George Floyd. Another life…senselessly…mercilessly…horrifically ended. I have cried so many tears. sigh. 

When I was seventeen (mid-nineties!), I graduated from a small, private school in Vidor, Texas. This is the town where I first saw the KKK…not on a screen…live, on the side of the road and in their “uniforms”. I attended private schools from Pre-K through twelfth grade and had no idea what the KKK was. These schools didn’t teach about the dark side of the history of our state or nation.

The dark side…the inhumane treatment of Native Americans and how we almost made them extinct…the slavery, lynchings and innumerable atrocities against African Americans and the discrimination and concentration camps for Asian Americans…none of that was included in my history lessons.

When I got home that day (after seeing the KKK), I asked my biological mom why, since it wasn’t Halloween, were “ghosts” standing on the street? She said oh, people are crazy. I thought ok, I need to call that French Vanilla lady from church. The few interactions I had with her told me that she was a safe person.

I called her and she said, “Get over here now and we’ll talk about it.” When I reached her house, she told me if I saw anything like that again, not to make eye contact and not to stop. She knew how I like to talk and make friends with everyone. She answered all my questions. Yes, this is the woman who eventually became my dear French Vanilla Mom! Glad she was (and is) in my life. I was sad that day and felt so wronged for not being taught or told this prior. Guess I should also explain that my biological parents didn’t let me watch TV except for Sesame Street, Reading Rainbow, the occasional spiritually-bent movie and Strawberry Shortcake!

I have experienced kindness from all flavors/people groups, so I know that we have good and not-so-great in ALL races. Some of us are related to people who condone, enable, agree with or propagate prejudice, racism and supremacy of certain groups. We can’t choose our families of origin, but we can choose a different path than any negative ones in which we may have been raised.

For quite some time now, I’ve been wondering…how can our family be (even a small) part of the solution?

Some points we’re considering: Are we speaking up so that our sphere of influence is more aware of subtle prejudices? Are we in groups that challenge us to see/face our implicit biases? Do people of a different ethnicity, religion, background have to “prove” themselves to be a part of our circe? If we are in positions to hire people, do credentials or names and ethnicity influence our decision-making process? When presented with a story, is our first thought incriminating if it involves a person of color? At the thought of our children interracially dating/marrying, are we delighted or fearful? Do we have access to people in power? If so, are we having the difficult conversations necessary to bring change? Are we willing to open our hearts and minds, genuinely listen and change accordingly so that others can see/feel/know that all lives really matter?

I believe we are all ONE family…an array of stunning colors, a variety of flavors bringing our unique backgrounds and beauty to create a magnificent tapestry with ONE voice…an inclusive voice where ALL are truly heard.

My dear European American/Caucasian friends and all friends with connections (regardless of race), we desperately NEED one another now! Will we use our voice for those voices who aren’t being heard even now? Will we use our privilege for those who aren’t as privileged? Will we use our influence for those whom only WE can influence? Will we use our breath for those who Can’t Breathe? It’s really late…but not too late!

Suggestions:

Read books about the experience of cultures (other than our own) in America.

Watch documentaries and movies about individual/collective experiences of cultures (other than our own) in America.

Start a book club to discuss the experiences of those different from us in culture/background, religion, political views. Note and discuss the group’s thoughts and feelings.

Create a safe space for a diverse group: those who are open to explore, learn, grow and change (maybe commit to journal every bias/thought/feeling that comes up for thirty days and then discuss).

Add minority speakers to our podcast lists.

Become and/or support activists, policy makers, educators, spiritual leaders, change agents.

Check for local organizations who have been and are working diligently towards racial equality, equity and true reconciliation.

ALL of us die, if ONE of us can’t breathe.

Common Day Hero: Long before Facebook, Twitter and Insta, we were friends! You are generous, a trailblazer and patient with my atypical ways! LaToya, Victory of the People (insert raised fist!), I dedicate this post to you!

I grew up being compared…by my parents, peers, educators and at times, strangers. Most of the time, it was well-intentioned. Unfortunately, it always left me feeling “less than”…still, I boarded the comparison roller coaster as a young child and remained on it well into adulthood.

Sadly, it seems comparison is “acceptable”…even in spiritual circles. I believe comparison has no place with the Divine; however, society has us comparing and categorizing our fellow humans. A few comparisons that immediately come to my mind are:

Sinner vs Saint

Light vs Dark

Tall vs Short

Slim vs Wide etc…

I’ve heard, oh he comes from a great family, but I come from a dysfunctional home. I believe we all come from dysfunctional homes. It’s just the level of dysfunction that varies.

Anytime we compare, we are diminishing (maybe even unintentionally extinguishing) the light of one individual and elevating another. This realization was the catalyst in my decision to break ties with comparison.

Comparison also kept/keeps me far from contentment. That roller coaster had me feeling on top of the world one minute and in the inconsolable depths of despair the next. Just when I thought I was on steady ground, comparison would come along…

I found myself reeling until I made the connection that comparison was blocking me from being content. I need not concern myself with who is (or appears) more intelligent, in better shape physically, more spiritual, more stable or financially wealthy. I AM content with who I AM.

Every time I choose to turn away from comparison, I experience great contentment. I maintain that state of being content by reminding myself that I lack nothing. I have everything I need to be who I am created to be.

My personal belief is that each of us was created with intrinsic value and unique gifts/talents. The beauty of accepting that at my core is that any offering I choose to bring to the world can only come from me. No one else has the distinct bent and flair with which I was made, so I need not compare. I AM content!

If I find myself comparing my children, I immediately call myself out and apologize to them. Both of my children feel that comparison has been (and is) a hindrance rather than a help. I share their sentiment and make a conscious effort to refrain from comparing them.

Is comparison keeping us from living our lives to the fullest? Comparison will continue to creep up, but we are powerful people. We have a choice to stop comparing, catch ourselves comparing and change course…daily. We can do this!

Common Day Hero: Your acceptance and love has been (and is) refreshing. I AM grateful for our friendship. Susie, I dedicate this post to you.

Men…Mental…Menstrual cycle/Menses…Menopause

Notice the root word fa all our troubles…men! Kidding, I ain’t here to talk about men! Since the month of May is all about Mothers (ok, we only get a day, not a month!), thought I’d share my personal journey to motherhood.

Some girls grow up dreaming about becoming mothers. Some girls grow up dreaming about holding, rocking and caring for babies. Some girls grow up dreaming about the day they will make home-cooked meals for their family. All good things, but that just wasn’t me.

Growing up, I helped care for my older sister (who has autism and severe developmental delays). When I was ten, our family adopted a three-day old baby boy. My father was the first person to show me that all are welcome and that we are all part of a greater family.

At fifteen, I met a wonderful French Vanilla and Sauerkraut (read Caucasian/European American) family. At seventeen, they welcomed me into their home (full story another day!). They had three young children then, ages ten, six and three. The children were told, this is your new sister!

I love my two peach brothers, but I simply adored my spunky, silly and delightful sister. I took her everywhere I could. I remember getting some interesting stares and glares, at times, when just she and I roamed the town! It is this little girl with skin the color of cream and hair almost as brown as my skin, who confirmed my dream of adopting. I say confirmed because when my family of origin welcomed our beautiful little boy, the dream of adopting began.

Fast forward almost ten years, that little cream colored girl became a teenager and was a bridesmaid at my wedding! Niji knew that adoption ranked high on my list. Even if I gave birth, I wanted to adopt, but this was new territory for him. To his knowledge, no one in his family (including extended family) had adopted.

There was fear about whether the kids would want or love us. Fear about acceptance from family. Over time, Niji’s heart began opening to the idea of adoption. And when he felt sure about it, ALL hell seemed to come at me…fear that I wouldn’t be a good mother…doubt that I could ever be what the children needed…anxiety that Niji and I would repeat negative patterns from our families. Sigh. LONG sigh.

At the time, I didn’t know how to process all that was coming my way, but Niji was suddenly confident and excited about moving forward. We decided to adopt from Texas. Despite my fear, we began the classes required by the State and around ten months later, two kind and brave children moved into our home.

The people around us said we were good folks to rescue and help those in need. I must say my kids have also rescued me. Niji and I have made (and continue to make) quite a few mistakes (thus, the therapy fund!), but we do not hide from our mistakes. I made a commitment to apologize every.single.time I mess up.

Although I didn’t grow up dreaming about becoming a mother, I now know that motherhood is what I never knew I always needed. Life with kids led me to seek out help on healing childhood trauma, reclaiming my life and being the Mother I never dreamed I could be. My kids continue to help bring up what I need to face, acknowledge, work on and improve.

Dear Mothers,

I cry in front of my children. I explain why I’m sad (at their level…as much as I can). I take deep breaths with them. I name my grief with them (no matter how small it seems).

I answer the tough, uncomfortable and interesting questions. If something is too big for them to understand or process, I tell them that as they get older, I will explain more.

I pray for them always. As they get older, I pray with them (if they want).

In the car, I let them choose the music (most times!).

I didn’t grow up with choices, so I remind myself to give them choices because I want them to know that they are powerful people. None of us is powerless unless we choose to be.

I say all of this in hopes that you, dear mothers, will move forward with what is on your heart for your family. You are good. You are the best mother for your children because you were chosen by the Divine! You can seek help for any area you need. You are brave because you show up for the good, the not-so-great, the difficult…all of it.

I AM confident, free and living fully from my heart because of two answered prayers. A boy and a girl who were divinely orchestrated to be…mine!

Common Day Heroes: My cute, shy, curry brother, I am so grateful to have the privilege of being your older sister/Chechi. I love you. Push past every obstacle and pursue your gifts, talents and dreams. My spunky, silly and delightful sister, I love you. Dive fully into the dream within so the world can see that amazing spark and Light I’ve always seen. I dedicate this post to you, Lee Daniel and Mikayla Rachelle.

I’ve been an empath from as early as I can remember, but the culture I was immersed in and the religious/social circles of my parents, didn’t encourage this. In recent years, I’ve learned to embrace it…see the good in it and be confident in the gift that it is. I made a decision to be fully present in each situation and refrain from “fixing”.

Are there people or situations we find ourselves “fixing” or attempting to “fix”? Often, fixing is another form of control and/or manipulation. At times, “fixing” provides us a place of hiding. When we focus on “fixing” others, we avoid the deeper issues of our own hearts. Each of us is on a journey all our own.

Through the years, I have been misunderstood many times. I have betrayed my kind heart by saying words that were harsh or unnecessary. It was always an attempt to “rescue” or “fix” those whom I loved dearly, but I lost a few relationships along the way. I couldn’t understand why this was happening when my heart was always for people. Some of the losses are on me. Some aren’t.

It may be difficult to watch someone we love on a journey that doesn’t meet our expectations. It is painful to see someone we care about making unhealthy or harmful choices. Do we remain kind, dependable and available throughout the journey or are we harsh, distant and unavailable? Are we genuinely trusting the process of the path our loved one is traveling?

To be present, loving and in non-fixing mode takes many forms for me: sitting in silence together, engaging my heart and ears (to hear and feel), crying together, a hug or dap (depending on the individual…and now with ‘rona among us, just a wave from a distance or a video call!), mailing a card, texting a funny or kind thought, leaving something at the front door like: flowers, a meal, or a gift card for a meal (for those of us not called to cook!), praying, so many possibilities!

I use words only if and when I feel a gentle, but firm impression on my heart…The Voice of the Divine nudging me. And more than not, I ask questions…how, what, when questions (thank you Jin!). I have found that when an individual has to answer a question, it usually requires more thought and deeper inspection. Upon reflection, some will choose to be honest, others won’t, but I am learning to simply accept the answers I’m given.

Now that I have more consistently been living in this space of Freedom, not “fixing”, I AM fully enjoying all the relationships in my life. I AM free to breathe, relax, trust…and in turn, those around me experience a bit of that Freedom. I AM more confident in the Love of the Divine. I’m human and very flawed, but more than ever, trusting the Divine to do the work only heaven can (and will do!) now that I’m staying in my lane.

Common Day Hero: It’s been quite a journey, thus far and I’m grateful that through the years (“many dangers, toils and snares”!), our friendship has been a kick in the pants, a soothing balm, comedic relief, sweet like ice cream and whatever else we need it to be in the moment! Thankful that the Creator of the stars aligned our paths and happy you chose to stay on the path that intertwined with mine. Janice, I dedicate this post to you.

Covid-19/corona/’rona has altered our lives, to say the least. Some of us may not be suffering, but our lives have been disrupted. What we knew as typical for so long, has changed…forever. Sharing some suggestions here that I hope will be helpful, especially at this point on the journey…mid-‘rona.

Acknowledge the change.

Writing has been cathartic for me and I’ve heard many others say the same. Write your feelings, daily…what is difficult, what is/has been good, what seems daunting beyond measure. Just write – words, phrases, run-on sentences…all are welcome.

It is alright if we are not “okay”. We need not “fix” or “plan” – just jot down feelings. Making note of both negative and positive feelings may help to not be weighed down. For non-writers, how about writing just one sentence a day? Today, I feel…

If children are a part of your life, let them know that they can write, doodle, “angry” draw.

Accept the changes brought on by the change.

Take a deep/full breath (or three or thirty, throughout the day). If breathing techniques haven’t been a part of our lives, beginning and ending the day with a full/deep breath may be a good start.

Try this: after washing your face in the morning (or for night owls, after washing your face at night), do nothing. Really…n-o-t-h-i-n-g! Set a timer/alarm for seven minutes then sit back in a comfortable space and close your eyes if you want. Just sit…in a dimly lit (or naturally lit) place. When the seven minutes are over, take a deep/full breath (inhale and exhale slowly while seated) then stand up.

After standing, take another deep/full breath and stretch (while breathing in, reach up for the stars and stand all the way up on your tip-toes), hold your breath for four to seven seconds (if possible) then breathe out slowly (four to seven seconds) and gently go into work or cleaning or homeschooling or your morning/nightly routine.

Hug each person in your home (or dap or high-fives) before and/or after every meal. Go for a walk (a leisurely stroll to enjoy nature) or bike ride every morning and/or evening.

Set up “appointments” on the calendar to connect via video calls with family and friends. Bake or cook together then exchange with a friend or surprise someone with a text after leaving sweets/eats on their front porch!

Create an affirming, encouraging personal statement. Write it out in a bold/fun way. Place it on the bathroom mirror, nightstand or another prominent place. Read it out loud everyday (at the start and/or end of the day). Make it a family project if all family members want to participate.

Laughter is healing. Find things that make you laugh, daily.

Talk to a mentor, coach and/or licensed professional (help is available online).

Adjust to the change/s.

Now that some of us have much more time at home, things that we pushed down may come to the surface. Our society has us running/occupied/busy, but ‘rona may have us noticing some things…how can we adjust well?

If I need a nap, I take a nap. If I need to spend a minute looking at an image of the ocean or the smile of a loved one (including those who have relocated from earth), I do it. If I need to play the sounds of the ocean (or listen to some other sound/music), I do it. If I need to enjoy a tablespoon of peanut butter, hold my furry friend for five to fifty seconds, sing or step out on my back patio and take some deep breaths…whatever it is that I need, I do it. I now understand and feel the comfort, joy and stress of being home all the time!

What is it your heart needs? What adjustments can be made to keep our hearts and minds healthy? We are unique individuals, so what helps one may not help another. Find what helps your heart.

Common Day Heroes: You have remained kind and consistent. So much changed for you (even pre-corona) and many changes have been negative, but you remain positive. You are my greatest encouragers and I hope to be the same for you always. Regardless of what this life brings, I AM eternally for you, my adorable gifts from heaven. My brave Jade and sweet Evan, I dedicate this post to you.

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.