T is for trials, tribulations - and Thanksgiving

I haven’t done this in a while: Write in my blog or make my list of the Top Ten Things I’m Thankful For.

I’ve been busy. Really busy.

I started a new and demanding job in June. I never imagined working for Livingstone College, but it has been the most wonderful experience thus far.

From meeting new people and making new friends to learning new things and being inspired to achieve more for myself, this journey has proven to be necessary for my personal and professional growth.

But life keeps happening - no matter the journey.

A little more than a month after taking the new job, the unthinkable happened to my best friend. He was injured by a relative. Stabbed. In the neck. While he slept.

He was hospitalized for 11 days.

He would be the first to say he is a walking miracle. I would be the second and the LOUDEST.

His family doctor is still in awe over how the main artery was dodged. It was nothing short of divine intervention. We know it was God Almighty, our fortress and tower in times of trouble.

Many wonderful things happened from this tragedy, though. He would be the first to say that as a result of all the good consequences, he would go through it again if necessary. (I would like to think that’s an exaggeration – just in case the angels are listening.)

Family situations were reconstructed and resolved. Prayer meetings were held nightly in the waiting rooms. New friendships were forged and old ones were renewed. Family ties were strengthened. Doubt was eliminated. Faith was rekindled.

I’ve learned that that’s the way God is. He intervenes in a way that we least expect sometimes. While we’re looking left, He’s coming from the right. While we’re looking up, He’s tapping us on our shoulders. While we’re sleeping, He’s controlling the hands of evil. And while we’re healing and recovering, He’s rearranging our circumstances.

I understand better now the Scripture of James 1:2-4: My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.

Of course it doesn’t feel good when we’re going through tribulations, but if we persist through them with faith, hope, love and an unwavering belief in God and his power, life will be as it should be on the other side of it.

So this year, though it sounds odd to the ear, I’m thankful for my trials and tribulations. Without them, I would not have made new friends and gotten reacquainted with old ones; I would not have a renewed devotion to an enduring friendship; and I would not have witnessed a miracle, a testament to God’s mercy and grace.

My best friend would be the first to say this is what he is thankful for, too. But I would be the second ... and the LOUDEST.

(Wait, I was the first to say it. Oh well ...)

Aging best motivator of all

I could write my own book on all I’ve learned over the years from self-help publications.

Yeah, I’m a fan. Some people puke at the idea of digesting this genre, but I swallow up the concepts with a big spoon.

And try to apply them to my life.

Live the life you imagine.

Start your day with positive affirmations.

Put feet to your prayers.

That thing you wanted to be as a child is what your true purpose is.

In order to get something you’ve never had, you must do something you’ve never done.

Follow your instinct.

Jump.

Don’t go in the red room. (Ooops, wrong book)

My point is, I’ve read it all, tried it all, been there, done that.

And yet, my big breakthrough doesn’t appear to be on the horizon.

I’m always searching for that one thing that will get me so focused on attaining my dreams that I have to remember to breathe.

I must confess, my biggest deterrent has been procrastination. So, for Lent, I gave it up. I made a list of things I needed to do and vowed to complete them in 40 days.

Cue the music: I checked off everything except for one. I’m so proud of me.

One of the things I put into practice was turning off the TV and doing something productive instead. Bye-bye “Scandal,” “Empire” and “Greenleaf” – at least until Saturday morning when I could binge watch them all.

I got the turning off the TV part down pact. It was the productive part that, well, wasn’t so productive. I found myself talking on the phone or browsing Facebook instead of doing something constructive.

But I’m a believer of small steps making up a journey, so kudos to me – if I must say so myself – for taking the first step in turning off the tube.

Back to that one thing that will get me focused. I think I found it. It was on April 3 of this year when I turned another year older.

This birthday reminded me that I might not have as many years ahead of me as I have behind me. Strike that – let me make this positive: If I live as long as I have, I will be grateful. (See, told you I’ve learned some things.)

If I want to live the life I have imagined for myself, I must start now, while I’m still in my right mind, able-bodied, and can enjoy the fruits of my labor.

So, the best birthday present I can give to myself is to get started on fulfilling my dreams and hope my contributions to this world will make an impact on someone or something.

I declare and decree that from this day forward, I will take action and incorporate the seven habits of highly effective people to live my best life now to reach my destiny rather than focus on who moved my cheese so that I may think and grow rich in my purpose driven life before I turn 50 shades darker (oops, wrong book again.)

Taking care of aging parents requires balancing act

Two years ago, I became a half sandwich. (Keep reading.)

No only did I return to journalism after a six-year hiatus, I also moved back home – with mom.

While both have presented their own challenges, a free-spirited, adventurous single woman in her prime having to tone it way down to accommodate an elderly parent wins the gold.

I love my mom. She is 84 years old, still works part time, and can still cook and clean for herself whenever she wants. She is independent, strong and determined – sometimes to a fault.

After her two live-in grandchildren went to college, she was left home alone and we didn’t want that, especially at night.

So we called a family meeting two years ago and I drew the shortest straw. Well, not really, but I was an obvious choice as I was the only single, eligible female sibling – and I called the meeting.

I am the youngest of eight children. I had five sisters and two brothers. One sister died in 2011 and one of my brothers just died this past March.

My oldest brother shares a home with his daughter. My brother who recently died was not in the best of health during the family meeting, so his moving back home was not a viable option.

All of my sisters are married except for one who lives in an assisted living facility.

So, like I said, I came into the family meeting with a home-sweet-home bulls-eye on my back.

After all was said and done, I asked my siblings if they would give me one free weekend a month away from home to “just do me,” as the young people say.

 

Taking care of an elderly parent, even if they are semi-independent, is far from easy. It is a labor of love.

In addition to your own needs and to-do tasks, you have to keep up with theirs – and they want it done yesterday.

There are doctors’ appointments that must be scheduled and met, and medicines that have to be refilled, picked up and arranged in reminder containers. Because my mom still works, transportation to and from her job also has to be arranged when I’m not available.

Studies show that the number of adults taking care of aging parents has tripled in the past 15 years because people are living longer.

The sandwich generation is a title given to people in their 30’s or 40’s who are raising their own children and taking care of their aging parents.

I don’t have children although I helped raise my niece who is now in college. So what do you call people in their 30’s or 40’s without children who are taking care of their elderly parents?

One research result on the Internet showed a term called open faced sandwich. Open faced because it only contains one piece of bread – the missing piece are the children, I guess.

I prefer to call it the half-sandwich generation. I’m partial to two slices of bread because I may not have children, but that other slice represents a life, career and significant social and community connections that add value to my life.

I have a few other friends who are also in the half-sandwich generation and are dealing with the same types of challenges – which is balancing the responsibility of caring for an aging parent while also holding on to what defines you.

It is indeed a balancing act. And one that we all feel is unbalanced most of the time.

Studies also show that caregivers of aging parents tend to neglect caring for themselves.

We all agree, however, that the joy of it all is getting to know our parents on a deeper level and spending more quality time with them. That yields a satisfaction like no other.

And it doesn’t hurt to know that God is pleased with us. The Scripture 1 Timothy 5:3-4, 8 (New International Version) says, “Give proper recognition to those widows who are really in need. But if a widow has children or grandchildren, these should learn first of all to put their religion into practice by caring for their own family and so repaying their parents and grandparents, for this is pleasing to God. Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.”

This tips the scale in our favor.

Share your story

Are you or someone you know in the sandwich or half sandwich generation and would like to share your story in a developing book on the topic of caring for an aging parent? Your story could inspire others who are living through it and offer ways to cope with the challenges it brings.

E-mail twiceachildbook@gmail.com and give a brief description of your experience, either past or present, and contact information.

I pledge to reclaim Thanksgiving Day

If I were Thanksgiving, I would feel a bit underappreciated.

Seems like we go straight from Halloween to Christmas cheer and leave the one holiday where we are to show gratitude lost in the transition.

To add insult to injury, businesses and retail giants are opening up on Thanksgiving Day to lure in customers looking for the best holiday deals – for Christmas.

A few years ago, at least, we would finish up Thanksgiving dinner and rush our families out the doors so we could slip in a nap before having to be at Wal-Mart by 5 a.m.

Now, we gobble up the turkey meal, hop in the car and go over the river and through the woods to the nearest shopping outlet, we go.

Poor, Thanksgiving. I can imagine how it must feel.

Dismissing this holiday says a lot about the moral character of this country.

According to a 2014 article from The Truth about moral decline in America:

• Fewer people attend church and nearly one-fifth of all adults have no religious affiliation;

• America has the highest divorce rate in the world;

• More than half of all couples move in together before they get married;

• The average young American will spend 10,000 hours playing video games before the age of 21;

• Average SAT scores have been falling for years;

• The rate of violent crime in the U.S. is increasing;

• America has the highest rate of illegal drug use on the entire planet;

• America has the highest incarceration rate and the largest total prison population in the entire world by a wide margin; and the discouraging list goes on and on…

Mahatma Gandhi said, “You must be the change you want to see in the world.”

Well, here goes. I pledge the following:

I refuse to allow society to alter my idea of Thanksgiving. I will not interrupt family time to get to Belk’s. (Now, if all the family members have left already, that’s a different story.)

I will not compromise storytelling, laughter and a second piece of cake with my sisters for a lawn chair and a blanket outside in the cold waiting for a store’s coupon.

I will embrace every single minute of Thanksgiving, every delicious bite of smoked turkey and chitterlings (yeah, I said it), and every mouth-watering piece of dessert without my mind wandering if I really need another 34-piece food storage set as I gaze the leftovers.

I will welcome our family tradition of holding hands and telling what we’re thankful for without thanking God in advance for the pair of boots I plan to buy on Black Friday.

I will enjoy seeing the men in the living room watching football while the women clean the kitchen. (Wait a minute. On second thought, not.)

Bottom line: I will not forsake Thanksgiving for Black Friday. Friday will come and yes, I will be out there hunting for deals like most consumers.

But – it will be FRIDAY and not THURSDAY, Thanksgiving Day.

Who will join me in this crusade to reclaim Thanksgiving for its true purpose? Gratitude, fellowship and family – not deals and steals.

Have a happy Thanksgiving, wholeheartedly.

Willingness to forgive is easier said than done

Oftentimes, I like to flip through my book of daily devotions for women and read whatever page it stops on, rather than going to the current date.

This was the case a couple of weeks ago. And the page I “divinely” stopped on spoke of forgiveness: “A Willingness to Forgive.”

I pondered the appropriateness of this topic for my personal life. I searched my heart and even whispered within myself that I didn’t have “ought or fault” against anyone, so why would I need a lesson on forgiveness?

Fast forward a few days later and the unspeakable happened. A white 21-year-old man walked into Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston and sat with the Bible study attendees for almost an hour before shooting nine of them, including the pastor, multiple times.

People were outraged and angry – and rightly so. I was, too. Still am.

So it was stunning to hear the victims’ family members express their forgiveness to the shooter during his first court appearance via video only a couple of days later.

They forgave him? Already?

Of course as Christians we’re suppose to forgive others. We recite it in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

In order for God to forgive us, we must forgive others. This is easier to do when someone says something to offend you, or admits they lied to you or even betrays your trust.

But murder in the first degree – nine times – because of the color of someone’s skin? This is tough to even fathom in the 21^st century let alone forgive.

Yet, the family members of the victims remarkably did. As I write this, tears well in my eyes because of their terrific courage and their unshakable love to do what is right.

That itself is the greatest testament to the legacy of the lives lost. The family members credited their slain loved ones’ influence and teachings as the inspiration for their forgiveness.

I have several Christian friends and acquaintances who are struggling with forgiving this shooter, some of them ministers.

They are not there yet. They wrangle with praying for him.

I’ll be honest, I thought I was there. That is until I paid my respects to Senator Clementa Pinckney and the other eight victims last week when I visited Emanuel AME.

To walk into that beautiful edifice and know the evil those parishioners encountered is emotionally overwhelming.

It almost feels more natural not to forgive him.

Yet I am reminded of the page from my daily devotion: “God’s commandments are not intended to be customized for the particular whims of particular believers. God’s word is not a menu from which each of us may select items á la carte, according to our own desires. God’s holy word is a book that must be taken in its entirety; all of God’s commandments are to be taken seriously. And, so it is with forgiveness.”

Forgiveness is difficult, but it is God’s way – and it must be ours, too.

Sure we’re allowed to be angry. But we must not sin in our anger. Forgiving him does not minimize what he did. It does not excuse his behavior. Instead, it promotes our healing and helps our hearts to mend. It is more for us.

Anthony Thompson, the husband of slain Myra Thompson, told the shooter, “We would like you to take this opportunity to repent. Repent, confess, give your life to the one who matters most: Christ. So that he can change it, can change your ways no matter what happened to you and you’ll be OK. Do that and you’ll be better off than what you are right now.”

How incredible and what spiritual fortitude to pray for the soul of the person who killed your loved one? Their response to this tragedy is a lesson in unconditional love and we must follow the path they are forging for us.

As I waited in line to enter the church last week, a minister stood behind me. I asked him if he, too, were encountering Christians who were having trouble forgiving the shooter.

“Yes,” he answered. “In order for people to forgive, they must have the love of God in their heart. You can’t do it without the love of God.”

As we continue to pray for the victims’ families, as we continue to pray for Charleston, as we pray for improved race relations, remember to pray for your fellow Christians who are struggling with forgiveness.

Because in this case, it is easier said than done.

My Best April - Part 3 (final in a series)

Hustle and flow: Will pose for tips

My gaping over the extreme extravagance of Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, Calif., was suddenly interrupted:

“Excuse me, would you like to support our high school football program. We are selling these candy bars?”

“How much?”

“$10.”

“For a king size candy bar? Really? No thank you. We’ll just give you a donation.”

And we gave him $4 and walked away.

Even if I thought he was legitimate, I wouldn’t have given him $10 for a candy bar that I could buy from CVS two for $3.

My intuitive nature, however, tells me he was more of a hustler instead of a high school football player.

I was actually quite surprised to be propositioned on the rich and famous Rodeo Drive. It caught me totally off guard. Amid the expensive, fancy cars, and the exquisite buildings donning popular designer names, this hustler stood out like a knock off Michael Kors. (I know because I have one).

This got me to thinking: Hustling is everywhere and the business of it is evolving. Yes, it is a business. Some of these artists make a lot of money.

Last year while visiting downtown Charlotte, a street dancer was performing on a corner. I pulled out my cell phone to take a photo and he pointed at me, then to a sign on a box near his feet that read: A donation for photos.

Now I didn’t want a photo with him. I just wanted a photo of him. I was going to tip him anyway – after I took the photo – because I respect good talent. But his demanding gesture caused me to tip less than I would have.

While in Vegas, several street musicians were a bit aggressive in having spectators pay first before taking a photo or video.

This perturbs me. Even a restaurant only applies your tip  “after” you eat. Here’s the deal: If you’re in a public place, people can photograph or videotape you – without your permission and whether you’re performing or not – and do not have to tip.

Tipping street musicians is a courtesy, and a good one to possess. But these artists need to keep in mind they perform at the mercy of our generosity and that’s a risk they take.

I found myself on this vacation tipping more to those who seemed to simply enjoy sharing their gifts, those who appreciated the fact that we paused our hustle and bustle to acknowledge and value their talent.

Now, people who want to take photos with cartoon or super hero characters are a different story. These people are not performing. They are simply in costume. If you want someone dressed as Batman to stop and pose in a photo with you, the Dark Knight is going to ask for a tip. After all, he has to stop and strike a pose.

But why do we pay to have photos taken with the Transformers or the Avengers or Michael Jackson lookalikes?

When we’re at Disney World, Mickey and Minnie don’t charge us for photos. But on the Vegas strip, it’ll cost you to pose with Elvis.

It’s all hustle and flow, and I don’t knock anyone who is trying to make a living. For some street musicians, it’s a way to expose their talents or to supplement their income.

For the cast of characters, it’s a way to make easy, quick money from enthralled tourists.

I respect the game. All I ask is that you be nice about it.

So when planning your vacation, keep a few loose dollar bills in your pocket not only for the tour guide, the bellhop and the friendly waitress, but also for SpongeBob SquarePants, the break dancer, the street magician, Superman, the bagpipes player, the showgirls … and for a $10 candy bar in case you get hungry.

Yep, I had to tip for this photo.

My Best April - Part 2

Spiritual lessons of the Grand Canyon

“I can’t wait to see this big ditch.”

Day two of my West Coast getaway was spent on a bus tour to the Grand Canyon.

We couldn’t possibly get this close to "the big ditch" and not go see it. (Close is relative.)

While I had an interest in seeing the canyon, it was on my traveling partner’s must-see list in life. For as long as I’ve known him, he has always wanted to visit the Grand Canyon.

When booking the tour, the hotel concierge offered us a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon.

My eyes widened with eagerness. “Yes,” I said.

“No,” he uttered. The turbulence on the plane ride to Las Vegas was enough off-the-ground excitement for him.

So we opted for the bus tour – one that departed at 6:25 a.m. and wouldn’t return until 10 p.m. that night. I wasn’t quite expecting an all-day excursion. I was thinking more like a half day. We go, we see, we conquer, and return to the hypnotizing neon lights of Vegas.

Not. It took half a day just to get there. We didn’t arrive to “the big ditch” until 2:30 p.m. But mind you, it wasn’t a direct trip. We stopped for photo opportunities at the Hoover Dam and then at a gift shop on Historic Route 66, the first major U.S. Highway.

So far, so good. No, make that so far, so great. The bus driver/tour guide was comical; we sat near a friendly couple from Greensboro, N.C., which is where our flight departed; and the honey baked ham lunches the tour provided were yummy for our tummies.

The only annoying part was a couple sitting directly in front of us who must have been on their honeymoon. They couldn’t keep their hands – or lips for that matter – off of each other. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of public display of affection, but they needed a room and at one point, I was willing to pay for it to get them off the bus.

Anyway, we finally arrived at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon National Park, which stands 7,700 feet above sea level. According to the guide, the United States only owns 50 miles of the Grand Canyon, which is the park part. The rest of the 277-mile world wonder belongs to Native Americans.

The guide says way back when, the U.S. saw the canyon as a hindrance – as in how could it be crossed rather than seeing its geological grandeur and beauty.

Fast forward hundreds of years and the Grand Canyon gets five million visitors per year. Entranceway into the national park features an airport – dubbed the biggest smallest airport in the world. It was an airport crash there that led to the formation of the Federal Aviation Administration, says the guide.

The national park itself consists of six hotels, a restaurant, grocery store, fire department, medical clinic and a school – all for the employees and their families who live at the park. Yes, you read correctly. Employees live at the Grand Canyon.

If your environment affects your mood, those should be some of the happiest people in the world. To awaken each day to such natural beauty and breathtaking views is life at its grandest.

The Grand Canyon looks like a rock city. The varying heights of the cliffs and the different colors of the rock layers paint a natural masterpiece, one that the mighty Colorado River helped to carve at least five million years ago.

It is spiritual there, to say the least. Our spirits immediately connected with the awesome God that created this. One can only stand in awe and reverence not only the creation, but the creator.

There are many lessons to learn from its formation. Like how a persistent, faithful river didn’t allow a mountain to stand in its way – and neither should we. Instead, it carved its way through it and like so, we should persist in life when confronted with obstacles that appear as mountains.

Like how erosion of the rock layers reveals the beauty of the canyon – so is our strength and character revealed during breakdowns in life. It may take years to see the results of our faithfulness, but at the right time, it will show itself and leave us in awe – as does the Grand Canyon.

“It was amazing. It was breathtaking,” my friend said of seeing it. “I had always heard about the Grand Canyon and wanted to go but I never imagined it. You can never imagine it. You can see pictures but you can’t imagine what it really looks like until you see it in person.”

And after seeing it in person, it’s no longer fair to call it a “big ditch.” It’s much more than that.