Tag Archives: family

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A Word on Names

I was infatuated with falling in love when I was younger. I was more than a bit boy crazy and I could imagine the beginning, middle and happily ever after of every relationship. It was intense. When I decided that a boy would fall in love with me, they had very little chance of outsmarting my plan. I chased them down and became irresistible.

I would see a guy before the bell for first period would ring. Once my target was identified, the infatuation would start with daydreaming. I could lose time thinking about their cuteness. I would barely pay attention in class because I would try to figure out how to catch his eye or slip him a note, unbeknownst to the teacher.

I would open my notebook and pretend to take notes. Instead I would be doodling my name and my crush’s name. The adrenaline that would pump through me as I considered if their last name “matched” my first was electric! It had to sound right to be a good fit.

Mrs. Rozella X

Mrs. X

Mr. and Mrs. X

Dr. and Mrs. X

After making sure our names matched and sounded perfect together, my imagination would take me off into the future. The perfect wedding, with the princess dress. The large wedding party with all of my best girlfriends perfectly in the most AMAZING bridesmaid’s dresses. I would make sure that my friends met his friends and that they looked heavenly together as they glided down the aisle during the ceremony. There may even be a love match or two. I was a benevolent friend in my dreams. After the wedding, we would have a reception that would go into the wee hours of the morning followed by a honeymoon filled with breathtaking sex and adventures. We would return home deeper in love and ready to conquer the world! See Exhibit A: Continue reading →

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A Word on Pain & Growth

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I don’t think growth happens without pain.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think pain is something that is prescribed in this life. As a person of Christian faith, I don’t believe that God desires us to go through painful situations, nor do I believe that God causes pain in our lives. I believe that pain is an inevitable part of living because we are human, we are broken and we care.

That being said, it is been my experience that times of growth are painful. Continue reading →

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A Word on Forgiveness

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My devotional reflection was on forgiveness this morning. I am reading Radical Grace, a collection of daily meditations by Franciscan contemplative guru Father Richard Rohr. I appreciate his take on so many things and this particular book has been an often used part of my devotional collection. The meditations are divided by church season and for the week after Easter, Rohr writes prayers to be recited by the reader. One such prayer is on forgiveness and the opening line resonates deeply with me:

Lamb of God we ask that we might be defense free people, that we might be able to live a truly disarmed life, that we might be able to be secure enough in your love, Jesus, to be insecure in this world, to let go, Lord.

The overarching theme of this prayer is about learning to forgive ourselves, but I’ve been thinking a lot about letting go and forgiving others recently. And I’m beginning to realize that forgiveness is all about vulnerability. Continue reading →

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I am My Sister’s Keeper

It’s become clear to me that a key aspect of my call is walk alongside women in particular as they discern what God is calling them to do, who God has created them to be and how to grow in love, compassion and grace of themselves.
My sister friends...

My sister friends…

I can’t help but think of the statement that those things we focus the most on, speak the most about, tend to be the things we struggle with the most. That is definitely true for me, dear shadow lovers. I talk about discernment and call because those are things that I have struggled greatly with over my life. I talk about compassion, self-love and grace because I am horrible at practicing these ways of being with myself and most days I don’t believe that I am worthy of receiving them. Now don’t get me wrong, I am a work in progress, paying attention to and working on my issues. But I spend so much time walking with others because at the end of the day, I don’t wish my feelings darkness, despair and loneliness on anyone. If I could help one less person, especially one less woman, not question their worth, not struggle with their intrinsic beauty and not doubt the love that our Creator God has given freely to each and every person, then my work, my life will not have been in vain.

Continue reading →

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An Ode to David: Live Life

On February 18, 2002, my cousin David committed suicide. David and my brother Cole were the same age. He would be 26 if he were still alive. It rocked my entire family and I still can’t believe he’s gone. This suicide prevention month, my brother and I have been talking about David – about his life and legacy – and want to share the importance of each life. Everyone is precious and no matter what you might be going through, please remember that there are people who love you, people who care, people who would never want you to feel like you are alone and that there isn’t hope. Please, live life. Please, seek help. Please, love yourself. You will be missed.

David, we love you and miss you so very much…

Love,

Roze & Cole

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To: David

From: Cole

It’s a true blessing to see another day. My cousin is an angel now and watches me so everything is ok. A life is precious so live it to the fullest. My cousin’s life, though short, taught me love yourself, there’s not substitution. Think three times not just once when making decisions because life is only lived once. Even though I can’t see you, I have faith in us. I feel your presence no matter what. You will always be missed. I live through you because it’s you I trust.

Herman “David” Davis III

May 29, 1987 – February 18, 2002

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For Everything There is a Season…

Today is Mother’s Day in the United States. It is a day that we celebrate our mothers. I have expanded my definition of mother to not just include my biological mother but also include the women in my life who “mother me” – those who provide guidance, encouragement, love, discipline, conviction and never-ending support. For me, these mothers are women of faith who care for themselves and their families. I am so grateful for each and every one of them.

Mother’s Day also brings out some darker emotions in me. I am a 31 soon-to-be- 32 year old divorcee who has yet to conceive a child. The assumption by most people is that I will have children at some point. I’ve always struggled with this because I am terrified of physically carrying a child and thoughts of what might happen to my fragile mental state paralyze me. I know now that I am at high risk for postpartum depression and other mental health issues because of my history. Pregnancy and the subsequent birth of a child will exacerbate these issues. However, there is something that happens this day each year, something that I’m quite ashamed to admit. I get a twinge of longing for the role and title of mother and feel like I’m not woman enough because I haven’t born a child. Then I feel guilty for focusing on myself on a day when so many others focus on the amazing women in their lives. And the cycle continues…So, I decided to write about my feelings today.

I had a glimpse of what it might be like to be a mother when I was married. My ex-husband has an amazing son from his first marriage and I was privileged to get to know this amazing child from the time he was three until he was ten. While he lived with his mother on a daily basis, he spent his summers and holidays with my ex-husband and I. During these times I fully embraced the mothering role and was amazed at how naturally certain things came to me. I began to care for and love this boy like he was my own. It was quite surprising to me and I lament that this relationship has been severed. I’ll probably write more on that later…

I’ve always struggled with what it means to be a woman. Is it defined by my gender? Is it defined by my participation in heteronormative relationships? Is it defined by certain characteristics? Is it defined by my role as wife? Is it defined by my role as mother? Is it defined by my desire to want to be a mother, wife or any other role that is lifted up as ideal?

Today at Shekinah Chapel, I heard a message that felt like it was meant just for me on this day. The preacher was a woman who preached on Proverbs 31. I must confess that this is one of my least favorite texts in scripture because of how it’s lifted up as how woman should be. I have always felt like if I’m not the Proverbs 31 woman, I am not woman at all. As the preacher began her message, I told myself to sit still and listen. And I am so glad I did.

The preacher talked about the text and connected it to the hats that we as women are expected to wear. She even used imagery at one point and placed six or seven different hats on her head. It was a powerful illustration because it showed how it’s not only impossible to wear more than one hat at a time but that it also looks just plain ludicrous. I appreciated this sermon on so many levels and my spirit resonated with the struggle that so many women face – to try and be all things to all people at all times and still maintain a certain attitude and character, which is often how Proverbs 31 is lifted up in communities of faith. Towards the end of the sermon, the preacher quoted Ecclesiastes 3 (see below) – For everything there is a season…

Before I knew it, tears started to fall. Even as I write this post, the tears well up in my eyes. But they are cleansing tears not tears of sorrow. I realized in the preached moment today that I am living in a certain season of life, one that has not called me to be a mother or a wife. I feel like I have always fought this reality and made apologies for why I was not living into these roles. Today, I felt like I had permission to shed any and every expectation of me that was not God given. God has blessed me in many ways and I know that I am walking in a season where I am called to be an advocate, a friend, a mentor, an aunt, a leader and a visionary. I am not called to be a mother or a wife right now. And for the first time, I truly believe that it’s ok…

For everything there is a season…

For those who have lost mothers…

For those who have had terrible relationships with their mothers…

For those who long to be a mother and their body’s won’t let them conceive…

For those who have suffered one or many miscarriages…

For those who feel like a failure because they have not become a mother…

For those who will never be mothers and don’t want to be…

For all women who struggle to define themselves against the ongoing tide of societal, cultural, familial expectation…

I pray. You are not alone.

Love,

Me

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

seasonsOfLifea time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time…

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-11

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(Not Quite) Daddy’s Little Girl

Unconditional love. Respect. Affirmation. These are the things that I have always wanted from my birth father. For most of my life, I have hitched my self esteem, my self worth and my self identity to his opinions of me. This has definitely been to my peril. What’s ironic about my desire for these things from my father is that he was not a permanent fixture in my life until I was fourteen years old. He didn’t have a track record of giving these things, but for some reason I constantly fantasized about a utopic relationship between us. Why is it that we seem to want the most from those who are least able to give it?

My father and I have a complicated relationship. I am the youngest of his four children by three different women.  My parents were not married when I was conceived and my mother decided to leave him shortly after my birth. I would see him from time to time but I don’t remember him being a steady presence in my life.  My mother met my step-father when I was three and married him when I was six years old. My younger brother was born and we relocated from New York to Texas. This move ended my visits with my birth father. With the exception of a handful of trips to New York, I don’t remember having a substantial relationship with my father before I was a teenager.

As I reflect on our history, it boggles my mind how much his absence affected me and influenced how I engage men in romantic relationships. One might think that I would not be seeking something that I never received but in my mind, I had created a fantasy about what it would be like if my father and I ever reconnected. This fantasy became a reality when my mother and step-father divorced. This was a traumatic time in my life that was overshadowed by the fact that my birth parents were reuniting and would eventually get married. I found myself in a broken state; one where I struggled with the loss of a relationship with my step-father, who had raised me and, at the same time, trying to be happy about the return of my birth father who I really didn’t know. It was a difficult time for everyone involved. I learned very quickly that the life I had envisioned with my birth father would not become a reality.

I had a revelation yesterday. It was actually quite painful but simultaneously liberating. Nothing I could ever become, say or do would engender the affirming and uplifting response that I so desperately seek from my father. And you know what? That’s my issue, not his. I have to come to terms with the fact that I have been looking for that which is life-giving in the wrong place, from the wrong person. For my sanity’s sake, I have to let go of this overwhelming desire to be “approved” of by my father. I am a thirty one year old woman who is finally letting go of something that has not served me well. I am choosing, on this day, that my self worth and identity will not be based on any external factors, particularly those that perpetuate negative and harmful ways of being.

I have never been the proverbial “Daddy’s little girl”. Nor will I ever be. And it’s not necessary that I am. For the first time in my life, I realize how important it is for me to create a new narrative, one that takes into account who I am and have been created to be, first and foremost by God.

I pray that I am able to remember that God created me and simply said, “It is good.”

I pray that my self worth and self esteem will no longer be based on what others think and that I will embrace that I am enough.

I pray that I am able to be in relationship with my father in a way that honors who we both are and leaves room for who we are not.

Love,

Me

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It’s not looking like Christmas…

I drove home in a fog tonight – literally. I left church and drove home through a fog so thick that I missed a turn and ended up on the other side of my neighborhood. It probably didn’t help that I was crying as well as driving through this fog. Today sucked and I hate that it did because I feel like I’ve been doing so well. That’s probably my problem – thinking that a few weeks of positive thinking somehow cures me of the reality that is my depression. I know better but it hit me hard tonight.

I spent the day by myself, trying to tell myself that all was ok. I was aware of my feelings – missing my family and wishing I was home. But being alone during the holidays triggered other thoughts. I sat with the fact that I am now divorced. No more extended family and friends Christmas parties. No more trading off the holidays, deciding which family we would be with for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years.

I spent the day watching movies and hanging out online, trying valiantly to get in the Christmas spirit. Seriously, thank God for social media. It helped me not feel so alone. I don’t know what I’d do without the virtual connection to my friends and family. I was determined to go to church tonight instead of burrowing under my covers and I am glad that I went. But as everyone bundled up to head home the feelings of loneliness and isolation overwhelmed me. I was going home to nothing, to no one. And I hate that it bothers me so much.

Christmas used to be my favorite time of year. Family, faith, fun and all sorts of traditions were a part of my reality. The past few years, Christmas has been the loneliest time of the year for me and I feel so bad that I seem to be overly focused on the negative. My brother tried to talk me out of my head tonight, but it didn’t work. Just for tonight, I feel sorry for myself. I mourn the loss of a life that I thought I had.

The thought that’s been recurring in my mind has been that I want to go home. All of my life, I’ve been running from home, wanting to put as much space between me and my family as humanly possible. But I can’t do this thing called life without them. When I try, it’s a much more difficult journey, one that is littered with periods of darkness and loneliness and sadness. I think it may be time for me to go home…

I know that this day is really about Jesus and I thank God that he saw fit to come be with us. Lord knows if I ever needed Emmanuel, it is right now…. I’m sorry to be so depressing on this Christmas Eve, but alas, I am depressed. To anyone out there struggling tonight, tomorrow, over the next few weeks, everyday, etc…, please know that you are not alone. Even as the tears fall from my eyes on this evening, I know that I am not the only one who is struggling.

It may not be a merry Christmas, but I pray for peace, comfort, healing and hope for us all…

Love,

Me

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A message from my Daddy…

On November 29, 2012 I published a blog post entitled “The Skin I’m In“. I couldn’t imagine the conversation it sparked and the positive feedback that it generated. The most significant thing that happened was that I received a message from my daddy that brought me to tears. You see, we have a very interesting history, one that I will share at another time. Since embarking on this journey of embracing my depression and coming clean with my family, my daddy and I have gotten much closer. We had very different upbringings and he has lived a very hard life. I continue to be in awe of him and his many accomplishments, not even realizing that we had some things in common. I asked if I could share his message with you and he agreed. I am so thankful that my post opened another pathway of communication and understanding between me and my daddy.

My dearest daughter,
I don’t know if I ever told you, but if I did not, I’m telling you now. As a 10 year old kid growing up in Harlem, I was often called little WHITE boy. Even now I am often referred to as WHITE man. However I understood at an early age that people who called and call me names were those who either were intimidated, jealous or unsure of themselves because I spoke better and I was more intelligent than they were. It all started in Harlem because I used to spend time in Queens where I actually spent nights in a house. So you see my darling daughter we have more in common than you might know. I am just happy that I understood this early in life. I am now happy that you have figured it out and that you are happy with the skin that you’re in. Just for the record, I’ve always teased you because I was able to identify. If you want me to stop, forget about it. 🙂

Love,
DaddyDaddy and Roze