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This month, specifically this weekend, marks year seventeen of my husband choosing a life for himself…a life of trust and adventure! Thought I’d share that story today (Niji approves this message!).

At thirteen, I met a scrawny little curry boy with a big smile and great laugh. His name was Niji Stanley. His family had moved to Texas from India. The year was nineteen eighty-nine.

At eighteen, we started attending the same community college and became the best of friends. We dated other people and I never thought of Niji as more than a friend. He was kind and funny and we could talk for hours…I enjoy story telling and he enjoys hearing them! The year was nineteen ninety-four.

At twenty-three, he told me not to tell others that I had been molested (repeatedly by various males). He said if others knew then they wouldn’t want me to join their family. He knew how society blames females for events even when those events are not within their control. I responded with, “If I choose to marry, then the man I marry will know everything about me and love me as I AM.” The year was nineteen ninety-nine!

At twenty-six, he shocked the entire community.

He quit nursing school (never wanted to be a nurse, but was trying to appease his family). He had demoted himself to attend nursing school and couldn’t return to his former job, so was left making eight dollars an hour. The year was two-thousand three!

In March of two-thousand three, he said that he had been seeing me in his dreams every night. 

After two weeks of the same dream, he asked if he could come to church with me. After service, he said, “Have you thought of us becoming more than friends?” I didn’t say a word; I reached for my purse, pulled out my old school planner and showed him what I had journaled six months prior!

Six months prior, I had a dream…that we would be together! He was so shocked and asked why I hadn’t said anything all that time. I told him that I felt he would come to me; he said, but what if I didn’t? I told him I had committed to waiting because he who finds a wife finds his good thAng (paraphrase of verse twenty-two of chapter eighteen of the Book of Proverbs, the Bible).

To all the women who approached or asked or made the first move in a relationship, please know that I’m just sharing my heart (not saying this is “the” way because life is not formulaic). We are free to move as we are led by the Divine.

Four days later, we went to the mall, exchanged a ring, came back to the car and he said, “Will you marry me?” as he handed me the ring! We cried and talked about how he would share this with his parents.

His parents, church, extended family and friends didn’t consider me a worthy candidate for Niji. I believe it was because of what they viewed as “negatives” – my parents divorced, my sister has autism and severe developmental delays, I’d been molested repeatedly, my family was in a lower income bracket, I had two boyfriends (at separate times!) prior to my relationship with Niji (and was open about it, God forbid!), I hadn’t yet completed my Bachelors and who knows what else was on the list.

Friends and family told him that he was making a terrible mistake.

Our curry culture has a saying that basically translates, although we can not physically see God, parents are the God that we can see! Many friends did not stand with him because they believed honoring parents equalled obeying. 

Niji and I weathered the storms as gracefully as we could (read we had no idea how to navigate all this. We cried, prayed, cursed and ate too many ladoos!). 

We received unpleasant phone calls, angry/hurtful words, threats to “ruin” the wedding day. During all of that, Niji went to his parents’ house weekly; mowed their lawn, drove his mom to Doctor’s appointments, helped with anything they needed. He heard more unkind words, but kept his decision to marry me.

At twenty-seven, on a beautiful autumn morning, we were married. Niji’s family of origin chose not to attend. That was painful.

Sixty people gathered and celebrated with us that day. My vanilla mom (Jada) baked a fourteen inch groom’s cake. She bought and wore a lehenga (Indian outfit) for the wedding. She said she wanted to honor my culture. She asked if they could sit on the groom’s side since his parents weren’t attending. She did all of this without being asked. She brought much joy in the midst of heartache. 

College, career, romantic relationships, marriage, kids, apartment or house, rent or buy, one-story or two, location of dwelling place, etc…whatever the topic, I shared this bit of our story with you to convey the importance of your heart.

My hope is that you, dear one, are encouraged to prioritize the Voice of the Divine.

The Whisper in our hearts that can only be heard when we choose to be still. Many voices roar all around us, but may we forever hear and follow the Whisper of the Divine. 

Common Day Hero: My funny, stubborn, risk-averse husband..through the years, my love for you has changed…it has grown and continues to grow every year. Niji, I dedicate this post to you. 

Through the years, I’ve heard many interesting things regarding fear. Maybe you have also? Some believe it is to be driven out and once “driven out” is gone for good, but to date, I have not met a human who has never had an encounter with fear. You may have heard fearless, no fear, unafraid and other similar sentiments that lead us to believe life without fear is here…the popular statement “faith over fear” has us believing it’s like choosing an option from a candy jar or vending machine. I can’t say that I’m fearless; I can say that in recent years, fear has seemed more like a tunnel to me.

A tunnel shows up every now and then along the road and if I want to continue moving forward, I must do the difficult work to travel through the tunnel. I have the option to go around the tunnel (ignore the issue and hinder my own growth), climb on top of the tunnel (shout, sing, stomp about victory but not practically work through anything; basically, remain in the same place) or I can go through the tunnel (process: sit, cry, breathe, crawl, pray, stand, sing, remind myself of truth and then continue to walk through the darkness till I’m back in the Light again).

Our fears need not match. What appears scary, daunting and nerve-racking to you, need not be the same for me. It is okay. Afraid of the dark, of interesting/different creatures (including humans!), of using our voice, of being shunned or shut down, of Corona, of standing up for the marginalized/outcast/forgotten/ignored…waaay too many fears to list them all here, but every fear is real and legitimate to the one feeling/facing it. For years, I didn’t realize that fear had taken many forms and some of those forms took residence in my mind and heart.

I don’t know what works best for each of us, but what I have found helpful on the journey is to name the fear. Once I name a fear, it no longer looms largely over me. Fear, a four-letter word, isn’t something that I ignore anymore. I sit with it at the entryway of the tunnel. At times, I realize that it has paralyzed me…feel like I can’t even catch a breath. At times, it’s like I’ve fallen in a very dark space. Sometimes, I sit in silence. Sometimes, I sing, cuss, cry, lie down, pray…and eventually, I stand. A bit unsteady, knees shaking, trying to breathe. I quote verses and positive affirmations that encourage me. I focus and intentionally take a deep breath, then two. With every breath in, I think on good things; with every exhale, I release all negative energy. I walk through a mental vision imagining fear as a large object that begins shrinking down to an item I can “put in its place”…an item so small, it fits under my feet!

Some days, I move steadily through the fears that come my way and other days, the process is quite taxing and takes much longer than I expect. Regardless, I commit to facing it all. When I was twenty-one, I was done with college. Done, as in, not interested, didn’t see the value, couldn’t understand why some people I knew with a Masters were working jobs slightly above minimum wage. Over the next twenty years, I attempted to go back to college many times, but after a class or two, I’d just quit. I couldn’t decide on a major (I knew fa sho that the medical field was not fa me!), but I never saw myself as intelligent enough to complete a Bachelors. In 2014, I decided to face my fear. I researched subjects that caught my interest and then jumped in to become a student of Sociology at UNT (Go mean green!). Many times I doubted, cried and wanted to quit, but I was determined not to listen to all the negative talk (in my own mind and from some around me). The biggest war was within myself; regardless of what external voices said, I had to make a choice. Listen to the negative or replace it with positive, healing, calming words. I began meditating on what was true, pure, just and admirable. I continued to give my best and in 2017, graduated with my Bachelors!

Fear is ever present, aiming to stop us from fully living the abundant life that awaits. My commitment remains, fear will never have the last word over me. I AM committed to doing everything necessary to walk through/process/face down every single fear that shows up on my journey.  May we do the difficult work of bringing fear down…every day. We’re in this together (well, safely at home during this corona craziness but together!).

Common Day Hero: Chronic pain, depression, fatigue, terminal illness, mental health concerns, I know there’s so much more than I can list here, but to all who are struggling behind the scenes, you are not alone. Hope, strength, courage and peace to you today. Your heart is important. We need you. Stay in the fight, dear heart, this post is dedicated to you.

One of the definitions of quarantine, according to Merriam-Webster, is imposed isolation on a person, animal or place. As many around me go into an all-out panic about being home with family, I’m thinking, but I was raised like that…spending time with my family. My parents believed in being very present in my life; in every area, as in, no privacy unless I was showering or changing. And, I wasn’t really allowed to go anywhere without them for a majority of my early years on this planet (and by early I mean till college!). I enjoy time at home with my spouse and kids (including the furry ones, oh alright, the cat’s my favorite furry!)…anyhow, back to quarantine life!

Many of us are holding/carrying weight, at times, without even realizing it and grief may be part of the weight we’re carrying. This is my take on grief, after the death of my father. Grief is not like a headache – here and then gone in a few. It’s an unexpected journey caused by an inexplicably deep and painful loss. It’s like navigating the crashing waves of the ocean on a day when earth is angry, sad, distraught and overwhelmed. My experience has been that time doesn’t heal. Time gives space for us to either ignore or invite what’s knocking at the door of our hearts. Opening the door and giving ourselves permission to grieve seems the beginning of the journey. No “shoulds” or “shouldn’ts” -just process/grieve as it comes. However that looks varies based on our personalities and background…that is alright.

Last year, a friend shared her experience with grieving the loss of a relative. She said, “I have found that grief comes in waves…at the beginning, the waves were so high, crashing without mercy. It took three years for me to feel like I could breathe and function. Now the waves come further apart…and in between the waves there is so much life that has happened and will happen. For the most part, I can see the waves coming and prepare myself. It seems to me that the waves never stop coming and honestly, I don’t want them to because it’s now a part of my story -and the God of all comfort has helped me…”. Hearing her description helped me with my grief – the loss of my dad, which seemed too daunting to face at first, to other griefs that seem small, but still significant and in need of addressing.

I wasn’t raised to name my grief or really acknowledge feelings in any form. A few years ago, I began learning to fully face and process what others may see as the smallest of disappointments, celebrate the tiny victories (not just the “usual/popular” ones) as well as name my grief. Covid-19/corona has brought on some unexpected changes to life as we all knew it. It’s marked another moment in history for us – life before the virus and now, quarantine life.

I talked with our kids this week about their grief surrounding ‘rona. Our kids are both double-digits and have said they’re glad to be home with us, but our house is where the party is, so all of us really miss hosting our extended family and friends. Each of us shared our felt losses. We took deep/full breaths together. We released our fears together. We voiced prayers out loud together. We talked through all that we’ve taken for granted (till now), all that we’re grieving, and all that we’re grateful for…especially now. A grief I shared with my family (as I sobbed terribly) is that I can’t visit my sister. My forty-four year old sister, Leela, is mentally between two and three years old because of severe developmental delays and autism. I became her guardian a few years ago and last year, made the difficult decision of placing her in a residential group home. Two weeks ago, because of ‘rona, the group home decided it would be best for residents to have no visitors. I understand the decision, but understanding doesn’t ease the sting and pain of it. I asked the group home to call my mom and me (at least once a week), so that we could “see” Leela. Last week they didn’t call…more tears. This week, I asked if Niji (favorite husband/friend/co-worker), could deliver cupcakes for the group home. I asked for Leela to be sent to the front door, so Niji could give her a cupcake in person. I asked Niji to video the moment, so that I could “see” her as well. He did! More tears…these were happy tears tho! Last night, one of the staff video called so I could “see” and talk to Leela for a few minutes. Grief and gratitude coexist. Grieving the current situation and at the same time,  very grateful for modern technology which allows us some form of connection.

This week, I also talked with our kids about the difference between suffering and being inconvenienced. Life in a first world country tends to pull us in the direction of entitlement and impatience. Fast-food restaurants, drive-through banking, texting and work/family expectations, that have us operating more like machines than humans, have shaped our society to demand convenience at every turn. For those of us who don’t have the virus, can work from home, can educate our children online and shop online, we are just inconvenienced. We still have a job, but can’t gather for happy hour…still have a vehicle, but can’t meet friends at a favorite local spot…still have a space we call home, but can’t host a weekend gathering…still have young children, but can’t send them off to day care or school, LAWD CHEEZAHS send angels, send strength, send somethin’ and HEP us with these keeeds…inconvenienced!

For those of us who are inconvenienced, while we name our grief and take time to process life with ‘rona, may we remember those who are suffering. Many are suffering with full-time work unexpectedly turned part-time, pay/working hours cut, sudden loss of employment, no home, no medical insurance (or not enough insurance), no reliable vehicle,  acute or chronic illness (‘rona and otherwise), no savings, no food and so much more. An online search will yield a plethora of ways  to remember the suffering; here are just a few suggestions: Buy an extra food item or two and have it delivered, donate to a local food pantry, order a floral arrangement (especially for someone who considers it a luxury item), mail a hand-written note to a single person (seniors and all), donate food to local foster homes, schedule a water-delivery service for a family in need, support local restaurants by ordering a meal online.

Common Day Hero: You were always happy to be with me; you are the definition of your name ~ playful, loyal, beauty. Growing up, every single time you saw me cry, tears would roll down your face. I didn’t like sharing a room (and a-l-l my things) with you, but all these years later, tears stream down my face when I remember those times. I’ve heard it said that autism is like being in a maze with glass walls; you can see out, but can’t figure a way out. I don’t know exactly what it’s like for you and that still causes me such pain. Countless times, from as early as I can remember, I have dreamt/prayed/hoped for a day when I’d hear your voice speaking…clearly…a day when you’d respond to everything I shared with you. I still believe that day will come (don’t know if it will be on this earth). Your laughter always brings much joy to me…and now my kids! I AM so grateful for you. You are the reason I love ALL people and aspire to be a voice for the voiceless, the misunderstood and the forgotten. I dedicate this post to you, my sister, my dearest Leela Jane.

 

It is well…I grew up hearing this statement, singing all the songs, saying the verses, but until a few years ago, the depth and truth of the meaning in this statement eluded me. Now, with the Covid-19/corona craziness, this statement keeps coming back to mind.

As a child, I thought “it is well” meant we were problem-free, had no worries or concerns and everything would go as we wished or prayed. I soon learned that we (as a family, people group and society) were weighed down with troubles and at times, pressured on all sides. The community I was raised in (maybe similar to yours) ignored issues and tried to quickly squash anything different or difficult. My questions were often returned with questions that were typically condemning or shaming…intended to silence. In my twenties, I began a journey of studying more as well as talking with and learning from people of varied backgrounds. It is well began taking on a personal meaning.

It is well…maybe mentally, we cain’t see what’s up or down…maybe physically, we takin’ meds for depression and diabetes, maybe emotionally, we been cryin’ and screamin’ for weeks now…maybe in marriage, the last meaningful conversation was…do we even know when? …maybe with family it’s lookin’ like LAWD only knows coz at times, we’ve treated family like shit and we’ve also been treated like shit – ooh they smell, flush quickly and use extra wipes…maybe in friendships, we ain’t takin’ time to truly hear each other, especially when it’s inconvenient, awkward or we disagree…maybe at work, well, we ain’t even got time to get into that level of toxic right now, but it. is. well.

It is well isn’t that I have everything (or any.thing) together. It is well doesn’t translate to it’s all going my way. It is well doesn’t suggest that I put a mask on, doesn’t support fake it till I make it, doesn’t say I put my “game face” on…it is well simply is, because my comfort is not in knowing what will happen (especially since corona livin’ among us now). It is well is not money in the bank, sickness removed, a vehicle, a job promised, a promotion granted, a “happy” marriage, a baby (or babies) and not everything going “as planned”. It is well because I have welcomed a Peace that surpasses understanding, Peace that walks me through the pain as I process all that’s come my way. With corona here, I don’t know what’s in store for us as a town, state, nation and world, so I will take the necessary precautions, but I have chosen Peace and all is well with my soul. It is well is a deep knowing in my core and regardless of what occurs externally…it is well with my soul. It is well within me. I am well and at Peace. 

Each of us are unique, so what best speaks to our hearts…what helps to remind us that we can choose to be well in our soul may vary. A few of the things that help me to remember and come back to embracing it.is.well are: being still, journaling, meditating (on verses and affirmations), singing, taking full/deep/focused breaths, sitting with/holding/slowly sipping a cup of hot tea, praying, cradling (and singing to) my spoiled Manx (cat).

Common Day Hero: Taking in a teen, who was from a different culture but in need of a home, losing a business after decades of investing so much of yourself, losing savings and retirement, caring for an ailing parent, grieving the loss of said parent, a house fire (where almost everything was lost), caring for a spouse after a terrible accident, cancer, working with  little (but always generous) and experiencing a number of other difficulties/losses…still, you modeled and continue to model it is well with my soul. You’re real in sharing the painful and the Peace through the pain. I dedicate this post to you, Jada, my vanilla mom. Your grandkids and son-in-law joined me in voting for you, without knowing that I’d voted for you! That speaks volumes…shows just how much you model it.is.well!

I don’t know how many of us feel this, but there are times that I don’t know if the words I’m typing are most accurately relaying what I’m feeling. This is one of those times (now that it’s out there, do I need to make an announcement every time I feel this way?!). Here goes!

Since 2015, my family began gathering for circle time in our own home. Circle time is our spiritual gathering -sometimes we sit around our dining table which is square! Our heart behind “circle time” is that we are all equal before the Divine. As a family, we made a decision to give ourselves and our kids a space to simply be…a space to breathe…stretch…grow. We play songs that encourage and uplift our hearts; songs that have us dancing, swaying, palms  up or hands raised as well as songs that move us to tears…of gratitude, joy and sadness. Songs that summon us to bring our best daily, to surrender to the Divine plan unfolding, to extend grace. We share our hearts with each other – the challenging and disappointing as well as the exciting. We ask the difficult questions. We pray for and with each other. We listen to inspirational and/or spiritually challenging messages together. We take deep breaths together. At times, other individuals and/or families join us. Regardless, our family has seen (and continues to see) how grounding and important this time is, so we choose to prioritize the spiritual and commit to a weekly circle time.

My husband and I grew up in very strong, legalistic, religious circles. I believe the initial intent of the groups may have been good, but somewhere along the road, it became more important to look, think and behave a certain way…a way that required us to conform, a way that was determined by our elders, a way that was enforced with anxiety, fear, control, manipulation and other negative measures, but always labeled “speaking the truth in love”. I was raised to perform for the adults around me although the words that were used had me (and other children) believing it was “all for God”.

As I got older, what I had witnessed growing up became the way I approached spirituality. I continued to perform in a way that I believed was expected of me. In any situation, I filled the air – with a prayer, a Proverb (wise saying), words of comfort…or correction, a solution of some sort. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that I was carrying a very heavy weight…a pressure to “fix” or guide or appear spiritually sound. I genuinely cared for others, but I didn’t take the time to be still and truly listen to what was on my heart. My personal belief is that the work of the Divine begins in our hearts; some of us have made it all about the brain (intellect/logic). The work from head to heart is quite a journey, but well worth it. I began to really hear the whispers of the Divine and value speaking only when led.

Our family walked through a process to redefine what a weekly spiritual gathering would look like for us. We didn’t feed the need to look traditional or be limited to what we saw around us or meet the approval of others. We began fully exploring, facing truth and giving ourselves space to breathe…stretch…grow. I believe that a healthy spiritual community will be inviting, loving, welcoming of all the questions (including the difficult ones), challenging and modeling a heart of service.

Common Day Hero: I dedicate this post to my dear Mitzi. Childhood friend. Prayer warrior. Patient with all my questions – political, religious, societal -and truthful with all her answers.

I grew up with “either-or” and for most of my life didn’t know any other way…then my dad relocated from earth and every.thing unraveled. I began learning to live with “both-and”.

Heartache and hope can coexist. Depression and delight can coexist.
Guilt and gratitude can coexist. Lament and laughter can coexist. Sugar and spice can coexist. Fear and faith can coexist. Trust and terror can coexist.

I miss my dad more than I can express and some days, so badly wish he was here coexists with I am happy he is whole and free now.

Suffering inexplicable physical pain seems my daily fate coexists with I believe in the miraculous and healing power of The Divine.

Our family has had a shitty day/month/year coexists with the comfort of knowing that The Sovereign One has us.

I have been paralyzed by fear at the thought of tragedy touching the lives of my children coexists with I am moving forward (in and by faith) to open my heart and fully enjoy motherhood.

The time has come for my mother to no longer be the  primary caretaker of my sister (who has autism) coexists with I haven’t seen anyone keep my sister as physically clean as my mother kept her…sigh.

This year has been hell in my marriage coexists with I believe heaven is still for and with me through all of this.

A male cat can coexist with a female dog – yes, we are that family…apologies neighbors. We are a unique blend of breeds and personalities co-existing amicably despite the opinions and perceptions of others!

In recent years, I began embracing “both-and”…a space where the seemingly opposite and sometimes contradictory coexists in a way that our minds may never understand but our hearts see/know…or we may never be able to reconcile; it simply is.

Common Day Hero: I couldn’t begin to understand the depth of your love for your husband and family when I was a kid. I couldn’t reconcile your voice (like thunder when upset, but many other times, comforting and sweet). I wasn’t able to see you when you transitioned into the next life and all these years later, it hurts more. Only years after I was married, did I begin to see how fierce, loyal, brave and kind you were. I see you in me and I am grateful for the imprint of your life on mine. I dedicate this post to you, my Ammachi (Grandma), Janamma, mother of my dad.

A seed falls into the ground.

Dirt. SO much dirt is placed on top of the seed. It is crushing.

The seed feels like it’s dying. Time passes. SO much time.

Then comes the water. SO much water…falling from the sky; just lightly tapping the ground at first, but soon it is so loud the seed feels afraid. Thunder shakes the seed to its core. What is happening out there? It’s all darkness in here and everything seems SO loud and scary and…far away.

The seed opens up. The casing is stripped away. A seedling is born! Pushing past the mounds of dirt, the seedling (now a new plant) emerges. What was necessary to protect and preserve life can no longer be where the seed remains. The seedling must come out of the earth and into the open…into the light of the Sun.

The young new plant feels the scorching heat of the sun, the heavy rains mid-spring, the forceful and back-breaking winds of the fall, the shiver-to-your-bones-cold of winter. Now and then the young plant wishes for just a little more dirt…to cover up some, to feel warm and clothed and “safe” again, but then the plant remembers the darkness…the plant has pushed past what it once thought was too big, too scary, too much weight. The plant has gained strength through struggle and now anchored itself in what used to contain it!

The plant continues to grow…taller, stronger, deeper and as the days pass, the plant evolves into a tree. Seasons change, the tree remains.

The tree reminds itself that out here -in the open, under the vast sky that yields sun, rain, wind and snow, it will continue to grow and stand tall. What the tree alone knows is how deep its roots go…all the way down where the darkness had it believing light would never come again, on the side of that cool river that brings life and into some rich, deep, love-filled soil. Many leaves may have fallen or been plucked off this tree, a few pieces of ribbon still hanging from the places people tied them on it, its side may be carved into or cut, but it is rooted so deep that it provides shade (rest), a home (safe place) for many little creatures and humans and some days, firewood (warmth) for weary travelers.

I AM that seed that became a seedling then a plant and now the full, robust, shade-giving, confidently swaying tree. I’ll always have some knots that need work, scars that make for good stories and some who don’t like the kind of tree I am, but I’m finally good with it. I’m at peace with the me I was created to be because what flows far beneath the surface are my roots…roots that run so deep and wide. My true identity is that I am rooted, grounded and forever secure in The Divine…my identity isn’t tied to anything external -it’s in the roots! Wherever you are on the journey – cursing at the heat of the sun, swaying in the wind, dancing in the rain or keeping your head down (and your heart hidden away) because the winter has taken too many leaves and branches or too much has been carved or cut – it is alright. I have embraced this truth from childhood, I will be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river and will not fear when heat comes, but its leaf will be green and will not be anxious in the year of drought or stop yielding fruit. Book of Jeremiah, chapter 17, verse 8 (The Bible). I’ve also heard this saying, but don’t know the source (thank you, unknown) “Be like a tree – stay grounded, connect with your roots, bend before you break and keep growing.”

Take comfort, dear heart, the process is a process for us all. The length or type of process may vary, but we all face it. Through every storm, season and stage, we gain strength and our roots grow deeper and wider. And come what may, we’ll keep staying rooted and secure in love.

Common Day Hero: This week marked my father’s fifth birthday in heaven. While he was on earth, I was quick to point out his negatives. The year he relocated, I began wishing I’d praised him more. I wrote out a list of all the good and cried so much that I couldn’t see his face and share it in person. I dedicate this post to the man who loved so deeply, but wasn’t the best at expressing it and because of that, was misunderstood quite a bit…the man whose good qualities continue to live on through me (and many others). I love and miss you SO much, Dad.

You may have heard the saying, it takes a village to raise a child. My personal experience is that “it takes a village” applies to much more than raising children.

When my friend Anissa saw my struggle with sugar, she wrote out a detox plan (that she found online) and committed to walk through the process with me. She sent podcasts, shared and asked for progress “reports”. A let’s detox together friend. It takes a village.

When my friend Dieula heard that I was contemplating a blog and Vlog, she surprised me by saying, “I’ve been waiting on you.” I had no idea she believed in my voice! She showed me how to create a YouTube channel. I’m talkin’ every little detail of setting up an account and creating a podcast (no, I haven’t completed setting up my account and I haven’t made a video yet! Imma get there!). Get the job done friend. It takes a village.

When I decided, at 38, that I wanted to go back to college and complete a Bachelors in Sociology, multiple friends supported me with prayers, encouraging words, snacks and at times, baby-sitting services! My husband stepped in to help in any way I needed and yes, he also asked, “why didn’t you choose a field that would bring us more money?” But then he paid for my degree (Hallelujah! Thank you LORDT!). He my ride or die (yah Ma, I’m aware that’s grammatically incorrect…this blog gonna be full of those!). It takes a village.

When my friend Guyatri heard that my father had relocated from earth, she was at my door, hugging and promising homemade wonton soup (yes, she later delivered a stock pot of deliciousness!). She has shown up countless times in my life…to simply be with me and my family, in joy or pain. A here for it all friend. It takes a village.

When my friends Jin and Emily heard that I wanted a healthier lifestyle, they began sharing videos, prayers, helpful food and exercise tips. Jin called me EVERY day for a month! Emily called or texted once a week. Physical and mental health-check friends. It takes a village.

When my friend Janice heard that we were moving, she brought boxes and helped us pack. At the new house, she helped with design ideas, hung photos and paintings and made several trips to the store with us. We’ve been friends for more than twenty years, so not enough space here for all the stories! A forever friend. It takes a village.

When my friend Susie and I get together, she will always ask how I’m really doing. I am the unofficial “counselor” to many around me, but she sees ME. She hears me. She makes it a point to check-in on my heart. She celebrates me and every birthday she has been extremely kind (read: over-the-top!) to me. A highs and lows friend. It takes a village.

When my friend Toya heard my heart for hosting spiritual retreats for women, she jumped in (probably before really understanding just how much was involved!) and has continued to be a make ideas come to life friend. It takes a village.

When my friend Diane hears that I’m singing or speaking, she makes the drive to see me. Over the past twenty-one years, this has been such an encouragement to me. She has typically always brought her mom who is equally supportive and always has a kind word for me. My little support team. It takes a village.

I’ve heard it said many times that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. I grew up hearing “We have this treasure in earthen vessels” 2 Corinthians chapter 4, verse 7 (The Bible). Oprah says, “You have no life without a spiritual life.” I believe it; I have witnessed miracles because of many prayers – my own and those around me. My mom, Kamala and my vanilla mom, Jada (see the story here!) are pray till it rains people. It takes a village.

I believe we would all benefit from a no BS friend, a pray till it rains person, a highs and lows friend, a ride or die, a health-check friend (mental, emotional, spiritual, physical), an all-weather friend, a let’s detox together friend, a forever friend, a support team, a get the job done friend and…a plethora of other friends in our circles, tribes…village!

We were created to be a part of a village. To belong. To feel. To be seen…heard…affirmed. Through the years, I have been a part of damaging/destructive and at times, well-intentioned-but still harmful villages, which led to isolating myself. At some point, I missed having a village, so I opened my heart and began creating my own. Each of us has unique gifts to bring to the table, so we have a seat at the table, partake with what’s on and around the table and then take our experiences from the table into our world.

It takes a Village!

Common Day Hero: To my friends, not enough space to list each of you here, but this February, the love month, my heart is full because of your love, your presence, your prayers and good vibes. I am grateful. I am here (totally present) because of your influence on my journey. A toast to friends…a prayer and praise for this village!

We are created equal. None above us. None beneath us. Equal.

I believe each of us are created with intrinsic worth and value. I haven’t always felt love or worth for myself. I began taking steps to fully embrace this just a few years ago and my hope is that each of us begins the journey of embracing how much the Divine truly loves us.

“Love your neighbor” is a common saying that I’ve heard so often, especially in the South. On a flight, in my early twenties, when the airlines staff reminded us that in case of an in-flight emergency, we were to place our own oxygen mask on before helping others, I had an “aha” moment. I’d heard that sentence many times (been traveling since I was three months old, thank you Dad!) but until that moment, it hadn’t registered.

This was a Divine principle. St Mark, chapter 12, verse 31 (the Bible) states “Love your neighbor as yourself.” I have known this verse since childhood, but through the years, on several occasions, I heard people just say “love your neighbor”. The message I received was that I was to take care of those around me…anyone who needed my time or help. While that’s good, what I didn’t hear was the whole message. I didn’t hear anyone saying that I needed to first take care of myself. I didn’t see anyone model loving one’s self so that we can then best care for others, from a healthy space.  The truth is that I can only be as good to my neighbor as I am to myself.

Who are my neighbors? Everyone…those across the street and around our world – our fellow humans. It is imperative that I put my own oxygen mask on so that I can breathe…stabilize and then help my neighbors. Oxygen for me has looked different depending on the season of life.  Going to therapy, seeing a licensed professional counselor, journaling, practicing mindfulness, singing, dancing, walking, sitting in nature, meditating (on verses, lyrics, positive quotes), drawing, sketching and painting are some of the items on my oxygen list.

Today is Valentine’s Day! For me, it is a day to celebrate the love that bridges heaven and earth, the finite with the Infinite, love of one’s self, love of family, friends, significant others and our precious furry ones! Some of us make romantic relationships the focus of this day; I believe this keeps us from fully celebrating and loving ourselves as well as the many other relationships in our lives. This Valentine’s Day, romance or not, significant other or not, regardless of where we are on the journey, may we commit to love and care for ourselves well…give fully to ourselves the way we would to a friend…and enjoy this moment.

I AM loved by the Divine…and so are you, dear!

Common Day Hero: To all who feel pressured by family, friends, other circles (or your own mind) to quickly find a significant other or settle…Breathe. Rest. Love yourself well. I dedicate this post to you.