A Work In Progress

My Sisterhood is Changing....

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Thu, 22 Aug 2013 17:41:00 +0000

Motherhood is not a silo experience.

Not in my world, not in the way my children have experienced life. I'm understanding more and more, my sisterhood and my life, are changing.

A few months ago I wrote a post about the juggling that happens in motherhood. I thought it would be a light release of all the things related to ordering your inner and outer world. I used the language that was freely used in my circle to define the special crazy that is being a mother. I didn't expect what came next, a reminder that change is the only constant.

I have 3 children at three different schools, they ride three different buses, for three different start times. No pity necessary, but it is the lens that colors how I view life. The sisterhood has always been another way to view life - sometimes being reminded how much to be thankful for or how much laughter is necessary when I've managed to lose my way. I'm thankful for my sisterfriends and the sisterhood that supports me in this journey. The sisterhood is just changing.

My mother was famous for saying, "Life isn't fair, the sooner you learn it the better you'll be." She also said, "Everyone isn't going to like you, you better figure out how to be your own best friend." I didn't realize then how hard she had to parent a bit of a sensitive child that was attracted to justice, equity and a belief that life should be full of roses. The reality is even in my earliest of days, she was teaching me lessons for the future.

In my Christian walk I am reminded, we were never promised life without pain or hardship. Motherhood is a very special club and I have evolved to understand, your circle can change just as your life changes. Change can be necessary and difficult all at the same time. I just believe firmly, the journey is made better with true friends.

If you read my posts, you'll know that I have often talked about my wife reality, from Domestic Sexy to things I just don't understand, like the Fear of Laundry completion. None of those things defines life overall, but I think the reality of being a mother and being a wife are elements of the same story, my story. I couldn't be the mother that I am without having my husband, the one that accepts my flaws and knows my heart. I am also a better mother because of the truest of sisterfriends that continue to build my experiences in this journey.

I was blessed with an unexpected post about my philanthropy during this August celebration of Black Philanthropy month #BPM2013. The questions made me reflect on my work and my dreams, in addition to my understanding of motherhood and this sisterhood. I have been blessed with Aunties, Godparents, Grandma's, Granny's, Women of the Church, Neighbors, Parents of the Kids friends, 2nd Family Members, etc., to round out that support network that allows so much more than I every realized. You can read my Ms. Eva post to learn more.

No matter how complex life gets, there should always be...

1) Someone who knows your heart, and loves you anyway.

2) A sisterhood that holds you up, at your best and at your worst.

3) A group that shares your values and aspirations.

4) Someone to travel with and a family to play date with.

5) Someone who can run faster, jump higher, cook better, excel quicker than you. Aspiration and competition work hand in hand, when you encourage and acknowledge each other.

I don't know how mothers make it work. I'm not certain how you handle your mama schedule, mama lessons, mama date nights and mama friends. I do know, if you are one of those life altering anchors or very special ride or die friends, I hope someone has told you thank you. Life changes, your sisterhood may change, but the need for "your circle" should not change. Today I'm wondering, how do you handle the changes?

ASHANTl, Never Should Have and other guilty pleasures...

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 23:03:00 +0000

Don't judge me. I have complex musical tastes and I despise being put into a box. I try hard not to be predictable or cliche, and there are certain secular recording artists that cause me to have a love hate relationship with music overall. I avoided the Beyonce/Bow Down debate like the plague, I just didn't want to have the same conversation everyone was having in the world of musical analysis. I tend to root for the underdog, the artist that I don't quite understand why she isn't on center stage, the one who sings the B side of the album (yep, that's my reference) cut that I love, although it was never designed to be the hit single. Today, for some odd reason, I'm just feeling team Ashanti.

I have been freed temporarily from my fear of stereotypes by remembering a friends facebook post about her love of gossip magazines when she travels. I smiled at the remark, this independent, fierce professional had openly acknowledged the past time that made her travels manageable. That simple post reminded me of why we should own what we like and what we enjoy. Too many times I have opted for the research report, periodical or non-fiction selection on the plane, thinking in the back of my mind, this fits who I am and who I aspire to be. Well truth be told, the woman I aspire to be wants to like what she likes, and frankly not care what any person thinks about those choices.

I can be judgemental about everything from reality television to parenting, but age has brought wisdom. I don't share everything that comes to mind and I've become much more tolerant of choices that differ from my own. My blog is a platform for reflection, and often times there is a voice that I haven't heard anywhere else. I like being different. Different doesn't always pay, however. I think Ashanti is one of the artist that has had a bit of schizophrenia about brand and persona - from princess to vixen all in the same season. For some reason, I just like Ashanti. I think there's more than meets the eye and her newest "Never Should Have" has a married mother of 3 ready to download. It is not where I am now, but I so understand where those lyrics come from. And likely because of media, technology and way to much wondering about whether Nelly was ever "the one" - I'm cheering that she'll have a new season of more success than her heart can possibly hold.

The cover of her single can easily be a reminder of why I have a love hate relationship with the music industry. Does she have to have a bra on the cover for someone to purchase it - no. Does she look stunning, reflective, worth more than the reviews of her career, blessed with good genes and then some - I would say, yes. I think she has always gotten the raw end of the deal from music sales, to attention - but I have fiercely disagreed with the marketing of this beauty as the princess of a thug label. Her images have often been on my list of things I'm NOT downloading for my daughter when the images show anything but a woman in charge of her own destiny. I want an artist to grow. With that being said, I've played the latest song a few times and I think that pop, R & B, and music in general - should have space for reinvention. I'd like to hear what this Brave Heart has in store.

When I think of Nicole Richie, I now think mom, jewelry designer, style of her own, a class act. A few years ago I was fast forwarding past commercials of her tv show, ranting about tv being a waste of time focused on wasted talent. I hope that Ashanti has the same experience. I hope her association with Nelly, her previous label and her mis-steps in her career are replaced with her Army Wives casting, her new music and new single, and her timeless beauty. I tend to think there's more there. While she may be singing NEVER SHOULD HAVE, I am believing that it is likely good that she did. She may be better, stronger and more resilient because of it - and maybe, just maybe, she'll be singing into the destiny that I believe is out there for her.

Michelle Williams, Elle Varner, Ashanti, Heather Headley, Goapele, India Arie, Me'Shell Ndegeocello, Amerie, Amel Larrieux.... my underrated ladies that make my day - a reminder that being different is not only okay, it has a beautiful sisterhood.

Three Ohio Victims - the Steubenville Lesson

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 23:00:00 +0000

There are three victims in the Steubenville rape case, not just 1. We examine the lives of misguided youth through a lens that says the boys in this case were wrong. The victim has been a topic on blogs, twitter and social media - but a quick scan of articles referenced the inappropriate efforts of attorneys to reference her drinking, her choices, her feedback that she did not remember how she ended up in the situation that led to national attention. I am a mother of three children. I have a daughter and two sons. There are three victims in the Steubenville rape case, not just 1.

I am a Buckeye by birth and by heart. I understand the culture in Northwest Ohio, and I pay attention when Toledo jokes, Defiance voter scandals and Holy Toledo references make mainstream media. I have long since stopped defending all of the things I love about Ohio - UT College of Business and Innovation, the Toledo Museum of Art, the zoo - as if there is only 1 zoo in the world, Denison, SUA - to name a few. I explain Tony Packo's, MASH, Jamie Farr, MudHens and a host of other Ohio cultural phenomenons with ease. I wasn't such a football fan growing up, but I was a Friday Night Lights addict and I have come to cherish sports in unhealthy ways. In this case, I think Ohio and the "football culture in Steubenville" are far from the issues at hand.

In an earlier post, I shared my feelings about promise unfulfilled and my angst about the verdict in the Kwame Kilpatrick case. I thought about the decades before his rise to notariety, the infamous details of his life and failures placed on a national stage. We read about prison terms, the label of being a juvenille sex offender, and the loss of promise and potential with a casual ease that is as disturbing as the crimes that were committed. I do indeed believe crimes were in abundance for the Steubenville case - committed both by the teens and the adults surrounding them.

My coverage of the case would have read something like this:

1. Minors with access to drugs and alcohol make really stupid choices.

2. Unsupervised teens without a moral compass or value base, or good judgement, make poor choices.

3. Amidst a bad situation, technology used as a tool to create further harm for Ohio teen.

4. Violation of basic decency leads to life lessons for youth and parents.

Instead, I have read that the 16 and 17 year old boys are men who knew better. The female has been identified as a victim, a girl, youth and young lady - with careful attention to scold the awful ways that she was described by her peers and upset parents.

No, sport hero, athlete or young man should be exempt from the consequences of their actions based on their potential. Nor should a 16 or 17 year old young man, teenager, youth - lose the potential of their future, their promise or their contribution to society - based on decisions made at this age. I am grieved by the situation on so many levels. I am grieved because of our societal reaction and the outrage of the community, where it has been convenient to take sides but unpopular to recount all of the facts that exist in the case. I wasn't there. As much as I love Ohio, I think this situation is one that is played out in beloved communities everywhere. I think we are quick to judge and quick to place labels, but slow to offer solutions for the culture that we have created. There are three victims in this case I believe. Two boys who have been forever changed by their bad choices, and 1 young girl who will live with the impact of her choices for a lifetime.

As a mother of boys and a girl, I grieve the entire situation. They collectively deserve a better foundation and a stronger start to life. Add the quick nature of technology, social media and 24 hour news coverage - and you have an even bigger problem. I'm ready for the discussions that recognize we need a solution to the violence perpetrated against children and teens, and the thoughtful exchange about the challenge of raising moral youth in an immoral society. The buck stops here, but I pray to God I never have to read about the failures of my children in blog columns that pick sides without at least an attempt, to propose true solutions.

What do you think?

To Whom Much is Given....Kwame Kilpatrick and Promise Unfulfilled

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 17:33:00 +0000

Promise, Potential and Problems

But someone who does not know, and then does something wrong, will be punished only lightly. When someone has been given much, much will be required in return; and when someone has been entrusted with much, even more will be required. - Luke 12:48

THE CONNECTION
I lived in and around the metro-Detroit community for nearly 10 years. I can't think of our lives or our children without thinking about the time we spent making the drive up and down I-75. As a Buckeye by nature, Michigan was an escape, an exploration ground, a place for growing.

I took the verdict in the Kwame Kilpatrick case more personally than many people I know. I think I took it harder than I anticipated. I would enter a conversation about the sad state of affairs that currently exists, and some would respond with a wide brush of "what he deserved", "the death of Detroit" and other general replies that just didn't capture what I was feeling. I consider the verdict more than an overdue punishment, I think of it as a tremendous loss.

I can't say I ever admired Kwame, but I did believe that he had potential. The longer I lived in Detroit, the more I learned about the challenges of getting things done, the less I understood about his purpose, plan or potential. It made me sad at the time, but eventually we left. We are not native Detroiters, we moved first out of the city, then out of the state. We cared deeply and gave back in more ways that I can count, but it wasn't home and it wasn't moving in the direction where we could raise our family and thrive. We felt that we had to make a different choice.

THE CHOICES
I think about the choices that Kwame made and I have worked to learn more about him since we left. Even before learning about his academic and sports achievements and the promise he held in the eyes of those around him, I thought of him as a future leader of my generation. I thought that our kids are of similar ages, and I thought about the fact that he is someone's child. I decided to write, not about his choices or the sad spiral of a legacy that now exists - but about the loss of potential. How is it possible that someone with raw talent, ability and acumen can fall so far?

I believe in a God of grace and a God of second chances, and a God of consequences. I thank God for his grace, and the third, fourth and fifth chances I get everyday. I also know how painful the consequences can be, and how learning lessons over and over again may not resonate until you have grown to understand why you keep repeating a set of behaviors. I have had public success and public failure - but never on the scale of Kwame Kilpatrick. I remember a cabinet appointment he once made, and I thought that I would have fulfilled the role well - but I wasn't "in" the crowd, or connected in that way. I now thank God for that too. Understanding the tremendous price the City of Detroit and the many dedicated people who love the city have paid, I wonder now about the people that surrounded him, his family, his colleagues, his cabinet and his life. What is the obligation to speak up, speak out and speak loudly, when you see someone running away from their purpose? What do we do in our everyday lives to redirect and reclaim the potential around us?

MY REFLECTION
As a mother of boys, my heart goes out - not to Kwame - but to the countless families who have their personal failures experienced in a public forum. To whom much is given, much is required. I delight in the potential of my boys, ages 9 and 10, and I wonder about their future. Today my 9 year old asked me where he should go to college - our ride to school was filled with conversations about what he aspires to do, and what we can do to support his aspirations. Mothers across the country have this conversation every day. They squeal with delight at a perfect presentation score, mourn a lack of productivity lost to play station or a tablet, invest in athletic programs, raise up a child "in the way that he should go" and pray for safety, health and wisdom. Under that abundance of passion and promise - there must be a purpose, a plan and a set of values that guide both the "how" and the "what" we do.

The lessons from this tale of morality run deep - for parents and children alike. What do we do when we see promise and potential in abundance - what lessons do we teach and what systems to be build - so that his story is not the story that gets told over and over again. There are so many young men who have the potential to impact, likely change, the world. The true teaching, training and impact starts with building their character and their core. I was reminded as I read countless articles about the verdict, that the responsibility starts at home. If you learn to value the prize at the end of the journey, before you understand the importance of the journey, we lose much more than one person. We have the potential to lose whole generations. I have been reflective for the past few weeks about what I need to teach, what I need to do, how often I should pray....so that the next cautionary tale doesn't hit closer to home. We can do better if we learn something from this. I believe we must.

Friendship Reflections - Part II

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 18:26:00 +0000

I have come to believe that caring for myself is not self-indulgent.
Caring for myself is an act of survival.
- Audre Lorde

Adult friendship is a part of my survival. I thank God for the women who love me fully, and know me fully, too. I don't always make the mark - I often fall short of who I aspire to be in this regard. Today, however, I'm reminded about the blessings of true friendship. Those people who help you remember who you are...

I had an experience early in my relocation that led me to write Friendship Reflections that knocked my foundation, and my understanding about adult friendships, a bit. I asked a friend to do me a favor that I assumed was no big deal. I was living in Indiana, my life was still oriented in Michigan - and I was in store for a major life lesson. When people show you who they are, believe them the first time. It's a Maya Angelou quote I've shared often, but I can't say I've gotten that much better at heading the warning that is inherent.

When you are in need of a friend, life situations are a Big Deal. All of those years ago, my foundation was turned on its ear because my vision of friendship has been clear since I declared Alisha my Wonder Woman Sister at age 5. As an adult woman I cherish those relationships and cherish the life lessons too. To everything there is a season, and when the warning signs are all around, we have to learn to listen. I often talk to my teenage daughter about friendship. She read a recent exchange that I had with someone, then offered, "Wow mom, she's not that nice to you." She didn't know the whole story, but she was smart enough to examine the situation. We can learn a lot from the young women we are raising.

My original post lamented, the only person to examine in a friendship looks back at you every morning. I'd like to see that inscribed on a necklace somewhere or made into a Pandora charm. I was speaking wisdom and I didn't even realize the extent. When this past week had me reflecting on my countless blessings, and the sadness of disappointment in people, I was reminded of the original post. One reason to blog is because it helps you keep a running perspective of your own life. Maybe you are able to help someone else along the way.

Everyone should have a friend that makes them want to be better. Everyone should have a friend that inspires them to be more thoughtful, more proactive, more creative, more innovative, more patient.... MORE. Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." I am in the process of being sharpened. Every person should have a friend that not only makes them want to be more, but someone who makes them stop long enough to recognize, they are ENOUGH, too. Jesus told Mary's haters, "She did what she could." I'm learning to be okay with my legacy during various seasons being that "I did what I could."

As an adult woman, I have had people share with me, "We're going to be friends." I laughed. I thought it odd someone could make that announcement without my consent. I have now learned, listen more - talk less. I have had the blessing of persistent inquiry create relationships that I could not live without - a caution that I should be more patient in realizing that I do not understand every aspect of my journey. Sometimes God sends you what you never knew you needed, but you always wanted.

What if adult women...

1. Cheered for Each Other.

2. Judged less, but HELPED more.

3. Said Thank YOU.

4. Said I'm Sorry, and meant it.

5. Forgave.

6. Worked to be the FRIEND that they find that they need.

I imagine you have some Friendship Reflections of your own. Today I celebrate these reflections - big and small. I also pray for my circle of friends - those who I talk to every day, and those who have helped me grow along the way. I'm better for the experiences that I've had. I'm learning, just live long enough - life is a work in progress. What have you learned about friendship along the way?

The Mama Sisterhood

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Fri, 01 Mar 2013 16:55:00 +0000

MOTHERHOOD is a Club....

and you have to respect the Mama Sisterhood!

Noah at the Drumline Performance.

There is a good reason why I'm inclined to identify myself as a mother, but I don't often reference being a wife - in many ways they are intertwined. If you read my posts, you'll know that I have often talked about my wife reality, from Domestic Sexy to things I just don't understand, like the Fear of Laundry completion. None of those things defines life overall, but I think the reality of being a mother and being a wife are in my life elements of the same story. I couldn't be the mother that I am without having a husband. I grew up with a mother who encouraged excellence, set an extremely high bar, did everything she could to give me the advantages of my peers, and instructed me that education was a tool for moving beyond what I could see around me. She also did everything, in essence, by herself. In a conversation earlier this week I was reminded of her struggles to navigate a rocky landscape for my brother and I, and the many differences that exist in our lives, and our life choices. The reality is even in my earliest of days, she was teaching me lessons for the future.

MY REALITY

Music man exploring options.

I love to SMASH - no not just eat good food, but Smash my memories in scrapbooks, journals and the latest of my obsessions, SMASH Books that allow for a more impromptu collection of experiences. What I have realized, largely because I take pictures on the fly, (and I have yet to start a KickStarter campaign to fund a new camera)....my photos don't tell the full story. I look at our changing landscape and I fight against this notion of "it takes a village," because I believe you have to be responsible for YOUR own village, before the village can help. I know that sounds unclear. Before I realized the need for additional help, and the benefit of quality support, I recognized that it took two to make a thing go right - at least in our household. I'm not as strong as my mother, as independent as my mother, as well paid as my mother (who had 1 degree less and a wealth more natural talent) or as selfless as my mother. I thought from day 1 - I need long term help, as in the kind that means you are there every day, in every way. God then blessed us with Aunties, Godparents, Grandma's, Granny's, Women of the Church, Neighbors, Parents of the Kids friends, 2nd Family Members, etc., to round out that support network that allows so much more than I every realized. You can read my Ms. Eva post to learn more about my circle.

MY REFLECTION

This is not a dad high 5 post - although fatherhood is a topic that matters to me dearly. Sometimes it keeps me up at night. It is a personal reality check, however. I can sponsor a Jack and Jill event for 2 age groups to see Drumline, because my husband supports the endeavor and has only a minor cringe when I communicate the cost. I can be there for the track meet events, because I wasn't there in the morning seeing that everyone made the bus and had breakfast, many mornings he does that. I can take a kidlet to explore the arts, because the other kidlet is at Basketball practice with his father. When I was growing up, the equation wasn't so simple. Heck, this is our life and it isn't simple. We have gone from man-to-man to zone, and we've been working for 13 years to figure it out. This Mama Hustle is absolutely no joke, but I am able to be a better mother because I have permanent assistance, in the kind that comes with having a full-time father in the home.

MY REQUEST

The days I hope I remember always.

It has been an emotional week. If ever I could have a therapy fund this might have been a good time to use it. I reflected on the things that I wanted to do, wanted to try, aspired to experience....and I thought of my mother, my aunts, my grandmother doing all that they could to make it so. I used to be so much more critical of the choices of others - because I just had not lived long enough. I get it. I get it. I get it. We all make choices, we all do the best that we can, we all dance the dance of life and navigate the circumstances as they change. In pursuit of joy, and in an effort to find my joy, today I celebrate children, motherhood and the support network - yes the village - that makes a difference. I wanted to scream this morning when I had a small self-reflection about how people don't realize what you've done in trying to make a difference in the lives of others....and then I looked more deeply in that mirror myself. We could all do a better job of recognizing how we, "Make it Do what It Do!" Motherhood is not a silo experience, not in my world, not in the way my children have experienced life.

So - Willy Wonka has a local premier tonight - got a kid in that. Divisionals for swimming - got a kid in that. Studying fractions and echoing short answer questions - got a kid who doesn't even realize he'll be doing that, or no football this season. More importantly, however - I think I'll hug a little deeper, snuggle a little more intently, smile as I taxi, and say a prayer of thanks - this life of motherhood, I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, funding that life should be done differently....but that is indeed another post! How do you make it work? How do you perfect your mama schedule? What lessons have you carried from childhood? How do you do life differently for the sake of your children? Who would you thank for helping you become the mother that you are? or are you one of those life altering anchors that makes some mother thankful to have that unyielding support? If she hasn't said it lately, THANK YOU.

Next Generation Workers...The Telecommuting MYTHs

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 17:29:00 +0000

The news is in a complete buzz about the recent decision to eliminate telecommuting by none other than Yahoo. There is some clear irony about the idea of a technology company mandating a physical presence in order to assess work performance and re-orient their working world. The implications for the decision will largely resonate with two audiences of particular importance to me, working mothers and those who currently have some level of telecommuting arrangement. I hope that Yahoo's decision doesn't cascade into the minds and strategies of those businesses that understand working from home, and those that actually get it right.

In my career I have spent large amounts of time as a consultant and strategists, often having a mobile office that went from place to place. When I first became a mother, I had no idea that I would later decide that I did not want to work 70 hour work weeks on average, a standard that I had created. I am so thankful that I worked for a Board of Directors who were both insightful and good business people. Flexibility is key for many professionals who give above and beyond what any one person should be asked to do within one job assignment. I know that I have friends and peers who currently balance what should be the equivalent of no fewer than 3 jobs. Flexibility allows the priorities of life to someone blend into a more effective balance, and it allows for the use of time and resources in more innovative ways than being tied to a desk. There is no question what side of this debate I support.

How many people are tied to their smart phones, making the dumb decisions to answer every call and every email, even when sent at inappropriate times? How many of us recognize that we have conditioned people within our professional circle to expect replies and follow-up instantaneously, when we have different priorities or work that should be done away from email? How much of this current debate reflects a lack of clarity about job performance, metrics and evaluation standards - and not some ill conceived notion of a colleague sitting at home in their bathrobe taking calls, while drinking lattes and watching TV? For those who seriously understand and have experienced working from home, you know that reality is much different.

Working from home, in many ways mirrors working for yourself. You now have the freedom to start your day at the earliest possible hour and end your day at the latest possible hour, in an attempt to best serve your employer and to demonstrate you have earned the flexibility given. That also means you are highly self-reflective, evaluating your value, contributions and achievements on a regular and consistent basis. While I can only imagine that somewhere someone is taking advantage of the system, there are countless others who prove the importance of flexibility, trust and performance in the marketplace.

With that said, office time can be overrated. While I am particularly blessed with a tremendous set of colleagues to work with, someone should also study the time wasted within the course of the standard work day. The number of activities and initiatives to build staff connectivity, might be better spent allowing people to connect with their own families. A good working relationship doesn't mean that you spend every holiday in celebration, celebrate every event with food or foster team-building by mandatory time together. Team-building can be an important aspect of any work environment, and it starts with a respect for each persons contributions, skills and talents. We could eliminate a fair amount of activities if we simply held performance in very high regard. The value of time is lost in our society.

Job-Sharing, Telecommunity, Virtual Offices and a regard for online operations matters in today's society. Being an effective team player doesn't mean you see my face each day, it should mean that you see my value. At least that is what I hope. I am reminded on this day to not only be thankful for good leadership, but to also be persistent in what true communication and dialogue is all about. If we put down our phones, walked away from email, stopped a hyper sense of organization based on technology, maybe we could foster a real conversation - about productivity, work/life balance, and achievement. Those things matter regardless of where you are working from. Maybe it is a bigger question, who are we working unto....man, or something, or someone, greater!

What are your thoughts? Share your comments - as long as you are not wasting work time doing so.

Seeking Joy

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Tue, 26 Feb 2013 15:32:00 +0000

The 6:30 a.m. prayer call required boldness in God today. I was feeling anything but bold. It should have come as no surprise that on the day that I was feeling anything but bold, fierce or phenomenal I heard by name called to pray. This was an opportunity to walk in faith and a reminder that it isn't about how you feel at any given moment. I thought I had pretty much walked away from writing, journaling, aspiring, seeking....I just started walking away, a trail of resignations in my path.

I don't believe in having a mid-life crisis, I don't believe in speaking those things into existence. With that being said, there is something going on. So I look at a poem my father sent to me that screams at me daily, "Do It Now" by Stephen Grellet. I wonder to myself, do what. My commitment to blogging and journaling this time around is in pursuit of figuring out what now.

A proud mother of three incredible kidlets, my life has been largely defined by raising wonderful people. Somewhere in that process I lost a bit too much of myself and started realizing that the pursuit of joy was a lost art. I received a text from a friend recently that said, what have you done today to find joy? My response was, nothing. I have done nothing to find joy recently. I'd like to change that today.

Wherever you are in your journey, no matter what road you are traveling, I'm wondering how are you finding and defining joy. At this season of life I have gotten a bit too lost in the activities, actions and motions of life, without paying great attention to the overarching themes that matter. I have gotten a bit lost and writing has typically helped me to find my way back home. Today, I have made the decision to do it now, although I'm not sure what IT is. I'm going to write more. I'm going to whine less. I'm going to work on centering myself to find and seek joy.

Early in life I said that I wished that people had been more honest, more transparent and more committed to telling the truth about life. Life is hard. I had a mother who told me life was not fair and then encouraged, "the sooner you learn it the better you will be." I have by many accounts a wonderful, blessed life, that has been filled with favor and guarded by the prayers of generations of women that have come before me. As a realist, however, I recognize that somewhere in the journey I have lost my way a bit. Have you ever lost your way? Have you ever experienced dancing so fast you lose the soundtrack of your life? That is where this entry finds me today.

A lover of arts, wine, music, writing, words, children and personal connection....walk with me a bit as I reignite my personal efforts to move beyond being, A Work In Progress. You might say aren't we all a work in progress? Maybe. I just think there is more joy to be found, more work to be done and more reflection to live this life that I've been given to the fullest. I'm on a quest to remember what I love, explore new things, look forward more often than I look back, and leave my past firmly in the past. I'm seeking joy...before it is simply too late to find it. Join me. I'd love to have company on my journey.

Love Languages and Road Trips

noreply@blogger.com (Aimee A'Laine) — Wed, 22 Aug 2012 20:14:00 +0000

This is the second time in the past few weeks where Moody Radio completely messed up my planned train of thought. I was leaving lunch with a colleague when I turned to the middle of a program that talked about No More Nice Girls, in a Christian context. A week earlier it was the 5 Love Languages by Dr. Chapman that set my kids on a dialogue that my love language was the hardest (Acts of Service!), but I digress. As the announcer and guest went on to discuss the ever winding road of relationships, the analogy of driving became a recurring theme. I know I need to say no, I have been saying no, I'm in a no season I thought to myself. Have you ever been in a NO season. It can be slightly overrated. I haven't found fulfillment, contentment or excessive amounts of rest, yet.

The radio voices continued "Who is in your passengers seat, who are the back seat drivers, are there people you need to put out the car, life is a journey.... " all references that are fairly common when you think about the various twists and turns of life as a woman of God. I would continue my hiatus from writing if I hadn't witnessed a scary car crash this morning on my way downtown that made the images of this "life journey" more vivid. Images from earlier today haunted me as I remembered the truck that hit the guard rail, heard the sounds of shattered glass throughout the traffic lanes, and the angst that filled my heart on what seemed like a commute that would never end. It isn't just the journey, or the drive - timing is everything. As Christian women, timing really is everything.

Last Saturday I gave a message about Mary of Bethany, after planning a presentation about Martha in my mind for years. I always thought that Martha had never received credit for her hospitality and role amongst Jesus' friends, but the Bible study taught me more than I likely taught anyone else. In 5 words Jesus validated Mary's live, "she did what she could." After years of feeling, being and living a life in pursuit of Martha's standards...I'm recognizing just how difficult it is to be driving the car on this journey, and feel very alone. I have a group of amazing women around me and many have distinguished themselves as "ride or die" chicks, a term that has grown to warm my heart. As I think about Thelma and Louise, my early life was filled with a desire to have that BFF relationship that books, movies and stories highlight as a life legacy. My later years are filled with a desire to "be that BFF" vs. to have that BFF relationship. As the guest on the show described, everyone should have those Godly women then look up to, the ones that are rock solid in their faith, the ones that are the friends to have and aspire to be more like. Today, that message encouraged my heart in this NO season. I'm driving dear God, but I am not there.

In transparency, trying to become more like God has been difficult. (In the midst of writing this post I received an email from the worst teacher we have ever experienced and my patience was again tested. To know that she has a teaching license still saddens me. Know Justice, No Peace.) Being more like God requires action.

The idea that I will become the woman that He would have me to be has proven a much greater task than I previously thought. In the busy nature of life, I thought I had things in moderate order. One persons order is another persons chaos. Or as life would have it, what I used to believe was order has given way to a new perspective. I want to be "that woman of God." That set a part, that Word filled, that above the chaos kind of woman - I guess, more like Mary. Mary was clear about her purpose, she wasn't afraid to go against the grain, she had loving relationships but was not defined by them, and she was a risk taker. The concept of a years' salary on a prized possession being used to bless Jesus' feet is pretty daring. The succinct validation Jesus offered, "..she did what she could" silenced the greatest of critics during a difficult season. Oh, to be defined in such a way as to have the person that matters most simply say, she did what she could.

The No More Christian Nice Girl, Jennifer Degler conversation series, was a reminder today to be an intentional woman. The type of woman who has made a difference in your life, or the woman you wish you had at various seasons of your life. In any case, there is someone out there that needs the Mary in you, today. The focused, praying, attentive, listening, self-sacrificing Mary....the one you want on your journey and who knows your love languages well. The one who isn't afraid to ride alongside you, get out the car when necessary, give directions from a remote location, or as in the season I find myself, the one who isn't afraid to let you drive solo for a bit, until you get your new bearings. Love Languages and Road Trips, the things that make you want to write after a long rest stop.

What encourages your heart or gives you joy along the journey, when you don't see the final destination? Share your thoughts, there is more to come.

Encouraging One Another

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 15:33:00 +0000

This rainy Monday morning provides evidence that the seasons are changing. We have gone from super hydration for a streak of 90+ degree weather, a child that runs cross country at extreme temperatures and the realization that we can get fatigued from doing simply life chores in extreme weather to this. (I think its age.) This is rain, jackets, plans A/B/C for clothing and a reminder of gloomy weather days to come. More than just the weather changing, I'm realizing that I'm changing too. (I use the picture to remind myself, there's beauty in what I experience too.)

India Irie has a song about the little things that at various stages of life I really thought I understood. It reteaches me at various seasons that the little things are ever changing. On a recent girlfriends trip I carried a small paperback book called "Encouraging One Another" and found little time to read it while I was there. The trip was 100% fun and sun, new experiences, stretching beyond my comfort zone and a daily opportunity to encourage one of the ladies that I was traveling with, with ample opportunities for me to be encouraged as well. When you are in an extreme situation, you don't really need a reminder about encouragement, it happens naturally. 24 hours state side and I started reading the book in detail. (It was actually less than 24 hours.)

Psalm 69:32 indicates "Be Encouraged, You Who Worship GOD." This very short verse offers clarity that on its own merit should encourage my heart, the instructions are clear. Be encouraged, you who worship God. I worship God, I should be encouraged. I believe that I'm a remedial case in basic life instruction because I have a lifetime of evidence that my God is real, and an on-time God, and at my most difficult hours He has been the only encouragement that mattered or made a difference. But there are seasons of glass half empty that I'm working to navigate better and believing that part of that requires the ability to radically impact others in a way that matters. After all, I have 4 decades of life experience at this point, and something should be the focus of my attention other than that math equation. (The trip was self-encouragement about embracing this phase of life.)

My little devotional introduced a concept for sentimental me, a trinket to treasure in every chapter. There are little images that symbolize the concepts that book tries to reinforce. The first is a baseball, a reminder that our Savior is in the stands as we live life, shouting fiercely, "Atta girl, you can do it!" Any parent who has attended a gymnastics, swim, basketball, soccer, track, cheerleading or football game weekly understands the obligations that come about. No matter what you are feeling, you go to the stands and turn off life to turn on "supportive parent" offering encouragement with little delusion that an Olympic star is on the horizon. (Gifted scholarship recipient maybe.... but not Olympics. Yet.) How much more does our God care for us? He doesn't have to turn it on or fight through what might or might not happen as a result of these skills in the future. Our God sets the standard for encouragement. I am a slow learner.

I have been discussing love languages with my children, a fascinating exploration of what ministers most to our spirit - an exercise in self-assessment, priorities and cyclical grief - not all love languages are created equal. When you know a persons love language, you can offer encouragement in the way that matters most to the person. My love language is acts of service and all other things come in a distant second, third or fourth place. My return from my trip has been filled with daily trinkets and lessons, the little things, and a BIG realization that I'm not on vacation any more. Welcome home.

May I suggest (to all 5 readers!), write a list of the little things that routinely touch your life or encourage your heart. Create a smile file so you have something to remind you of yourself when it starts to disappear. It can undoubtedly change the course of your day. When you weave them together, something nearly magical happens. You are released from your own circumstances when you remind yourself of the reasons to smile, and when you encourage someone else - regardless of your circumstances. My little things have been in abundance over the last week and I felt inspired to share:

I wasn't off the plane for 15 minutes, when I noticed a weeks worth of mail on my dashboard. I was anticipating the number of people who would want something from me, bills in abundance and reminders of what I had not done in my day life. I found, however, a beautiful card that brought tears to my eyes, as a member of my ministry wrote "we watch you and wonder in amazement - I see you." Enough said, I didn't open another thing. Trinket - a card.
I have started texting my high school BFF, a practice that has brought joy to my life. I shared a few recommendations about fairly personal products and was happy to have her report, "you done good." From high school exchanges about mean girls to adult travel and new life choices, I was reminded of the quote " make new friends, but keep the old - one is like silver, the other is gold." I had gold brought back into my life and have embraced more responsibility in keeping it deemed precious. Trinket - gold.

Don't expect a list of sentimental hoopla and wonderful reflections on the good life. I returned home to 5 consecutive days of ministry obligation, and I needed a sugar rush by day 4. On a particular church anniversary night every plan for our Nursery ministry started to fall through the cracks - location, volunteers, set-up, etc. I was solidifying my nerves when I encountered a happy praise fest that still lingers in my heart. Surrounded by thousands of dollars of computer equipment, we created an island oasis in the corner of the room, where praises went up - and poop, and the temperature, laughter too - and my attitude went down. You simply cannot have a bad attitude and serve children well. It helps when you are surrounded with enough love, laughter, latitude and longevity to keep it all in perspective. I require women in my circle who have experienced more of life than the law should allow, who praise God fiercely in spite of their circumstances and who smile through the challenges of life. Trinket - diapers. I'm still laughing.

At a Youth Experience I asked a group of female teenagers to describe what they could tell about me from the outside, or from what they encounter - based on their level of exposure. Some girls had known me for 3 hours, some for nearly 3 years. The list of items that they observed - mother, smiling, teacher, encourager, AKA, woman of God, truth teller, ministry worker..... and wife. Every time I'm with the young people they indicate they observe me as wife. (No pressure, right?) The trinket for this simple exercise is that of sunglasses. No matter how cool you might aspire to be, people see you. Right or wrong, accurate or inaccurate - they see you. When I'm seen I want to be the full, complete, total woman of God I aspire to be. I want to be a package to behold that is not placed into a tiny box based on one affiliation, one characteristic or one short coming. I am indeed the many things that they shared - with a healthy dose of sarcasm, dry humor, type A personality, loner and crybaby to boot. I am me. Carry your sunglasses as a trinket to see clearly, in the midst of the beaming rays of Son from our Saviour - because God sees you as you really are. And. He. Still. Loves. YOU!

All conversations are not created equal. The trinket in this last lesson would be a monkey, one that could see, hear, and most importantly speak no evil. I returned with a desire to create encouragement where I need it most - or at least where I need it more. I have had a desire for couples fellowship that was substantive, entertaining, accountable... and in a recent conversation I shared that desire. I left thinking that I would help to be a catalyst for an important couples fellowship, fill a need that exists in the lives of many women I know, I was just thrilled at the future success. Two days later I had a conversation that resembled a game of grade school telephone the summarized less than one-tenth of my thoughts about the couples to, or not to include. I had become the catalyst in a game of dominoes that seemed to topple over creating messiness along the way. I felt both responsible and grieved all at the same time. Once I started writing out the scriptures in the Bible that dealt with the power of the tongue and I realized that God was intentional in encouraging us to listen for wisdom, talk less. The little monkey trinket serves as my reminder for that now - I think I'll live the marriage encouragement for those who have proven themselves something other than a nuisance. I think I'll save that outreach until I've gotten more resolved about the essence of Encouraging One Another.

So, my love language is acts of service. Anyone within a 3,000 mile radius can figure that out and shhhh! (they don't even have to be in my circle to figure it out). My greatest pet peeve is messy relationships, when that ship has sailed I paddle backwards, use the paddles for firewood, chart a different course and eliminate the directions for that course - as to never cross it again. I'm old(er) and I'd like to both learn from my lessons and believe people the first time when they show who they are. I must admit however, I'm so thankful for those who have opted to love me in spite of myself. They are a rescue team of sorts - they are my tea-drinking, coffee supporting, laughter inspiring, card sending, note writing, PhD pursuing, motherhood perfecting, wine sipping, God loving, marriage surviving, marriage thriving, friendship protecting - friends. (And not in that order.) They likely don't need a book about Encouraging One Another - but they are smart enough to seek help from the sources that encourage most. It might be a book, or The BOOK, but their intentions are always pure. That quality is rare and I'm personally thankful for it. They encourage me. They hearten my spirit. They move me to push past the frailties in my life, as I aspire to be more encouraging to me, to my friends, and to others.

Sickle Cell, fighting an "Orphan Disease" without a face

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 12:35:00 +0000

Julie, Rebekkah, Danielle, Kayla, Jada, Jasmine, Jannifer.......

Sickle Cell Does have a face.

I'm not certain how you generate interest in the Indianapolis 15^th Annual Sickle Cell Walk, when on any given basis it is known as, "An Orphan Disease." My daughter understood that at 10 years of age, others not so quickly. I'm not quite sure what the correct definition of Orphan Disease should be, but in my experience it boils down to dollars and cents. If there are no clear cut ways to make a profit, it becomes harder to attract pharmaceutical and health care support for a tremendous cause.

While it might be an orphan to someone, I have a friend who has been fighting the disease her entire life, and the last thing anyone with Sickle Cell needs is another missed opportunity to promote awareness. We need encouragement to know your sickle cell status, hope for a cure and the advocacy needed to help educate people to understand why they should care. The 15th Annual Sickle Cell Walk offers an opportunity, but people will really make the difference for the upcoming Be The Match Bone Marrow Drive and Charity Walk.

My personal connection with Sickle Cell came as an adult when I had complications with each pregnancy. My doctor asked if I had Sickle Cell or Sickle Cell Trait and I said no. She tested me anyway and indicated that I was a carrier. Wow. How is it even possible for an adult to have the trait for a serious chronic disease and be completely unaware? I had been married nearly 10 years, I was well past 30 years old and I was clueless about my anemia, Sickle Cell Disease and a host of other factors that make it ironic that I'm now a champion for the cause. It simply makes no sense to me that due to the population that is impacted, the treatment regimen, the lack of advocacy and pure disparities in health care - Sickle Cell seems to be a lost cause in our society. There is so much work to be done.

A sorority member shared recently that she lost one of her sands due to Sickle Cell Disease. I was quickly doing the math and realizing that this was another young woman who likely never saw her 40th birthday. Team Rebekkah has been created in her honor, and I'm reminded about what can happen with the passion of a committed few. How many Rebekkah's do we have to lose before we realize that lives are too precious to ignore the impact of this deadly disease. Based on life expectancy with SCD alone, I'd be past my prime. I look at my children, my life, my friends, my church, my community, my family and I realize that I'm a fragile work in progress - and I have so much work to do. How is it that people don't see the need to eliminate this "Orphan Disease" orientation - it would lessen if we rallied together and had a collective voice about why Sickle Cell matters. Team Rebekkah will be doing that as they celebrate the life of a young woman that matters. Not mattered. She continues to matter enough to be a catalyst for action. Her life matters.

So, a campaign to register donors for bone marrow transplants comes to the 15^th Annual Sickle Cell Walk on Saturday, June 25, from 7:00 a.m. – 12:00 noon at Riverside Park. That's what I thought I was going to talk about as Martin Center, Inc. celebrates over 40 years of service to the Sickle Cell community, the time is now to encourage all community members to Be The Match and give hope to those who need a bone marrow transplant. I'm flooded with stories, people, young women who matter, and I believe that each of those lives should generate more interest. More support. More action.

I'm drawn to the stories of young women. There is a 14 year old young woman in New York, Hunter, that has been cured from the disease as a result of a bone marrow transplant from a non-related donor. I'd like to think that stories like hers resonate with enough people to make Bone Marrow Registry important. I'd like to think that we care about the value of a life beyond socio-economic status, culture, race or ethnicity. After 4 decades of life, however, the writing seems all too clear. The growing population of people impacted by Sickle Cell Disease doesn't seem sexy enough to garner the attention, research dollars, support, advocacy and momentum needed to change the future. My writing hiatus has ended because I just don't understand it. How is it possible to know just one of these stories and not take the time to get educated and take action?

The Bone Marrow drive effort on Saturday, June 25, at Riverside Park in Indy is free and open to the public, starting at 7:15 a.m. A person needing a bone marrow transplant (recipient) needs to receive marrow from someone whose tissue type is close to his/her own type. It is more likely that a donor who comes from the same racial or ethnic group as the recipient will have the same tissue traits. Less than 30% of registered donors are individuals of color, although Sickle Cell Disease and other chronic diseases do not discriminate. I am encouraging anyone who will listen, and ALL of my community members to Get Involved, Give Back and Live Smart.

Individuals can register for the Sickle Cell 5K Walk/Run for $20 which includes a commemorative t-shirt, at www.themartincenter.org. Proceeds from the walk support the needed programs and services including an onsite food pantry, scholarship fund, free screening services for sickle cell, cholesterol, blood pressure and glucose, in addition to needed educational & social services provided by Martin Center. The reality is, however, that is only part of the story. We need to get educated, rally together, advocate and change lives.

Demitrea Kelley, Miss Black Indiana 2011, is changing lives too. This young woman has a reason to be passionate, as SCD hits really close to home for her. I'm more impressed, however, that my fellow Boilermaker was driven to organize a Blood Drive and get people to do something to bring awareness to this disease and save lives. Transfusions are a reality for those who are impacted by this disease. I know all too well the concerns, fears and impact of having a blood transfusion, much less a lifetime of transfusions. This young woman realizes the power of one. We'd be in a different place if each and every one of us realized our power, together. Demitrea gives me hope that young women that I'm close too will recognize their power, rally beyond their pain and tell their story. The disease does not discriminate agains socio-economic groups, race, ethnicity or brilliance. I know a fiercely smart, gifted and blessed high school student with amazing potential that fights this deadly disease every day. I want her to realize that there are millions of us standing next to her, ready to support her, ready to fight for the cure that she deserves. Until then, she has a life to lead and a legacy to create, and I want to see it written with energy, with excellence and free from constant pain.

Marrow transplants are the main treatment for certain life-threatening diseases like Sickle Cell. Only 30 percent of people who need such transplants have a family member who can donate bone marrow. The other 70 percent rely on people who have registered with Be The Match so they can provide bone marrow for those who need it. I have a friend who has been sick for the past week, and I don't know her pain. I do know that she is in pain, she is a mother, she is a wife, she is in pain and she cannot reach her fullest potential on pain medications. Her story matters to me. There are 100,000 stories. Who do they matter to?

My plea is simple: Get Involved, Give Back, Live Smart.

The 15^th Annual Walk hosted Saturday, June 25, 2011 is timed 5K Walk/Run with a Kid’s Zone Activity and Education Center. Riverside Park celebrates their 100^th Anniversary with this historic 5K Walk/Run, where community members, volunteers and clients alike join together to increase awareness about Sickle Cell Disease. Interested individuals can register at www.themartincenter.org. Martin Center, Inc. is a 501c3 tax-exempt, charitable organization.

If you are reading this, you can make a difference today! I'm simply wondering does it always have to hit close to home before we do something. I feel like I'm always doing something, but maybe I'm not doing enough. I have platforms, I have stories, I have recommendations, but I require more action. The lack of movement makes me absolutely nuts. I don't have to walk a mile in someone else's shoes to realize, they really hurt. Pain shouldn't be a way of life, but a call to action.

Register to join the 5K Walk/Run on June 25, 2011 by logging onto www.themartincenter.org and clicking on the walk logo sponsored by HotBed Creative.
Make a tax-deductible contribution at the walk registration site, or mail your donation to 3549 N. College Ave., Indianapolis, IN 46205.
Volunteer as an individual, group, or team – June 24 and June 25, 2011, call 927-5158 today.
Honor the life or the memory of a loved one by Getting Involved, Giving Back and Living Smart. Martin Center, Inc. needs you.

Who's Got Your Back?

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 03:40:00 +0000

I really had the best of intentions - a lesson about everyone in life having something missing. I had been reflecting on my teaching assignment for our Teen Ministry and had a relatively rare set of nerves about talking to this audience. I had come to believe that it mattered to me so much, that there were butterflies in my stomach for several days. This seems nuts to me.

As a trainer, facilitator and speaker - this is what I do. I teach lessons all the time, and given that I did indeed prepare the lesson in advance, I couldn't understand why my stomach did turns. Fast forward, I have their attention, we are in an active dialogue, I'm elated that they are talking about the characteristics that define relationship and then I decide... it is time for the illustration. I'm leading up to the most important relationship in our lives... the one with God. At least that is what I thought.

With a bakers dozen of mixed up bagels and cream cheese one unseasoned teen teacher heads down what was a very clear pathway in my mind. "We are all born with something missing. No matter what we try to do to fill the hole, we will always have that something missing. We tend to fill that hole with stuff - hobbies, activities, a need for attention, material things, music, overcompensation, people. We fill the hole with people, often broken people just like us. We keep putting the wrong things in the hole and it never gets filled up." I just kept going.

The facial expressions went from interested and engaged to "um, is she going to say that one more time?" And yes, for effect, I did indeed keep asking about that empty hole being filled in. Let's just say...I am working to readjust my memory of the lesson and combine pre and post bagel teaching, forever erasing the bagel illustration. In fact, I'm hoping my confidence and dignity return any day now.

But....I'm not a teen. As I write, I am drifting back to that lesson of, "Who's Got Your Back?" As I taught about the importance of relationships and the characteristics that signify a true, good, beneficial relationship, I was reminded that teens aren't the only ones who need to be reminded about choices. We can fill the empty places with many things, but I believe God is the only one that can make us whole. With that being said, isolation does not build up, it only tears down. I believe we work out our salvation in fellowship with other people.

Fast forward to today and the importance of relationships was all around me. Who do you call when things aren't going well? Who do you call when its time to celebrate? Who do you look forward to spending your special days with? Who seeks out the opportunity to spend time with you? What relationships are you building? What opportunities exist to sow into the lives of others? When is too much too much? Are we clear about who has our back?

Four decades of life, you must know who has your back. I'm a creature of habit and patterns, a planner, prone to do things in a relatively consistent manner. I also recognize that my love language is some odd combination of acts of service, quality time and words of affirmation... in that order with a rare gift at times to linger in my mind for months after it has been given. Yet, for those that have my back, acts of service and quality time are a no brainer - it is a requirement. I was teaching a lesson that the kids needed to hear, but I could have been teaching to a room full of adults. We tend to try to fill in spaces with stuff that doesn't quite get it, then we match ourselves up with something that looks or seems good, but doesn't quite result in success. We are seekers of becoming whole.

In a classic Huxtable moment, Claire (one of my favorite iconic moms) runs after Rudy with a sandwich that she had made for her lunch. Mom encounters a child who openly admits, "Peanut butter and tuna sounded really good, but once I put it together it just didn't look good enough to eat." She looked at it and decided to leave it. A seven year old demonstrated something very valuable - you don't carry the mess you made with you once you realize it is simply a mess.

We spend a lifetime putting things together that might have seemed or sounded really good, when in actuality they don't go together at all. When we seek to understand, examine or expand who's got our back, time and investment is required. GIGO. You can dress it up, fill in the gaps, make it look good - but nothing tastes as good as being fulfilled feels. That fulfillment can't come from folks, friends, sistergirls or besties....but when you have the right ones by your side, they assuredly make the journey better.

Bad illustration for teens, maybe. For me, a good reminder to pick carefully and keep those priorities in order along the way. Who's got your back at one stage of life doesn't make it a permanent fit. God is an awesome, full-time, available and unchanging God. He also gives us some wonderful people for our journey. Who's Got Your Back? You ought to know.

Trusting unfaithful people when you are in trouble is like eating with a broken tooth or walking with a crippled foot. Proverbs 25:19 I tell you, I have been on a writing hiatus. Based on this scripture, I need not be on a reading hiatus.... rich, rich word indeed.

Violence not associated with Indiana Black Expo prompts parental concern

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 16:14:00 +0000

Parents of tweens are often faced with requests to attend the concerts, workshops and events that have built the reputation of the summer ritual known as Indiana Black Expo. It remains an integral part of the Summer Experience in the greater Indianapolis Community, although news of downtown shots awakens parental concerns. One might think that this is an issue for Black Expo, Downtown Indianapolis or someone else. Safety is a universal concern for all parents.

Annually in July a series of workshops, entertainment, health fairs and programs bring greater awareness about African-American culture. Statistics surrounding the graduation rate, economic stability and healthy life choices garner the attention of community activists, religious leaders and neighborhood elders. Tweens simply want to have fun. In it's 40th year of operations a celebration of success has been marred by negative press during the culminating weekend of activities. Reports of injured young people have taken precedent over articles about increased efforts to educate, train, uplift and engage a critical teen audience.

Renee Thomas, director of the Purdue Black Cultural Center, was one visible addition to the festivities. Prepared to increase the awareness about Purdue University, promoting the programs and services of the Black Cultural Center and offering teen specific program, "Follow Your North Star" for the teen youth summit, Thomas has spoken openly about the chance to recruit staff, faculty and students. Articles about Purdue's increased presence have been outpaced by reports of 10 shot in Indianapolis. Although the late Saturday incident has been tied to Black Expo, the three shootings near Circle City Mall were not connected to the event. The Indianapolis Star indicated that visitors were shocked and disrupted, including those participating in the event.

Safety matters to parents as we seek to guide and protect our children. Indiana Youth Institute data from 2006 indicates that Marion County teen deaths by accident, homicide and suicide outpace every other county in Indiana. These statistics should matter to us all. Heightened attention should be expected when information about local shootings is tied to the largest cultural event in the Indianapolis community. Additional investigation shows that the unfortunate incidents were not tied to the event. Black Expo organizers, community members and parents alike must continue to seek the information that will govern our decisions and directives to youth.

Our charge is safety, accuracy and guidance. This weekend featured much more than the random acts of cowardice. We owe it to ourselves to learn more as Black Expo brings to a close four decades of philanthropic initiatives, support for education, constructive youth activities and numerous opportunities for tweens to set their dreams into reality with access to countless resources.

Mixed Messages

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 00:38:00 +0000

How many times have you gotten mixed signals or thought to yourself, "Did I read the signs completely wrong?" Well, recently on a business trip, I started realizing just how many mixed messages we send in the course of a typical day.

I didn't have any real thoughts about St. Louis when I knew I'd be traveling there, I figured it would be a typical trip. I arrived at the hotel in search of gushing hospitality and a seemingly clear vibe of St. Louis sites, culture and more. Um, not so much. A waiter at Mango almost single-handedly made me believe all things are possible. His desire to make a customer happy, or to get a good tip, led to mixed vegetables at well after 11:00 at night, and gave me joy. Wow - someone who acted like they cared about customer service. High end food affectionately described as a hot pocket, and some new Peruvian expressions to match it, and the mixed messages post was born. Mixed Message number one - "you are the exception and not the rule..."

For starters, the waiter shared that he had recently been asked for nachos as a guest complained that "all Mexican restaurants should have them." In not so gentle fashion he distinguished Peruvian and Mexican - but I'm convinced that it was as much a tutorial as an expose on his earlier guests. He jokingly highlighted that women who shared characteristics to my table mate and I had really challenged his patience earlier. Light hearted banter or a heartfelt warning?

In a few short days I've started to re-think the many messages we send on a regular basis. This upbeat restaurant staff member shared the limits of expectations regarding those that live in and travel to St. Louis, it was a bit shocking if I'm honest. He freely indicated that there isn't much expected from communities of color - a disturbing start to our restaurant relationship. I had barely had the menu for a few minutes before he explained the cool reception that had become the norm during our experience. After a conversation, he was essentially very insightful about the socio-economic dynamics of "the Lou." When little is expected, there is little opportunity for excellence to emerge. He said pretty bluntly working class people don't expect much from people of color here, "stereotypes are what we've gotten accustomed to." It was pretty late to get up in arms about his opinion. An opinion, however, explains a lot. I kept wondering how do you take a waiter that says locally we don't think much of your kind, but I like you gals a lot. Mixed vegetables and mixed vibes collide.

Mixed Message Clothing - Business attire and business casual have become so intertwined I find it impossible to separate the two. I have seen a myriad of colleagues wear something between date night and board room all to the same activity or event, each time questioning where I fit within the mix. I believe we've become a society where the gray area is much more comfortable than either the Black or White of life. With few exceptions, it appears more comfortable for others to settle for a hybrid of everything than a stance on anything. Are three inch heels really okay for a business meeting? I suppose it depends on the business of the day. I am certain, however, that a skirt that disappears when you sit down and a top that is positioned as a sling shot for launching buttons can both appear on what not to wear business edition. Speaking first hand, wearing Fit Flops is incredibly fun - but more fit I am not.

Mixed Message Parking - Valet parking is in the same garage as the guest parking, with a $13 upcharge - plain irritating in my book. I'd like there to be the illusion that the gentlemen are working for the $27/night charge to park my car which will sit for 5 straight days. I just assumed that a host hotel would have parking "options", but the option is clear - walk your behind and park your car yourself, or pay for the privilege of watching the valet do the same.

Mixed Message Food - A light menu at Starbucks is really just a decision to fall off the wagon. How light to we believe the carb assortment to be when we combine it with coffee drink number 3 of the day? You have to know, I'm a bit of coffee junkie - but I don't in the least bit believe I've done something amazing by making a light selection. If you buy a lower sugar drink, hold the whip or skim the milk - please know that it still has more calories than if you opted for water. Speaking of options - the light menu at most fast food restaurants should be forbidden too. I know that the fruit is the better option as a side in the meal deal, but the fried meat on a bun could kill me without the extra help. To then ask if you want Medium, Large or Extra Large for your light menu option - that is pure foulness.

Mixed Message Tipping - If I give you what you tell me is the mandatory tip, don't be surprised if you don't get an additional thin dime. We have yet to corner the market on suggested dining behaviors in our culture, but the requirements go both ways. While I understand the rationale for the mandated 18%, I believe that judging the group before they have placed their order results in many normally gracious tippers holding their purses tightly.

I have seen the hospitality industry at its best and its worst during this recent trip. This I believe - a host hotel should have to earn that title; with verification that restaurants are fully staffed and a general belief that guests should be treated as "guests". I assume you usually get what you give in hotel contract negotiations, but a cheaper deal isn't necessarily a better deal. I would love to see the conference language that accounts for performance when a group of over 5,000 can't guarantee a full place for every guest.

Mixed Messages Mentoring - As a young woman I remember how irritated I was at the "Do as I say not as I do" model for operation of life. Maybe the biggest disconnect during my travel was a contrast of past memories and current realities. When you look up to a group of people and realize they are more like the Wizard of Oz than the people you esteemed so highly, what a disappointment. For years I have given credit to folks for shaping that must have gotten overrated due to youth. I now wonder if they were shaping me or shaping a legacy for themselves?

As a young woman I had idealistic thoughts about connecting to others throughout my life journey, and building these life-long relationships. Even as a young professional I saw the mixed message about achievement, interdependence and independence. In the past few days I've been reminded that the images that shape us as young women shift, develop and sometimes change as the years advance. I'd rather impact a few people for a lifetime, than ultimately not live up to the example I set for the masses. I would like to intentionally manage my personal messages to avoid a lifetime of mixed messages. I have been reminded that in the course of a day we learn as much about what NOT to do and say - as we learn about what TO DO.

Sunshine Award ... Made MY Day....

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 09:07:00 +0000

Sifting Through the Noise sent me a sunshine award! It is so nice when someone reads your post and thinks that it matters in cyberspace. So I'm following the trend and I'm going to post a few links of my own that capture interesting writing, topics, etc. Thank you for thinking of me !

The Benefit of the Doubt

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 17:48:00 +0000

The Benefit of the Doubt and other growing pains...

Benefit of the doubt = to decide you will believe someone or something

With age I'm less inclined to extend the benefit of the doubt. I'm not sure when it happened, but it has indeed happened. I used to believe that Barack would be a 2 term president, that Colin Powell would receive the respect that was fully due him, that investing in private education would create benefits that public education could not deliver, that the covenant of marriage would rise in popularity as we saw the impact of raising children in single parent homes. As I've gotten older I don't have the same energy to compensate when the benefit of the doubt goes wrong. I'm learning that I tend to simply not give it as much and with what I believe is good reason.

During some seasons I have given myself the benefit of the doubt - in the belief that I could lose weight while committing to healthier life choices, get my PhD before I had gray hair and land the perfect hybrid between consulting and teaching college courses while my children were still relatively young. I have always aimed really high and cleaned up for the messes created along the way, even in the belief that I could close the financial gap between my decision to be a non-profit consultant and my natural gifts in math & science that didn't translate into becoming an Engineer. I tend to ask for forgiveness more than permission, and with wisdom has come a tendency to doubt, not to give the benefit of the doubt.

Owning your limitations happens at various life stages I assume, but I had brought into the Superwoman model. Such is life I thought. Yet, the issue of doubt continues to resurface because doubt can lead to a generally disagreeable disposition I've learned. Seeing that glass as half empty makes you more often than not a pessimist. I never wanted to be a pessimistic mommy. I wanted to teach my children to see the glass as half full. I still want to.

The holidays always offer a twisted challenge in my world, a choice of living in the past or creating a vision for the future. Stay with me, it does relate. On the heels of a ministry peer telling me that I didn't return her text messages, I offered a confused look and a strong stance that I do at least try to respond to all messages received. I felt a bit unnerved at the meeting as I thought of ways to prove that I really had been attentive to recent communication, only later to find out there is some issue between our two cellular phone companies. I wondered aloud in that moment, why had I not earned the benefit of the doubt? Clearly she assumed I had not responded, without considering that I had not received the messages.

I also thought about a request that I made to a friend to pick up and deposit a check into my account from an out-of-state client. She ultimately opted not to complete the favor because of concerns that it was somehow inappropriate. A different friend within the same state completed the task in about 1 hour and indicated that she was happy to help. I'm not sure how much impact we have on other adults and their "benefit threshold", but as a parent, I think our impact is primary and paramount. I feel obligated to teach my children that they can extend the benefit of the doubt, because their life is and has been, different than the circumstances that shaped me.

What leads us to assume the worst instead of assuming the best? How do we get past the lingering impact of disappointments and what do we do to balance the benefit of the doubt with intuition and good sense? I have come to understand the "Benefit" of the doubt is as much about your threshold for pain as it is about the choice to believe freely. I still come up on the losing side of the debate when I suggest that Chris Brown deserved more benefit of the doubt than he received, and that he too was a child when his actions led him down a difficult path of public scrutiny and becoming a domestic violence poster child. By virtue of gender and leaked photographs we gave his girlfriend at the time much more benefit, put her on a few more magazines, wrote a few more stories about her and said as loud as our voices would carry that Chris' behavior was unacceptable. True. Not the entire story though in my opinion - I am a mother of both a daughter and sons, and I think there are lessons to be learned on both sides of that situation.

My children are incredibly loyal to their father and discerning for their ages. Whenever I suggest that they play favorites (I get picked for book reports and homework assignments, rarely for fun and games) they share a nervous laugh and ask, "When is Daddy coming home?" They ask about his whereabouts like the FBI and they tend to measure their future happiness based on what they believe is his present state of play - they expect that dad is equal to fun. For our children past experiences guarantee benefit of the doubt, and as their mother I get taught the most basic lessons of unyielding trust by watching them. My husband says, they are growing up differently than we grew up. I believe they are living in a whole new world.

The benefit of the doubt I've learned doesn't last forever, and after a lifetime of disappointments even an adult can cry uncle. Benefit is really the equivalent of making a choice, a decision to believe when all factors point in a different direction. For decades, I gave my father the benefit of the doubt that he wasn't capable of understanding the impact of his absence in the lives of his children. We're cordial at this point, and as a grandfather he can be thoughtful and attentive. What he cannot be, however, is the father that I aspired to as a child. My children and I have been blessed with male role models, mentors and friends that are tremendous. I should be more appreciative of that. 40 years later I still see the generational legacy of my father's choices as a lingering failure that I cannot fix. In myself, in my mother, in my siblings and in my decision to intentionally parent differently, I carry that difficult legacy.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt has often meant disappointment that cuts to the bone and resurfaces at the most inconvenient of times. Like holidays. Even a choice to act and behave in a different manner doesn't erase the impact of the memories that linger. I can hear Dr. Laura saying get over it, you cannot make people what you want them to be. In most instances I would even agree with her. Yet, I think its natural to give family members the benefit of the doubt, even when that ship has sailed, and time for something different has come and gone and come again, one too many times.

Somehow as 40 approaches with little discretion I have resolved that it is difficult to teach what you do not know. Difficult but possible. My ability to teach the benefit of the doubt is a true work in progress, requiring a value system orientation that is not my own. We are not just raising Jesus children out of habit or obligation, but out of a clear understanding of where our values come from. Fellowship with the Father promises to be the only anchor when issues with my father persist. My children have the benefit of an engaged and committed father, even though he too did not learn at the heels of a phenomenal father son relationship. He has simply made a choice to life in a way that guarantees that his children extend the benefit of the doubt, because in most every situation, the ability to rely on his availability, attention and affection are guaranteed. That alone is worthy of being a covenant keeper in my book.

I'm not sure what happens in the world of adult to make it so much harder to believe and trust in what people say or demonstrate as their intentions. I do know, however, that children who are raised intentionally should learn as much about hope, faith and belief in the greater good of people as they learn about the barriers that we create for safety, protection and sanity. They come here naturally reliant and trusting and willing to extend courtesies that as an adult have to be earned, demonstrated or even merited. I look to them as teachers not just students, and I celebrate the use of instinct to make choices based on what they experience. I remain thankful that for those closest to me, their grace has extended me the benefit of the doubt. Wisdom has taught that not everyone can benefit from it.

Helping at Home

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 22:52:00 +0000

Whenever married women get together there is inevitably a conversation about household chores. I've talked about Domestic Sexy in past posts and highlighted a few amazing days with due credit given. At some point one of the women in my clique will say something that is the equivalent to "it isn't worth the effort." I always state that after 14 years of marriage, the partnership should indeed, be a partnership. It might not be done like you would like it done, but get over it. I say this often. I'm going to stop.

See, we haven't had matching socks in months. It started one season when I went on strike and I didn't care what happened. I literally only searched for my clean clothes and I have plenty of hosiery options that I can rely on most days. One of the kids asked about socks early in the school year and I promptly directed them to their own drawer. They replied, "we don't have socks." I know there are socks and plenty of them. And then....I started the investigation.

For my entire strike the socks were conveniently placed in unmatched batches at the bottom of a variety of baskets, with no regard to size, owner or style. Within a few weeks the socks had no mates and the mess was expanding. On one particular morning, the sock hunt led to the photo above, where well meaning children were trying to identify the things that belonged to them. I have now made up in my mind, there is no equity in helping at home. Three months later and the socks have still never been the same. They went away for a few days in August and their grandmother simply purchased new socks. She will be saddened to know that they too have gone into the group wash, non sort, non match, non put away experience. This is so not domestic sexy. This is so why married women suggest that their spouse need not help at home.

I think its a plot of intentional proportions when a degreed male can not accomplish laundry success. I'm the one with about 10 dozen miss matched socks all over my house, too. This would be a non-issue, but its Winter. Funds are low. The work load is high. And the socks are all over because I was convinced that my hiatus would mandate more help. Not so much.

In Search of Game

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 22:35:00 +0000

My little people are far more athletic than I have ever been. I love that about them. They are not moved by the fact that every tae kwon do, gymnastics, volleyball, swimming or sports experience is filled with many lessons we can't quite relate to. But, I've got one son who loves basketball. I mean, he practices outside in shooting hoops in my neighbors rim, for as long as you will allow. It isn't our natural thing.

We are amazing at teaching story problems, fractions, vocabulary words, writing prompts - and he's got the grades to prove it. After a long and drawn out teasing his straight A grade card was neither that exciting or that hot of a topic - he just does what he does without much fanfare. I attended one of his few basketball games last week and that experience was not the same. I tell you, check out moms action stop. Do you see that form. Concentration. Focus. And do you see that it looks like he's running a sprint and not playing ball. How much of having game is nature? How much is nurture?

Our kids have inherited a tendency to do better at solo activities while they struggle with team experiences. This child, however, tends to do well at both. In the heart of Indiana where basketball is beloved by all, I can't help wish that my father was more invested in teaching and training. My father was the coach of all coaches when it came to basketball. He taught inner city hoops with flare and substance, did much better than he did in parenting. There are students that still credit him for their growth and development. No comment there. Just wondering though, can you teach a Suburban Black kid with little basketball instinct to play ball.

At a dinner party recently I had friends suggest to us, "you need to enroll him in Black Ball." Really. I don't care if its politically incorrect, they cautioned me about the "recreational league" that I enrolled him in. I indicated it was just about the basics, no stress, no future Lebron aspirations. And they uniformly responded, you better get him in Black Ball soon.

At the ripe old age of 7 I'm starting to sense he's behind the curve. I laughed on Sunday because I was sure he was close to a foul everytime he tried to snatch the ball from his opponent. When I looked at the pics that make a moms heart smile, I couldn't help but land on this one. I started thinking, what are we running to and what are we running from. We're happy to be in the Suburbs, but I miss some of the things the kids would naturally learn from the neighborhood I grew up in. Down the street he could have learned to play ball nearly free of charge, extra bandaids and some non-Walmart tennis shoes, and he'd be set. It wouldn't have been a big deal that he didn't have his own basketball court - few kids did. The only guy that I knew with his own court, couldn't play and tried harder to makeout near the swings than shoot hoops. I digress.

In search of game really speaks to the double lives children of color lead. I'm not even going to write about the Suburban clubs that spend more time eliminating potential young ladies than creating a place to nurture them and expose them to peers who share their experiences. I'm not quite over it, but I'm getting there. Living in the suburbs has brought better schools, better property values and more diverse issues. I need a second job to teach my boys how to have game, while I'm teaching them to navigate this game that we chose.

Watch out world. The best scientist that can ball is coming your way soon. He's not in search of much but his personal success, and he's well on his way.

A Magnetix Lesson in HealthCare Failure

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 22:18:00 +0000

Parents beware. My youngest child swallowed a small magnetix ball and a bit of a panic began. He actually told of his digestive experience relatively quickly - but the passing of the evidence, very very slow. In between our notification and the passing of the time, 3 Emergency Room Visits, 1 Allergic Reaction, several glasses of prune juice, hours of internet investigation, the search and destroy mission for every Magnetix we owned and those purchased for future gifts - and walla, its over.

Not so quick - you want to know how much it cost right? Two working people with health care. A childhood accident that went really really wrong. Well, last time I opened the bill, about $3,000 was still owed AFTER the insurance paid their "portion" of the bill. Then the beauty of health care reform has been the umpteen messages I receive in my inbox, encouraging me to send $5, $10 or more dollars to help pass the health care reform. You gotta be kidding me right. How about I pay the hospital in installments until he's in college. How about I pay my past due bills with those dollars. How about I'm really cynical that health care reform may mean something for someone, but if its like finance reform, economic reform, homeowner reform, education reform, job reform, the fight against drugs, and any of the other reforms that are never quite intended for middle America - I'll take a pass.

With that $5 d$%^ dollars, maybe I'll start a Christmas lay-a-way for all of the toys we are going to have to replace. Or, I'll start the long payment plan for the healthcare costs that aren't changing for us with whatever so-called-reform is popular today.

Black People Don't Float

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 21:57:00 +0000

In the world of the random, I had a swim coach tell me that Black people don't float the same as White people. It was very early in the morning, I had not eaten my energy bar, and I wasn't in the mood to defend my entire race. Not today. I made a mental note for self and opted to really not focus on what appeared to be a slight trip down the lane of crazy.

Later, when I was caffeinated and more alert, I learned about a few statistics that address the reason why more Black people don't swim. Most of the information related to parental habits, access to pools, family patterns, soci0economic factors, etc. Not one article had anything of merit or relevance about black folks and the ability to float. I did stumble across a variety of hateful and racists comments about the inferiority of Black people, but I had too much productive work to do for that day. And so, I shared this little comment with the woman who taught my dear little ones how to swim. After she rolled her eyes and let out a big sigh, she effectively said, tell them to swim harder and faster and to enjoy each day they are in the pool - that's crazy.

If there is anyone who would be able to attest to the float factor, it would be the woman who has taught my heavy non-graceful behind how to swim the length of the pool. If I didn't have to go to the deep side, I could probably swim 100 yards with some amount of competence. Reality is, it was just good to have someone who didn't share background, race, ethnicity, wealth, upbringing or anything else - simply dismiss this silly comment, after her 40+ years of teaching this craft.

The Josh Project is just one of the amazing discoveries I encountered as I was shaking off the potential offense. A phenomenal mother in Toledo, Ohio started this organization after her son lost his life to a drowning accident. Minorities make up a disproportionate number of drowning victims each year, and we should do something about it. I grew up in a middle class household, with tremendous values, and learning to swim was not a priority. The group lessons at the Y failed in many many ways, but that was me. Once I had the benefit of a personal coach - float. swim. enjoy.

Kids who complete the Josh Project lessons can earn a t-shirt and a tremendous lesson. Conquering your fears, whether in the water or in life, can happen if you simply put your mind to it. Problem is, your mind may be willing, but circumstances might not. Seek out opportunities to conquer those things that seem a lifetime away and spend little time debating the crazy. Black people can float. Maybe more importantly, all people can be taught to do things once out of reach, by ignoring at first glance, those that are simply out of touch.

Breathe and blow. Breathe and blow.

Famesque

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 21:46:00 +0000

I listened to a story recently about the Famesque - folks that were famous for no good reason. The article was slanted mostly toward white magazine icons and some harsh criticism about their talent or lack of. I haven't done a good job of getting the idea out of my head, even though I have more important things to do. So is the problem the Famesque, or those of us who pay them any attention at all.

I actually have a small amount of sympathy for them. They are subjected to incredible amounts of scrutiny, don't get paid what real starlets get paid, and they are hounded by the paparazzi - not to mention the bloggers pen. I'm not sure we devote our time to the true stories at hand. Folks we elect, folks we pay lots of money who don't do their jobs, folks that are supposed to be doing one thing - but are clearly doing another... but hollywood folks. Who cares. I mean really, since I don't watch Gossip Girls, didn't see Transformers in the theater, can't name whoever is on the cover of most magazines when I'm at the check out - that makes me like, normal. I'm certain that many of my peers would respond in EXACTLY the same way.

So maybe along with the Famesque, we should fault the Stupesque for all the energy we direct at them anyway. I'm just saying.

Plan B is the equivalent of an F - Failure

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 01:53:00 +0000

Plan B?

The morning-after pill -- made by Duramed, a subsidiary of Barr Pharmaceuticals -- is intended to prevent pregnancy after unprotected sex. It works by stopping ovulation and decreasing the chances that a fertilized egg will attach to the uterus. When used within 72 hours of unprotected sex, it can lower the risk of pregnancy by almost 90 percent, the maker says.

The casual nature surrounding the Plan B pill is extremely interesting to me. The pill will be available to "women age 17 and older" the FDA announced today. What child do you know classifies as a woman at age 17. I'm not even opening the conversation for true debate - I'm really just reflecting on what I know to be the case. Every memory of being 17 reminds me that 17 year olds are not women - they are children in more mature bodies. When I look around at the family members, church members, neighbors and friends who are 17, they too are not women. Young women in training maybe, but do we want Plan B to be part of their educational process?

For the most part, we're talking about young people who still rely on their parents for food, clothing and shelter. When, and if they work, they earn what my mother used to affectionately call "play money." Even when I worked as a young "woman" I wasn't responsible for my living expenses and upkeep, I was really just offsetting the tremendous expenses I was incurring. When I look at who I dated, the decisions I made and the person I thought I wanted to be - I realize that I have evolved into a much different person. Thank God. Instead of allowing young girls the time, space and ability to evolve into who they aspire to be, we have created a society that believes fast and easy is the answer for everything. And we're producing a generation of fast. and easy.

Planned Parenthood and every group that supports them may very well consider this a victory, which is a sad commentary on our evolution as a society and a community anyway. The real concern that I have, however, rests with the false premises associated with pseudo abortion as a family planning method. Since when does someone who doesn't qualify as an adult in any other context become woman enough to obtain medical treatment without parental consent? At 17 I had already graduated from high school, started college and moved into my "higher education experience". At that time I couldn't get an antibiotic without using the insurance card that was directly tied to the medical coverage my mother paid for. Allergy medicine required authorization. How in the world do we go from that to Plan B.

I surely wish we'd write more articles about Plan A. I imagine Plan B, Plan C and Plan D could have many alternatives other than the "oops pill." Oops I shouldn't have had unprotected sex, so let me ingest an emergency (cough) contraception (cough) pill (cough), so that I don't have any of the consequences. If we continue to believe that the only damage done by poor judgement is physical, we are doing a disservice to the young ladies we are bringing up as the next generation. We have authored and labeled alternatives as if we are oblivious to the historical, cultural, societal, personal, emotional and financial implications of the choices being made. I know that someone will write, or think, its a woman's choice. I dare say, we aren't talking about women at all. This isn't a choice in my book - plan B offers more stunted growth in decision making. No wonder we can't problem solve or plan strategically, from an early age we're taught that there are no consequences to our choices.

We live in an oversexed society that trains young girls from birth that their value is tied to their sexuality and virtue, or lack thereof. When they are tweens we are preparing them for being teens. The new teen looks like the equivalent of your average 20 something - with less fashion taste, and even less sense. We try to make it better by saying that 17 year olds are women and spouting about their rights. With rights come responsibility, and I don't see very many children at age 17 being ready for all of those either. What can we expect of the women we are raising, when Plan B is covered in the media like something to celebrate as a culture. Plan A could be Abstinence. or Adoption. or Academics. or Athletics. or Aspirations. or the ability to actually grow up.

A better name for Plan B would be Plan F - we keep failing our girls.

Ah Ha Moment in Domestic Sexy

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 20:07:00 +0000

I have educated quite a few people regarding the reality of domestic sexy - when having your lawn cut is more appealing than flowers. The women in my circle understand the concept, most are married and happily in love with a partner for life who is anything but handy. A clean car and garage easily rival flowers. Not that I mind the flowers, I just think that there are a variety of more intriguing actions that make a significant impact on my life. Laundry. Mopping. Clean Dishes. Fresh Linen. and um....changing light bulbs.

It had been a bit dim upstairs for a few weeks in our household. I was struggling with noticing the lightbulbs given the other domestic challenges I had been facing. There's something really challenging about getting enough contract work that you are never at home to do your real work. My real work is centered out of our home, you know the aspiration to be the Proverbs 31 woman. I have dreams of blessing my household in the wee hours, yielding high regard for my husband, growing children who value my opinion more than the pop stars. I was feeling pretty smug about the domestic sexy concept, until my husband turned the lights out on my pride. He said in so many words - if you really liked domestic sexy you'd make sure I knew it.

I thought to myself, I just told you how much I value domestic sexy. He in return offered an astute directive - "I'm a hands on learner. I'd like to equate some action with your view of domestic sexy." Oh, okay. He's talking losing the domestic and the y and he's cool. Instant reward.

I was in Staples yesterday and selected printer paper with an instant rebate, vs. a cheaper brand that required a mail in rebate. I like instant rewards. I was reminded in that brief moment that my husband likes instant rewards too. I thought my positive affirmations and a phrase coined after his attention to my domestic priorities was a great reward. He, however, is in many ways a very simple creature. I guess wife rain checks aren't the prize I thought they were. Maybe a bit more instant reward will yield some core association like Pavlov's rat. Every time you take care of A, I'll take care of T&A. It sounds so crude and so unlady like and so contractual, it sounds so stiff, so....like I might get my patio and yard done if I did it. My personal Ah Ha Moment in Domestic Sexy indeed.

Following the Rules - The NPR, IRAN and ESTHER Connection

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 00:58:00 +0000

Years ago when I was young and impressionable I enjoyed listening to the radio in the car. In fact, it wasn't long after I had graduated from undergrad that I brought my first car. I got immense pleasure out of the R & B tunes that lingered in the air on the way to and from work. I had always had a cursory relationship with music - I rarely knew the lyrics but loved the rhythm and moods that served as a backdrop to my growing up years. Then I had my world turned upside down. I met a nerd boy who loved politics, BBSCon Conferences, talked legislation for recreation and connected to other breeds like him. And he didn't listen to R & B in the car. We'd head out to the movies or dinner and he'd turn on NPR, and I'd be irritated for 2 reasons - he changed my radio and he listened to stuff I didn't want to hear about. I found many reasons to be irritated and routinely enjoyed turning the music to unheard volumes and listening to the latest pop hit.

The only problem was my future husband sucked the joy out of my experience. He slowly implied through word and deed a belief that the majority of our community wasn't really informed about international and political (geopolitical) issues. I don't like being underestimated. As my commute times expanded I started realizing that I needed more to keep me awake on the drive - music wouldn't always cut it. I started listening to NPR. The problem with this integration into my habits - I stopped enjoying my R & B. Don't get me wrong, Maxwell will beat Morning Edition many days for me. Yet, it started to occur to me that the vast majority of music I listened to was a bit foul. There weren't a lot uplifting experiences being sung to a beat that made me sway - a lot of the lyrics were just plain foul. I started realizing that music alone wasn't fulfilling. When making the Ohio to Michigan drive I soon learned what public radio, Christian radio and talk radio programs would be of interest any day. I memorized the little ad jingles and gained a new respect for good comedy - and I got addicted to public radio. Urggh. I started seeking additional information from the stories, and the days of mindless entertainment just seemed to decrease in volumes.

So today I was commuting to Martinsville and I turned on the radio. The topic of the day - IRAN. A series of callers discussed the shift of the US policy to discuss nuclear energy, the status of Roxana Saberi, and the perceived western media bias regarding Iranians. A particular caller said that anyone could visit Iran as long as they understood the rules - and followed the rules. Her voice was of particular interest as she calmly communicated that the issue isn't IRAN, it is the lack of respect for the rules of Iran which are really clear. I couldn't shake the comment for the remainder of my trip. (Including the portion when I'm a really effective facilitator for non-profit excellence in capacity building and strategic planning.) I thought to myself, if in all situations we communicate the rules - then we can be exempted from what happens when people don't follow them. Is that right?

Roxana Saberi, an American journalist, has been charged with espionage by Iranian authorities. At last investigation her lawyer had not seen her, or any evidence, in the last 2 weeks. The Iranian authorities have indicated that she confessed to the charges against her, a charge of espionage that has evolved from operating without press credentials. She has been in Iran for 6 years, and was due to return to the US this year according to her father. Her father is Iranian, her mother is Japanese and she was born in the US. There is something innately wrong with me knowing all of these details. Further, I have started applying the logic of the guest to all situations. Did Roxana know the rules and simply break them - or did the Iranian government decide to use her as a pawn in an intense political climate? I don't know. But I admit 15 years after the height of my R & B enjoyment, I care about the fate of Roxana. My daughter is a promising writer and journalist, and I bet she would travel the nation to write about intriguing things. If she was writing a book about Iran and the rules of her life were moving targets for political will, I would want someone to care.

One of my favorite Biblical heroes is Esther, Queen of Persia. I was an adult before I realized that Iran was known as Persia up until 1935 - which makes it more intriguing when I learn about the political debates of the time. Nuclear energy not being used for a weapon - uh, okay. I listened to several callers talk about the poor perceptions of Iran tied to Western media. I wonder, however, where the dividing line exists between the people and the government. I was intrigued to hear many people talk of their love of country and culture, while implying that they were not truly represented by their government. I knew instinctively what they meant. I knew what Michelle Obama meant when she said she was proud of her country for the first time - and watched the spiral of criticisms from those who didn't understand. When I read about Esther, she knew the rules and did not follow them. In fact, she said with the resolve and dignity of a woman who could undeniably lead me - if I die, I die. Some rules are meant to be broken. The question becomes, are we ready for all of the consequences? Can you ever be really ready? When we are talking about nuclear power, there are going to be consequences in epic proportion.

I don't know any great leader who doesn't break some of the rules. My husband aided in the changing of my rules regarding where my recreational energy rests. I love music, I just love mental stimulation more. Smart music - that's another post. But today, my mind is still racing about politics, rules and consequences.

Obama is breaking the rules with his choice to talk to other governments. Everyone and their mother has an opinion. We aren't making the choices, but the consequences will be ours to share. Roxana Saberi made choices, but the consequences seem desperately out of her control. I was led to think about Esther in the midst of these reflections, a young Queen anointed and appointed by God. She knew the rules and made the decision to do what was right regardless. The rules would have her dead, but she rests in the mind and hearts of millions because of a choice to seek God. Its hard to seek anything if you aren't open to what exists within our world. More importantly, without some perspective about how God can use anyone, we might actually believe that its all about the rules. All about God's rules yes, the rules that others create, not so much. Rules are made and broken on any given day - some we cherish for their bravery, others we mourn for their risk.

I'm glad that I can rock out to Keyshia Cole and see the connection between what we hear, what we see and what we believe. Rules are only relevant if we are in covenant with the person who created them. Saberi doesn't appear to have been connected to the Iranian Rules. If it isn't God's Rules we're talking about though, breaking them is in season and the connections between what comes to us is intimately tied to how we understand a much bigger picture. A picture where some of life's best moments are breaking rules.

Michelle Represents Us Well

noreply@blogger.com (Political Season) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 22:43:00 +0000

There have been so many articles written about the fashion trends of Michelle Obama, I certainly didn't need to write anything about it. Yet, I've decided to write about the more salient point - Michelle represents the US and her family well. I measure my personal responsiveness to the pictures, the debates and the criticisms, by the feedback of my 9 year old daughter. She looked at this picture and said that Michelle Rocks. Rock On First Lady, Rock On.

During an age where Hannah Montanna gets way too much attention in the world of my child, I'm pleased that her fashion sense gets a bit of guidance from an Ivy League trained Lawyer with good home training. I am thankful for the ability to block out the debate about which designers she wears and the ethnicity of those who fuss that she isn't wearing their particular design. She embodies confidence and comfort in her own skin, a mighty good place to be given the world of daggers directed her way.

My little one has a wealth of role models right before her eyes, and I'm glad that Michelle adds to the overall mix of intelligent and poised women of substance. In my mind I've got a dated soundtrack combination of India Arie and D'Angelo playing a medley of pride to these images of beauty.

There's something to be said for having a sense of style all your own. Job well done.