I struggle sharing my thoughts and feelings about things I haven’t figured out yet. I can spill my guts if God’s brought me to the other side. If there has been a victory of some sort. But I’m noticing when I’m smack dab in the middle of the darkness, I don’t share and I don’t ask for help. That’s control. That’s self righteousness. Maybe even pride. All silent killers and self limiting.

Sidni asked me a poignant question the very first time I met her. Why do you have to invite me to the table? I was taken aback. I had just met her. A mutual friend introduced us in passing. She said we should know each other. We chatted quickly about what we do. I learned she was in the business of gaining capital and building capacity for minority businesses. I worked for a big company that had a reputation for community building and philanthropy.

When I moved to Baton Rouge in the early 90’s and learned more about the East Baton Rouge Schools desegregation case, I was dumbfounded. This was the longest running desegregation case in U.S. history. I can remember watching local news stories about black students waking up extremely early to be bused across town to attend a white school. I thought that was stupid. In my experience, school was school. Why would you take a kid out of their neighborhood and place them in a school where they are the minority? What’s the purpose?

I trust people to love me when they need me. I don’t trust people to love me when they don’t. I’ve spent years working on this. Checking my motives is key. When I get back to a sick pattern of doing everything myself, I’m looking for a fight.

I want to share some thoughts but I’m scared. I want to keep the conversation going … past the Summer of 2020, past the election, past MLK Day. I’ve been told that as a white woman, I can’t talk about diversity. But it’s laying so heavy on my heart. So I do what I normally do and I say it out loud to see if the fear will go away or if God shuts me down. I did that several weeks ago by saying it out loud on my Instagram account.

How many times will He show me to wait on Him? Why do I rush to fix, to figure things out, to explain. Why do I believe I deserve closure in all things. Better yet, why do I believe my ways and especially my timelines are better than His? Because I’m still trying to control. Where is my trust … in Him or in Me?

I bought a real tree! I’m telling EVERYONE. I have surprised myself and I guess I want others to know what a big deal it is for me. Aren’t we just like kids when we want to be recognized?!

Sometime back, there was a picture of a dress circulating on social media. All the hoop-la was about what color you saw when you looked at it. I thought about that as I found this Meyer lemon on Gautreau Acres this morning. At first, I saw low hanging fruit. My first inclination was to pick it, cut it open and see how it taste … even though I knew it was still early. And then as I put my hand around it, a little whisper spoke to my spirit. To pick it now would be short sighted.

I’m still not fixed. But it doesn’t take as long these days. After testing positive for the flu Friday morning and getting some fluids, I’m finally feeling a little better.  After I finished my morning coffee, I walked into my home office and thought, OK, I feel better so let’s catch up on work. 

I’ve thought from a young age that I’m responsible for way more than I am. I did not think I was worthy of rest and relaxation. I struggle to watch a movie and do nothing … surely I can fold a load of laundry while I’m just sitting here. And although there were a few things going on in our household that emphasized this thinking … for the most part, it was just me.