Heavy Load, Empty Wagon

As I sit here this Sunday Morning, I mourn two people who have greatly impacted my life. This is a day they both loved.... Sunday. Each had their own pattern, ritual of preparing, but both loved to go to church. Both loved to just be in The Presence. How do you grief one without thinking of the other? That I don't know. It was my Mother who helped me when Poppie became ill and he who consoled me when she passed. This next year I expect to be an emotional test that I'm not sure how I will pass but know that I will. Next weekend is what would have been my Mother's 63rd birthday and she will not be here to celebrate it... and he will not be here to console me. Two weeks later will be what would have been his 72nd birthday and he will not be here to celebrate it ...nor she to console me. I'm sure that God has a reason for why my life is in this state but I just don't know why. I pray the outcome will be magnificent. On Friday, my Mother-in-law stopped breathing. My husband administered CPR. God must have known that burden who have been more than I could bare. Right now the wagon is empty...but the load is heavy. Two fewer passengers...by a very heavy heart.

Rhonda V.

Back to Cool Libations

Today the ninos' returned to their government school (Shouts to Neal Bortz). While it's joyous, its also a day of loss for me. I started this blog to allow my ninos' to share parts of their lives in a manner that their grandmothers could easily access and proudly share with others. On (Roman calendar) June 20th, 2009 one of their grandmothers, Gloria Stanton, became a beloved ancestor. As some of my more Churchy folks might say, I won't be able to share these moments with her in the 'natural'. As I exited the house today to check the weather I noted the ever-so-slight drizzle and connected that light rain with the pouring of libation....... In worship of the Almighty, in worship of our Savior, in remembrance of my Mother-In-Law...... As the kiddies left the bus-stop eagerly dancing in their seats with jubilance towards a new school year the rain slowly intensified. "Fresh water keeps me well, fresh water opens the way, fresh water is my sustainer, fresh water comes from above. Thank you Almighty for fresh water in the form of Gloria." As I walked into the house fighting the mosquitoes I became uplifted as I thought to myself how 'Cool' it was for my kids to have so much joy in anticipation of school. Gloria would have laughed and smiled (in the natural) at the coolness of her grandchildren. I'm sure she's laughing, smiling, and worshiping in the 'spiritual'. Gloria, enjoy those heavenly cooling waters from the Living well. You are well kept and well missed.

Seko VArner

Raw Emotion

On Monday, July 20, 2009 I experienced a horror and a joy. My mother passed away suddenly that evening and my life has not been the same. You may ask where was the joy... My Mother was a deep believer in Jesus and my joy came from knowing that she was now in his presence...having left quickly, not suffering a long agonizing death. Family and friends have been close as we had just had a family picnic two days prior. An event close to her heart as she wanted all of us to know each other. She worked hard for a full week before the event and for the two days she lived thereafter. She wanted all of her family to feel welcomed and have a good time. God is all knowing and made this year one that we were truly enjoying together. She retired in January, we took a family trip with her, my stepfather, my sister, my husband and my kids in April, she kept the kids for a week in June while Seko and I were on vacation with her brother and sister-in-law, we attended the funeral of one of her 1st cousins and then out of the blue, she was gone. I am grateful for the time we spent together but I am no where near a clear place in my heart and head. I can't think, words escape me and I feel like I can't stay awake for very long. Just reading cards from family friends evoked the following:

In these moments when I feel so empty, lonely and void,
I still breathe.

When it takes more effort that I thought I could muster,
I still breathe.

I breathe the memories of a Mother who was my best friend
Who could tell me when I was right but more importantly when I was wrong.

I breathe the air she once breathe with me

I feel a pain that others have felt, yet no one knows.

I think of her and wonder what I will become without her

I think of what she gave and know that I am equipped but long for her direction.

I think of her smile, her laugh or just the way she said my name and I know that she loved me and I her. I wonder why she was called home without warning and at a time when my life was so happy.

Now I fight to feel the happiness, to go for hours without weeping.

Joy and pain
They are entwined, through the divine nature of life.

We have but a while together and then we are apart for what seems like eternity only to meet in eternity.

It is in these times when the kindness of those who know me, who knew her reminds me of her. It is not always in the quiet moments that I grieve, but in the moments when surrounded by those she loved, deeply loved that remind me of who she was.

The parts I knew and the parts that were not reserved for me but for others. The parts that touched and reached so far and wide
Love is eternal and I pray that Love will heal my broken heart.

Rhonda L. Varner

A Hip-Hop Tribute to Mothers Everywhere from D.J. Bee !Download the mix here: http://www.mediafire.com/?m4umndzgztc

1 Samuel 3: 8b-10: "Go and lie down again, and if someone calls again, say, 'Yes, Lord, your servant is listening.' "

Most everyone knows that I am not a person that's big on attending church for many reasons. With that said I have ensured that for the last two years my family and I have attended a service about 90% of the Sundays to provide my Wife and Kids with the service she enjoys and a moral foundation for my Kids. This Sunday past we attended an AME church that my Cousin J.-J. attends as his newest child was being Baptized. I enjoyed the service somewhat, the band that my cousin plays in during service was enjoyable and I always love being near my Kids. Just watching my son look over at me from time to time and meeting eyes with my daughter as she sings is priceless. When ever we attend a service my wife often just looks at me to see if I'm feeling uncomfortable or if I'm getting into the service. I know that she's probably praying that I'll truly enjoy attending church one day as she really seems to enjoy a worship service. Today I began to slowly drift into a flurry of out-of-service thoughts as I began to ignore the energetic sermon of the Pastor. He then begins to speak about how Biblically Eli told Samuel to go back to bed and if he hears voices again to respond in a certain manner. I sat up. I began to listen.

When I was a youth in New York I heard voices and saw ghosts throughout our house. I remained afraid of our home at times scarred each time I saw and heard ghosts. One day I was in my room playing and heard a voice. I nervously ran out and yelled "What did you say Dad?" Mom yelled from downstairs "Your Dad isn't here, he's at the church." I returned to my room. and heard voices again. I again stepped out the room and asked Mom what she was saying. She responded "No one is talking son. Are you hearing voices again ? Next time you hear a voice say out loud "Yes, Lord. Your servant is listening." I returned to me room and later heard a voice calling my name. I replied following Mom's directions and fell into a sleep. From that point I never heard voices again nor saw the apparitions as I used to. Later as a teen this voice returned to me. I replied following Mom's directions and this voice became a constant friend whenever I was stressed out. It's kinda weird but often one can hear their own voice as they hold private thoughts. At certain times my voice is replaced by this other voice. When I hear that voice I try to follow directions. I've found that whenever I don't follow this voice my way in the world becomes a little more difficult. Later in life I've begun to feel the presence of the passed on. Each time that one visits me I repeat the phrase "Yes Lord, Your servant is listening." I never realized that Mom was quoting the Bible when she first guided me. Thanks again Mom, your guidance has allowed me to hear God and to experience my ancestors in a manner that I'll always treasure.

Seko-Benjamin

This one's for you

Photos from David Schwartz

Mama's catching it right about now. Pops is having health difficulties, Mama-Granny is having health problems, my cousin has acted in a manner that's disrespectful and will need to keep a distance from me , & now she's in the hospital.

A week ago she shared in a story how surreal it is to be born in the 1940's in the United States and to face against racial and gender discrimination and to quietly yet deeply fear raising two Black boys. She had seen America spit out and chew Black boys even in the best of circumstances. She wasn't allowed to enter certain restaurants, establishments, and walks of life due to her race and gender as she was growing up. She saw men and women scarred by America while saying the Pledge of Allegiance. As she pledged allegiance to a country who violated and abused her fellow Americans of African and Indian descent she placed her faith on the cross of Christ. She stood up for and held onto love towards men who walked away from responsibility and fought the devils in alcohol. drugs, crime, and perversion.

Mom marched with Dr. King, listened to Malcolm, and later lit seven cultural candles after celebrating the birthday celebration of her savior. Mom worked and received lower paychecks and was shut-out of some businesses due to her womanhood. And now she had a chance to vote for a Barak Obama.



This is something that she spoke into me and my brother as we were lil'. "You could even be the President of the United States of America." While she was attempting to bolster her children with a wealth of the hope that embraces the "American dream "she truly didn't believe that it could happen for one of America's African children. My parents kept me in love with our African and Indian roots as much as they immersed us into almost all-white environments. She put up with polite smiles and back-stabbing church and professional peers who spoke of love and equality and practiced distance......And now she had a chance to vote for a Barak Obama.

Mom spoke of feeling like she was dreaming when she graduated from school and "they" made "them" all get into a bus to vote. She fearfully yet fearlessly got in the line expecting the usual police batons, citizen threats, or the whispered about bombs and was able to cast her vote for John F. Kennedy. She couldn't believe that she was able to do what so many had died trying to do. She couldn't believe that she was safe in participating in American society after being an American negro......And now she had a chance to vote for a Barak Obama.

We sat and she marveled while watching videos on the Internet involving people of all backgrounds demonstrate their support of Barack Obama in song, poetry, and speech. She marveled as one video showed bridges across the world with people holding signs endorsing Obama. Here I sat; her privileged Afro-revolutionary-thinking, Black-Republican-acting, Broke yet blessed elitist behaving, Suburban-raised yet hood-loving, Conservative-radio addicted son. She and others bled and suffered for me to be able to believe what I believe. As she marvelled I marvelled. She has seen America become closer to what America claimed it was. As southern rapper Young Jeezy says to Barack Obama in one his songs "Win, loose, or draw......You have changed the world for us." This is surreal to her.

Yesterday Barak Obama's grandmother died (11/03/2008 Roman Calendar) . Two days ago Mum was placed into the hospital fighting against pneumonia. She won't get a chance to vote and she's worried that her conservative son's vote may be one of the votes that defeats her realized dream in Obama's candidacy.

I awoke at 3:00 AM. I arrived at the polling place at 4:35 AM. The polls opened up at 6:00 AM. I cast my vote at 6:05 AM. My wifey arrived at 5:30 AM and cast her vote at 7:30 AM. I'll pick-up my Daddy around 10:00 AM to take him to the polls. This is surreal for him as well. Looking at the line behind me this morning was surreal. I shed a tear for Mum as I approached the voting booth. This is something she wasn't able to do today after praying, working, and bleeding for the opportunity. Mum, this one's for you.

Seko VArner

"I just work here !"

Evil Eyes

From Seko:
On 11/13/2007 Dad needed to go to the conference office to teach a class for the newest ministers in the Southern Conference of the United Church of Christ. While driving those sleepy country Suffolk Virginia roads dad began drifting into stories of Mama.
Pops met mom as he returned from ministering in Scotland. A minister supervising him shared to pops "when you return to the states and go to Atlanta I want you to meet a friend of mine who is in the administration at Columbia Theological Seminary. They took in their first female Negro student and they need help."

One of Mom's Ministers and mentors was the first Negro male to attend the school a few years prior. Pops then shared how Mom was that female Negro and she caught hell from the other students studying to be ministers. This administrator and the administration of the school were courageous..... they courted this negro after her Presbyterian church-college, Agnes Scott College, refused to take her (since they sent their negro-money to Stillman College to help thier Negro Presbyterians). Pops shared how mama would sometimes be the only student in her classes as others peers would drop the course as soon as they saw her. By providing support to this hard-headed girl catching death threats and harassment from her 'Christian' peers Dad fell in love. He was there as my grandmother lost jobs when they found out mom was marching in the civil rights marches and was going to their school. Mom took the pain, cried her tears, passed the tests, and graduated. Mom shared with me that she caught Hell from the 'Christian' professors and her 'Christian' peers because she was both a woman and Black. She shared how the only outright support came from the ladies who were attending the college as they were facing the evils of sexism. Some of the professors hated the fact that women were being trained in the ministry. Mom was leery of the women, but she accepted thier support.

A female white-peer who supported Mom painted a masterpiece full of color with many pairs of wicked eyes looking forward. Those eyes were Mom's classmates. (Interestingly enough Mom's classmate painted the faces of the evil eye folks brown.) I remember seeing this painting hanging in the basement-closet of our home in New York. I always wondered why a painting would be hanging in a closet. I remember seeing this painting in our garage while living in Columbus, Ohio. I always wondered why Mom would look at this work of art and stiffen her bottom lip with tears welling in her sleep deprived eyes. I remember getting a beating for something and mom catching a glimpse of those brightly-wicked eyes. She fell to her knees and sobbed. Then I didn't care, my beating ceased. Mom hated that painting and gave it to an aunt who hung in prominently in her college dormitory. Mama's pain, Aunties' propeller.

Today I am thankful for those eyes. Mom made history and opened doors for our people....Daddy fell in love. Thank the creator for evil eyes.

Mortality

I've been really considering my mother's mortality lately. Watching my children's face as they embrace their "Be-be" has been a great source of joy lately. Where will I stand when they, and I, have to walk up to life's bed and touch the eyebrows of an ancestor named 'My Mama'. I used to fight people when they mouths formed the words "Yo' Mama". (I wish I could say that I won all of those fights. Thank GOD for Martial Arts !) I used to run to her arms after bruising my knees or my ego. I used to run from her into the protective arms of my Pops placing him in danger of Mum's wailing arms, belts, branches, extension cords, or whatever she could get her hands on to inflict discipline.
I once dated a woman who was never the same following the passage of her Mum. She never finished school, and worked beneath herself during the times we were together. She attributed her misfortune to the passing of her mum.....yet never seemed to do anything to honor her Mum via works. I always told myself that I'd never be affected in the same manner.......Yet today Mum is in the hospital again and I'm numb, wondering if I need to prepare myself for something I'm not prepared for. After receiving the news that Mum only had bronchitis again my spirits were only slightly lifted. Sometimes ancestorships walks into ones life, slowly and quietly. I don't know if this is the beginning of the glory of walking into glory, or simply another one of life's difficulties. There is so much that I don't know, yet there is much that I do know. My Mum has been one of the rocks in my life. As much as I've become much of a Poppa's boy in the last few years, the times spent with Mum....being beaten by Mum......being supported by Mum...being loved by Mum....and being guided by Mum has directed me to become much of what I am today.
My Judaic-Christian background has promoted the understanding of the Creator being simply the Father, yet my interactions with the almighty have given me a truly broader understanding of our 'Heavenly' parent. The creative force that dwells in me, outside of me, and in you is larger than the descriptions we have for it. GOD is limitless, similar to the love a mother has for her children. My experience with GOD has been motherly at times, feeling the spirit kiss on my soulful wounds as I've tripped and fell over my blessings and difficulties. Mum's kiss would make me forget of the pain, the creator's kiss has done the same. GOD loves GOD's children like a strong mother loves her children. Understanding GOD has allowed me to understand my Mum. Thank Good-orderly-direction for the blessings of knowing my mother and knowing my mother's love.
Today I know that Mum will return from the hospital. Today I thank the creator for her life. Today I thank the ancestors for their watchful eyes and messages. Today I'll be ever to make it through another day knowing that I have a Mother that I can hug and hold and adore. GOD bless our mothers and mother-ancestors. Ashee-Amen-AhMother.

Seko VArner