Desperately Seeking Sanity

I Love Giving Homemade Gifts...Which One of the Kids Would You Like?

I quit my job.

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Some say you don’t make big decisions during Covid. I say life doesn’t stop just because there’s a “pandemic.” Yes. I put pandemic in quotes. Really, because it’s my blog and I can. I’m not negating that there is a virus, I’m just saying I’m not sure the world needs to be shut down. But I digress.

I quit my job. Not my youth pastor gig at the best. Church. Ever. But my one at the library. It hurt my heart, but I know that it was the right thing to do. My duties weren’t those that I was hired to do, and while that can be said of pretty much everyone at the library, for me, it’s not my calling.

But man, I loved that job. Or at least, what it was.

My dad says not to sweat it; that it was a part-time job that just didn’t work out and on the whole, that’s okay. But I will miss my people the most.

I know God is sending me elsewhere; a place where my gifts and talents can best be used in this time of uncertainty and a place where I can just be loved on while our family dynamic shifts a bit.

I’m sad. I’m excited. I’m terrified. I’m elated.

I’m all of those rolled into one.

But what I’m not (at least for the moment) is stressed.

And that’s so nice for once to not worry about.

So here’s to new beginnings and believing in a sending God…

and being ready to go.

After a Long Day.

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As a general rule, I don’t consume much soda or alcohol. Sure, at the moment, I’m a covenant leader within the Wesleyan denomination and therefore how vowed not to drink alcohol, but prior to that, I didn’t consume much. (I think that one trip to the Bahamas supplied all the alcohol I needed for the rest of my life… but I digress.)

But after a long day or a hard day, it not uncommon for me to come home and want a Coke. Not a Pepsi. Not Dr. Pepper. Not anything off brand, but a cold coke, in a glass, not a plastic cup, over ice.

Yes. That specific.

And today is one of those days. It’s not that it was hard, per se. Not even challenging. Just different. Ninety-five degrees. Mask wearing in and out of the building talking to patrons. I’m hot. I’ve been on my feet all day. I just wanted a Coke.

So I stopped on the way home and got one.

When I used to work at the Methodist Church and spent all day on Wednesday with the kids, I would leave the church and pick up Chinese for dinner and order a Coke.

It’s my beer. It’s my wine. It’s my reward for a long day.

So, if you see me out and about with a Coke… just know, it might not be the best time to ask me for anything. ::grin::

Immersed.

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I’ve been trying to pay attention to the world with a different set of eyes; trying to figure out what the root of the issue is. I truly believe many people don’t think they are a part of the problem but others think they are. Some of that comes from where you live, how you were raised, and general life experiences.

For example, at a faith walk in Hampton, Virginia with a friend, she said to me, “I had to research what it [racial demographics] were like elsewhere and I was shocked. I just assumed it was like here, but it’s not.”

No. It’s not. Just four hours away, the demographics of my city are vastly different than that of hers. In fact, a quick check on the census website shows that Hampton, VA is 50% black or African American alone and Roanoke, VA is just shy of 30%. That’s a big difference. (And quite honestly, I was shocked that Roanoke was that high just based on the circles I run in.) Source

For many, the world you find yourself in may be what they think the rest of the world looks like. My parents were adamant about making sure my brother and I saw the country and part of the world. They wanted us to know there was more to it than just where we lived. As Army brats, we lived at several different duty stations around the country, but we traveled so much.

In Hawaii I learned that (at the time – I don’t know if that’s still the case.. that was 35 years ago) they weren’t overly fond of military or mainlanders of which we were both. Living in off-base housing I once nearly drown. We were in the minority. We weren’t liked. No one came to my aid in the crowded pool.

In Philadelphia, I attended an all girls public school – The Philadelphia High School for Girls. I don’t know what the exact numbers were then, but this is what they are now and I imagine then it was pretty much the same. North Philly’s demographics haven’t changed that much over the past 20 years.

https://dashboards.philasd.org/extensions/philadelphia/index.html#/enrollment

I was in the minority. Like bottom of the barrel minority. I was entrenched in a culture that most weren’t.

I remember my first school fight. (Not one that I was in, rather that I witnessed). It was after school near the front steps of the school. Two gals were screaming and grabbing at one another (it’s so different than boy fights) and there were clumps of hair in their hands, presumably the other girls’, and for a white girl who knew no better, that was coming from their scalp.

No, just her weave. I know all about weaves, now. I know things african american women need to do to their hair or how to care for their hair. These are things I learned in school, not in the classroom but just because I did life with my classmates. Black, white, Asian, etc… we all stood around primping in the bathroom or locker mirrors. I was immersed in a culture that not many of my friends were.

Now, does that make me immune from saying things that I shouldn’t even if I mean nothing offensive by them? No! I cringe when I think back to some of the things that I asked my friends. I didn’t mean any harm by it, I was just curious. But I now know how that potentially made them feel. I’ve always been curious and asked questions. I’m grateful I had friends who loved me despite my questions, but I often wonder how many times they went home and talked about that white girl and all her questions.

You see, prior to moving to Philadelphia and enrolling at Girls High. I had never really been around any black people. (I don’t even know if I’m allowed to say black. I heard Daveed Diggs of Hamilton fame say brown people in an interview yesterday. See? I’m so lost. Please know, I mean ZERO disrespect.) It wasn’t because my family didn’t allow it or was against it, it was just that in all the areas I lived, there weren’t many.

So this was my experience in just two places that I’ve lived. As a result, it doesn’t bother me in the least to travel to big cities, walk in the city at night, take public transportation, etc. I grew up in the city. I grew up in a more culturally diverse area. My husband has not. We see things a little differently.

I say all of this for no other reason than to just ramble about what I’m experiencing and seeing now. Still trying to navigate. I don’t see color, really. I see people. I want to see people the way God sees them, regardless of their race or gender or sexual preference. I just want to see them the way God does and I want them to see me the same way.

Navigating the World in 2020

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I’m struggling with navigating life right now. I don’t know what I can say and what I can’t. I don’t know how to act that will please or least offend the most people. And speaking of people – prior to COVID, I thought I knew who my people were.

Now, I’m not so sure.

I find when I am around people for the first time there’s a dance you do. The dance in figuring out where they are on the spectrum m form paranoid to conspiracy so that I know how to act so as to not offend them.

It’s exhausting.

I feel judged that I’m not considerate of others if I don’t wear a mask. I feel judged that I’m a sheep buying into the propaganda if I don the mask.

And that’s just COVID. Then there’s the matter of race in America right now. I can’t say all lives matter without it being defensive to others. I don’t know what I’m allowed to say without someone thinking that I’m part of the problem. I have questions but I’m afraid to ask. I am reading books, watching documentaries, and attempting to see my part of the problem because I don’t think I am part of the problem… or would like to think that I am not. But I read comments and see that people think I am.

I have another post brewing. The one where I talk about how I was the minority in my high school. But I don’t know if I’m allowed to say how I feel because I’m white.

But all this comes from finishing “I Am Still Here” by Austin Channing Brown. It was a quick listen – just a little over 3 hours. It was good. It was interesting to hear the things that people do that are offensive; things people don’t think about and are never meant to be unkind.

But I struggled with one thing. She referred to whites as whites. Not some whites. Not many whites. Not caucausion. White people do this. White people do that.

It doesn’t offend me. But isn’t that what people are upset about? The lump sum assumptions based on race? So if you don’t want to be lumped in with all blacks, why should someone else be lumped in with all whites. As I read the reviews on the book after I finished, I saw there were 2 other people that mentioned that… but of course, the responses stated that thinking that way made them part of the problem.

So I guess I’m part of the problem? I don’t know. And I don’t have a space space to ask the questions I need answers to. Which is also another part of the problem.

Watching Hamilton last night I wondered why it was okay to keep the play. Many of the characters owned slaves. We’re banning Gone With the Wind but Hamilton is still okay? Many of those characters owned slaves. I’m NOT saying it was right, but it was what it was and you can’t have a book about those times without accurate portrayals.

But what do I know?

For now I guess I’ll keep on reading and researching and formulating my questions for when I do find that space to discuss.

Until then… I’ll just keep my mouth shut.

PS. For what it’s worth, the book was REALLY good and I recommend it to anyone who is navigating life. My question shouldn’t distract from her message or collection of essays. She’s a great writer and speaker and the message needs to be heard.

Hamilton.

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Hamilton is coming to Disney+ tomorrow. We are ready.

And by ready, I mean we have been counting down the days since it was announced. We already had a Disney+ subscription because I made the kids watch the documentaries while they were schooling at home, but if we didn’t, we would’ve paid for it.

We are ready.

We have a menu prepared for dinner tomorrow night.

Some children find it funnier than others.

I, of course, find it hysterical. But I typically think I’m funny.

Part of the reason I am so excited about tomorrow is that it will be a mini-do-over from January.

In January, the whole family, and just the six of us, headed to the Big Apple for a few days and one of the things we did (or at least 4 of us) was attend Hamilton on Broadway.

Waiting for the show to start…

Not all the kids went to see the show… We sent the 20 year old out with the hubs. They took a scavenger hunt through the city. Which, was terrifying and comical. Especially when you get snaps like this…

The show was wonderful. The show was everything I thought it would be and more.

But the trip.

The trip is what I will remember forever. More than likely, that trip was the last one that we’ll take just the six of us. I wish now I would’ve taken a family photo there.

But it ranks as one of my top three trips with the kids.

Top THREE.

And it was two days in the city.

But it was perfect.

The above may be my favorite photo. You wouldn’t look at it and see anything but the four of them walking. But when I took that photo, it was because I was watching them walk down 5th Avenue, talking about the world. They were laughing and joking. They were enjoying life and I was enjoying the moment.

The kids made a photo book of the trip for me for Mother’s Day. I look at it often and tear up.

It was that perfect.

So tomorrow, I’m excited about Hamilton on TV. I’m excited about being with the kiddos again and some friends. I’m excited to be able to relive a small part of the trip again.

I’m so grateful I have these memories.

One of my favorite Hamilton Books as it gives the background on the play and brings it to real life. While I have it checked out of the library (again), I’m probably going to put it on my list of books to purchase. That’s how good it is.