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.