When he first asked for my hand I thought I would melt. Amongst all the other beautiful, angelic, smart, graceful women of the universe, he chose me to be his dance partner. He had walked over to me. I knew from the moment he took my hand in his it was going to be a magical dance. It was just the way his hand felt in mine. His touch gentle but firm, his grasp warm and protective. With my hand in his hand we began our dance. And as the world stood still, he drew me in real close and we danced. I could feel his energy. It excited me. His scent tantalized me. His strength mesmerized me. I was in a perfect space swallowed up in glee, spellbound by moments he created when he reached for my hand.

The first few moves were awkward. I tried to follow his lead. I tried really hard to surrender to his steps giving in to wherever his strides led us across that floor. Just when it seemed we were getting somewhere, finding our rhythm, something always happened to throw us out of rhythm and temporarily disrupt our flow. It seemed at these times we weren't gliding, we were stumbling. I tried to slow down, wait for him to gain his composure and start our dance again. I kept whispering to him, softly, gently, "I am sorry, go ahead, you take the lead." And we would try again.

And for awhile we moved beautifully. When our dance felt as though it could not get any better, I would usually try something new, thinking, believing I could make it even better. Without fail, I would end up walking on his feet and inevitably we stumbled.

I told him I was just trying to be helpful. Just trying to sweeten the melody of our sway. He kept silent never saying a word. And we danced. The longer we moved, the more I tried to lead, the slower we became. Where once we had glided synchronized in our oneness, now there was a widening gap between us. It was much harder to hold on to one another. But we danced and slowly we both became silent.

It was harder now to feel. Our dance had become one of mechanical execution. Small gestures imitating the act of dance. He had become totally withdrawn and though I could still see his hand in mine I could not feel it. I was still dressed like a dancer on the outside, but I felt alone without my partner on the inside. We both danced in small robotic movements to music we could no longer hear.

So one day, I took off my shoes and placed them neatly in a corner of our dance floor. I walked over to him and gently took him by the hand. Neither of us spoke. As he rose, I looked up at him, placed one hand in his and tenderly placed his other hand on the small of my back. I drew my body close to his careful to close the gap between us.

Slowly, I laid my head upon his shoulder and I wept. And then I waited..........and I waited........and after a time we began to dance in silence. As he took control, our bodies spoke and our hands began to sweat. And by-God we danced.

It always strikes me with a bit more than general curiosity what thoughts go through our mind after sunset. As a human race are we thinking more happy thoughts or sad? Are we created to erase unhappy thoughts? Or should we process them, work through them until they melt away from our consciousness?  I understand busy days and rushed moments of daylight. Hurried sunbeams that follow us throughout the day. But what about the stillness of our nights? Is it okay to cry a few of these nights away sitting alone in its stillness with only our thoughts as our company? Allow The night to swallow up our secrets. In the full cover of darkness, this setting creates the perfect canvass to purge our soul to the universe giving up those thoughts that mightily weigh us down.

It seems only fitting that if the universe grants us equal night and equal day, why not befriend the calm and quiet of night as eagerly as we bathe in the sun streams of its day? Allow the thickness of night to envelope our deepest thoughts. Place our nocturnal prayers on the alter within darkness. Invite the quiet of night to meet you there. Draw in the peace and calm that it offers. Rest within the serene tranquility of its blackest hues.  Be still and know that GOD is near. The creator of our days and nights.

Be your thoughts happy or sad, allow the Almighty to sit with you in darkness and bring new light to your day.
"6:12 And it came to pass in those days, that he went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God. (LUKE)

From the time you wanted to be a super hero to the time you wanted to be an astronaut and travel to outer space, I have dreamed that dream with you. That time you were convinced you could become a scientist and recreate me just in case anything were ever to happen to me. I was right there with you dreaming your dream. I know well that your dreams belong to you and you alone. No matter how hard I try I can't close my eyes and "blink" them into existence but I can promise not to ever be a dream killer. Any time any where I will meet you and we can lay in the damp grass on our backs and look toward yonder way and dream! I want to hear all about yours no matter how far fetched. Even those dreams you dream that say you can be a doctor by day, an architect on the weekends and a professional fisherman on holidays. I say why not? Go for it! You can do anything you set your mind to.

I stand with you today and always. My promise unchanged. I will support you in any way I can. Sometimes that will mean just listening, contributing resources, providing encouragement or creating connections. But at all times it will mean never becoming a dream killer. I owe you that as much as I owe you food, shelter, bear hugs, wet kisses, and occasional scolding.

So dream on. Carry on with your big dreams as they unfold before you in full color. Dream big! Aim high! And make me one promise in return. Promise me, you will never give up on your dreams. That you will never kill those dreams you dreamed once upon a time while staring into yonder way.

To My Son
“There is more to a boy than what his mother sees. There is more to a boy than what his father dreams. Inside every boy lies a heart that beats. And sometimes it screams, refusing to take defeat. And sometimes his father's dreams aren't big enough, and sometimes his mother's vision isn't long enough. And sometimes the boy has to dream his own dreams and break through the clouds with his own sunbeams.”
― Ben Behunin

Couples will go a long time with things in limbo. They will give themselves a thousand reasons why they should not make a move to the left or right.

Things like: I don't want to upset the holidays, we have children, I can't afford to move on, maybe it's me and things will change, I can change him/her. I don't want to be alone, I am too old to find someone else. What will our parents think? How will we be able to both keep our friends? I have been in it this long. What if I don't find someone else? Maybe this is as good as it gets. Things aren't that bad. Well I have lived with him/her this long. How will we split up our assets? What about when we run into each other? Can we co-parent civically? What will this do to the children? I never wanted to be an "ex" anything. How will this make me look?

And then those equally paralyzing reasons couples will give for not making up. I am always the first to say I'm sorry. Why should I make the first move? We are always making up and nothing really changes. It is easier to stay silent. He/she never follows through on his/her promises. This relationship is exhausting. I don't have the energy to go through this again. I can't fix this and be a good mom/dad. I would rather invest my time in people and things that give a greater return. Make up for what, what do we really have left?

It is time to wake up! Nobody wants to see relationships break up but it is even harder on everyone to watch them never make up. Wake up! The longer the relationship is paralyzed the harder it will be to revive. Ask yourself, are you pondering more break up questions or make up questions in your spirit?

My advise, don't do what you think you are supposed to do. Do what you really need this once to have the life you want. Wake up! Do something. Stop living each day pondering the what ifs or pretending tomorrow things will be better.

Examine your relationship over the past 72 hours. Is that the type of relationship you want? Did you and your partner talk, better yet have real conversations? Was there any intimacy? That is not to ask did you make love, but did you show affection toward one another in any way? What kind of emotional attention did you show toward one another? That might include him opening your door or you fixing his plate at dinner. How about with words and glares, did you connect? Did you go to bed each night feeling as though you have a life partner or do you feel more like a caregiver? Are you friends, best friends? Can you be yourself and achieve your personal best with this person? Is this person solidly in your corner? Can you feel that?


No matter how you answered these questions you know what you have to do. You don't need me or anyone else to tell you that if things are not how they should be for you to be happy, then something different needs doing. One huge step and a very good first step, ask for what you want from the relationship. More relationships are changed from just the "ask" than most anything else. How he/she responds will give you a window into your next step.


Make up, break up but at least WAKE UP! 

I planned our annual family vacation to Peru in 2012. This included a visit to none other than Machu Picchu. Our only family credo in deciding where to go on vacation is we will go most anywhere but ... "we don't repeat." Okay perhaps this is more my credo but what the heck. I plan all family vacations.

Peru exceeded our expectations. It over delivered on aah and wow! We took in the culture and wonder of this magnificent country. Our next to last stop on this trip was Machu Picchu. We saved the magnificence of this place for the end simply because at an elevation of 8,000 feet above sea level, we had to acclimate to its altitude.

One of the excursions I signed up for and paid for in advance through our travel advisor was climbing up the steepest side of Machu Picchu and then climbing down again. Sounded simple enough. Go up and come down! What we learned moments before fully committing to this excursion was this. In certain places on the trail, you have a margin of error of less than a foot between the surface you were climbing and the free fall below. No harness, no special safety equipment. Just your agility and self determination to make it up and down in one piece.

Literally, you misstep....you lose. They advised us not to look to the right going up or to the left going down. Stare straight ahead was the caution.

The advise we were given was go up and down on your belly crawling inch by inch to avoid falling off the mountain ledge. The Peruvians said this as casually as "the best rice cakes in town can be found on the corner of X and Y." It rains daily in Peru, your crawl is in the mud.

I looked around at my family and instantly knew money spent or not, no one in my clan was stepping one foot or belly on the side of that mountain. This climbing idea stopped being our great adventure at the words "less than one foot."  The Incas have been climbing the mountain sides of Machu Picchu since the 1400s. When the locals tell me perhaps don't take the children up there, I believe them the first time.

I learned something that day. My inner voice said no before I could say no. I trusted this voice. It came from inside of me and I could not ignore it. Even if I over ruled it, I had to acknowledge it existed in me. This is the same voice Oprah taught us all to listen to. She promised the voice is never wrong. That voice to me is our HOLY SPIRIT.

So, I put a halt to any further thinking of scaling that mountain. My husband looked relieved. My kids at first asked why, but that was expected. To this day I believe that I made the right decision for me and mine. And if I did not, well I left it for Machu Picchu to decide.


Psalm 121:1-2 ESV   I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

Trust. Believe. Listen.

Wounds must be kept open until they can heal. If covered up they may remain infected or can easily become reinfected especially if the original infection never fully healed or was not treated. I am not a doctor but I do know a thing or two about hurting and slow healing.

My father left home when I was in kindergarten. He went to Vietnam and the next time I saw him I was thirteen years old. My mother never remarried. That is not to say she was ever without a man in her life. My parents married young, before either of them could legally drink or vote. My mom mostly married my father to get out of her house. My dad married my mother because he had never met anyone prettier, spunkier, or more sexy. He was totally taken aback by her, as was half the town where they lived.

At age 25, my mother wrote my dad a Dear John letter when he was away in Vietnam. It broke his heart in a million pieces. For years thereafter she told us children she had no idea where he was living. I believed her.

I grew up fatherless. My mother never spoke of my father so I crafted my own stories about him and why he was not in my life. None of my stories were good and none were refuted. What I did not know then was my father was afraid to contact us. He feared most that getting back in touch with his four children would reopen the heartbreak he carried from his relationship with my mom. It had taken years to get over her.

I became close friends with my father when I was in college. I was the only of his children who fostered a close relationship with him back then. Over time, I began to trust him to be there for me in my life even though he had long since remarried. One Christmas, he either forgot to call me or just didn't call me. Though I was 28 years old, it was just like I was in kindergarten again. My wound opened up and I could feel all the infection that had never healed. I was so hurt and so angry. I felt rejected by someone I had allowed back into my life. Who I really needed to be all in.

Along with my fiancé, I went to see my father to tell him to his face that I wanted nothing more to do with him. I also told him I did not want him to walk me down the aisle. He excused himself and came back with a shoebox. In this shoebox were yellowing letters most of which had been written and not mailed to judges, my mom, and us children. Also in this shoebox were hundreds of moneyorder receipts for money he had been sending to my mom over the years as child support. Through those unsent letters I was now reading, I could tell my father had been trying his best to heal and to be forgiven.

I had a difficult time in relationships. I would sabotage them just to see if "that man" would leave me. Sometimes they did. Then one day my now husband called me on it. He says you are always testing me, testing us. I am not going anywhere and until you believe that you will never heal and we will never be okay.

Seeing those letters began my healing. They showed me my dad did care, he had always cared. In some ways he had never left, at least his heart hadn't. Those letters were just enough to allow me to peel back the covering every once in awhile and let my wound breathe. Eventually I was able to close my eyes, clench my teeth real tight and snatch away the covering giving myself a real chance at healing. What I got in return was a daddy and a friend. Today there are scars but not much memory of the pain.

I have tried to understand the actions of both my parents. As a parent myself, I realize that there are very difficult choices that are made in love, out of love, for the preservation of self-love and for the love of others.

I have chosen not to judge. Rather I choose to love with forgiveness while knowing there may be yet more pain to come. We are not immune to it.

A very big thank you to my loving dad and friend who supports me in sharing our story. We hope it helps someone else through their pain journey.

http://www.liveyourawesomelife.com/living-your-aweswome-life-one-oops-at-a-time/wounds-that-wontheal-those-letters

There is not a person on the planet that wants more for you than you do. Even when you are told by others they are rooting for you, their cheers pale by comparison to your soul's undying thirst for even your smallest victory. We live inside our bodies in little finite pieces. These pieces move around inside of us as incomplete energy searching for safe landing and realization outside of us. These energy floaters have our potential attached to them. Each floater represents our potential in a different area of our life. So the reason no one outside of us can be a surrogate cheerleader for our potential is they really don't know our soul. They may even be under estimating our true potential within.

We must be our own gate keepers when it comes to establishing value for our energy floaters. The floaters may have attached potential that says you can be a great chef, an astronaut, a great spouse, a millionaire or an accomplished musician. For safe landing and manifestation, we must own our potential and become its greatest cheerleader. The risk of not doing so could mean never landing, never being realized. Our potential will continue living inside of us just floating around weakening our soul.

If we did all the things we are capable of doing we would literally astound ourselves.
Thomas Edison

Potential comes from the root words "potency" and "potent" and refers to all the things you can be successful at if you develop and use your gifts, talents and natural abilities.

Here's to living up to your potential! Your soul is rooting for you.

The really heavy lifting comes with the things we apply daily. It is not in those special things we do and say that we bring out of the archives because we want something. The most critical parts of our character are shaped with our behaviors during times of chaos. Being able to lift up our feelings from the ground and hold them, hold them, hold them, steadfast and firm no matter the messy in the environment surrounding us. This is the really heavy lifting. When we keep lifting. Lifting from a position of strength and emotional integrity during times of uncertainty.

Over time, what we apply daily begins to shape our surroundings through transformation. It can be slow and quite lonely, while in the middle of that ring holding, holding, holding things up. When mostly you just want to scream, "I can use some help here!"  But you can't drop anything, the environment is counting on you. You are the fixer, the nurturer, the inventor. So you keep lifting, holding up the really heavy parts.

There is no substitute for what we apply daily. Through heavy lifting during the most trying times we leave a traceable DNA. This is the DNA our children will remember and emulate when it is their time in the ring!

The Last Supper took place during a Passover meal. Recall that the original Passover meal centered on an unblemished lamb whose blood was shed to save Israel from death during the Passover of the Angel that night. Each year, on God’s instructions, the Jews observed a Passover meal in memory of the original Passover events. To the Jews, the Passover celebration was (and is) more than a mere memorial—or calling to mind—but somehow a participation in the original Passover. Thus we have three realities: the original Passover supper, the Passover event, and every subsequent annual Passover commemorative meal. Now, Christ shared with his Apostles a new Passover meal in which he said he was giving them his body and blood to eat and drink. Beginning that evening and continuing the next day in his Passion, Christ offered himself as the unblemished Lamb of God, sacrificing himself for the salvation of the entire world. At the Last Supper Christ also instructed them to “Do this in remembrance of me” (Lk 22:19), which they faithfully did. Thus we also have three realities: the Last Supper, the Passion, and every subsequent Eucharistic sacrifice. The original Passover meal and the Last Supper are in parallel. The deadly Passover event and the bloody Passion are in parallel. Every Passover Seder and every subsequent Mass are in parallel.Written by Kevin Aldrich  - See more at: http://www.doctrinalhomilyoutlines.com/2013/01/three-parallels-in-the-passover-and-the-harist/#sthash.ZeVpUQB2.dpuf

Relationships are so complicated. They never become uncomplicated no matter how long two people have been together. They just become less complicated in some areas and feverishly more complicated in others. I am highly suspicious whenever anyone who has been with their significant other more than a year tells me everything is "perfect".  Perfect my @## I tell myself. Who do they think they are kidding? Things weren't perfect even on my wedding day. Heck, twenty plus years later, I am still slightly ruffled that my side of the family gave more in monetary gifts than his side of the family. We argued about that one half the night, then barely speaking, consummated the blessed union.

I did not sign up for perfect and I definitely haven't thought marriage was uncomplicated since I was about seven. Anyone growing up around two married parents knows "complicated" does not even begin to describe some of the encounters kids have witnessed. I learned at an early age that men are supposed to read women's minds. I also learned that women completely drive men crazy by being passive aggressive. "Honey I am hungry." From that, husbands are supposed to know what she wants, when she wants it and from where she wants it. She may even want him to BBQ outside on the grill in 30 degree weather. He is supposed to know all that just from, "Honey I am hungry."

Men too have their complications. They will argue and procrastinate all week long on her "honey do list" then on Friday night turn the lights down low and put on Luther Vandross.

All jokes aside. Marriage relationships are complicated and they do not come with manuals. If marriages were harder to get out of they would inherently be slower to get into. Unfortunately, neither is the case. Marriage for many is like a revolving door.

So where this leaves us is here. Here is a decision. Not a on the wedding day decision but an everyday decision. Do I stay or do I go decision?

Personally, I think vows should be mandated to include the obligatory, "symptoms of this union will include pain."

"I promise to acknowledge and own my part in your pain.  And I promise to work as hard as I am able to make things better for the two of us, always."

Also nice to add would be the following:

"I promise to respect, admire, and appreciate you for who you are, as well as for the person you wish to become."

"I promise to always strive to meet your needs; not out of obligation, but because it delights me to see you happy."

"I promise to nurture your goals and ambitions; to support you through misfortune and celebrate your triumphs."

"I promise to support and protect your freedom; because although our lives are intertwined, your choices are still yours alone."

"I promise to seek a deep understanding of your wishes, your desires, your fears and your dreams."

"I promise to be there for you when you need me, whenever you need me."

"I promise to treat you with compassion over fairness, because we are a team, now and for always."

"I promise to show you, every day, that I know exactly how lucky I am to have you in my life." Source:http://www.huffingtonpost.com/samantha-joel/ten-wedding-vows-based-on_b_4762318.html

I hope I have touched upon the important stuff, but after all ...... marriage is beautifully complicated!

Bilberries are found in very acidic, nutrient-poor soils throughout the temperate and sub artic regions of the world. One characteristic of Bilberries is that they produce single or paired berries on the bush instead of clusters, as the blueberry does.
The fruit is smaller than that of the blueberry but with a fuller taste. Bilberries are darker in color, and usually appear near black with a slight shade of purple. Bilberries' fruit pulp is red or purple, heavily staining the fingers and lips of consumers eating the raw fruit.

Bilberries are extremely difficult to grow and are seldom cultivated. Fruits are mostly collected from wild plants. Bilberries can be picked by a berry-picking rake but are more susceptible to damage. Bilberries are softer and juicier than blueberries, making them difficult to transport. Because of these factors, the bilberry is only available fresh on markets and in gourmet stores.

African American women are like sweet Bilberries. Having  sprung from a long line of strong stock on nutrient poor plantations. Despite this past, we are profoundly capable of producing beautiful paired or single offspring that leave our bush and become the envy of all the other berries around. We are used to being compared to blueberries. It does not bother us.
Just one taste of our dark fruit leaves no future comparisons. Our taste comes  through boldly. It is not the size of the fruit but the taste of its juice!

The darker our berry the sweeter our juice. We are proud of our staining appearance. We relish in our stunning skins and the tattoos we leave on lips we meet. As African American women, yes we are hard to tame and yes harder still to cultivate, especially when we have not been properly cared for. Being a bit wild is a large part of what makes us so alluring to others. We are not afraid to show off our boldness, just as we are proud to showcase our softer side. At the end of the day, it is our juice that attracts. We are a rare find; full of sweet and satisfying treats.

We are fragile and run from destructive forces. When treated delicately, you will find us in the finest of places proudly displayed in top shelf spaces.
Dedicated to Karyn Washington, RIP brown angel 4/2014

Rainbow discoveries. Four leaf clover finds. UFO sightings. Oh what wonderment! Face-size bubblegum bubbles. Shiny penny on the side walk. That last scoop of ice cream in the carton.
Quiet. Peace. Discernment. Luck. Love. Oh what wonderment. Will. Interest. Determination.
Live your life each day as if you found a lucky penny. Live like you put all you have into making that bubble as big as your face will allow. Live live live, like your life depends on it. Seek peace and quiet. Strive earnestly toward true love. Be determined in all things. Accept luck suspiciously. 
Find purpose that ricochets giving more than it takes. Live bountifully. Live with the scales of forgiveness weighted toward others. Be okay with your currency. Let the Almighty keep your score.

Live your life like you have less than time to discover that next rainbow, find that four leaf clover. Live with a spirit of expectancy. NEVER wonder why me? Believe in why NOT me?
Leave your yard and dare to explore other neighborhoods. Be gracious. Learn to say thank you first. Take someone along on your rise. Stick your head out the window taking in your surroundings. Live live live like you have less than time to be satisfied with your efforts.


Take deep breaths. Don't apologize for stumbles. Stand tall. Be firm. Take hold. Live, live, live like time is for the living. A winning lottery ticket. Rabbit's foot. Itchy palms. Gold nugget. Faith. Obedience. Watchful.


Live your life sharing your song with others. Be an active participate in shaping your outcomes. Reach back for someone. Live unselfishly. Craft great days filled with ah and wonder. Live as if you have less than time. Take someone along on your rise.

I have had the great fortune to travel to what has been named as the top friendliest countries in the world by Forbes. Those countries  are New Zealand, Australia and South Africa. I have also been to two out of the three least friendliest, Singapore and Hong Kong, though I am not sure I would agree. What I do know is I have been transformed by my travels and everywhere I go I take a new part of me back with me. In Egypt, my husband and I were invited home (we did not go) to dinner with a young cabbie. He wanted his wife to prepare food fit for a King. Or when in the same country, on his own, our guide rode hours on a train to Cairo to deliver a piece of art we had bought.

How about the time I became ill in the bush in South Africa and our safari ranger offered to take me to see his medicine man or if I felt more comfortable pick tree leaves out in the bush that would fix me right up (again I passed)? 

Come to think of it, we have been invited into strangers' homes a lot from around the world. While dining in a local doctor's magnificent home in Mombasa Kenya the host was the last to be seated, the last to eat and if anyone pointed out something in his home they liked, he tried to give it to you. I stopped complimenting him early on while I was still ahead. I could picture him hauling out statues to our car much to his wife's chagrin.

In Hong Kong, merchants see it as extremely unlucky for the day if they do not sell something to their first customer. They will go above and beyond to close the sell. People of Bali show kindness to all strangers no matter who you are or where you come from. They show kindness for themselves because that is how them naturally. Our personal room attendant, through broken English, knew our names and asked about my children by name upon our arrival. I was not even traveling with the children. He even asked about The Think Factor, my small business in the U.S.  I had been googled it seems from 3/4 away around the globe. I will never forget this gesture of kindness. 

I have a thousand more examples and I don't have to leave the States to experience them. Once an old couple rushed me to the airport  from Virginia to DC in their car when they overheard I might certainly miss the last plane back to Atlanta.  The husband took my catching that plane personally. I am sure he did not even know my name. I credit that one to President Obama as we all had just met him an hour before in Virginia.

The moral of this moral compass tale is this. We can learn how to treat one another by being open to showing kindness and receiving kindness in kind.  Said better...Proverbs 11:25 - The generous person will be prosperous, and he who waters will himself be watered