The Skin We’re In

My husband, My Children,  My Brothers in law, My sisters in law, my nephews, my nieces, aunts, uncles, countless cousins, and many friends. AT ANYTIME ANY ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE LAYING DEAD IN THE STREET COULD BE SOMEONE I LOVE DEARLY AND DEEPLY AND FOR WHAT?? ALL FOR THE SKIN THEY’RE IN

We all wear this skin differently that is very clear. I wear my white skin very differently than most of my white counterparts. Even those that have their minds, eyes, hearts and ears, wide open to the dire problem in this country right now. I most defiantly wear it differently than those walking around with white blindfolds on. Eyes wide closed as I like to say. Even though I am very much aware, in tune and stand firm and with eyes wide open to the lives being taken at more than alarming rates in the streets of America I still have no idea what it must feel like to wear the black skin their in.

It’s not about skin color I hear over and over and over and maybe in some cases it’s not. Not maybe, I know in some cases there have been some amazing officers that have had to use lethal force in order to save their own life or the life of someone else. Here is where the water gets very muddy, even those good, honorable, incredible officers lose credibility when the cases of clear cut murder are going unprosecuted. I know so many people are going to hate these words and that’s ok because I am not here for a popularity contest, I am here to speak some truth. Good officers don’t deserve to have our backs turned on them, but black men don’t deserve to die on the streets for being black. The African American community doesn’t deserve to live in fear. THEY LIVE IN FEAR!!!!!

This blog today is about starting conversations. Starting a challenge that people would start asking questions. Most people don’t know how to help especially if this is not a world that you live in. Well here is where you start. Have a conversation with you children about injustice, about racism and the fact that it very much still exist today. Don’t turn a blind eye or ear just because it makes you uncomfortable, I promise you nothing is more uncomfortable than picking out caskets. Fear is what got us here so just jump and start the conversation. I beg and plead with you please stop turning a blind eye and pretending it does not happen and that the victims are the ones to blame because, while I am sure there is plenty of blame to go around there is only one person laying on the ground in a pool of blood. Officers are trained to work in high pressure situations. They are supposed to be trained to use their weapons. This is their job. There are thousands of officers that go out every single day and do not kill a single person, not one person. There are officers that go their entire career and never even fire their weapons, so why? These questions can’t just be left hanging in the air they need to be answered.

As I laid in bed with my husband last night and talked with him about the fear he feels when he leaves home every day I was overcome with a sadness that threatened to suffocate me. We talked about all the things he thinks about that could put him in contact with police and what he does to avoid that and I became disgusted, what country do we live in right now? I prayed God please don’t let my husbands car break down, don’t let him ever need assistance from the police for ANY reason because he is 6’5, 330 lbs. and I could not survive picking out a casket for him. We talked about the conversations we have had to  have with our children and will continue to have with them. As I drifted off to sleep with tears sliding down my face, I prayed for The family of Terrence Crutcher and like so many nights before with the names of so many people slain in the streets of the “Greatest Country on Earth” and I begged God that the next one wouldn’t be someone I love. Please God our nation needs you and only you can make this stop.

Go in peace and love, have conversations. Take it all to the Cross!!!

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Whose Life Matters!!

We all matter. God decided that. YOU don’t get to determine that. My friends don’t determine that, my children don’t determine that. God sent his only son, Jesus Christ to die on the cross for my sins, for all of our sins, and that is what determined that WE MATTER!!!! The Police should not get to decide that. For as long as I have known it however, there as been a consensus by most of society that black lives don’t matter as much as others. Actually let me rephrase that sentence, lives of color in general don’t seem to matter as much. Most white people don’t know the differences in the Latino communities, I will be honest I don’t. How about the Indian community, Hindu, East Indian? What about the Arabic cultures, they are all taliban right? Since the beginning of time people of color have been treated less than.

Do my sons deserve to walk down the street without fear of being stopped by the police? They deserve it but they don’t have it. My 10-year-old son is literally the size of the average grown man. He is 5’3 165 lbs, and guess what, like most 10-year-old boys he likes to play with toy guns and when he is with his cousins, my nephews he even plays with their BB guns/pellet guns. What is to keep someone from calling the police on my son and what is to keep him from being the next Tamir Rice? #BLACKLIVESMATTER

 So what about Briana, everyone that reads this probably knows my incredible 14-year-old daughter. She probably babysits for you or maybe she is with your child in Life Kids, maybe you have heard about her from someone else or maybe you simply had her in class. Regardless how you have come to know her you know that she is the sweetest, most loving, respectful, helpful teenage girl you will probably ever meet. She is the girl you want your daughter to be friends with, the girl you want your son to date, but guess what that police man who sees those rowdy teenage kids on the corner doesn’t know any of that about her. All he knows is that in a community full of predominately upper middle class white kids she is the black girl in the group and often times more than not she is going to be the one that they decided to question. What is to keep her from being next? #BLACKLIVESMATTER

Meet my husband Brian, the first thing that everyone that meets him says about him is that his smile fills the room. He is truly a huge teddy bear. He loves with all that he is. He has a laugh that can be heard from miles away. Once you meet him you never forget him because he has a God filled spirit that is one of the most beautiful spirits I have ever experienced. My husband doesn’t just always drive the speed limit but he drives under it, just in case. Any time there is an issue or a complaint to be made at an establishment he stands particularly farther back than necessary just in case. In a discussion in public that might become heated he always stands with his hands folded in front of him just in case even when he isn’t involved in the discussion. My husband is also 6’5 300 lbs and as per previous situation’s resulted in the police killing Eric Garner apparently his size alone makes him a deadly threat regardless if he has an actual weapon or not. What is to keep him from being next? #BLACKLIVESMATTER

If at anytime you have thought to yourself it is not just black lives that matter but all lives that matter, I will say this to you, as I stated above yes we all matter God made that decision; however it’s not killing season on your children, your husbands, your family. This doesn’t just affect my direct house hold. I have  2 Brother and sisters in law, 5 nephews 1 niece and countless cousins that are black and any one of the above situations could be them as well.  

As I have sat and wrote this 11 police officers, 4 of which have lost their lives in Dallas tonight. That broke my heart even more than it is already broken. I can promise you this, The families of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile did not want this. The killing of police officers goes against the very change that we all want. The movement #BLACKLIVESMATTER isn’t saying that no other lives matter, it is saying we matter to, stop devaluing us so much that you will shoot us down in the street unarmed in front of our wives, husband and children. It is saying we matter as much as our white counter part. So killing police officers goes against those direct message’s because  guess what there are black men and women on the police force and before they are cops they are black and their lives matter black and blue!

I want to end this by saying this, if you in any way think that this isn’t a race issue or that this issue doesn’t exist I ask that you kindly exit my life. I don’t want you here in our good times and should any of the unthinkable from the above happen I do not want you in my face being fake acting like you support me or my family in our darkness. I do not expect anyone who does not live with this reality to ever really understand, but what I do expect is that if you choose to stay in our life and be apart of our family is for you to acknowledge that this is a reality regardless if you  get it or not. We ask for your support and most of all if you spend time with our children without us please educate yourselves on how you should handle any situations that may arise involving our children regarding these types of  situations.  

Tonight I pray for the fallen police officers and their families. For the righteous officers across our country that go out on our streets to honorably protect us. For the families of Alton and Philando and all those that were senselessly murdered before them.  For the African-American Community that needs protection more than ever, they need healing and peace. Most of all I pray for the calm and peace that can only come from our heavenly father, our nation is in great need of you right now.

THE 5 BLACK LIVES IN MY LIFE MATTER

WE NEED TO DO BETTER

 

 

 

 

Just One Second, This Second

I have felt this grief before, I have felt this deep longing this deep deep ache that seeps down all the way to the pit of my soul. So deep that I can’t catch my breath. I literally can not take a breath in that moment. I felt it the moment my mom took her last breath. I walked out into her front yard and with my friend in front of my and my husband behind me, I exhaled. I released the pain that was anchoring me in that moment. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to have my mama back but I knew nothing on earth would change the fact that mere moments before I had laid next to her, held her in my arms as she walked in the arms of Jesus.

The next time I felt that grief was the moment I woke up from my 8th surgery. The surgery that I knew before I laid on that gurney would be the one that would take my foot. The nurses said my body was racked with sobs before I was even fully conscious. Just like the night in my mama’s front yard, there was that pain that had become so familiar, that ache that had made its home deep in my soul. I wanted more than anything to have my foot back but I knew nothing on earth would change that mere moments before I was a whole person and in that moment I laid in that bed less. No longer 2 feet but 1.

In that moment it was just one second at a time, that second.  4 days later I would have a revision to form my stump so I would lose even more of my leg, but it didn’t matter because nothing would hurt more than the moment I woke up from that 8th surgery and couldn’t take that breath. It’s been almost 10 years since my mom died and I still get those moments of deep grief where just for a moment, that one moment I want more than anything to have my mom back. I can’t catch my breath but I tell myself “just one second, this second.”

The last few days I have been having those moments. No matter what I do, no matter how bad I want it, I will never be able to grow a new leg. There is no hope for a cure when you are an amputee. On days like today when all I wanted to do was get up and walk around the church with my husband. I wanted to stand in front of the church back drop and take a picture. I don’t want to live another day in this chair. I look down at my one foot of painted toes and just want so badly, Father God please I just want my foot back. Yet I know that will never happen. And there it is, I can’t breathe, but just one second, this second is all I have to do.

If only people could understand that having and wearing a prosthetic isn’t that easy. If only it was as simple as some think and make it out to be, it’s an ok second choice if I could get into one that I can actually wear. Having one and not being able to use it is like a constant reminder that just out of my reach is freedom that I can’t have. But just breathe, one second, this second.

These collection of seconds are what get me through each day. The days when I just want to pull the blankets over my head and cry. Days like today, but I try to remind myself that everyone has something they struggle with and although it may be different for them it is just as serious to them as my amputation is to me. So I pray that their seconds help them get through their days a little easier. They being whoever is in my life dealing with something.

I miss things, I miss going on water slides, and wearing jeans. I miss doing things without having to worry about handicap accessibility. I miss walking beside my husband instead of always having him behind me pushing me.  I miss just feeling “normal.” I pray that my collection of seconds become less about that deep pain that takes my breath and becomes more about living life and capturing memories. I am tired of sitting on the sidelines, of letting that breath seizing, time stopping, soul pounding grief hold me back, I want to fully step in2 my destiny.