Pain breeds growth dear friend.
Tears fell from our eyes
But not a moment too soon.
We love and live
And our tears fall.
Like the rain they tumble
watering our soil
breeding life renewed.
Tears.
Restoration.
Life.
09/29/2007
09/25/2007
In Memorium: Jewell Armentha Sneed Moss, Part I
Last week, I stumbled upon my elementary school portfolio. The small purple folder was far too inadequate for the amount of art and academic accolades that it’d acquired. While I referred to the purple folder as my portfolio, Grandma had a better usage for it, her “brag book.” I was the envy of all of the grandchildren in our neighborhood, because no one’s grandmother consistently spoke so fondly of them. This is no way a testament to my “greatness,” but a reflection of an investment of time.
As soon as I arrived in Gary Indiana from Texas, it was my grandmother’s mission to begin molding my mind. Weekly, there was a UPS truck parked in front of our home. Old brown was quickly associated with happiness. While most would assume that those boxes were filled with toys, as they sometimes were, the cardboard packages mainly consisted of books. By the age of four, our home was filled with two large bookcases of encyclopedias and other fact books. I could not only tell you that the capitol of Djibouti was Djibouti, but I could also tell you that Arabic was spoken there in Arabic. Once again, this is no testament of my own intellect; but a reflection of an investment of time.
Every Saturday afternoon, Grandma and I would read a Childcraft encyclopedia from cover to cover. Saturday afternoons were meant for intellectual exploration. And sometimes I begged her to read the one hundred plus pages with me again. “Please Grandma, can we read it one more time. You take the first page, and I’ll read the next.” Of course, she always obliged.
People often say that grandchildren are the “second chance” children. You can do everything with them that you did not have time to do with the original set. But I’ve found that with Grandma, no matter the amount of time she focused into children, the return on that investment was always a mint. It appears that she had the “Midas touch.” You can see it in the lives of her children and grand children. You can see it in the eyes of her nieces and nephews. You can see it vibrantly in productive sectors of Gary.
And as time passed, the tables turned. I had to make the investment. And I say “had to” carefully. It was not a duty or an obligation that brought me home from college my sophomore year; it was a desire to help care for someone who’d spent my entire life ensuring that I would have a future. Knowledge is power. And I thank God that she will always be a part of it. Live, love, laugh, they say. Rejoice, reflect, remember, is what I say.
09/07/2007
In Memorium: Gloria Diana Davis Boulware
"Love—is anterior to Life—
Posterior—to Death—
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth." -Emily Dickinson
Amazingly, when Death visits one's spiritual household, he brings his not so distant cousin, Guilt with him. Guilt is a shrewd force. She wants you to become prey to her devices, her memories.
As a child, I was always told to remember the good times when someone passed. And I always found it difficult to recall those "good times." The memories that were nearest to me where the unkind words, mischievous pranks, and generally nasty things that I had done to the departed. I realize that this doesn't change with age.
Saturday morning, I received an e-mail from my father stating that his wife had succumbed to illness. Truthfully it was more shocking than sad. I did not personally know Gloria very well. When I was ten I met her during a field trip to Washington D.C. And last winter I spent my first holiday with my father. During those five days, I had an opportunity to get to know her, even under the blanket of negative remarks that preceded her. No fault of her own.
We deal with perceptions, and often see people through a convoluted frame. My largest regret is not being able to see Gloria for whom she was. While I am unable to write anything truly profound about Gloria, I can speak to the fact that the passage of time or seeming finality of death cannot kill a person's legacy. Even though I was unable to know Gloria, whatever kindness or love, or sensitivity or grace that she possessed will be reflected through those who are left to mourn her.
I pray that out of this my father and his children will learn to become a family. I pray that his new children will continue to be his family.
Love has always been a foreign concept to me. Obviously because of my tendency to over think the simplest concepts. But as the above quotation states, love is essentially in everything. It comes before us. It is here with us. And it is in place when we are no longer a physical placeholder.
08/19/2007
Easy Like Sunday Morning
It was so gloomy outside this morning, that I really did not want to turn the bed a-loose.
I ran to the mall to help my mom buy some back to school gift certificates for a friend's children. They've been going through some difficult times for the past couple of years. Her husband of ten years died last November after battling a drug addiction, leaving my mom's friend with three daughters to care for. So, we try to do our part to help out. Last year we purchased school uniforms, since the city finally came to their senses and made them mandatory.
At anyrate, whilst walking through the mall, I decided to stop into GAP and pick up a basic pair of jeans. Since I've been following a vegan diet, I've dropped a clothing size and can finally make "in store" purchases. As I was searching for the perfect pair of jeans, my favorite sales associate, Martha, walked by with a military jacket. I'm not into the military look, but everyone was raving about this jacket. And my mom said that I must get it. So, needless to say, she bought it for me.
Finally, Martha took over and sent whomever was helping me to the front register. She is after all my favorite sales associate. I tried on a few pairs of bootcut jeans, but they weren't giving me the look I was going for. Martha and I discussed how I'm not really into trends, but I like to be fashionable. She said that there was a pair of limited edition skinny jeans in the front that would help accomplish the look that I was going for, but she wasn't sure if I wanted to spend that kind of money on a pair of jeans I wouldn't wear that often. Well, I tried them on anyway, and we both fell in love. I've never been into trends, but I officially have two trendy pieces for my fall "wardrobe."
I noticed this vintage baseball cap in the men's section, and it was a good thing that I purchased it given the torential rain that was pouring down when we were leaving the mall. Here's the kicker, the car window got stuck (in the down position)! Yea, I'm back in pajamas until further notice...
Enjoy your Sunday folks! I'm going to dry out and catch a little WNBA action.
Chilaxin,
Beans
08/10/2007
The Beginning of the End (Sorta)
May 2008 will be here before I know it. It is now crunch time; that place in time where time is moving too quickly yet too slowly. Part of me is excited that my undergraduate career is drawing to a close, and the other part realizes that there is so much yet to be done.
When I officially transfered to Purdue last fall, I wasn't sure what to expect. It certainly was larger than my small liberal arts college, population wise at least. But I grew to love the atmosphere. The upper level classes have been challenging without the pretense and self-adulation of the private school classroom. Once I dove into campus life, that was it. I've spent every day on campus since last August.
Last Friday, I told my manager that I needed time off. My doctors confirmed that I'd offically run myself into the ground with work and worry (i.e. school). So, I am taking a temporary leave of absence a possible permanent departure from my job. School starts up in about 10 days. Classes don't start for about 15 days, but I have other "activites" on campus.
For the past few months, I'd been searching for another campus gig because I felt under valued. The people in my department "forgot" to give me my raise, and they tend to assume that any work that gets done around the office was exectued by my coworkers. Which is far from the truth. I decided that I need a job with a little more autonomy, and began to pray about it. Last week I was called in for an interview to teach a statistics class in the fall. Confirmation??
Ironically enough, I was also asked to interview with a local Christian school. They are looking for a college aged student to mentor the low income youth in the community. After meeting with the director yesterday (which somehow landed a small portion of my life story in the newspaper?!), I feel like God may be calling me to do this. He said there's "no pressure" but I feel drawn to these kids and his mission. Considering all of the opportunites that have cropped up, I have to go into serious prayer mode.
In a few weeks I'm diving into five classes, a research project, a teaching gig (possibly), and a non-profit mentorship, a role as campus ambassdor, and the role of editor for the Social Justice newsletter. It's everything I wanted, except all at once! In the meantime, I'm going to focus on enjoying the last few days of vacation time. Shopping with Lauryn, helping Crys with wedding plans, and hanging out with the family. Enjoy these last days of summer!
In Christ,
Beans
08/08/2007
B.A.P. Talk: Michelle Obama
Michelle, on how she pulled Barack Obama:
“What I talk about with my girlfriends is that before you start worrying about, ‘I don’t have a man,’ where are you in your own space, in your own head? What do I need to be as healthy and happy on my own with or without? And the minute you get that in order, it seems like things fall into place."
08/07/2007
wasted potential
boundless possibilities of childhood
turned to broken promises of today
dreams and hopes
lay waste in the valley of cynicism
completely jaded.
intellectual prowess once called
wrinkles upon the brain were immaturely formed
only to be stunted during the formative years
and seen of
no more.
the gears ceased to turn.
the ivories went untickled.
the body was broken.
feet did not dance.
songs died unsung.
turned to broken promises of today
dreams and hopes
lay waste in the valley of cynicism
completely jaded.
intellectual prowess once called
wrinkles upon the brain were immaturely formed
only to be stunted during the formative years
and seen of
no more.
the gears ceased to turn.
the ivories went untickled.
the body was broken.
feet did not dance.
songs died unsung.
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