Revisit and Revise

Generally speaking, I would prefer people not to touch me, but lately, I’ve been feeling like I need a laying on of hands. If you’re unfamiliar with the practice, it is when the faithful encircle a brother or sister, and stretch out their hands and pray for and speak well over a brother or sister in the faith. It has taken on several secular meanings, but we will not go into those here. (But if that’s where your mind went when you read this, you’re my kind of people.)

Anyway this quest for a spiritual touch lead me to look for my copy of “for colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf.” I was upset that I couldn’t find my copy, so I did what any modern girl who already has too much stuff would do. I ordered another copy on Amazon. When I got the new copy, the book was noticeably thicker than my original copy. I flipped through it and found notes from the author, and several pictures from more recent film and stage adaptations of the book.

You should know that “for colored girls” is nearly as sacred to me as the holy writ. I know “Somebody almost walked off with all of my stuff” almost as well as I know the 23rd Psalm. The choreopoem was as important to my formative years as was every Sunday school lesson I ever learned. Just as the Bible was God’s love letter to God’s people, for colored girls was a love letter to black women. I’m not ashamed to say I have read the entirety of this great work by Ntozake Shange many more times than I have read the Bible cover to cover.

I revisit the book probably once a year. So I was taken aback when I came across a poem I hadn’t read before. Taken aback isn’t the right word here. I was confused. You ever heard a preacher take his text and be surprised, because you’ve never heard the words before? That was me, flipping back and forth through these familiar pages, trying to figure out where those words came from. I stopped, and went to the front of book, only to find that the author, Ms. Her Own Things, herself, had added this poem, and changed a few things about the most heartbreaking poem in the whole book.

So now I’m not taken aback. I’m mad. How dare she? This book was a gift to every little colored girl in every corner of the world. At least, it was a love letter to all the little colored girls in my corner of the world. Changing it upset me. It made me grieve for what was there before the change. I have trouble adjusting to this new reality. I don’t like it.

But you know what? Sister Shange has what is called authorial privilege. Simply stated, she wrote it. She has the right to change it. She can add or delete whatever she wants. I don’t have to like it. And no matter how much I felt like it belonged to me, it’s her story, not mine. She can change it any way and any time she wants.

We are halfway through 2021 and I think it’s time to revisit, and possibly revise our goals. My weight loss goal for the year seems a lot less realistic than it did in January when I wrote it. I’ve got some professional goals for this month that don’t seem plausible in the next couple of days. The power of the pen gives me the opportunity to cross out and rewrite any of the things on my list. So take a note or two from the goddess of the choreopoem. You own the rights to your story . It doesn’t matter whether or not any one else likes it. Revisit and revise as often as YOU see fit.

Too Late!

I am notoriously late for almost everything. At work, you can count on me coming in two minutes after the meeting has started. When I had to leave my house for church, I would leave about 5 minutes before church was supposed to start, knowing full well it takes 10 minutes to get my kids in the car, and another 15 minutes to get to church. (I could tell you how mad I would be when I got to the building and church hadn’t started yet, but that’s another blog for another day.)

Anyway, this spirit of tardiness has been haunting me today, because I’m starting too feel like I might be too late. I am squarely fitting into that middle age category now, and I’m worried that I waited too long. Gone are the days when I had plenty of time to correct the mistakes of my twenties. The discovery age of my thirties is now in the rearview mirror. I’m smack in the middle of my forties, and I’m still not sure what I am doing with my life. And while I am certainly not in the mid-life crisis stage, yet, I do have some questions: Am I too late to try to write my book? Is it crazy to try jump into another career? Is it too late to pursue the dream? At this point do I even remember what the dream was.

And then I thought of Sarai, the wife of Abraham, receiving the word of the Lord that she would have a baby at the age of 90, and laughing with her whole heart. Even at 90, the Lord saw fit not just to change her name, but change her whole life. Can you imagine having one name for your entire life, only to think your life is winding down and get not one, but two new names? Sarah and Mom. The Lord can completely change your life with just a word.

It’s not too late. You can still become Mrs. and mother. You can still be owner and operator. The world is waiting on you to be Doctor and Diva, or whatever else you feel called to be.

The word and world are both waiting on you. I promise, it’s not too late.

Cards, Candy, and Crap, It’s Cold!

I do not like Valentine’s Day. It usually consists of me running around trying to by cards for every kid in multiple classes. I also try to get something nice for my own kids. My husband doesn’t celebrate, but I do usually pick up one of his favorite candies from the store. I usually also buy myself a little something, too, because I know nobody else is going to get me a gift. That’s not 100 percent accurate. At least one of the kids always makes me something heart-shaped and heartfelt. So I don’t complain.

A few years ago, I was hit with a medical emergency on Valentine’s Day. The sun was about to rise, and I thought I might die on the side of the highway on the road to the ER. I am fiercely independent and slightly insane, so I drove myself, in tears, to the local hospital. I have never felt more loved than I did on that day…but still, it kind of sucked. I woke up thinking I was going on a romantic date, and found myself in emergency surgery. Since, then, I’ve made an effort to treat myself, (and the people I love) well on February 14.

This year, I was going to take my husband to brunch, but I woke up and saw that the the temperature was below zero degrees. I pulled the cover back over my head. I love my family, but I don’t do cold weather. I haven’t gone outside in days. I don’t check the mail. I don’t answer the door when the delivery people knock. I try to stay away from the windows. I do not believe it is the Lord’s will for my life to be cold.

This year, it’ not just cold. It’s actually warmer in the North Pole than it was in my hometown of Kansas City, on Sunday. That’s ridiculous. There is snow on the ground in Dallas and Little Rock. “It’s snowing down south,” is supposed to be an expression that church ladies say when your slip is showing. It is not supposed to be a statement of fact! That being said, nobody got cards or candy this year. I didn’t buy myself a special dinner. I spent all my energy trying to keep warm…which apparently was wise, since electric and gas companies across the region are doing rolling blackouts to avoid overwhelming the power grid.

And as mad as I am about not getting Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Sweetarts (r) in the shapes of hearts, at least I’m not sitting in the ER, doubled over in pain. However, you spent this made up holiday, I hope you were safe and warm, and not in the ER. And if you were in the ER on Valentine’s Day, I’m glad you’re still around to read this.

With Love,

G. Radford

On Civic Duty

I, myself, try to be a good citizen. I pay my taxes. I follow the rules, for the most part, and I try to stay abreast of what’s going on in my community. To that end, I decided to “attend” a virtual school board meeting last week. I want to tell you that it was informative and enlightening. It was not. Here are a few things that I learned while trying to be a concerned citizen.

5) Time is not of the essence. The board meeting that I attended lasted a full five hours. That’s a huge time commitment to ask of any person. It is especially difficult for parents to find that kind of time on a weeknight. The board is constantly coming up with programs to improve parent engagement, but their own meetings were not welcoming to parents at all. I think we were in session for nearly four hours before we had our first break, and it was five minutes.

4) Nobody has come up with a better way to run a meeting in nearly 150 years. I don’t know if this is a good thing or not. The first edition of Roberts Rules of Order was published in 1876. We had a copy of the handbook in my house growing up. Both my parents were union representatives, so I learned the procedure for crafting an agenda and parliamentary procedure early in life. I’m a fan of the rules. I think they are helpful tool in controlling the discussion, but that they haven’t

3). Some of our representatives do not represent us very well. The main thing I learned at this meeting is that there was one member of the board that I just didn’t like. Apparently she’s been involved in school board politics for a long time, and many district employees and community activists are aware of her antics. She was instrumental in a couple of board decisions that turned out to be disastrous for the district, and she still managed to be reelected. I’m pretty sure this happens in every area of government. People can be ineffective, or worst, be effective in ways that are terrible for their constituents and still get enough votes to retain their positions. There are no term limits for most elected officials.

2) Service is a sacrifice. I know I have mentioned this before, but the meeting was five full hours. Our board has several retired district employees, and as the hours crept on, a few of them looked like they would keel over at any second. When the meeting finally did end, it was after 10:00, which was past my bedtime. We took two breaks, and the first one was literally 5 minutes! These public servants took time away from their own families, and whatever else they might have been doing to work for free on behalf of the children of this school district. Five hours of parliamentary procedure, and listening to people like me complain about all the things they are doing wrong ought to at least get you a couple of dollars…but nope! Service is often a thankless job. It shouldn’t be, but it is.

1) Clerks are the super-heroes of every committee. I watched this poor woman take attendance, and keep track of the votes. I didn’t see her roll her eyes when my least favorite member spoke out of turn. She didn’t chime in when I know she had an opinion about the topic being discussed. And God bless her, she even laughed when she looked at the clock and saw how late it was. It was her sweet voice encouraging members of the staff, telling them to hang in there because the meeting was almost over. I wanted to be her friend after this meeting…and that’s saying a lot because I don’t have many friends.

Thomas Jefferson said that our democracy is dependent on an informed electorate. I believe that our greatest civic duty is two-fold:

1) be informed about what our government is doing

2)make our agreement or dissension abundantly clear.

I can think of no greater example of how to do those two things well than Dr. King. But he took it one step further in trying do something about it. That is what good citizens do. Let’s all trying to be good citizens.

New and Improved!

Happy 2021!

Welcome to “The Gospel According to Gabrielle”.

I’m not here to give you a new year, new me diatribe. That’s great, if that’s what you’re doing. But y’all are getting the same old me that you had last year, with just a few tweaks. For instance, hopefully by the time any of you actually see me in real life, I will have lost a couple of pounds. But I still like to eat and drink way more than I should. You’ll still be getting whatever random thoughts that pop in my mind, but in a slightly different format.

It is my intent for this space to be both my safe space and my launching pad. I’m still not sure what that’s going to look like, but I hope you will join me on my journey.

You can still find me on Wednesdays over at http://www.thewriteaddiction.com. I try to keep that space inspirational, as I know that the church folks read all that.

http://www.mamarad.wordpress.com is still the main-hub for my thoughts on parenting in the pandemic and beyond.

But this space, is for the no-holds barred, withholding nothing, say it how you feel it crowd. There might be curse words. There might be crying. There will definitely be some craziness. You know, just like in real life.

Hope to talk to you soon,

Gabrielle