaning it first, mind you.) The thought of our daughter in a cold, filthy apartment halfway around the world, with a pandemic spreading in the country now broke me. The news stories were coming in fast and furious by this time, and good-willed friends and family were reaching out to us asking how Faith was doing, and “are you SURE she should be in South Korea NOW”? When I saw my daughter sleeping in her coat in her new place, I got on the floor, on my face, and began praying. I had been praying all along, but this day my prayers were both desperate pleas along with desperate questions to God. “Why, Lord, would you allow her to go to this country, NOW, knowing what was about to happen?” “Can I really trust you, God?” “Please take care of her. Please don’t let my faith and trust in you be put to shame!” I was praying, desperately believing and desperately fearful at the same time.

The very next day, Faith’s co-teacher and school responded to her request for help in cleaning the apartment by having a cleaning crew and repairmen in her place. By the end of the day her place was cleaned; a few days later, new furniture was delivered and repairs to the walls were made. Faith’s place had begun to become a place of comfort and warmth (they have heated floors, y’all!). She was starting to shop in her community, navigating and communicating with locals comfortably. By the way, EVERYONE wears masks. EVERYONE. EVERYWHERE. They don’t play. Teachers are provided with masks, thermometers and access to healthcare. Businesses are open, but due to widespread COVID-19 testing (over 290,000 people), emergency alerts are texted to phones to inform of locations of all positive testers. If that infected person was in a store or establishment, it will shut down for cleaning and disinfecting. Most importantly, people who are informed can avoid those areas and continue social distancing. Because of the aggressive way South Korea had moved to contain this virus in it’s own country, I felt a sense of safety and confidence that officials were doing all they could to ensure the safety of those within their borders. Which helped decrease our anxiety about Faith being there. God had shown me that he was faithful to His Word. I didn’t need to be anxious and have panic attacks worrying about her there.

On the contrary, perhaps I should have been having panic attacks worrying about us here in the U.S., as the virus started spreading steadily throughout the country since February. While I initially worried about our daughter getting sick in South Korea, I began to succumb to flu-like symptoms that kept me sick for weeks. Needless to say, as my symptoms worsened, I tried to get tested for COVID-19…on 4 separate occasions, but was refused testing because I had not come into contact with anyone who tested positive. (How would I know? They haven’t been tested!!) My own country doesn’t have enough tests, so there are probably thousands of infected people walking around not knowing their medical status, infecting each other. My doctor advised that if I DID have the virus, better to be quarantined in my own home rather than in a hospital risking further illness or using a necessary bed. Therefore, I have been quarantined for nearly 2 weeks. So while I was worried about Faith being sick with this virus because she is living in South Korea, it was I who became vulnerable to it right here at home! Go figure! (Do you think God is trying to tell me something? Remember that scene in “The Color Purple”?)

Faith has been living abroad for over a month now, and if you were to ask me if I want her to come home now, I, too, would say “Nope!” The U.S. has been crippled by this disease that is spreading here like wildfire, and sickness and death is being reported daily. Lack of tests. Lack of protective gear for hospital staff. Lack of respirators and ventilators for patients. Lack of hospital beds. Social distancing should be lifted because we need to keep working to maintain our economy, thus putting more people at risk….again. Our nation’s leaders are perplexed, confused, divided and anxious in how to guide a country through this bizarre moment in time. But, on the other side of the world in South Korea, there appears to be a steady hand that is beginning to see a decrease in infection, hospitalization and death. There is little panic. And why should there be? They were better prepared for this. Faith is better off remaining in South Korea than being here right now. Go figure…..

God’s timing. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense at first. Not to us, anyway. But if we trust Him, He will, in His time, show us He had it worked out all along. I don’t know what will happen on this side of the world, but given all that I am witnessing……I choose to trust God. Especially now. I think He’s got a better handle on this thing than we do. “…Then you will know that I am Yahweh; those who put their hope in Me will not be put to shame” – Isaiah 49:23

Walking with Tears…

The recent tragedy last weekend that took the lives of Kobe Bryant and his daughter, Gianna…as well as the lives of the Altobelli and Chester families and pilot, Ara Zobayan, just took my breath away. It was a gut punch that stopped my world for a minute.

I guess all I could think about was Mrs. Kobe Bryant. Like many of us seeing our family members leave home for work, school, or various errands, appointments, etc., saying our goodbyes in the morning is typical and routine. We know we will see them when they return home. The return is imminent, and it is always taken for granted there WILL be a return. My heart aches for these families today. I think of them and my heart swells with tears. We all feel it, I guess. How could we not? The numbing reality that your loved one will not be walking through that door anymore, though you look at the door with the anticipation that they will be there. This must be a dream or horrible nightmare that doesn’t seem to end. It is a tragedy that takes one breath away, and sometimes it is hard to ever catch that breath again.

Since my first and last blog entry in April of 2019, one that I never really published, my world came tumbling down when my mother passed away. My mom. A woman who had suffered a stroke in 2007, and our world changed forever. I became her sole caregiver for 12 years, and it changed our lives. While I knew in theory that my mother wouldn’t live forever, I was not ready for her sudden departure in the summer of 2019. My soul sensed that I should not travel this past summer, but stay close to home to be near my mom, and my soul was right. My mother suffered another stroke after a fall in July, and by the end of August, she was receiving palliative care in the nursing home. I was by her side every day that summer. Even with the inevitable, I was terrified and traumatized by her passing. When she breathed her last breath, I lost my breath at that moment…and it hasn’t returned since.

And so I walk with tears…every day. I have accepted that this is my life for now. To walk with tears. I’ve accepted that this is how I grieve. Going to work, carrying on my daily life, walking with tears. Isolating…insulating….holding memories of my mother in my heart. Perhaps this is how everyone grieves…I don’t know. But my heart is on my sleeve for the most part. It can only take one engagement, one particular moment driving past the nursing home (which I do every day, as I must pass it every day on the way to and from work), a glimpse of something familiar, that can trigger me into a deluge of tears.

So when I heard about the helicopter crash that took the lives of celebrity and non-celebrity, I was shaken back into the devastation and trauma of loss. (It’s only been 6 months for me.) And my soul took on the pain of Vanessa Bryant…still takes it on…and I stand in her place, praying. I stand in the place of the Chester, Altobelli and Zobayan families, praying. When the memorials and well-wishers have moved on, they will have to walk out their new normal without their loved ones. Trying to make sense of this marriage of trauma and new reality. Fighting depression and hopelessness while trying to breathe and carry on. As they are trying to catch their breath, I am breathing prayer for them. I know someone, somewhere, breathed a word of prayer for me, when I couldn’t catch my own. And as I pray and look up into the sky where eternity lies and our loved ones watch us, I continue to walk …with tears.

Hello!

It’s so good to finally meet those of you who choose to journey with me! I’m Stacey, a born and raised New Yorker, and I’m knocking on 58 years of life this summer. I guess I’m in the category of “late” baby boomers. It’s only the grace of God that I’m still here, sometimes kicking and screaming, but still here! Married to an awesome husband with two adult children that I wish I could still coddle, paying student loans, managing bills, bills, and more bills, health issues, taking care of an aging parent, and juggling a career as a social worker working with teens, I wonder sometimes why I don’t just keep driving when I get into my car? You know, drive past the job, the house, the nursing home, and just keep going? Aaah, the sandwich life of middle age! You either run away or slap some mustard on that thing and enjoy the meal!

I’ll take mine to go….:)