All's well that ends wells

Every now and then God will add an espresso shot to your regular coffee - without telling you.

That's what the past couple of weeks of my life have felt like. Supercharged!

So many things were happening in my professional and personal life all at once that I look back and wonder how I got through it. But for God.

I will begin with the visit by famed Atty. Benjamin Crump to Livingstone College. He is the national spokesperson for Equal Justice Now (EJN), a not for profit social welfare organization that advocates against false arrest, unreasonable detention and wrongful conviction. EJN held a national panel discussion on our campus to discuss bail and police reform.

As director of public relations, I was assigned as the project manager. While this was indeed a fascinating experience, it was overwhelming to say the least. This was huge for our campus to have such a national figure, regarded as the "Black Attorney General" to come to our campus.

The security details, the speakers, the program, the marketing and promotions, getting students to attend, getting the public to attend - and did I mention the security details. That in itself is a whole separate blog. 

It's no secret that along with Atty. Crump's popularity comes the haters. And just before he was to attend our campus, he received credible death threats, which meant security had to be even tighter. Our campus security was not enough and getting local support proved to be straining. Without going through the rigmarole, we were able to secure four officers from the Salisbury Police Department, and Sheriff Garry McFadden of Mecklenburg County, who served on the panel, brought sheriff's deputies to supplement our detail. He was a lifesaver.

Unfortunately, no local law enforcement was represented on the panel though they were asked to participate. On calls with EJN, we had to defend that the city of Salisbury "is not" a sundown town. It is a reputation that precedes the city to the national audience but the truth is that Salisbury is progressing and diversifying. Now, the town of Faith, on the other  hand, which is located within Rowan County, is a different story and blog.

 

All's well that ends well. We (the Livingstone College team and EJN) executed a dynamic event with the largest crowd EJN has seen to date since traveling across the country with these panel discussions. Students and the public showed up in droves to the number of at least 800 in attendance. Security was on point and on guard and there were no incidents.

While planning for this event, which demanded my full attention on and off the clock, my 90-year-old mother got gout in her left foot, the first such attack in her elderly life. The pain caused her already slow gait to come to a near halt. It would take her one minute to take 5 steps it seemed. One medicine prescribed to her offered more side effects than relief that landed her in the hospital for dehydration.

But again, all's well that ends well. Today, she is on another medication and improving slowly.

Again, while planning this event, I was asked to speak at a fundraiser to support the construction of a school in the Back Bush community of Liberia. My goal was to memorize my speech - in preparation of doing a Ted Talk that is on my bucket list. But with all that was going on, the best I could do was write it down and read it like a rock star. What I didn't expect was for God to pinch my heart during the process and get me all choked up and emotional while delivering my remarks. 

I mean it came from out of nowhere. I was talking about my adopted son Hakim when suddenly, my voice started cracking and I was holding back the tears. Would this have happened had I memorized it? I don't know. But it worked and people were inspired by my story and experience in Liberia. 

The highlight was being able to donate $500 from HOLLA! Africa to the construction of the school - and of course dancing and the jollof rice.

On the same day the Ben Crump event ended, a Livingstone College colleague, who was doing a play at the Knight Theater in Charlotte, called to see if I could fill a role. The original actress was facing a health crisis with her mother and not sure she could continue. This was on Thursday and the play was three days later on Sunday.

Of course, I said yes. Acting is a passion of mine though I don't have time to commit to it as much as I would like. It would be a small role, but a BIG opportunity. I went to rehearsal that Friday for five hours, only to learn that the lady's mother was doing better and she would be in the show. But as God would have it, they found me another role to play - even smaller, but again, a BIG stage.

I had an amazing time sharing the stage that Sunday with the Prince of R&B Tony Terry,  R&B's Sunshine Anderson and Sunday Best winner Y'Anna Crawley. I told Tony Terry that I used to work with his father at the Richmond County Daily Journal and that one Christmas season years ago, I was invited over to interview him for a newspaper feature story. I got a chance to tell Sunshine Anderson that my classmate is Mark Sparks (Mark Blount), the one who basically discovered her. She said if not for him, no one would know her name.

After the show, we were out front in the lobby signing autographs and here I am, the one with the smallest part, sitting beside Tony Terry signing my name, too. 

As I sit here at the beach celebrating my birthday weekend (April 3) writing this blog, I am grateful to God for the all the times I've said yes and he has elevated and exposed me to experiences I thought I would never have. I've been to Africa three times; I've been the guest speaker for a program in Monrovia, Liberia; I've covered the arrival of President Barack Obama for the Democratic National Convention as a reporter; I've been in a play starring major music artists; and I've coordinated a visit by Atty. Ben Crump, just to name a few.

Me, a little black shy girl from Lilesville, NC, a one caution light kind of town, who was picked at while growing up for being too dark. Me, who was born out of wedlock but who has become a vital member of my family as I am the caregiver for our beloved mother. Me, who has overcome a domestic violent relationship and now know my worth. 

Dear God, I'll take another espresso shot, but this time, add cream and sugar. 

How did you get here? A matter of the heart

(This post was started on March 16, 2022, and completed on Feb. 22, 2023)

Never before have I paid this much attention to my heart. 

It may have something to do with this white box that is attached to my chocolate skin in the center of my chest on today, March 16, 2022.

Hello, my name is Kimberly and I'm wearing a heart monitor.

There was a song a few years ago by Deborah Cox that asks, "How did you get here. Nobody's suppose to be here?" The singer was talking about a man, a lover, who slipped into her heart pass the gatekeeper.

I'm asking the same question, but of this monitor. How did it get here? Ever since my sister died suddenly of a heart attack on Dec. 11, 2011 - the first of my eight siblings to transition - I've been careful about all matters of my heart, meaning holistic care.

A few months after her death, I scheduled an appointment with a cardiologist to see how my heart was doing. He gave me a stress test and said everything looked fine, and recommended that I take a low dose aspirin when I turned 50, which was 10 years away at that time. He told me how to eat heart healthy and sent me on my merry way.

Fast forward 11 years and a few weeks ago. I was on my evening commute home when suddenly, I experienced shortness of breath, light-headedness and heart palpitations. I pulled onto a side street named Southbound. There was a church just a stone's throw away that I had just passed, so I decided to go there because that landmark would make it easier for someone to find me.

I called 911 and the paramedics met me at the church. They did an EKG in the back of the ambulance, which turned out normal, but advised me to go to the hospital anyway. I declined and said I would be careful going home.

The next day, I had two more episodes so I checked myself into the ER at Novant Health Rowan Medical Center in Salisbury. They, too, ran several tests and again, nothing alarming was discovered. I did have a slight irregular heartbeat, but it could have been normal, the attending physician said, since they did not have another test to compare it to.

I decided to make an appointment with my cardiologist - yes, the same one I saw 10 years ago - and he decided I needed to wear a heart monitor. The timing was the worst as it was only a few weeks before my 52nd birthday. 

Though I've never worn a heart monitor before, my mom has. And technology has made it more bearable or should I say wearable. The clunky machine has been replaced with a cell phone. And not just any cell phone - sound the alarm - an Android. I'm a Samsung Galaxy kind of girl and defend it all of the time to my friends who are iPhone users. There is something about an iPhone that screams elitist and I'm more of an equalitarian.

But back to my Samsung Galaxy powered heart monitor.

After going to the hospital to get an echocardiogram, I had the nurse to attached the device to my chest. The white small box was conspicuous. I tried wearing clothing to cover the device but since I'm a fan of V-necks, that was nearly impossible.

Each time I felt a flutter, palpitation or heart pounding or racing, I was to note it on the Samsung Galaxy - notice the product placement again that is also conspicuous. I wore the device up until my birthday trip to Destin, Fla. I figured I had input enough data for the doctors to come to a diagnostic conclusion.

On my last full day in Destin, my best friend Patricia and I were at the beach playing volleyball and enjoying the sunshine when she said something to me that resonated. On January 2, my last living brother, Tommy, passed away with lung cancer. He wanted to live. He fought to live. I wanted him to win. God, instead, called him from labor to rest.

Patricia said, "You know, you've never really grieved your brother." I pondered what she said and realized, I had not. I am the primary caregiver of my elderly mother. I commute 3 hours a day back and forth to work. I have a demanding job as a public relations director for a private historically black college. I went straight from the funeral back to my normal routine of handling things the best I could. 

My brother was my best supporter in helping me to take care of my mother. He would elder sit and offer me time away to relax, relate and release. He never complained about doing it. He just showed up. I could count on him more than any of my remaining living siblings.

They say, you know the truth when you hear it. When Patricia said those words to me. I heard the truth. In a way, I was disappointed that God did not heal my brother. I never voiced it, but it was a real feeling bottled up inside of me.

That day, on a beach in Destin, Fla., I picked up a handful of sand, told God explicitly how I felt - that I was sort of angry with Him for not healing my brother, but that I accepted His will, though I didn't understand it. I tossed the sand into the sea and whispered a prayer of love and forgiveness and told my brother that I loved him.

 I will never forget that day. It was April 3, 2022, my 52nd birthday. And the day I set my heart free from stress, disappointment and heartache.

My heart didn't need a monitor. It needed liberation. It needed permission to grieve. It needed permission to cry. The anxiety attacks were simply alarms to get my attention to the deeper needs of my soul.

I'm happy to report that since that day, I have not had any more anxiety attacks or unexplained heart palpitations.

On that day, God gave me the best birthday gift ever: He gave me back my healthy heart - with a little sand in between my toes to boot.