Author: lali jean

Moments…defining moments…trying to recall my earliest one, but it’s a little hazy. And when I ask about defining moments, it seems we’re all drawn to happy, funny or celebratory times: epic engagements, our first car or house purchase, that time when we…you know (insert personal/hilarious/embarrassing moment)!

Today, I’m thinking more along the lines of the journey from something that seemed crushing and unnecessary to proving Divine, fruitful and definitely more beneficial than imagined.

Have you experienced the heart-wrenching pain of rejection? From a friend, a lover, a family member, a friend that was “like” family or fill in the blank…

Have you experienced the shock of what you believed was true shattering as you watched…unable to move or turning away but at every turn, the same scene continues playing? Have you struggled to reconcile the words coming at you with what you were so sure you knew?

I believe we have all experienced it in some form or fashion. I am experiencing it now. And while I’m crying multiple times a day, I am also processing with my cat and a few kind humans who continue to create and maintain a safe space for me.

I AM genuinely grieving the decisions of some others who have deeply wounded my heart. I AM letting all the feelings, thoughts, dreams, visions and nightmares come to the surface. It is painful. At times, it feels overwhelming, suffocating and much too much for my heart. I will myself to breathe…and…breathe in deep.

I repeatedly breathe in the good and exhale the negative. I continue to remind myself of the importance of taking care of my heart…facing and slaying lies, clinging to the Truth and extending grace, especially to myself, even when others are withholding it.

I was raised to give grace to others, but for just a few years now, I’ve been learning and practicing extending grace to myself. 

I know what I want and wish for now, but I choose to pray solely for strength and wisdom in this current place (for all parties). I cannot claim to know all the reasons and ways of the Divine. I wholeheartedly believe that each of us are so loved and always have the opportunity to choose our own path.

Unexpected and unwanted things occur on all of our paths, at times, but we can choose how we respond and we can choose to change course. I say this often, to myself and others, the beauty of love is choice (the opposite is slavery).

Unfailing Love, Ultimate Light, Abba, Yesú, the Divine sometimes moves in mysterious ways. In this defining moment, through tears, I choose surrender. I choose trust. I choose to be still because regardless of the pain of today and the unknown of tomorrow, I AM safe in the eternal hug of the Divine.

I AM free to be me. I AM loved forever. I AM perfectly understood and fully accepted. And so are YOU, dear heart. You are fill in the Truth you need for this moment. Say it out loud (and as loud!) as YoU need. Say it as often as YoU need. Write it out where you can see it and be reminded to carry only the Truth.

We journey together – maybe at varying points on the path; nonetheless, together. Soak in the comfort of togetherness, solidarity and the strength gained from knowing that although we may feel alone, we are never abandoned, forgotten or alone.

Common Day Hero: Courage, grace and tenacity are what I’ve seen in you. Complete healing, wisdom and peace on your journey. “Snoopy” ~ I dedicate this post to you! 

long sigh…just hearing the word brought so much fear when I was younger.

My parents were married for over twenty years, separated for a few and then divorced. Although they were married for two decades, my dad was only home four to five months every year.

He had committed to buying and starting English schools in various parts of India, so most of his time was spent there. Some of my school years were in India, but my mom, sister and I were together, in America, more than not.

I was raised to believe that marriage ranked an individual “higher” and  “holier” than one who was divorced. Quite often religious leaders around me quoted a piece from The Bible saying, “God hates divorce.” It seemed the divorced people were also hated by the “holier” crowd. 

I believe divorce isn’t ever the goal of a couple when choosing to spend their lives together. Shit happens! 

For some, divorce is easily explained away…meaning society approves. Infidelity and domestic violence (physical) are the two reasons I’ve heard the most within our circle and community at large. I can’t recall ever hearing of a divorce because of verbal abuse which is also domestic violence.

For some, divorce isn’t “approved” by society so, the trauma of divorce is only intensified by the lack of empathy and support from family and friends. For some, “image” is so important that they choose to remain married on paper and “avoid” cultural/societal shame. For some, it’s financially beneficial to remain married, but live completely separate lives, under one roof.

In my earlier years, my upbringing had me believing that being divorced was equivalent to being marked unclean, subpar, unwelcome and failure. Through the years, I’ve come to see divorce as life experience…strength gained…lessons learned. 

I know divorce can be painful and bittersweet. When my parents divorced, it felt like all the letters were jumbled and although I’m fairly decent at Scrabble and now Bananagrams, I couldn’t make any real words. I kept my hand tightly closed around the letters. I spread them out on the table (ok, threw them). I made up my own words. I jumbled the letters up again. It hurt like crazy and at the same time I was relieved. 

I’ve been up-close when friends have walked through the difficult decision of divorce, for a plethora of reasons. Some intentionally caused excruciating pain to each other. Some unintentionally hurt one another and just couldn’t find a way to work through all the negatives. Others parted as amicably as possible after repeatedly hitting the same proverbial wall.

I’ve felt the pain of losing friendships because I couldn’t choose “sides”…wouldn’t choose one spouse over the other. From as early as I can remember, I could see both sides. I believe after becoming a mother, I began empathizing and sitting with both sides (as much as possible). 

Dear heart, only you can decide what you want to live with, you define the level of comfort and safety that is best for you! Despite the fear, move forward as you are led. Call a licensed therapist, lawyer, true friend or all three.

We are in this together…always. We are inextricably connected by the Divine. Courage, stamina and grace to you!

Common Day Hero: You are feisty, fierce, full of energy and faith. You are diligent, determined and have the best arms. Literally! Emily, my Irish Cream friend, I dedicate this post to you.

The first recollection I have of feeling the sting of death was at ten years of age. My paternal grandfather had to be admitted to the hospital and my family was in Kerala (at my grandparents’ house) during that time. I was playing in front of the house when my grandmother received the news that my grandfather had passed.

Nothing could have prepared me. As soon as my grandmother heard the news, she cried out, “My God!” and started hitting her chest, open-palmed as she wailed. The adults around her wept with her and tried to console her. I don’t remember much else, except that I can still see the image of my father at the funeral.

He was one of the pallbearers and seemed like such a pillar of strength as he carried the box that held his father. I had no idea how he really felt because we didn’t share our hearts.

As I got older, death seemed to come more often to the lives around me. Maybe I just noticed and felt it more often. One morning, not long after turning thirty, I had sudden and terrible back pain. Till this point, I’d never had back pain in my life.

When I went to the restroom, I thought Aunt Flo, that monthly visitor, had arrived. I noticed that she seemed to have brought so much extra luggage this time around. I don’t recall how many days the pain continued, but Aunt Flo seemed to have vanished as quickly as she had appeared.

I knew something was amiss. (Sidebar: Dear ones, when you sense that something is awry, no need to wait for proof. Make the call, schedule that appointment, send the email, write that note, have the difficult and uncomfortable conversation, etc.) I scheduled an ObGyn visit and learned that I had been pregnant!

I was told that I was possibly seven weeks along and had miscarried. Another human occupied space in my body and I had no clue. How? I’m aware that many times one can be pregnant and just not know or feel any different. Still…I was shocked and overwhelmingly sad.

I was told that I didn’t need a dilatation and curettage (D and C) because my body had released all the parts. Everything seemed surreal. The sadness and emotional pain was deep. There was cussing-level physical pain too. I cried many tears…some alone and some with my husband (Niji).

No casket, no flowers, no body to see or hold, no one bringing food to us and still, the pain was inexplicable. Niji and I decided to have a little remembrance…a service with just the two of us. We named our baby (yes, we were/are painfully aware that it was too early to know the gender); nonetheless, we chose a name.

We said prayers for and with each other. We shared words intended to encourage and verses intended to comfort us. I can’t recall being comforted in the moment. In some ways, I felt numb. I was moving forward how I thought would best help me with/through this loss.

Fast forward five years, I meet my brave little baby girl, the one I’m privileged to adopt (along with her brother). She was seven weeks old when I miscarried! That is when I fully embraced the “verses intended to comfort” back when heaven took our baby. I AM in awe of The Divine and The Divine plan…yet unfolding.

For those who have carried the hope of a baby, those who have seen a dream die (maybe repeatedly), for those who are holding miracles today and those who are clinging to the hope of a miracle…strength and peace to you on the journey.

For those who are struggling with death and all that comes up after, all that surrounds it…for those who are exhausted beyond description from all the struggling, for those attempting to compartmentalize grief or yearning for someone with whom to honestly share the journey…strength, comfort and healing to you.

Common Day Hero: To ALL on this journey ~ accepting and processing the reality of death (physical, emotional, mental, spiritual), sending love to you as you sit with, face, process and walk through what will forever change us, typically, making us more empathetic. Dear ones, I dedicate this post to you. 

that dreadful topic…I am all too familiar with this one. I didn’t realize that this had become a constant companion, like a dog that follows us from room to room, just no glee here. Depression was a topic my family didn’t discuss. I didn’t realize it then, but too much fear surrounded us if/when certain topics arose.

I can’t recall what I thought about depression or if I thought about it at all in childhood. What I know is this – in my late teens, depression was categorized as a negative of giant proportions. Typically, the messages I heard around me implied that it was a weakness…the individual’s fault, possibly for not being spiritual enough or not mentally or emotionally “strong” enough. I wasn’t sure what to think…

A part of the definition for depression, provided by Merriam Webster, is as follows: “A state of feeling sad or a mood disorder marked especially by sadness, inactivity, difficulty in thinking and concentration, a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection and hopelessness and sometimes suicidal tendencies.”

I believe depression isn’t something we pray away or trick away by just “choosing” to think different thoughts or creating diversions in our usual routine. Depression is very real and at times, painful to discuss. it.is.heavy. sigh…a one size does not fit all kind of topic. It’s disconcerting for those of us who genuinely believe we have all the answers…those of us who have nice, neat, little, color-coordinated boxes that are dusted, labelled, in alphabetical order and stacked just so…

I had all the answers at twenty (or slightly earlier!), but somewhere along the way, the tidy little stack that I thought was well-contained, got bumped (who did that?!) and then a-l-l those boxes came toppling down, crashing around me, lids flying in different directions and the contents spilling unpredictably out, far and wide. Oh dear! Oh my! What was I to do when everything no longer fit just so?

Since we didn’t talk about depression at home or in our religious circles and since the general belief of those surrounding me (at that time) was that it was simply a mind-over-matter issue…a pray-it-away or just get more active deal, I didn’t recognize the signs when it came for me. Is there a more suitable way to say that?

In my late twenties, I began hearing others speak of depression at women’s conferences; started reading articles about it and doing a little unofficial research of my own. Meaning, I searched online and asked others about their thoughts, views, feelings. Slowly, I realized that a few of the symptoms were at home with me.

Specifically, inactivity and sadness had settled in without my notice. Acknowledging the reality of  depression in my own self was heavy and difficult work. I had to keep reminding myself it was alright…I was alright and that this didn’t equal being doomed. I wasn’t outside the reach of grace. I wasn’t weak.

I had to deconstruct the beliefs I was raised with, beliefs that those around me were so sure about and wanted me to accept without question. Trembling, I walked through the halls and rooms where judgment, fear, self-loathing and shame had first taken residence. I sat with the pain. I didn’t push it away or run from it.

Unhurriedly, I let myself pick up each little box that had fallen. I picked up all the contents. I revisited everything. I let the tears, disappointment, hurt and anger come to the surface.

I read countless articles and books, I journaled (made notes on my phone), I prayed, I began seeing a licensed therapist, attended conferences, retreats and an emotional boot camp.

I chose not to go to a psychiatrist. Please move forward with seeing one if that is what you need.

The path looks different for each of us. For some of us, depression is seasonal. For some of us, it has come and gone since childhood. For some of us, depression is ever-present, like a cloud above our heads, at all times. For some of us, depression is not the absence of light or color, it is merely life in the shadows. For some of us, depression is just the other side of the coin. For some of us, depression is simply unexplainable.

I believe in the power of prayer, a good book, a hot cup of tea, a comedy, natural/essential oils, positive affirmations (verses, poems, lyrics, personal truth statements), research/science, medicine, a play, a long bath surrounded by countless candles and incense, a massage, milk, dark and white chocolate, but depression can’t be reduced to just one call/option/thing or a few home remedies.

Formulaic responses cannot fit the unique circumstances and experience of every human.

I may never fully understand the mental and emotional anguish of another; I may never know what it’s like to feel a heavy weight on the daily. And that.is.alright.

We need not have shared experience to be fully present with one another…to be silent and whole-heartedly listen to each other’s stories…to empathize…to love.

As we hear/read about depression, do we see any signs in ourselves (especially since DaCovid and DeVyress moved into our ‘hood)? Do we see signs now that may have been missed in childhood…or last year? Are we ready to acknowledge the difficult things? Are there a few friends we can trust to walk with us on this journey? Are we ready to make the call for professional help? Are we ready to fully embrace grace for ourselves?

WE are strong because we cry, process and talk openly, unashamedly through all the things.

WE are brave because we keep showing up for ourselves.

WE are superheroes because we live life to the fullest (regardless)!

Common Day Hero: For letting me in your world sometimes (lol)…for unashamedly being yourself and simultaneously willing to grow and evolve into your best self,  BettyBoop, my lil sis since ’92, I dedicate this post to you.

Ugghh…that dreadful disease. Sadly, I don’t have family medical records from generations past. What I know is that my paternal and maternal grandparents had diabetes. My grandparents had siblings who were doctors and nurses, so lack of information wasn’t an issue. Applying that information…sigh.

Both of my parents have diabetes and I didn’t know till last year (!) that my mother’s first round with this disease may have started when she became pregnant with my sister, (gestational). I don’t know if she had it earlier than that because she didn’t visit the doctor regularly, before marriage.

I don’t recall my parents discussing their personal health with me. I remember that my father wanted us to make healthy food choices. Mom may have wanted it too, but fried pies and donuts and pre-packaged snacks were quite often the way she displayed her love. I remember Dad drinking barley juice and wheat grass in the early eighties and making me drink it as well (yuck)!

Early in childhood, I linked unhealthy food to good behavior. It’s what I was rewarded with at school, Sunday School and home. Growing up, Sundays meant donuts and plenty of candy. I excelled in school and was rewarded with pizza, chips and again plenty of candy.

And the seemingly endless spiral downwards (like spin cycle on a washer) began…I would eat unhealthy foods (high carbs and sugar) as often as I could and then mentally beat myself up for not making better choices.

I am such a direct, straight-forward, no bull shit kind of person, to myself as well, but not so when the topic is my health or healthy food choices. I don’t fully know why that “direct self” didn’t translate to my health, but it may be because food was my “safe” place. That meant, no rules.

In my thirties, when I was first asked to return for a glucose test, I ran. Then, I became an ostrich and buried my head in the sand. I did exactly what I would tell anyone else not to do. I hid.

The hiding only increased my sugar consumption. Every birthday, graduation, wedding or other celebratory event we attended meant that I would have as much sugar as I wanted and go undetected. A sugar addict with diabetes, but no one knew. I spoke openly about my sugar addiction, but never about diabetes.

Just seeing or hearing the word feels like a death sentence. A well-intentioned friend (who didn’t know that I had been diagnosed with diabetes) once said to me that if someone in their twenties or thirties gets Type II diabetes, it’s their own stupidity and fault.

After she left, I cried terribly and beat myself up mentally and emotionally with a ton of negative talk…the lies I accepted in childhood and clung to for so long…”you’re stupid”, “what’s wrong with you that you can’t handle this small thing?”, “you don’t deserve good health” and I may have had cake that night too! So, the seemingly endless spiral downwards (like spin cycle on a washer) continued.

A few years later, I finally went to a new doctor and was diagnosed with Type II diabetes. I began taking the pills. Still, I told no one. I felt so much shame and guilt. I felt like a failure. I felt so alone. I was too afraid to share any of it. So…the seemingly endless spiral downwards (like spin cycle on a washer) continued.

Knowledge doesn’t equal transformation.

When I spoke of my sugar addiction, others would say just don’t keep sugar and high carb snacks in your pantry. Well, I enjoy driving, so that didn’t stop me. If we didn’t have it, I’d just go through a drive-through or grocery store. So, the seemingly endless spiral downwards (like spin cycle on a washer) continued…

Imagine falling into a long, dark well. The rush of excitement, adventure and all that adrenaline is suddenly gone because it’s a confined, narrow space. I’m not usually claustrophobic, but the fall had me rethinking that. Once I hit the water, it’s as if a current quickly pulled me under and I was trapped in a cyclone…spinning and spinning while my head hurt beyond description. That is what sugar highs and negative talk felt like, to me.

And I was an expert at mentally beating myself up because I had been doing this since I was ten (if not earlier). A positive is that I am now speaking gently and kindly to myself. In fact, it’s been three years (this month) since I quit negative self talk! And that seemingly endless spiral downwards (like spin cycle on a washer) is broken!

If it comes up, I immediately catch it, hold it up to the Light and see if it’s something that has any validity…if it has validity, what’s behind it (all is not as it appears) so I begin digging (asking questions) till I find the root. Then I begin uprooting (stating Truth). It’s a process. It takes consistent practice. And that seemingly endless spiral downwards (like spin cycle on a washer) is broken!

If it has no validity, it is placed in a pile to be thrown out with the trash. Sometimes, it helps to write it out and tear it up into very small pieces (it symbolizes to me that those words have no power). Some days, I just shake my head and say, not today! Other days, I say, that ain’t fa me or that’s not me.

I AM learning to continue practicing positive affirmations, apply the comfort and hope of the verses I memorized as a child and breathe in all the good.

I AM choosing healthy snacks like apples, walnuts, cheese, bell peppers and hummus more (but there are days nothing will suffice like a handful of chocolate covered almonds or a slice of cake!). Rather than beat myself up about it, I focus on taking an appropriate portion and taking my time to enjoy the sweets. And the seemingly endless spiral downwards (like spin cycle on a washer) is broken!

I AM drinking more water (not at the goal yet, but closer and more consistent than I’ve ever been!).

How about you? Is there anything that has/is keeping you from moving forward in life? It may not be health related. Maybe it’s a friendship that isn’t really true, a romantic relationship that isn’t equal/kind/genuine, maybe something school or work related or something entirely different…whatever/whomever it is, has negative self-talk kept the spin cycle on full blast and repeat?

If so, what’s one positive statement, verse, quote, lyric that we can embrace today? Write it out on a note card, the mirror or make it a screen saver on all the electronic devices. Begin and/or end the day reading this Truth out loud…and as often as needed throughout the day.

I must say again that therapy, individual counseling, life coaching and a safe community may all be things to consider on our journey. As we choose health – mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically, watch change take root…in our hearts, in our health and in our homes!

Here for and with you on this journey!

Common Day Hero: I have seen you embrace the good. You continue to welcome all into your world. You listen well. You are refreshing. Shawn W.L., my friend and kindred spirit, I dedicate this post to you.

I didn’t grow up dreaming of becoming a mother one day (thought I’d muck it up terribly)…
I didn’t grow up dreaming of getting married…I didn’t grow up dreaming of founding a non-profit org…
I didn’t grow up dreaming of being a business owner…

I didn’t grow up dreaming.

So, I was “late” by society’s standards, but I personally believe everything is on time with the Divine.

At twenty-seven, I married the man of my choosing and began daring to dream! At twenty-eight, I became a business owner and a few years later welcomed two adorable and kind children. I’ve always had a heart to help, so I founded a non-profit org (Shiloh Restored). Rescuing children from death, educating those less fortunate, empowering women through business ventures and hosting retreats for men and women. 

At forty I became a college graduate (Go Mean Green!). I started blogging earlier this year and just last month, started a proofreading and editing business (MissEdit.net)! And now, I AM dreaming…of becoming diabetes-free!

This seems by far, the most difficult and challenging issue of my life. My strongest/greatest (strong and great seem such positive words, but at the moment, I don’t know which other words to use) addiction for as long as I can remember has been sugar…and bread. sigh.

I am struggling even more with sugar cravings now that Covid-19 has fully settled among us. Long sigh. I AM  determined to push through this. For the first time (with regards to sugar/carbs), I am not quitting. Many days have found me making terribly poor choices, but I am not giving up. 

Making poor choices feels like I’ve suddenly fallen to the floor. Passed out, actually. I lay there for God knows how long…seems like an eternity. Finally, I start coming back to consciousness. Everything moves in slow motion. I rub my eyes, shake my head, assess where I am. Then, slowly…I start to rise.

I have committed to continue to rise, re-evaluate, make just one better choice and keep moving forward. Even if two or three whole days in a row are filled with sugar and/or bread, I will be free. I will rise! This is new for me. Before now, I would become so upset with myself, repeat self-defeating words and just give up entirely. 

A few months ago, I began keeping a food log (gasp. shriek. cuss. run!). I couldn’t believe how much sugar I was eating on a daily basis! I knew I ate a lot of sugar, but I didn’t realize just how much a LOT was!

Maybe it would help to share a day from my food log – a cup of coffee, a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, a bowl of Magic Spoon cocoa cereal, a bottle of water (sixteen.nine fl oz), two biscuits with cheese, two biscuits with jam, a bottle of water, a banana, two Betty Crocker strawberry cupcakes, a bottle of water, cheese popcorn and another bottle of water. That entry was THIS week!

I share this in hopes of being an encouragement. See my failures. Know that I’m just as human. We are not alone. We can do this! No matter how many times we fail, we can pick back up and make healthy choices again.

Have we stopped dreaming? Is there a dream (or three!) that we’ve shelved? Let’s begin dreaming and letting our dreams live again! We are in the struggle together. I AM committed to change…even if slow, our progress is certain! Here’s to a new life  – one healthy choice at a time!

Common Day Hero: The road has been exciting and frustrating at times, but you have continued to walk with me. You believed in me (and my health) when I didn’t believe in myself. Niji voted that this post be dedicated to you without knowing that I had already chosen to dedicate this post to you! I greatly appreciate your commitment to help me on this journey. You are a solid and trustworthy friend. I dedicate this post to you, Jin.

I learned generosity from my parents. Growing up, I watched my mother (Kamala) give away so much to many people. Typically, she gave to those less fortunate than us and religious leaders. We didn’t have much ourselves, but from the little we had, we always gave. I say “we” but the truth is at times, I was forced to give.

I was certainly not happy when she gave away my things. She would usually tell me not to be attached to anything and that I should be grateful for everything I had (never mind how long it was mine!). Then she would tell me that I needed to share said item including reasons why I should happily give it away (sometimes in front of the person!). sigh. I believe her intentions were good.

At seventeen, I moved in with my vanilla/European American/Caucasian family and witnessed the generosity of my French Vanilla mom Jada. She modeled a “cheerful giver”.

I began giving generously as a teenager, but sadly had no boundaries. I didn’t save or invest. I had nothing but debt to show for all my years of work. Enter Niji Stanley (best friend, lover, favorite/only husband!). Thankfully, he is an avid saver and debt-averse! He saw my joy in giving and helped create boundaries, so that I could continue to be generous.

When we first began our life together, our salaries combined weren’t much. Niji was committed to saving twenty-five dollars a month. In addition, I had twenty-five dollars a month to give from what I began calling my benevolent fund. If I chose to give all twenty-five to one individual then I had to wait till the following month to give again!

With every promotion and raise, my benevolent fund increased! Since Niji is prone to save more and I am prone to give more, we make a good team. We challenge one another and through the years have learned to give each other room to fully be our true selves.

I recently gave two hundred dollars to someone whose work hours were affected by ‘rona/Covid-19! The following week I received two hundred dollars from a friend who wanted to support my business! Last week I gave seventy-five dollars to a friend (to support her business). Later in the week, I did some editing work for a friend and she gave me one hundred dollars!

I AM fascinated to see these principles at play, “what goes around, comes around”, “karma” and “we reap what we sow”. I don’t give to get. I also do not advocate giving with an expectation to get something in return. I give because I AM genuinely overjoyed to help others.

When I was younger, I gave without thinking. Over time, I have learned to be still, listen and give as I’m led (otherwise, the needs are overwhelming and crushing for a giver who is also an empath).

When we sow generosity into the universe, it’s my personal belief that we reap generously from the Divine.

Where can we give today? A family in need, a local non-profit organization, a conscious entrepreneur, a mental health counselor, an auto shop (pay the bill for someone) a therapist (give ourselves the gift of healing), pay speeding tickets (or other fines) for those less fortunate, support a local business funding policy change/s…

What can we give today? Our time – volunteering, our expertise -online, over the phone or on a video call (since ‘rona got many of us at home again!), our possessions – clothing or other items around the house that haven’t been touched in GAWD only knows and our finances…

Common Day Hero: Life didn’t bring what you hoped or expected. Through it all, you remained (and still are) a devoted prayer warrior. My beautiful and strong mother, Kamala, I dedicate this post to you.

I am saddened, angered and exhausted by the rhetoric of the powers that be (in every arena). We hear words that seem satisfactory, in the moment and without realizing it, we are lulled to indifference, mediocrity and eventually sleep. Sleep – a complete unawareness of what is truly happening in front of our own eyes, right around the corner or down the street. Seems while we were sleeping, grace became obsolete.

Grace as I understand it, is unmerited favor, courteous goodwill, refinement of movement, a title, an extension of time and…I’m curious, what’s your personal definition of “grace”?

For those of us who grew up in (or were surrounded by) religious circles, grace may have been a word that was used c-o-u-n-t-l-e-s-s times. Present day has me reflecting on a few things: when did we first hear the word? In what context was the word primarily used? How did we personally begin using the word? Was the word accurately reflected in the way we lived? Have we seen the word lived out by those in our circle?

Have we confused or replaced grace with favoritism and nepotism? Favoritism – giving unfair and preferential treatment to an individual or group. Nepotism – using power or influence to favor relatives and/or friends. In our everyday lives, how much of a role do favoritism and nepotism play?

Despite the behavior of the world around us, are we swift to listen and slow to speak? Do we allow others to complete thoughts even when they slightly differ or are completely opposite of our own? Have we built friendships with only those who talk like us, claim to believe like us, vote like us, etc?

If we avoid building relationships with those who are different than us, are we limiting our own oxygen (by living in a “bubble”)? Are we hindering our own growth (because of unaddressed implicit bias and prejudice, among other things)? If we choose to move outside our areas of comfort, will it not open the door for opportunities to learn and grow in grace?

Have we genuinely accepted grace for ourselves? Rather than judgment and negative self talk on repeat, do we have grace for our own flaws and the “process” – wrestling with a new or less than welcome idea/approach as well as what often may seem like slow movement towards progress? Only then can we extend it to others.

Have we extended grace to the “stranger” among us…those who are different than us, those who are poverty-stricken, the mentally unstable, the homeless (emotionally and physically)? At times, grace is simply space – to be seen, heard and empowered.

What is a practical step we can take in embracing and extending grace today?

Common Day Hero: You model grace. You are quick to admit your flaws. You are brave, kind, fierce and loyal to all who count you a friend (I’m glad to be in that number!). Sanu, I dedicate this post to you.

My tears have been my food, day and night, while they say to me, ALL day long, WHERE is your GOD? This is the third verse of the 42nd Psalm, in the Bible. I personally haven’t stopped my food intake, but my tears have been at an all time high.

My emotional pain can be felt in my physical body and sometimes all of it feels like too much. I take deep breaths (several times a day), I cry, I burn incense (since childhood, the aroma has been comforting), I pray, I sigh, I light a candle, I talk through the details with friends who want to do so.

For some of us, current events have us angry…angry at the people we believe are causing a fuss, those whom we believe are stirring strife, dividing and causing harm. For some of us, we are angry at not being believed, not being heard, still not validated or understood. For some of us, the spaces we thought were safe are proving quite fragile…more fragile than we ever really realized before…all this. For some of us, we are adjusting to standing alone, without the support system we thought would always be available.

In my late twenties, I realized that anger is almost always a secondary emotion. Many times we don’t realize that we were first hurt, saddened, disappointed or experienced some other pain. Anger and frustration sometimes come so readily/easily and seems more socially acceptable. So, I’m asking us, what is beneath the anger? Is it pain, disappointment, grief, something else? Take time to reflect and acknowledge the root.

No human can dictate what that process looks like for each of us. Give yourself (and those around you) room to reflect, to name each grief, each hurt, to process and fully release. Do we dismiss our hurts (or allow external forces to dismiss it)? How can we choose to prioritize our pain and grief this week?

Prioritizing and processing grief and pain opens the door to gratitude. I believe grief and gratitude can coexist. I am grieving with my fellow humans during this difficult time and counting what I’m grateful for in the moment.

I value my heritage because it has contributed to experiences that resulted in deep reflection, curiosity and personal growth. I appreciate my parents for building relationships with people of all backgrounds. This gave me the joy of seeing beauty in every culture/flavor. I have continued to respect and welcome all people (regardless of ____) into my life.

I AM grateful for the friends and family who are willing to have difficult conversations. I genuinely appreciate those who have created safe spaces where any.thing can be asked so that we can all learn and grow.

I AM so thankful for friends who have recently acknowledged their own prejudice and racist tendencies (I had to face all of that within myself some years ago). Only when we know the Truth can we be set free.

I AM encouraged to see what seems a more cohesive unit working towards equality for all.

I AM hopeful that we will see policy changes that translate to quality education for ALL (regardless of race or socioeconomic status), increased accountability of those called to protect and serve as well as religious leaders.

As a first generation American of East Indian/Curry descent, I have much gratitude for the Civil Rights Movement. It is because of their tireless efforts, strength and irrepressible spirit, my parents were able to benefit from the Immigration Act of 1965 and come to America to pursue their Graduate degrees. They are from the same state in India, but met while at college in Tennessee!

To all in the Civil Rights Movement (past and present), my heartfelt gratitude. You have inspired me to be a part of the change I wish to see, to cling to hope in the darkest of times and relentlessly work towards liberty and justice for ALL.

Common Day Hero: You have seen and felt the tension of changing…the pain that evolving brings and yet a newfound joy that could only come from this specific kind of growth. You are sincere and resilient. The fierce warrior in me recognizes and salutes the fierce warrior within you. Amy R (Ambassador to me), I dedicate this post to you!

Juneteenth – the nineteenth of June, eighteen sixty-five…the day that slaves in Texas were finally freed…well, except for those who weren’t…sigh. Some had to work through one more harvest season because their masters demanded it (didn’t share the news with them). This was two and a half years after Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation…a day of celebration and rejoicing, but also grief and mourning because of the long, unjust delay.

In June of two-thousand fifteen, on Juneteenth, my father relocated to heaven. I celebrate the good that he modeled, passed down to me (and others) and the good that now lives on through the lives he touched. I mourn the deep, inexplicable loss. I cannot begin to accurately express the depth of pain, disappointment, anger and disbelief that this transition brought.

In June of two-thousand eighteen, five days before my father’s relocation anniversary, my father-in-law joined my father. I was so upset, not just at the loss, but the timing as well. After my father relocated, I made a trip to see my in-laws and when I hugged them, I said, I have one less parent now. My father-in-law hugged me tighter when I said that. Compounded grief.

I don’t know why many have only asked how my husband was/is after the loss. I am the “in-law” but that doesn’t lessen the pain. I grieve as well. Considering the current physical (Covid-19) and sociological/racial pandemic we are in, are we grieving with ALL who grieve (even if it seems we haven’t directly been affected)? Are we asking (and answering) difficult questions…of ourselves? Answering may take some time (maybe more than we expect) and answering may yield more questions. Answering may entail sitting with grieving others.

An African American friend shared an analogy with me; I’ve taken creative liberty and expanded it. Visualize a married couple. One has been physically, verbally and/or mentally abusing the other, but no one in society really knows. Some suspect it, some dismiss it, some wonder but don’t want to get “too deep” in it. Suddenly, one day, the truth is exposed. An article is written, a video is released. Some believe it, some still doubt it, some stand with the abuser, some want to know the full story of the abused before deciding on support. That is an attempt to express how some African Americans feel.

Now more than ever, the hidden has come to light…again! While some of us are assessing and analyzing and blaming or just getting annoyed, the abused continues to bleed out…in front of us, in broad daylight. Earlier this year, I heard Tracie Ellis Ross say, “Many epitome moments are met with grief and tears”. This could be that moment for us…as a people.

Grieve however best helps your heart. Good grief? I believe grief is good because when we fully allow ourselves to grieve all that we’ve lost (and continue to lose), we become free to embrace change. Change that is deep-rooted, heart-level and promotes healing such as: a willing/open heart, a listening ear, a shoulder to lean and cry on, a small/brave step, anything that ignites and fuels empathy, love and unity…so we can be the change that transforms individuals, families and communities.

Common Day Hero: We are childhood friends and yet, growing up, I had NO idea how different life was for you, simply because you are part of that beautiful mahogany tribe! I AM so grateful for your abundantly giving heart, your love for all and your resilience. LaRethia, I dedicate this post to you!