Dark Nights of My Gummy Bear Soul

What was going to be a 3 part series, has turned into 4. Really, this post is the whole reason for the series. It is why I began assessing and processing through writing my own history and interactions with the Confederate flag. And how I hope to approach it in the future. Im a part of a mom's group online. Quite a few actually! They are a treasure trove of information. This particular mom's group was/is a life saver for a girl brand new to this city with a tiny baby in her arms. These moms know EVERYTHING about everywhere to go for fun, cheap joy with a baby and they have helped me immensely get to know my way around the town. Wait wait Wait..... I mean everywhere on this side of town. West of Route 52. That's the white/nonwhite dividing line in Winston Salem. So, to be clear- it's a predominately white and leaning-towards-economically-privileged group of moms, which is fine as long as you go in understanding that is the demographic of this particular online m...

When we moved here, we moved to a neighborhood called Ardmore. It was wonderful and we had the most neighborly neighbors we have ever experienced in our life. They brought us food and cards to welcome us and then again to comfort us as MJ fell ill. They decorated our house with Christmas lights when we couldn't go back to Chicago for Christmas last year because of MJ's surgery, and others shared red wine with me when we got back from Duke. This neighborhood was a grace for our first year as it was around the corner from our church, down the street from the hospital (where we didn't yet know that we would be spending lots of time) and the houses were close together reminiscent of city life. It was close to downtown W-S and filled with tons of parks to walk in and play at. Our part of the neighborhood was incredibly hilly. It was all but unwalkable for me and my bad ankles/bad knees and recent post-baby body. The way the street planning worked out left us with a double lo...

You know it's serious when I don't even have a sarcastic or fun, happy-clappy title for you. The first time I encountered the Confederate flag face to face I was a grown woman of 32 years old. I was welcoming a southern presbyterian college group from a state that could be classified as the "Deep South." Many of the participants in the program I helped facilitate were from a college ministry of the Presbyterian church and many of them hailed from the South. I loved experiencing a taste of southern culture through the students, interns and campus pastors. We had many groups from all over the country, but hands down my favorite teams were usually from this specific denomination and college ministry that was so prevalent in the southern part of our country. ** I clicked so well with leaders and students from this denomination, that when Mike and I relocated totally unexpectedly to the South from Chicago we had peace and joy about joining a church from that denominati...

As my mother lay dying at the hospital she had previously worked at for years, I was intrigued to see who came to visit her. It wasn't the higher level executives that she had faithfully served for years, often times befriending them and attending their dinner parties and things.  No, the people that knocked on her door and stood somberly by her bedside were the cleaning crew, the former foreign exchange med students my mom had welcomed into her home and our family, the security guards, and techs from this hospital. They often stood there quietly, some with tears in their eyes, and told who ever was there that my mom was special. She was kind. She looked out for them and always gave them little "surprises." (my mom gave little tiny weirdo gifts of candy and trinkets to me all the time. It was the kind of thing you received in the mail or in person and were like WHAT? but its the kind of thing now I miss receiving. I guess I wasn't the only one she handed these ou...

I never saw that movie by the way. I don't plan to. If you know me well, you know when I'm really angry or upset, Im quiet. If I'm seemingly angry, but still yelling....then we're mostly good. I lose words when Im to the point. Resultingly, I pray or commune with God at times in pictures. Mental pictures. Im not referring to visions or anything supernatural in this instance. Like after my mom suddenly died, I was far too overcome to look at God for quite a while. I did not turn my eyes to the hills from which my help came. I had these times of sitting in this old, overstuffed blue recliner chair in my silent apartment and rocking and staring. It was a sun-filled apartment and the usually rowdy, rocking complex was quiet in the daytime hours. I knew I wasn't alone and had the comfort of knowing the Lord and his angels were heavy with me many days as I rocked in my utter grief. In my mind's eye, I was comforted my images of God looking at me while I looked awa...

Today MJ's service coordinator pushed me again (3rd time) to consider being a mentor to parents of children with special needs through CDSA and the Exceptional Child program. Im kinda like.....are you sure? For many reasons, Im not sure . I think if she knew me a little more, SHE might not be so sure. Nevertheless, I have been contemplating what I would even say to other moms. Im kinda-sorta in a few special needs moms groups solely online, but I don't participate or relish in those communities.  In fact the weight of many of the other moms burdens scare and overwhelm me and it makes me take my eyes off the ball that is faithfully living our life. I don't think Im strong enough or smart enough to enter into another families pain and fear and try to lead them anywhere. I could tell them about Jesus, but I don't think she was asking me to evangelize other moms.  Here are my preliminary thoughts on all of this. Dear mom who has been graced with the label of "SPECI...

There were many painful and awkward situations which led me to a somewhat early awareness of race and class. One of my favorite authors/speakers, Dr. Cornell West once said "People wake up at different times" in reference to (white) people coming to an awareness of race and class issues, and Im thankful that I had a somewhat early awakening in life. My earliest lessons on all things race and class were fostered by my mother, not in a higher education theoretical framework understanding kind of way- but by a real life, single mother, strong as steel but teachable, white woman in the city with interracial friendships and relationships kinda way. Its better, trust me. Real Life is a way better and more dependable classroom. School also was a huge component in how I have come to understand issues of whiteness and its inherent privilege, and all things race and class based. For high school, my mother, sister and I moved into a close neighboring suburb of Chicago. I could t...