Her Smiling Face

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Her Smiling Face

At the time, it seemed like one of those end of life conversations.  The kind that had never taken place before.  One of supreme significance.  Although it was almost a year later when she transitioned into eternity, in a way it was an end of life conversation.  For me, it marked the point where my life changed.  The end of my life as I had known it was over, and it was all because of that conversation.

Mary, a lady I had known for years, looked me in the eyes, speaking clearly and softly that morning inside her room in the nursing home.  Tiny Mary, whose 103 year old self, had seen things I had only read about.  She spoke to me about the difficulties of life and about the need to forge on ahead, despite any obstacles that might come my way.  She looked me deep in the eyes and asked probing questions about my life.  Inquiring of those things that made me happy, those things that made me sad – questions like did I like the work I was doing. 

By nature, I am a private, quiet person who doesn’t just share the details of my life with people randomly.  When I speak it is very deliberate and purposeful.  But on this day, as tears poured down my cheeks, it were as though I had nowhere to hide.  Completely exposed, everything I felt and everything I was going through was there, laid out for us to look at and examine together.  We touched on topics I never discussed with anyone…and I knew I was supposed to.  It was a divine appointment, designed to help me discover where the trials and difficulties in life had landed me. 

Nodding her head, she looked at me with complete understanding.  She told me over and over to make my dreams come true.  The message was so clear…no matter what, find what makes me happy and make my dreams come true.  It was up to me.  I nodded my head back at her and told her I would.  Satisfied that she had said all she needed to, she gave me a big smile, closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep…after all, under normal circumstances she would have been asleep anyway.  Her work had been done.

I could not stop thinking about the things she’d said to me.  Make my dreams come true, rang out repeatedly in my mind.  That was when it hit me that I had been doing what I had to and nothing I wanted to for so long, I couldn’t even remember what my dreams were.  I had been so far removed from anything that meant anything significant to me, that I had to go deep within, and even into prayer, to figure out what it was that I truly wanted.

It was that conversation that triggered my quest to live the rest of my life authentically.  Relationships and people who were a drain had to go.  Employment that wasn’t fulfilling my purpose in life, was out of here!  I sat down and really determined what it was that would bring me the most happiness and fulfillment.  Doing so helped me to find my true inner voice – the voice of freedom, the voice of truth.

In the coming months, I referred to this list often as I made plans to chart how I was going to make my dreams come true.  I needed to prioritize, strategize and each day do something towards making at least one thing on that list come true.  It was during this time that I realized that no matter how many journals I had full of ideas or how many plans I had made previously, if I wasn’t actively taking a step towards accomplishing anything, none of the things I had written down would ever come to pass. 

Often it meant stepping outside of my comfort zone.  Always it meant stepping out on faith and holding true to the vision that I had for my life…no matter what came up against it.  This process caused me to see clearly who was for me and who had been against me all along.  It was eye opening in so many ways.  I discovered strength and patience and reserves I never knew existed inside of me.  And, of course, there were the times when I had to encourage myself because the disappointments and setbacks caused me to slow down.  But each time I made it through, I could cheer and pat myself on the back in triumph.  Suddenly the finish line of step one was in sight and I knew I would cross over. 

For each of the things I determined was a priority, I am at varying stages on the journeys.  And it is all good.  Each accomplishment just solidifies in me what she was trying to tell me that day….it’s all in me.  I have everything I need to succeed right on the inside of me and as I travel along life’s path, what I need will meet me on the journey when I get there.  Sometimes in my dreams I could see her ending smile of satisfaction at the results of that conversation.  She was proud of me, like I was her family.  She was glad that I had made the decision to live life by design and no longer by default, because I no longer had to.  She was happy that she had something so significant to pour into the life of someone else.  Her own journey had more meaning by being able to share her experience with another and help another person further along.

This little Jewish woman passed on at a 104 years old.  Remarkable in so many ways.  And though she is no longer gracing the earth with her presence, her legacy lives on…in the words she spoke that changed my life.  The words that gave me the freedom and courage to live the life I was destined to.  Her legacy lives on in every word of truth and act of love I pour into the lives of others.  And in the moments when life is still and quiet, I can see her nodding her head and smiling at me just before she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Each one….reach one.  Thanks Mary!

In memory of Mary Fink ~ Sunrise January 1, 1909 ~ Sunset January 29 , 2013

Changing lives one word at a time…Tumika Patrice Cain

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Tumika Patrice Cain is an award-winning author, media personality, and motivational speaker. Through her imprint, Inkscriptions Publishing & Media Group, she provides high quality, affordable, mentor-based publishing services to indie authors, as well as inspired, empowering messages of hope and abundance through her media outlets. Her works can be found in many publications, including Fresh Lifestyle Magazine. To learn more about Tumika, her books, and her services visit the following websites. http://www.TumikaPatrice.com and http://www.InkscriptionsPMG.com

In Black & White

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In Black & White

I recently read the post of a white woman who wrote into Sister 2 Sister magazine.  She was expressing frustration at black women and the energy she gets from them at her being with a black man.  The problem is, instead of trying to really understand where black women and the 'attitude' she gets from them is coming from, she wrote from a place of entitlement, judgment, and criticism at people she couldn't begin to understand.  If her approach had been different, she may actually have come away with clarity and understanding.  In her letter she challenged black men to basically back her up in saying that white women are the coveted desire of every black man and why they should  choose white over black.  The feedback she received was far from what she was looking for.

It started me to thinking.  Seriously thinking.  Some years ago I would have been among the black women rolling my eyes and wagging my tongue at her and the black man who was with her.  While I would marvel at the beauty of the children those mixed raced unions would produce, I would simultaneously hate the heritage that resulted in those children.  Each observation of them a slap in the face to me - a blatant rejection that said to me that I was not good enough.  Not good enough to date.  Not good enough to marry.  Not good enough to have a child with.  Not good enough to stay with and raise little black children.

I resented the privileged lifestyles I saw white women living.  That in their homes there were usually two parents, while in our households our women struggled to make ends meet, while our men shirked their responsibilities and ran off.  I resented the entitlement that they wore that said they DESERVED only the best.  I resented that they automatically assumed they should have the best jobs, the best homes, the most money, the best education, the most say, the smartest children, etc. and that anyone with the slightest hint of melanin in their skin was somehow genetically predisposed to be inferior to them.  And when they did decide they wanted our men, they chose the brightest and most brilliant gems and then flaunted in the faces of black women that we were somehow not good enough.  That again, their entitlement of 'I can have anything and anyone I want' was thrown in our faces.

And I understand what black women felt.  It wasn't just that the man saw someone he liked and just wanted her.  Having chosen someone white was worn like a badge of honor, as if to say that they had somehow 'arrived' by being able to show up with a white woman on their arms.  But it goes so much deeper than that - on every single front.

The black woman looks at this man, these men, who have made the choice to go that route and inside she thinks by not choosing a black woman, he is saying his mother is not good enough.  She thinks about all of the sacrifices that have been made to take care of him, to cover, to protect him.  And it feels like a slap in her face that after all of that, he would go a different route.  She thinks about the history of our people and that of white people and doesn't see anything good in it.  She remembers the black boys and men beaten and lynched for even looking in the direction of a white woman.  She has seen the race card played repeatedly when conniving white girls can't have their way and how they cry rape after willfully having sex with black men, setting off another stream of repercussions.  She feels the pain of generations of black children forced to grow up without their black fathers.  She remembers how tired her mother was when she came home from cleaning the houses of the privileged whites and how no matter how much we may have amassed even in the face of the least educated whites, we were still seen as just another nigger. She feels the force of the anger of black men as they come home and beat their frustration and drink their frustration and drug their frustration remembering she was the one who caught it.  She knows what it was like to lie to her friends, coworkers, employers and family about the bruises on her body inflicted on her by him.  But she knew that she needed to protect him, for what awaited him was far worse than what she felt she endured by him.

So she held her head up a little higher and straightened her shoulders, determined to make her family work.  She loves him with everything that is in her.  She understands him...even when it felt like he couldn't understand her.  She believes in him when the world tells him he is nothing and reminds him that he is just another nigger.  To her, he is a king.  Whether working in a factory, flipping burgers, selling drugs, collecting rubbish, dribbling basketballs or running corporations, he has always been a king in her eyes.  And so are her sons.

Is she tired? Yes, you bet she is.  She is tired of trying to hold it all together.  She is tired of being told she is male bashing on the few occasions when she risks telling her real story of neglect and abuse and lack.  She is tired of being sexualized by family members and on videos and by men passing by on the street.  She is tired of working her fingers to the bone, knowing she is not making as much as her counterparts.  She is tired of the drugs and violence and alcoholism and hopelessness she sees all around her.  She is tired of being told she doesn't matter, that she has no voice, and that she is not important.  She is tired of being told that black women don't get depressed, that we have to be strong.  She is tired of the struggle and everything that she endures on a daily basis, yes, it is a slap in her face when he crosses over and goes white.  She knows that her life is affected by the choices he makes and it makes her angry.

Are black women disproportionately more overweight than their white counterparts? Yes, we are.  We have been known to eat our way through the pain.  Sometimes it is the only thing that feels good in our lives.  Many of the women we see feel stuck and haven't figured out how to get out of it.  Frustrated, tired, depressed.  Yes.  I said it.  Depressed which is described as anger turned inwards.  If she is not allowed to be angry at anyone else yet the anger exists, where does it go?  She turns it on herself.  Do we need better coping mechanisms?  Certainly we do.  But people are just doing the best that they can at any given time.  It just is what it is, until it becomes something else.

The issues of race go so deep.  While it's about what's black and white, it is so much more than just what's black and white.  Culturally, no one truly knows and understands the history, the struggle, the decisions of a people if they have no real revelation of what the lives of those people may have been like.  For as much as we can sit around and judge and feel as if we have the answers to everything from our soapbox, the truth is,  unless we have spent a moment walking in someone else's shoes, we really don't know what it's like to be them.  And black women look and shake their heads, knowing that while white women showcase their trophy children, we know the world will still see those children as black...despite their mixed race heritage.  And we are not asking that you deny the white part of them, we are asking that you embrace  the black part of them and EVERYTHING that goes along with it, and not just brush it under the rug as people being 'too sensitive.'  Some things white people have never had to to experience and so it becomes difficult for them to understand.  It is that lack of understanding that infuriates black women and makes them so bitter.

We know that every race, every culture has their 'stuff,' and sometimes it becomes too much to deal with.  And a person may choose to be open enough to allow happiness to come in despite what it's face may look like.  Sometimes we just get tired of dealing with the stuff in our own back yards and we yearn for what might be considered greener pastures elsewhere.  Life is too short to spend it being unhappy.  While we go in search of happiness in whatever form it comes in, we can fully embrace it, without denying who or what we are or without denying our backgrounds.  And if we each take the time to realize that each people group has their own struggles, their own stories, if we keep the lines of communication and compassion open, we can learn from each other.  And we'd also see that we don't have to be enemies.

Changing lives one word at a time...Tumika Patrice Cain

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Tumika Patrice Cain is an award-winning author, media personality, and motivational speaker. Through her imprint, Inkscriptions Publishing & Media Group, she provides high quality, affordable, mentor-based publishing services to indie authors, as well as inspired, empowering messages of hope and abundance through her media outlets. Her works can be found in many publications, including Fresh Lifestyle Magazine. To learn more about Tumika, her books, and her services visit the following websites. http://www.TumikaPatrice.com and http://www.InkscriptionsPMG.com

The Weight of the World

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The Weight of the World

I am a watcher of people.  The things people do when they think no one is watching intrigues me.  What always stands out to me the most is the pain lurking behind plastic smiles.  If the saying is true, the eyes really are the windows of the soul.  When I look into a person's eyes, I see what they cannot hide, no matter how hard they try.

Eyes that tell stories of pain, of frustration, of defeat.  Eyes that signify that all hope has been lost.  Eyes that share they have all but given up.  Eyes that reveal that we are in the presence of the walking dead.  Eyes that sparkle with genuine happiness.  Eyes that can't hide mischief from one who has never lost their sense of childhood playfulness.  Eyes of ones who take themselves far too seriously.  Eyes of judgment and criticism.  Eyes of hatred.  Eyes full of joy.  Eyes with no joy.  Caring eyes.  Loving eyes.  Sincere eyes.  They all reach out, each with their own story to tell.

I have spent years working in a human services capacity - whether that be caring for disadvantaged youth or working hands on with the elderly; training the staff of those who work with these populations or writing programs for those who work with those populations.  One thing has always stood out to me.  Many people are out of place.  And the ones who are doing everything they have to do to survive, but nothing they want to do, typically wear their weight on their frames.

The soft edges and bulges share what their spirits could no longer hide.  People are unhappy.  And while it is very easy for some to say "well life is what you make it", there are some who have just not had that epiphany.  For many, life is what has been made for them by the choices of others long before they ever knew they were supposed to have a choice.  And by the time they are old enough to start functioning in the freedom of their choices, they don't know how to get out of the boxes they've spent their lives in...if they even recognize that a box is present.  To them, they are just living what they know.

It seems the voice of truth speaks quietly.  Almost like a whisper.  Like that of the Holy Spirit.  To hear what it has to say requires that we quiet what is going on around us; still our minds.  It means we need to look into the mirror and fully acknowledge what we see.  Not just focus on our eyes or nose or hair.  But really see.  It requires that we allow ourselves to let the scales fall off of our eyes so that we may see and know where we truly are.  And when we do, the voice of truth will speak clearly the message that has been there all along.

The voice of truth will say "you are not happy."  It will say "beloved what is it that you want? What is it that will make you truly happy?"  It will whisper "sweetheart, what is your dream?"  It will say "why are you hurting?"  "Who has silenced you? I want to hear what you have to say."  In its most loving, gentle and sincere way, it will say "Do you know that you matter?  Do you know that what you want is important?  Do you know that you have a voice worth hearing?"

And in our moments of realness, we can admit that we have spent years lonely (whether we are alone or not).  We have spent years being unfulfilled.  And for those with certain religious beliefs that sex should wait before marriage, we will admit we are sexually frustrated.  For as much as it is preached that singles should just pour their lives into serving others, in the deep recesses of our persons, we know that what we really feel is that 'yes serving others is important but what about me?  WHAT ABOUT ME?  Do I matter as much as the people I am sacrificing my life for?  Does anyone care what I need?  What I want?  Why are my needs still going unmet?  I have sown the seeds.  I have fasted.  I have prayed.  I have made the sacrificial offerings of time, talent and treasure.  WHAT ABOUT ME?'  And though few would ever really admit it, we are angry.  Mad to the core of our beings!  At ourselves, at our choices, at the state of our lives, at unsupportive people.  At God.

And we look up into the mirror that reflects our lives.  Into the eyes that reflect our souls and we acknowledge that each bulge tells a story.  That each extra pound is associated to a specific incident.  We admit that we are wearing the weight of the world, not just on our shoulders, but on our bodies.  We are tired from lack of sleep, lack of care, lack of concern, lack of love.  We are temporarily comforted by food when there is an absense of human comfort.  We turn to food when we'd rather be having sex.  We use food as a meaningful part of every significant event or area of our lives.  We admit that the layers of fat are a protective barrier that we put up each time someone hurt us, disappointed us, violated us.  And in our most honest moments, we admit that sometimes those layers are there because we have just given up.

I recently read the post of someone on Facebook who has decided that this year she is making some changes in her life that are permanent.  What stood out to me is a comment she made, and I will paraphrase, I will not beat myself up over the weight I gained over the years, nor will I make excuses for it.  At the time I gained it, I needed it.  But now that I am beyond that place, I no longer need the weight so I am willing to change my life to get rid of it.  This is a woman I consistently see being honest with herself.  She is authentic in her relationship with self and therefore in her dealings and relationships with others.  In those few short sentences, I found a freedom I have needed for years.

You see, like the others, I have looked in the mirror and never really allowed myself to see.  Or when I did, I criticized and beat myself up over what I had allowed myself to look like.  I never once acknowledged that at the time, I needed every pound I had allowed myself to gain.  That at the time, I was coping with the pain of my life in the best way I knew how at that moment.  I never acknowledged that judgment and criticism  wasn't necessary but instead genuine acceptance of myself and my needs is what was in order at the time.  Validation of my struggles, my hurt, my disappointment, my rejection from others and of self was right there.  I needed to gently, sweetly, love myself back to health, back to life and not tear myself down any more.

Each day we live a little more.  We learn a little more.  And each day we get up and try and give more effort into ourselves.  This year I encourage each of you to find your most authentic voice.  The one that speaks the quietest, but also the most profound, and let what he or she has to say ring louder than any other voice around you.  This year I encourage you to accept where you are; accept where you've been and embrace it.  Acknowledge the journey.  Look at it.  Really feel it and then realize you don't need it any more.  This year I encourage you to fully release it.  Let it go.  In its place, invite more sincere, authentic expressions of the life you want to live to come in and take residence.  After all, this life is what we make it....

Changing lives one word at a time...Tumika Patrice Cain

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Tumika Patrice Cain is an award-winning author, media personality, and motivational speaker. Through her imprint, Inkscriptions Publishing & Media Group, she provides high quality, affordable, mentor-based publishing services to indie authors, as well as inspired, empowering messages of hope and abundance through her media outlets. Her works can be found in many publications, including Fresh Lifestyle Magazine. To learn more about Tumika, her books, and her services visit the following websites. http://www.TumikaPatrice.com and http://www.InkscriptionsPMG.com

Today We Mourn

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Today We Mourn

Today we are burying Jack Pinto, 6, and Noah Pozner, 6, two students who were senselessly gunned down in a Connecticut elementary school.  Over the next week, we will bury many more people - children and adults alike.  And yes, I said we.  The likelihood that any of those 26 people are related to us is slim, but they are still a part of us.  It is not just their parents and family members who cry tears of hurt and are walking around in complete shock and disbelief.  An entire nation is numb, angered, saddened and confused.  We grieve the innocent loss of life just as these parents do.  Precious children  whose lives meant so much.  In them we see dreams that will go unfulfilled, destinies that will never be met.  And we mourn with their parents, their families.  Each Christmas will be a horrible reminder of all that was stolen from them on that fateful day.

For those of us who still have our  children, we pray silent prayers of thanksgiving so as not to be disrespectful to those who lost their loved ones.  We hold our children a little closer, overlook the quirks that usually drive us crazy.  Love a little harder, knowing tomorrow is promised, but not necessarily to each one of us.

It is hard to make sense of what has happened.  People are walking around in a fog, lost and bewildered trying to figure out where to go next.  Where do we go from here? their mournful eyes seem to say.  And though this makes no earthly sense, what we cannot afford to do is blame God for what has happened.  Even though He is sovereign, powerful and mighty, He has given to each one of us the gift of free will.  Yes, I said gift.  We are each afforded the right to make our own decisions.  And while some people use their power for good, others choose to use it for evil.  Still God is not to blame.

There are so many varying factors why this sort of thing happens, but there are no easy answers.  Sometimes it is mental illness that causes a person to have a distorted view of reality.  Other times it is pure hatred of a people, place or thing that drives one to act so irrationally.  And there are many other reasons in between.  I have seen many posts of people asking for prayer in the aftermath of this tragedy.  I have seen just as many people making harsh criticisms of those asking for prayer, saying the time to pray was before all of this happened.  How does that criticism help anyone?  Yes, prayer was needed  before this happened.  But prayer is definitely needed after.  There are families who have to try and put themselves back together.  There are the holidays upon us where they will not hear the joyful laughter of their loved ones.  There are the gifts that must be returned.  Rooms to clean out.  Personal belongings to part with.  And the vast emptiness the absence of their loved ones will leave in their hearts, maybe even for the remainder of their lives.  Yes, we need to pray.

And just as God loves those who were slain, he loves the killer, too.  There was a photo of Adam Lanza, that was his name, on the front cover of the New York Times yesterday.  It was his eyes that drew me.  They seemed blank.  Almost as if he weren't really present. He is a person, too.  We cannot dehumanize him just because he did the unthinkable.  Hurting people hurt people...and they hurt themselves, too.  Sometimes hurting people kill people and they kill themselves, too.  We may never know what was going on in his mind or why he killed his mother or the others.  But he is not to be forgotten either.  Neither should he be hated.  Let it be remembered that Jesus died for him, too.

Today, let's stop and think.  Let's see with eyes that are quickened with new sight.  The person standing behind you in line is your brother.  The checkout clerk is your sister.  From the person who has the most to the person who has the least, we are all connected.  We are one.  Created by the same God.  Knit together by the same hands who loves us all equally.  It is usually something so small that we allow to separate us.  We are more alike than we know.  We are more connected than we have ever really allowed ourselves to admit.

Let's pray for each other, that we begin to see with the eyes of Christ.  That we begin to love with the heart of Christ.  And that we begin to heal as a nation one person, one family, one street, one city, one state at a time so that we may all be one.  And may we pray the prayers of strength, courage and healing to all those who were affected by what happened that fateful Friday.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.  Matthew 5:4

Changing lives one word at a time...Tumika Patrice Cain

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Tumika Patrice Cain is an award-winning author, media personality, and motivational speaker. Through her imprint, Inkscriptions Publishing & Media Group, she provides high quality, affordable, mentor-based publishing services to indie authors, as well as inspired, empowering messages of hope and abundance through her media outlets. Her works can be found in many publications, including Fresh Lifestyle Magazine. To learn more about Tumika, her books, and her services visit the following websites. http://www.TumikaPatrice.com and http://www.InkscriptionsPMG.com