Dark Nights of My Gummy Bear Soul

There is this side street near my house. It cuts off from a busy, well travelled street near our home. But this side street, it's almost hidden by huge overhanging trees. If you don't know it's there, you would never know it is there... The street cuts off to the side suddenly, at this angle that is perfect for zooming down without missing a beat. Its not a hard right turn, but a small veer to the right that you can even pick up a little speed on. Its a quiet street, it cuts behind some stores and almost no one is ever on it. Almost immediately after you turn down it, there is a bump in the road and if you are going fast enough...lol, you can catch some air. If I'm driving our red car, not our soccer mom minivan, and if MJ isn't in the car (RARE) then I fly down this road. It's kind of exhilarating. So I had a friend in the car with me one day. And we were going down the main road and suddenly I made the slight turn and picked up speed without missing a be...

A woman rushed up to me and in a breathless flurry enveloped me in a hug and said "I saw more bad things happening in Chicago on the news. THANK GOD YOU ARE HERE!" Amidst questions about our family, people are always intrigued to hear we are from Chicago. The conversation turns into knowing nods and half smiles accompanied by "Of course you wanted to leave there! You must be so relieved to be here in Winston."  People have even cut me off while Im literally answering their questions about our cross country move to interpose their own commentary on safety and how I arrived in the epitome of it here in North Carolina. Ive been reminded often of this white cultural love affair with the idea of SAFETY. Sometimes I sigh in resignation and let them talk themselves around, sometimes I attempt to explain lofty theological concepts like "The Christian life isn't one of seeking out and sitting in safety" or "Safety and comfort are purely America...

  So, like over 8 thousand people read my blog last year and I freaked out and took it down. That's alot of people reading and looking and I started getting a lot of attention that I didn't feel prepared to wade through. My blog views were going up by the hundreds everyday, and it was mostly centering around the blog I wrote about Terry Berry. I was thankful and fulfilled that a lot of his family and extended family read it. Many of them who I had never met reached out and were so encouraged and comforted to have another story about his life come out so publicly, as the current narrative was just focusing on his growingly successful rap career and his alleged involvement in a set on the south side and his leadership activities within it. Read between the lines, Im not here for it. I got a call from a notorious website in Chicago that follows these sets and the members and publishes youtube videos about their lives and the music and the violence and keep score like some ...

"Your name is TERRY BERRY?" I said to the boy in front of me. I think this was his 6th or 7th grade year. "Yeah," he said. "I don't have time for this," I replied irritated and assuming and started to walk away to help out in the kids after school program. I can't remember what Terry wanted, but I figured he was giving me a fake name for some reason and I wasn't going down like that. "Sarah, he's for real!" Marquis McCoy assured me. Terry looked sheepish and defeated with these wide eyes that gave me pause  and my steely exterior softened and I guess I decided I did have time for him. I can't remember the rest of that day, but that was how we met. And the last day I saw him, earlier this year at Poppie's funeral....his eyes were the same. That part hadn't changed. You could look into Terry's eyes and see him. Really see him.. if he let you. I was mad at him. So physically angry at him that I almost shook ...

Here it is, Part 4. If you are just jumping in now, I started a series of writings on the confederate flag directly after Memorial Day. This blog was birthed out of a deep sadness at the realization that there are people here in my current hometown of Winston Salem that think the confederate flag is not offensive. It all started when I posted in an online Mom's group asking about the potential for Confederate flags at a parade I wanted to take my son and husband to. Mj loves flags, and they have the largest regional parade not far from our house.  After 24 hours and a firestorm of comments, I deleted that post. Several women were outspoken in total surety about their stance that the flag WAS NOT offensive, that it represented heritage or a pride in being from the south, and many scoffed that anyone would still find that flag offensive and mentioned "getting over it" among other things that made me nervous and restless. For every woman that wanted to hold onto the confed...

In retrospect, Im pretty mad at myself that I directed my  last post   about "special needs parenting" to Dear Special Needs mom instead of Dear special needs parent. Im sure there are special needs dads, or just dad of any kid who isn't perfect (get it? it's all of the kids. alllll the kids have extra special needs and things. yay!) that could have benefited from my encouraging open letter. Well, here is another post for parents. ***Im pretending that Im writing it to other parents, but really its a letter to my own weary, freaked out, thankful, sad, hopeful, crazy heart. Play along. Dear special needs/stressed out/scared/ PARENT, How's your day? Today a caring and intuitive friend texted me "How is your stress level?" I responded, "Well, I just found out that I need to drive an hour every week to a doctor for MJ because his spine is doing its own thing and ITS LIKE THE BIGGEST DEAL EVER TO ME and I might cry. And I swerved all over the ex...

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...