A Moral Imperative

This morning started out a bit rough. Beginning with me being grumpy. After I poured myself a cup of coffee, I began to search the web for some writings and images of Martin Luther King, jr. I immediately found a video of his "I Have A Dream Speech". And instantly a calm washed over me.
As soon as I started the video, Connor excitedly yells out, "Hey! That's Martin Luther King! It's his birthday!!" My eyes filled up with tears and I'm still picking up the gelatinous pieces of my exploding, melting heart.

Way back in the day, I attended a rather new school in our district: Martin Luther King, jr Elementary. We studied Dr. King from September-May. Because of this new school, the name, the legacy, we reaped some pretty cool benefits. Coretta Scott King came to our school and gave a speech. Jesse Jackson visited as well. Though we only heard a few words from him as he passed through the hallways of our school. I have always felt that if I were at any other school, this would not have happened. We wouldn't have learned so much for so long. We might not have necessarily got to actually see Coretta Scott King in person or actually hear her words coming from her mouth only a few feet away.

As I listened to Dr. King's speech this morning, his words rested upon somewhat wisened ears. And so many thoughts came rushing forward. First off was how no matter how many times I hear that speech, it continues to give me goosebumps. Second off is that his message was inclusionary. He wasn't about lifting African-Americans up and pushing Caucasians down. He was about everyone living together because we are all from the same place. We are all, essentially, the same. I mean, you can't get any simpler than that. Then that got me thinking about my race. And some insights that I have been privy to. I've probably been privy too all along, but have just now allowed myself to actually digest them.

For example, in my History class last semester, we began talking about the Civil Rights movement, the women's movement, and John Kenneth Galbraith. We also began discussing the 'new face of poverty' - women and children, primarily. And a young, good-looking, well-dressed guy in my class of my race says, "Well, we don't have abject poverty in this country anymore. People aren't struggling like they used to." I almost fell off of my chair. And I don't know why. Because only a white person could say something so ignorant. And I mean ignorant in the actual definition of the word. I, of course, couldn't keep my mouth shut: "You mean to tell me that you believe abject poverty doesn't exist in this country? Has Katrina taught you nothing? And of course, many people don't think it exists because it's not a picture that this country is happy to hang on it's walls." His response was something that went along the lines of "Well, people are poor now because of Katrina."
Oh My Dear God.

We are so led astray by what is really going on. By our own government and media that I do not know why we are not rioting and marching again.

Which leads me to the next stream of thought. Where are our leaders today? Where are our MLK, jr's and our Rosa Parks'? Is is that they're out there, but they are essentially being censored, shut-down and shut-up? Or is it that no one is willing to stand up for the good of people? I'd really like an answer to this question. I know I'll probably never get it.
I want to feel hopeful that we, as a country, have not become complacent, that we have not moved backward in time. But it is my observation that
we have.

Some would argue that racial justice has been fought for and won.
Some would argue that sexual equality has been fought for and won.
Some would argue that this country has come a long way.

I'm not disagreeing with some of the progress. I mean, I can't be completely negative and say nothing has been accomplished.
But we have new challenges.
And we all need to rise up to those challenges.

The other night, Ravioli was watching the football game between the Philadelphia Eagles and the New Orleans Saints. The camera panned out and took a wide-shout of the whole entire football stadium. You could see how many people were packed into each seat. The amount of people was overwhelming.

I remember watching people in a football stadium not so long ago. During Hurricane Katrina. Desperation, hopelessness, hungry, thirsty, listless babies, panic-stricken mothers, elderly famished. I said to myself, Oh my god. These people were sent there TO die.

And when I saw that football stadium on TV Saturday night, I heard that voice again. Not that the people watching the football game were sent there to die. It was just seeing all of those people, the sheer numbers, was confirmation for some reason. I saw the actual number of people that stadium could hold. And that there is no doubt in my mind that officials knew what was coming. And why in the hell there weren't ample basic supplies was just beyond me. The questions just pile up and compound on top of each other. I'm just as mad about it today as I was then.
Is anyone else?

That is a clear-cut sign, to me, that racial equalities have not been settled. It's a clear-cut sign to me that we are in a class-war here at home. But neither of these, it appears, is being fought for.
What would MLK, jr. have done had he been alive to see such a gross mistreatment of so many individuals of this country?

I have felt the call to become apart of some organized thinking, some organized action. But I don't know where to turn. And maybe others out there feel as I do. Maybe they want to be involved, but don't know if there are any action groups. So, if someone out there knows where to go, please, comment and leave the information. Let that be your service today.

By giving of ourselves, we are giving to so many others. And many times, it takes little effort on our part, to give. And the smallest thing could be the biggest miracle to someone else.

I don't mean to get all preachy. I'm not trying to jam anything down anyone's throat. I just have my own dream of a better way, a better intention. And I know others out there must have the same kinds of dreams.

Let me end this here. But I'm going to make a long post even longer by adding lyrics to a song that I keep hearing in my head right now.

Picture of Jesus
By: Ben Harper

It hangs above my altar
Like they hung him from a cross
I keep one in my wallet
For the times that
I feel lost
In a wooden frame with splinters
Where my family kneels to pray
And if you listen close
You'll hear the words he used to say

I've got a picture of Jesus
In his arms my prayers rest
We've got a picture of Jesus
And with him we shall be forever blessed
Forever blessed
Forever blessed

Now it has been spoken
He would come again
But would we recognize
This king among men
There was a man in our time
His words shine bright like the sun
He tried to lift the masses
And was crucified by a gun

He was a picture of Jesus
With him so many prayers rest
He is a picture of Jesus
In his arms so many
So many prayers
So many prayers rest
With him we shall be forever blessed
Forever blessed
Forever blessed

Some days have no beginning
And some days have no end
Some roads are straight and narrow
And some roads only bend
So let us say a prayer
For every living thing
Walking towards a light
From the cross of a king
We long to be a picture of Jesus
Of Jesus
In his arms
In his arms so many prayers rest
I long to be a picture of Jesus
With him we shall be forever blessed
With him we shall
With him we shall be forever
Oh-Oh- I long
I've got a picture of Jesus

My wedding Gift

Jen and Mad are participating in a marriage of the minds. What a wonderful idea. And we have been requested to give a social wedding gift. And when I say social, I mean a social injustice - not a social disease. Gross. So here is mine. I have not put as much time into this as I'd like. But this is the best I can do for now. So, if you'd like to participate or simply read about some girl on girl brain action check out what's going on. By clicking on the hyperlinks I have above.
Foster Care in America is floundering. Better said, the children of the foster care system are floundering. Read about some of it here. This problem is largely overlooked. These children are bounced around from home to home. And have a terrible time forming attachments because of constant upheaval. What these children go through is barely recorded when you do research or google searches on 'foster care'. You get statistics of how many children are in the system, how many have left the system and so on. There is no discussion of therapy of mental health/emotional issues. I beg you to click on they hyperlinks and read what is there as my words can do this issue absolutely no justice. All I can say is that the foster care system in this country desperately needs to be overhauled. There are children who are suffering silently everyday and at the age of 18 are thrown out into the wind & left to their own devices. And more often than not, repeating the same destructive cycles.

Heart of Gold

Remember how I was saying that someone stole Connor's scooter from our yard? Of course, this is sad to me for many reasons. One being how we discovered that it was stolen. Connor wanted to show his cousin, Manny, his Spiderman scooter. When we went out to find it, it was gone. The second reason being, that this is what Connor does while he's waiting for the bus everyday. He scoots. And lastly, we're convinced that it was stolen, not by someone who 'needed' a scooter for their child, but by 'kids' who were looking for something 'stupid' and 'rebellious' to do.

Friday afternoon, Connor & I are gathering up his coat and backpack. And I notice that he has a clementine in his hands. I told him that he couldn't take that to school, that it needed to stay here. He looks at me with those huge, brown eyes that he got from his daddy, and says, "I know. I want to trade. I want to give those people that took my scooter this orange to have & then they can give me my scooter back." (As I'm typing this, my eyes are welling up with tears). Can I tell you how proud I am, that my four-year-old has the purest of pure hearts. That as much as I worry about him ingesting too much violence or me not being the perfect role model, he has managed to see past the 'bad' of the situation. He wants to, offer up kindness in the form of a round, orange fruit. In a simple exchange. Clementine for scooter.

As sweet as his heart is and how simple and perfect the solution is, how could I explain to him that this wasn't going to work? That in, a perfect world, it should be the most perfect solution. And somehow I feel that I've corrupted that pure, kind heart. Just by merely having to tell him an unpleasant truth.

Hopefully, though, that won't deter him from wanting to spread love, kindness and mercy rather than, hate, hurt and anger.

I Tried

"When the wind had freed me from the roots that tied me down, now I need them back for comforting" 'I tried' by Matt Costa

It may appear, at times that I cannot let things go. It may seem that I re-hash things that should long be forgotten. I say codswallop. You think those things because you do not know me. If I bring something up again, it is not to keep a fight going or relive something. I bring it up, usually, because I've been trying to reconcile it in this noggin of mine.

I've taken the opportunity to think about it, twist the words around inside of my head, to hear them in different intonation. I tend to recede within myself and see if that particular piece of information fits into context, if it can be applied across the board, if there's any merit or validity, and if it has been worth all of my time or not.

This thought has occured to me: my b-i-l was right. I am not sunshine and smiles. And it was wrong of me to portray myself that way. I am mostly cloudy to partly sunny. And my smiles are only spent on those whom I think may deserve them.

I am introspective, introverted, I am deep, always lost in thought. I try to mask my caverns with moss, flowers and shallow ponds. I try to keep away from the depths that I teeter along on a daily basis. I know that those depths could carry me into madness. I walk that fine line between sane in insane everyday.

I lean toward the sarcastic and the cynical.

The quiet and hopeful.

I long ago wanted to be the girl at the party/bar that everyone flocked to, the one with all of the jokes, the one with the right thing to say at the right time.

I have never been, nor will I ever be that girl.

I have found that because I am always afloat in my cloudy bliss that it gives me leave to appreciate more, the things of beauty, the Gods and Goddesses of Sun, the hopeful things, the lovely things. I have also found that in my caverns I hold feelings that run deep. I feel with my whole body. I feel happiness with my whole self. I lean towards empathy, I am eerily perceptive and can feel strong emotions for a total stranger in need.

I wish, however, that I didn't run from myself for so long. Because I think that I had potential to do some real good, to make some real change. With my mostly cloudy to partly sunny personality. Instead, I listened to people who - didn't really matter - and sold myself short.

Now is the time to feed my depths even further. Which, in turn, will feed my children. To help shape their caverns. And give them the fire that, in me, was put out too early.

I now look at something that I took as a dagger, as a gift. It has made me realize, though I'm not a round peg - or a square peg even - that I may be a little Left of Center.

That is more than o.k.

I enjoy my ability to wrap my mind around many thoughts, to feel for everyone (even those that can't feel for themselves) and to be passionate.

Thank you. I need to remind myself that being all sunshine and all smiles is not always o.k. Clowns are all sunshine and all smiles. And they're freaky.

The Space Between

There's a tiny corner in my house.
I walk by it and it gives me hope.
It appears to be untouched by chubby little hands - eager to paint the wall of that tiny little corner - with unintentional fat, kid finger strokes of smeared caresses as they walk by.
It has somehow, someway, serendipitously removed itself from the wrecking path of this family.
There is no adult detritus of shed clothing, shoes flung about, laundry, used dishes, books or bits of daily living left there - uncared for.
It is devoid of the sprinkling of the joys of two small children. No toys lay unplayed with - forgotten there. There are no tossed-aside books, no crumpled up socks. Not even a crumb from a once-enjoyed snack.
This tiny corner is a space that is well-traveled, regularly used and yet, somehow, almost forgotten. We have failed to dirty this corner with the smatterings of our family.
If there were an art book or magazine designed to showcase what a tiny little corner 'should' look like, this tiny corner - our tiny corner - would be on the cover and the focal point. It is the very epitome of a tiny little corner.
It gives me hope that, in time, one day the rest of the house could look like this. That tiny little corner is the standard to which I hold the rest of our home against.
Though it sounds quaint, prim and almost-perfect, it does bear a mark or two. It serves a most practical purpose, a tad filthy even. But yet this area is so pristine.
I walk by the tiny corner. At least 40 times a day.
Each time it gives me hope.

No Woman No Cry

You've been on my mind since you called me. You know who you are. I know that everything will be ok. Because it has to be.
You know that whatever you need, I'll be there. Good, bad or indifferent.
I've always admired you for your strength, your ability to always smile and think of others before yourself. And I know that you'll be doing that now, as well. Hang in there, sista. Keep that chin up. I'll be thinking positive thoughts and sending them your way. And all the hugs you want - they're yours.
I love ya.

Keep On The Sunny Side - June Carter Cash

Well there's a dark and a troubled side of life.
There's a bright and a sunny side too.
But if you meet with the darkness and strife, The sunny side we also may view.

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life.
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way, If we keep on the sunny side of life.

Oh, the storm and its fury broke today, Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear.
Clouds and storms will in time pass away.
The sun again will shine bright and clear.

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life.
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way, If we'll keep on the sunny side of life.

Let us greet with a song of hope each day.
Though the moments be cloudy or fair.
Let us trust in our Saviour always, To keep us, every one, in His care.

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life.
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way, If we'll keep on the sunny side of life.

If we'll keep on the sunny side of life.

Coming In From The Cold

Gracie orchestrated her first tea party today. Not one of your more common milestones. I understand. But having a girl is such a different experience/journey than having a boy. I got so much joy today, out of sitting with my baby girl, pretending to drink the tea she 'prepared' for me. Sweet simplicity.
Thank you, Gracie. Thank you for bringing me back down to where I want to be. Thank you for inspiring me everyday. Your sweetness of spirit, your love for life, your love of loving others feeds my soul. You are my hero. Thank you for making me feel like me again. Thank you for distracting me from that which isn't worth my attention. Thank you for dancing with me while I listened to Erykah Badu's 'Appletree'. I've heard that song a million times & I can relate to it more and more everytime I hear it. I know you feel it too, sista.

Thank you for the tea and 'soul food' that you lovingly made for me today. It was delicious. You humble me.

It's Been A Quiet Week In Lake Wobegon...

Not much to report this week. I realized last night, while trying to close my mind down from any thought while trying to fall asleep, that I need a little Garrison Keillor action. I need to hear what's going on down at the Sidetrack Tap. I need to drift mindlessly through the town of Lake Wobegon via Garrison Keillor's velvety voice. It would do me some good to listen to the gossip of a simple, fictitous town. Where the women are strong, the men are good looking and the children are...above average.