Curiosity

When curiosity is the motivating factor in asking a friend for information about an emotional pain they are experiencing, it might be wise to silence that desire to know until the question can be asked from a place of compassion? More often than not, idle curiosity produces flippant responses and brings more pain as well as a sense of aloneness. Compassion, however, conveys concern and a desire for the wellbeing of the one hurting. Words spoken from compassion bring healing, even if that only means the wounded souls knows they are not alone in their pain. We all hold a different thresholds for pain. Pain does not define whether or not a person is strong or weak. Pain speaks more about a wound than the one who bears it. It's always helpful to remember, a friend who is in pain, first and foremost, needs a friend. Be gentle and treat others how you would like to be treated.

Stories

Sometimes I find myself thinking about a character in a book, and I wonder how he's doing or I wonder what new adventure has been breathed into her world by her creator.

Then I wonder if we are all books and our days are the pages. There are so many stories to be told; so many pages to turn; so much life to live.

Yet, sometimes we may need a character in a story inspire us to live, to risk, to love, or to just be. Imagination paves the way for our future. Never should we discount the stories of our days or the books we read; they both are a vital part of who we are.

In life and in books... the possibilities are endless!
Pass your stories down! Speak... Write... Read... and most of all... Live!

Acceptance

In light of being asked today what I, as a Christian, will say to God when He asks me why I accepted transgendered folk as normal:

In the end, or middle, or beginning, depending on how you look at it, when I am before Jesus, and after I stop boo-hooing and try to wipe the tears and snot away that I am sure will be there just from being in the presence of unadulterated love, I'll answer his question on why I accepted those the church and society did not.

I'm sure I'll say through my tears, "Jesus, If I thought I was wrong, I'd stand with them anyway. Because I'd rather err by being merciful than by being judgemental.

These are the outcast... "the least of these," you spoke about. The ones not accepted. The ones pushed to the margins of society because they seem different than what those in positions of power thought was acceptable.

And because the church was against them, these precious human beings thought you were against them. If accepting them for who they are, meant they knew they were loved by me, and by representation, you, than I chose to love them wholeheartedly.

And Jesus, since I don't believe I was wrong, I simply and gladly stood with the outcast because they are my neighbor and I love them.

They are worth being loved, valued, acknowledged, and they are worth showing that we all belong to one another. It was an honor to know them, Jesus. I am humbled by their love and acceptance of me.

And on top of all that, I know you were there, too. Just like you said you'd be. How could I not long to be where you are?"

Peace

Standing up for the marginalized, the poor, the prisoner, and the refugee will undoubtedly be viewed as resistance to those who believe peace will come by subduing a perceived enemy by suppression and violence.

However, violence and suppression will never bring about peace.

Speaking out for a fellow human being, standing up for a soul that has been crushed by pain for simply being different from what is deemed as acceptable,
are actions that are about ushering in peace.

And yet, in the midst of protestations, we must love those who disagree with us as much as we love those who are being ostracized.

If we are not a people who can forgive one another, we are not a people who can extend peace to one another.

Love will always proceed forgiveness, just as peace will follow forgiveness.

No matter where we stand, humility will always be a strength, not a weakness.

Live and love boldly, yet never without humility.

The Joy of Flying

On a plane heading towards Texas to meet up with my sister, Margaret, for a road trip to Alabama to see my mother, sister, and nephew! I will try to narrate an event  as it is happening:

I am sitting by a window on the right side of the plane. There is an empty seat next to me and a businessman on the aisle. He's a nice gentleman from Alabama and I enjoyed talking to him before he fell asleep and started snoring. Now, I hate him.

Directly across from our row there are two women in their 30's. Why the age information is important I've yet to find out, but the lady on the aisle has felt the need to relay this info to anybody listening, which apparently is me, three times in the last fifty six minutes. Under the seat between the two women is a cat in a box. A live, very angry feline, who is obviously not a fan of flying. Not only is the animal going berserk, his name is Berserk... or as the lady in the window seat refers to him, "Mama's sweet Berserk". The cat is screaming, he keeps swatting the thirty year old on the aisle through the bars on his pen, and is also having some intestinal issues.

There has been talk of turning the plane around and returning to Oakland because the smell of cat, how shall I put this, #3, is nauseating. Thankfully, the plane is  not full and the people in front of Mama's sweet Berserk have been moved towards the back of the plane. The people in the row directly across from the foul smelling feline from hell have not been so lucky.

In front of me there is a blonde lady who just threw up. The sound made me want to join her. LOL! The man in front of the vomiting blonde just screamed, "Oh for the love of God, I just bought this shirt!" The noise of people yelling woke the snoring freight train up who asked, "Do I smell lunch?" I'll be honest with you, that comment

Butterflies

""Mama, I'm afraid."

"I know, sweetheart. Sometimes I am, too. But that's just part of life for every single one of us."

"It is?"

"Why, sure it is. We all human, kiddo. We all have to deal with fear, but you know what?"

"No, Mama, what?"

"You more than your fear, sweetheart. If you let fear take over, it's like saying you done with trying new things, but if you say, "Fear, I know you're there, but there's more to me than you." And then, sweetie, you just let that fear be there, and you step right out and try your best at whatever life is offering."

"But, Mama, when I think about trying, my tummy feels funny."

"Well, it should."

"It should? Why's that?"

"Well, you remember when we watched that butterfly come out of that cocoon?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"When your tummy feels that way, fear wants you to think bad things are gonna happen outside that cocoon, but the reality is what's inside you is like a butterfly trying to get on out of you. Cause it wants to stretch its wings and fly. It wants to show the world its beauty. What you feeling is all that goodness that wants to come out. And you know what?"

"What, Mama?"

"It's up to you to make the choice. It's up to you, baby. You either gonna let fear stop you from living or you gonna let that butterfly go free. But remember this, it don't matter if what you trying to do works out good or not. The most important thing is that you tried and you didn't let fear stop you."

"Even if I don't do good?"

"Even if you fall flat on your face. You'll be ok. You just pick yourself up and try again. You know why you'll be ok? Cause you're loved. Cause I love you. And I will always be proud of you, no matter what."

"I love you, Mama."

"I love you, too, baby. Gimme a hug, then you go on outside and play. And then tonight, for you go to bed, you think on what we talked about, alright, child?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, Mama."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

*****************************************

That's the last conversation I had with Mama. Not thirty minutes later, she died, sitting right in that rocking chair. I didn't know until I was older that she had the cancer. I'm not sure Mama knew it either. All we knew is she was tired.

I'll never forget my mama. Sometimes I think I try new and scary things so I'll feel butterflies in my stomach, just so I can remember her holding me on her lap in that chair with her arms wrapped around me while she was talking in my ear. I miss my mama. I miss her more than anything."

From my book: My Memories of Mama