I finished the race!

In April my best friend asked me to complete the Lewis & Clark Marathon with her in St. Louis, MO. She and I have been through many things together since we first met in Jr. High School. So, her asking me to complete half of the marathon (13 miles) wasn't an unreasonable request. Me asking my body to comply is another story. I can say my spirit was willing but my flesh was definitely weak. My friend has had a hip replacement and titanium pins added to her back but believed she could complete the marathon. Although my friend was in excellent physical condition prior to her surgeries and had completed a marathon before, she is a one year cancer survivor. The date of the marathon was about one year to the date of her first surgery and I was even a little concerned about both of us physically. Myself of course for different reasons. I had already told her I would do it before all of the reasons why I couldn't had a chance to steal my God-confidence. Being a natural procrastinator I didn't begin training right away. In fact, I really didn't get serious about the marathon until late June. When I did get serious I was overwhelmed by the task that lied ahead. Was it really possible to whip this non-athletic body into shape? Could my fat body and skinny legs really endure through 13 consecutive miles of walking and jogging. I had to prepare myself to jog because even though Kim said she was going to walk, before her diagnosis she was a jogger and really didn't like the fact that she had to walk instead of run. Even if I couldn't convince myself of the health benefits I would do it because Kin asked.
I finished the race and this is what I learned:
Winning really isn't everything, finishing what you start is great!
Nothing good is ever accomplished without hard work!
God is faithful! If you make one step he'll make two is not written in the Bible. But I'm a firm believer that he honored my willingness to complete the race and was with me every step of the way!

Change

Maya Angelou has been quoted as saying, "If you don't like something change it. If you can't change it change your attitude. Don't complain." So, there are several areas in my life I'd like to see change active and alive in. Honestly, what I have to admit is that I don't want the discomfort or work that often accompanies the process of change. I've spent the last few months in anguish because of all the change I'm experiencing in my professional and personal life. My daughter is changing from a sweet little passive doll to an opionated independent little girl. My responsibilities at Breakthrough have expanded from oversight of just our Women's Shelter and Outreach Program to include supervision of our Men's Shelter as well. As the new Director of Interim Housing I am splitting my work week between our two locations. The lengthy drives and increased use of gasoline have caused me to respond with extreme emotion. Not that anyone would expect anything different from me. My daughter's drama queen like behavior was certainly inherited. During one of my particuliarly emotional days God allowed me the opportunity to be sobered by one of our guests. She totally dethroned me without ever realizing she had done so. I entered the Joshua Center in the late afternoon still fuming over the unexpected traffic on Lake Shore Drive I experienced after leaving the Men's Center. Before I could get to my office and put my things down I was met by one of our guests who had moved a few days prior into one of our supportive housing units. She wanted to make sure that I knew she had moved. She shared with me how good it felt to leave her things in one place. She talked about the meals she was planning to cook and the plans she had for her future. I realized she had just given me the opportunity to change my attitude. I decided to do just that!

Grabbed my shouting shoes

Desperately needing comfort today and to understand how and why the events of the day were unfolding like they were the Spirit guided me to Isaiah 54. As I meditated and looked at the scripture in context my heart began to overflow with the comfort that the children of Israel must have felt after receiving this word from the prophet. During their Babylonian exile they must have felt forsaken, humiliated and extremely weak. I have often felt these three things. Sometimes I've felt them all at once. It is extremely reassuring for me to know that I can claim many of the promises found in this chapter as my own.

In verse 5, I can remind myself that God is my husband and the only one I can expect to meet all of my emotional and physical needs. There are so many more promises between verses 1 and 16. However, It was verse 17 that made me grab my shouting shoes! Here's why I shouted:

God's Word let's me know that the weapons will form but they won't succeed.

He warns me that the people will talk but He has the final say. This is the weapon that often causes me the most hurt. I feel like I can recover from an uppercut to the stomach but find it very difficult to rise above the slanderous tongue.

Lastly, He let's me know this isn't a blanket promise for the church folk but is instead for those who are in covenant relationship with Him.

Now ain't that Good News!

The Rantings of a working mother!

I really do feel like an angry black women this morning. It started last night when I learned the woman I trust with the life of my baby has decided not to return to work after she gives birth to her first child, due in Sept. I'm not angry at her because I respect her choice. Or maybe I am angry with her because I love her and so does my daughter and my fear of not being able to find comparable care is driving me crazy. Now this fear coupled with the fear of doing the right thing for Summer is enough to make any half sane woman insane. Last nights meeting brought up feelings of anguish over my own decision to return to work. I felt myself weighing my options again and angry with myself for not deciding to stay home with my own child. I returned to work part time for 6 months and felt confident that when I went back full time that I was doing the right thing. Now the right thing feels wrong and I'm just angry about it. I know myself well enough to know that tomorrow will bring the sun and I will be confident in my decision to return to the work force. However for today I'm simply angry about everything. I'm angry that my commute is too long. I feel angry over the fact that when I finally make it home I have just enough time to cook dinner, read a story to Summer and do one load of laundry before it's time to start all over again. I'm angry that child care is no longer affordable, was it ever? Lastly, I rolled into the gas station up the street from my home on fumes and got angry all over again. When my tank guzzled up $60 of my hard earned dollars I thought I would holla'! I'm angry that the travel times reported never include the 103rd exit from the Bishop Ford to Stoney Island. The day is still young and I'm sure any moment now I will choose to rest in the peace of Jesus and exchange my anger for His Joy!

Calling for the Wailing Women!

After celebrating the Memorial Holiday with rest and relaxation I have given myself a moment to vacate from the emotion I've been feeling for the last two weeks. As a new mother (she's only 20 months) I can still call myself new, right? I have been literally weeping over the violence taking the lives of our children this year. I heard a report that over 28 children have lost their lives this school year alone. All of this emotion was sparked by the death of Blair Holt, the 16- year- old shot on a CTA bus a few weeks ago. I'm sad about a promising life snuffed out, I'm angry that this isn't the first tragedy of its kind and I'm mad that our children aren't safe anywhere. I keep wondering when will things change and how will it happen? There has been demonstrated outrage from African American politicians, community residents and religious leaders. But there was outrage in 1984 when the Simeon High School star basketball player was shot. There were prayer vigils and public outrage but obviously they were in vain because our children are no safer today than they were then. All of my turmoil was flamed by the lack of mention or attention that is given to this American crisis on some of my favorite radio shows. We have the privilege of having entire radio programs and ministries dedicated to the family and its preservation. But, somehow the crisis facing the black family doesn't even make the radar. Or it so seldom makes it that it really isn't worth mentioning. I've been crying out to God! What needs to happen? What steps are concerned Christians to take? For me another very real question is how do I ensure the safety of my little one? Am I doing all of this loving, teaching and nurturing only to have her go off to school and not return? I realize my thoughts have become irrational ramblings but to live so close to tragedy is sometimes overwhelming. I spoke last year during a Sunday Morning Service about the wailing women and the role they played in bible days. Today I am calling for the wailing women. Someone who will lift up a shout to the Lord on behalf of our babies and our society as a whole. I'm calling for a few women who will humble themselves before the Lord and lament the crisis in my community. I'm wondering if there are a couple of women who will fast and seek the Lord for the protection of children everywhere.

A legacy of Faith

I can remember as a child wondering about death and grappling with the idea that some day life as I know it would cease to exist. As I grow older I become even less concerned about this life as I know it and cling to the promise God offers for the real life I am dieing to live. My grandmother passed from this life into life eternal just three weeks ago. It was the first loss of life I've experienced in my adult life. All of the cliches I've spoken over time to others rushed into my head and collasped with such a thud that I vowed to never utter one of them to anyone again. This is one of those points in my life where I am forced to make my faith in the All-Knowing God applicable because the penalty for not doing so is too great. I sat through the funeral services remembering what she meant to me. I even verbalized a few of my thoughts at the podium. How could I tell of her profound impact on my life in just a few brief moments. I didn't even know how to express the love she felt for her grandchildren with words. I couldn't describe the smell of collard greens and hot water cornbread that often filled her kitchen when I was a child. I wanted people to know how perfectly her rows of cabbage grew in her garden. I didn't seem to adequately communicate how she fixed every childhood wound with Campho-Phenique and prayer. Water was her medicine for every ailment. She believed that every health problem I experienced was because I wasn't drinking enough water. And now that I'm older I believe she's probably right. After returning home I sat with my thoughts and memories and was able to happily conclude that it is impossible to communicate what she meant to me. However, I can spend the rest of my life as an example of her love and faith. I'm saddened that my daughter will never taste her fried fruit pies or have her knees bandaged by granny's hands. I'm encouraged because just as my grandmother taught me that sometimes you are called to be a voice for the voiceless and that we are the greatest evangelist our families will ever know, I will in turn teach Summer and her legacy will live on.

I am finally doing what it seems most everyone else is already doing-I'm publishing my thoughts for the world to see. OK maybe only a few people will actually see them but it is nonetheless a scary notion. Prior today I wondered what would inspire someone to do such a thing. My thoughts never seem intriguing to me and seldom are insightful but they are mine and I suppose I should take ownership of them.
As my daughter screamed for my husband from her crib this morning I was just thinking about how much my life has changed over the last several months. Now let me first say as I heard her tiny little voice grow stronger with irritation I reasoned with myself that she was calling my husband because she didn't know that I was still in the house. Since he is responsible for getting her to our Care Provider every morning it's natural that she would call for him. At least that was the reasoning swarming around my brain by the time I got in the car to head to work. I started feeling uncomfortable because I wasn't sure why I even needed to develop a reason why she was calling for my husband. Don't get me wrong I absolutely want her to have healthy relationships with others and am grateful that she is so endeared to her daddy. However, I am still a little taken back at her audacity to choose him over me, which happens often. As I drove in I asked the Lord to take what seems stupid and insignificant and keep it from developing a stronghold in my mind. I felt a reassuring presence of His Spirit and a word to heed regarding my own choices. I felt the Spirit urging me to make sure that I chose the Lord today. So, as I entered the building I vowed to choose to honor God in my conversations, decisions, and deeds today. My daughter often has the choice of having one of two loving parents assist her and I am often faced with the choice of calling on my lovingly Heavenly Father or yielding to the ways of a deceptive Satan to have my needs met. What kind of choices have you had to make today?