Comfort

The word comfort often elicits emotions when being defined by some. References to both physical and emotional responses validate its effect. Memories long forgotten are brought forth. There is a longing for that feeling again. When this state of being has been absent for long periods of time, things feel out of order. 

During a recent trip to Virginia Beach, I longed for comfort.  The timeshare was too small.  I couldn’t relax enough to read one of the many books I’d brought with me.  And I found myself itching to go out every day, for as long as I could. I was restless and couldn’t relax. No longer a sun worshipper, the idea of lying on the beach was not as inviting as it once was for me. As a result, I became extremely stressed.  

Around the third day, I looked up and noticed the sky. It seemed to tell its own story and I began to watch. The clouds blanketed the sky and seemed to suggest confusion, darkness, covering. Later that day, the clouds broke and danced into new formations. Eagerly watching, I noticed pictures, shapes, letters. I searched for meanings in their message and purpose for their presence. Colors accented the painting announcing their residence, drawing me in to the overall beauty of what I was witnessing. In a year filled with heartache and disappointments, I welcomed this pause. 

I continued to watch as the days continued. Sunrises slashed the dark sky with a burst of orange evoking excitement, energy and a signal to move on. My heart lifted. Sunsets pulled the shade on the day reminding me to let go and just be. I exhaled. I realized that I’d found comfort by just noticing the sky.   

Perspective

Defined as “a particular attitude or way of regarding something; a point of view.”

Recently, I participated in a week-long retreat along with fourteen other cancer advocates who were experiencing “burn-out”. Listening to everyone’s stories, it was clear that we were using the gifts our Creator had bestowed upon our lives.  Yet, we were in a struggle about when and if we should change or relinquish some of our responsibilities.  Like many, I wondered if it would be disobedient to not do everything I could as an advocate. Perhaps, we needed to shift our thinking.

We spent part of the first day volunteering at GLIDE Memorial Church, serving lunch to nearly 800 of San Francisco’s poor and homeless citizens. My assignment was in the smaller room, serving meals to people who could not maneuver steps because of physical limitations.

At noon, people arrived using walkers and canes and others were in wheelchairs. Their outward appearance reflected challenges of the outside world including clothing that was tattered and some needing haircuts, a shave and a shower. Most people chatted with each other and some avoided making eye contact with us.   That was understandable since we were strangers who could easily judge them and their situation. Despite that, they never hesitated to show appreciation for us being there.

I greeted everyone as I served lunch and tried to start conversations with some. I was delighted when one gentleman told us jokes because he was really funny. I viewed it as way of him giving to us. A rather tall, husky man was sitting alone when I approached him with a tray of food. His eyes lit up and a huge grin appeared on his face, after I said he looked like a former running back for the 49ers. He wanted to know more about me and why I was there on that day. We engaged in a brief conversation, filled with bits of laughter about everyday life.

Lunch was over at 1:00 pm. My team finished our assignment by cleaning the tables and chairs. I smiled, as I thought about what had just taken place. My feeling was that we’d touched a number of people within a short period.  Hopefully, we made someone’s day better. I didn’t see poor or homeless.  I saw people who were more like me than different. People who wanted to be seen for who they were and not defined by their circumstance.

I chuckled as I thought back to my conversation with one man. “Why is no one eating the carrots?”, I asked him.  Laughing, he said, “Honey, those carrots are as hard as rocks. Youshould auction them on Ebay”.  I laughed, feeling that the refusal of the carrots was a good thing.  The people we served were not starving and could refuse something they did not like. They also had enough mental capacity to access services and meals on a daily basis. Realizing that warmed my heart.

My perspective is that the volunteer activity allowed us to use our God-given gifts in another way.  Helping people we did not know, without an expectation of reward, was a decent act. We served people who continue to find hope and reasons to survive. They showed gratitude for the food but also for our efforts. They showed us resilience of the human spirit.

The experience at GLIDE reminded me that my advocacy work does not have to be a burden. I have been longing for simpler ways to serve and have made the decision to only choose activities that bring me joy. It is not my responsibility to ensure African Americans are represented because, honestly, it is too exhausting. I now feel free to make different choices with my time.

I believe that you can find your authentic self and that which matters by being of service to others.  Giving of yourself allows your own problems to become less significant. As a result, you become more thankful for the gifts you possess. Being of service is not hard – it is just intentional.

Transparent

Sometime last year, a high school friend of mine, Rev. Melvin Brock, posted the following on Facebook.

“In order to be transformed, one must be transparent.”  

Brock stated that these words just dropped into his spirit. Reading them, I knew with certainty that they were meant just for me.  I have learned that there aren't many coincidences in life; things happen for a reason. Often God sends people your way to teach you something or provide you with something at a specific moment in time. It helps when the person bringing the message or lesson is someone you trust. I have known Brock for many years and that caused me to pause and read his words. He has always been someone who rarely spoke - unless he had something worth saying. So I paid attention.

As my new journey has begun, I seek clarity and new direction. With this new motivation, I am much more in tune with the noise around me. I look at who I am spending time with and what activities I spending time doing.  At the same time I struggle with the process transforming.  Being fully open, genuinely receptive and unguarded is not easy for me. My norm is to protect myself at all costs. The shell that I have allowed to form around me has taken many years to form. If I remain private, I can prevent myself from being hurt - at least that is what I thought. However, what I am learning is that I am missing out on the blessings that could be mine.

 While I am quick to be transparent with judgments or opinions, utilizing that behavior by sharing intimate details of my life is much more difficult. Being vulnerable is hard but I am learning the rewards associated with letting go. Slowly but surely I am putting myself into challenging situations that will cause me to be uncomfortable - transparent.  

Thank you Rev. Brock!

Drummers

Speak things into existence.

I shared with a friend that I needed a picture of some drums. Not new ones in a store - I wanted ones that reflected use, love, abuse along with hands pounding on them. Her response was, ”Go to the drumming circle at Malcolm X Park”. Immediately I became excited because I had not been there in years and had forgotten about the drumming circle.

I could hear the beats as I arrived in the park. There were only a couple of drummers initially but I noticed how they were being both deliberate and patient with a newer drummer.  I watched with the biggest grin on my face as person after person came and joined the circle. The people reflected varying nationalities, ages and as it appeared, life experiences.

I watched one drummer who arrived later.  He was slim with beautiful, sun kissed skin and locs wrapped up in a scarf allowing me to see his friendly face. I imagined was a vegan by his build. He took his time removing his drum from his back pack, and removed his shirt and shoes. After sizing up the rhythms and following those who had arrived earlier, he joined in. As he walked up and down the path between the drummers, it became clear that he was one of the leaders.  

The greater the number of drummers, the more I could feel the beats in my heart, my soul. I found myself moving as they pounded these powerful instruments. Every now and then, I closed my eyes and just listened and allowed myself to feel. I watched others do the same as their bodies responded to the beats. It was special - spiritual in some sense. Normally annoyed by dust, I smiled as I watched a woman dance to the beat of the drums making her own dust clouds and getting lost in the moment. The dust no longer mattered because I was a part of the community. There are unwritten rules to the drumming circle but mostly, people are allowed to respond freely.  

I am glad I spoke up.

Unbecoming

The journey.

A term normally reserved for describing inappropriate, unbefitting or unacceptable behavior is rarely used to describe the steps in one's journey. Yet, I am claiming the power of the word as necessary in my life at this time. Choosing to acknowledge that unbecoming will bring more joy and peace in my life is powerful will also lead to the release of things no longer suited for me. I now long for greater clarity and balance in my life.

Beginning this new journey has caused me to experience many highs and lows, days of ah-ha moments and nights filled with tears. I rely on a community of people who have given me permission to slip, fall, feel, express and grow. Their hugs embrace me with an intention that is designed to shift my energy. I would not be different without their immeasurable support.

"Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about unbecoming everything that isn't really you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place."             --Anonymous

I am open to letting go of all that gets in the way of my divine journey and all that is purposeful in my life. I am shifting to the real me. I am learning to "unbecome".

Photo Credit: @reality4reality

Broken

So many times in my life, I have felt broken. Defeated. Sad. Pessimistic. It was not hard to get to this place because life has thrown so many curve balls at me. A job I once loved was suddenly gone. A loved one died way too soon. A relationship that I poured so much energy and hope into didn't work out. A health crisis appeared out of nowhere and shook me to my core. I know that life is hard. But, being someone who is generally pretty optimistic, I can only take so many hits before it really causes my knees to buckle.  In response to these situations,  I screamed, fell down on my knees and cried out, "My God, why me? Is this a punishment for some past sin?"  

Then I became still, and listened. In some ways, I surrendered.  My faith taught me that my current situation was all apart of His plan for me. Lessons designed solely for me. So, I became quieter and trusted more. I allowed myself to become more vulnerable in new situations.  As a result, new opportunities and people entered my life, each with fulfilling lessons. In this new space , I have found the purest joy in simple tasks or situations. I have found peace and tend not to worry as much. That which interested me in the past has been given exploration time along with the emergence of new interests. Like so many others, I've always wanted purpose in my life. What I now understand is that your divine purpose may change with the seasons of your life.  I've learned to welcome those valleys because I now know being broken allows God to use you. 

God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume. It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.
~ Vance Havner

Minneapolis Museum of Art - September 2016