Melody – Page 5 – Finding Melodie

January 14, 2019January 14, 2019

Because We’ve Loved Deeply

The new year has begun. And while many of us are jumping with joy into our new goals, resolutions, and even relationships, others are navigating unexpected pathways into grief and mourning, due to the deaths of loved ones.

In one of my community of friends, I have several brothers and sisters who are mourning the recent death of a dear sister and friend in ministry named E. She battled cancer for quite some time and this past weekend she entered into eternal healing and the loving arms of God.

I met E one time, about three years ago.

She encouraged me with her heart for God’s kingdom and to see oneness truly happen in the Body of Christ so that the love we have could touch those beyond church walls. She is a woman who leaves an incredibly deep legacy of love, intentional living, and fruit that has borne witness to the power of the gospel of Jesus and God’s indescribable love for people.

She also leaves a husband and three young children, along with family members and a huge community of friends. People who are missing her deeply as the first few days of acute grief settle upon on their shoulders and the pain of the loss becomes a new part of normal.

I know that acute grief and that pain very well.

And from my own journeys of grief, I wrote these words and posted them on E’s CaringBridge site, as a comment to the post her husband wrote sharing that she’d passed away. My prayer for him and those mourning E is that they would be present with their grief. The grief has purpose and it is needed in this journey:

“A dear friend told me 10 years ago, ‘We grieve deeply because we’ve loved deeply.’ S, you and your children and so many others loved and will continue to love E deeply. Your grief is a unique and tangible reflection of that. It says with raised hands, ‘I loved someone, and it mattered, and there will always be something beautiful, significant and special about this.’ Grief shows us where the trees of love in our life have been planted. You planted deeply with E. That love will continue to grow in you and comfort you in the journey ahead. Sending my prayers from Orlando. I am so very sorry for the loss of your beautiful bride. Praying God’s comfort and supernatural peace in this time.”

For those who grieve please know this: you are not alone and as much as you want to let others into your journey with you, please do.

For those who know people who are grieving: choose to be present with them and encourage them. Love them and check in on them regularly. The lessons you see them learn in their grief could help you in future seasons where you too will enter the house of mourning as well.

Life is a gift and it is also finite. The days we have here on Earth will pass by faster than we can imagine. Living and loss are entwined together. We can learn much from both.

December 29, 2018December 29, 2018

What Are You Looking for in 2019?

I’m almost half-way through my 39th year. And many things have changed in my life during this year of 2018. A significant one is that I’ve dropped 20 lbs. I’m 5 lbs away from my first weight loss goal and plan to focus on losing my next 25 lbs in 2019. I stepped into a six-week challenge at my kickboxing gym on September 17 and over those weeks of hard workouts, eating clean, and hydrating better, I dropped 14.9 lbs. I knew my goal was 25 lbs so I decided to keep going with my workouts, nutrition, and added half marathon training to my mix.

More weight has come off, but even more noticeably, inches have melted from my 5’10 frame – three inches from my hips, three inches from my chest, over two inches from my waist and some inches from my arms and thighs. The decision to train for my first half marathon is something I wanted to do for over two years. But this fall became the space and time to actually commit to it and do this for me.

I am legit a runner now.

A runner who loves the quiet of the mornings as my feet hit the pavement and my legs get lighter with each pound I say goodbye to. A runner who loves the feeling of seeing negative splits in my runs when the sweat is drenching me and the miles are crushed. A runner with my upgraded runner’s belt fitted with double water bottles and energy gels, Balega socks and compression tights on my body, eating plans for my pre-workout and post-workout meals set up, and my favorite running playlists ready to go in Spotify.

graham-hunt-564427-unsplash — Photo by Graham Hunt on Unsplash

I’ve also walked out the deep waters and at times hard but also refining soul work of a break-up. Not easy. At all. Especially when unexpected grief hit my heart traveling 100 mph or memories popped up like corn kernels bursting open in a microwave bag. Easter Sunday I know I smelled the scent of my former boyfriend’s cologne at least twice during church service as it wafted from others who walked past me – unexpected, moving my heart and emotions – and yet another “and this too shall pass” moment. And it did. And I kept breathing.

And another day came and I grew through this journey of healing and perspective.

If there’s one thing 2018 taught me the most about, it was the gift of being present: with God, with myself, in my relationships and commitments, and also the hope of dreams not yet born but somehow singing a melody from the distance that they are on the way.

I’m learning that being present is a choice. There’s so much in this world we can choose to do…or not do. I choose present because it helps me bring my presence into the little and larger pages of my life. And that is important because my life is important. It is a gift from the Lord. A deep act of intention from Him to me. Each day I marvel in the freedom to grow into one more day’s experience of the chapters He’s writing for me in the book that holds the stories my life.

The time I spent yesterday doing 30-second running intervals and 60-second speed walking intervals for 6 miles are an hour and minutes and seconds that I won’t ever get back. I spent that time and now that time is gone. But the time that’s coming is a gift that I want to use well. Especially as I consider what I am looking for in 2019 – for myself, my relationship with God, and new adventures that are just beginning to emerge for me.

What are you looking for in 2019 as the new year approaches? Will you dream and goal set, but forget about your desire to be present in those things weeks or even months later?

Or will you do something very different…and surprise yourself with your intention?

I vote for the surprise.

August 3, 2018

Nia

I think of her and my breath still gets taken away. What if 21 years ago I was walking somewhere with people I love and a random stranger, a white male recently released on parole, ran up to me unprovoked and stabbed me in the neck and stabbed my loved one and then ran away? 21 years of my life as a black young woman would have ceased to exist. Because everything after that heinous moment would not have been. Every laugh that tickled up my vocal chords into the ears of those who love me, every new birthday, every moment growing more into this brown skin, every tear shed through struggles that made these melanin muscles stronger, every breath given from God that gave me more footing to see this world and love and discover Him deeply. Everything would have stopped at 18. It’s not fair that everything has stopped at 18 for her. It’s not fair, it’s not right, and I’m numb at times understanding and living out what it means to be a black woman in America…and the intersectionality that comes with it.

Nia, I remember you, little sister. I remember you. I want this to be made right. I want this to be better. #NiaWilson #sayhername

June 6, 2018June 8, 2018

25 Hours, 3 Countries

I’ve been escapading around the world, Asia via The Philippines to be exact, and it was a prolific and deeply impactful experience for me. My trip began May 1st and here’s a little bit of what my eyes, ears, and heart took in when I traveled back to the U.S. from Manila to Tokyo, to Atlanta and then finally to Orlando on May 11th:

I’m standing near mirrors after washing my hands in one of the Tokyo airport restrooms. A little Asian girl with pigtails, probably about 4 years old is walking out with her mom. They stop as mom washes and dries her hands. I notice the little one peeking around her mom, at me.

I look at her and smile.

She smiles back sweetly with that precocious innocence that kids have that you want to keep safe forever and waves at me as she exits the restroom with her mama.

That made my heart smile. A great deal.

10 or so minutes later, I walk around the peaceful and sunlit terminal to stretch my legs a bit. I see the little one with her family, resting and waiting for their flight. She sees me and waves again. I wave back.

And we didn’t even say one word to each other…but kindness is recognized beyond languages.

…..

Arrived in Atlanta this afternoon a little after 3:30 pm.

I leave for Orlando at 6:55 pm.

While in the international terminal at the ATL airport, I was washing my hands in a restroom and heard a beautiful African melody in a language I did not know floating through the air. It seemed to be the same line sung over and over with a sweet, steady affection.

It reminded me of the song the tribes of Wakanda were singing during the waterfall ceremony when T’Challa became king in the movie Black Panther.

A moment later, one of the airport employees came out of a stall and began cleaning around the counter. She was the hidden singer. She was an older black woman, a little under 5 feet and seemed very content.

I began brushing my teeth and kept listening to her song.

I finished a minute or so later, smiled at her and asked, “What is the song that you are singing?”

She stopped, a little surprised, smiled and asked me if I was Nigerian. Her English was touched gently with an African dialect.

I said I was American and she said the song was about Hannah, the woman in the Bible who prayed to God for a child and God blessed her with a child.

She kept affirming, “Hannah prayed…God answered…Hannah prayed…God answered.”

I listened to her words and I heard her. I heard her. There was truth in those melodies. And God was in those melodies too.

I smiled at her, thanked her and said, “God bless you sister” as I headed out of the restroom.

That melody is still touching my heart.

…..

I’m sitting at my gate, ready to board my last flight in this 25-hour travel journey through three countries and four airports. Orlando…home…is just an hour and a half flight away. Sunlight beams into the large floor to ceiling windows behind me. The ATL airport is a little calm and chill where I am from the typical noisy and action-filled movement that flows through terminals.

I’m fidgeting around with something – maybe cleaning my glasses or organizing a personal bag – when a woman next to me gets my attention. She begins speaking in Spanish and pointing to her phone.

I can see that she’s trying to access the internet but it’s not connecting. She’s speaking in Spanish and I’m speaking in English. Then I say in some pretty simple beginner’s Spanish that I can’t speak Spanish but then an idea comes to me. I remember Google Translate and how I used it often a season ago to connect with special messages someone in my life would send to me.

I pulled it up, put in a line that shared maybe she should try connecting to the free airport WiFi again and selected Spanish to translate it. I handed my phone to her and she immediately understood. She typed back in Spanish and selected English for me to read her reply. She was from Colombia.

That began a few minutes of Google Translate conversations…she writing and me reading, me writing and she reading. I landed on the idea that maybe even though the WiFi in the airport was free, she wouldn’t be able to connect because she didn’t have a U.S. phone number.

That happened to me often in The Philippines. There was free WiFi many places, but when asked to type in my phone number, I couldn’t because my number wasn’t from the country. Interesting, eh?

She understood my idea. I encouraged her to try again on the plane…maybe it would work there?

…..

More than a day of travel and the gift of three international experiences in my international travel home. From a sweet little Asian girl to a truth-singing Nigerian sister and a kind Colombian woman, I got to experience a little bit more of the world along with Manila.

January 22, 2018January 22, 2018

“I Am From” Poem

I am from red Georgia clay roads that I call home whose dust sweetly greets me like a southern melody.

I am from Southwest Dekalb high school newspapers that changed my destiny and R&B mixtapes made from the radio by an only child in her mother’s brick condo.

I am from Atlanta, Decatur, Manchester, Eatonton, Virginia, Cameroon/Congo, Ivory Coast/Ghana, Benin/Togo, Mali, and sweet magnolia trees that smell like kindness and honeysuckle blossoms that make you feel like summer’s never gonna end.

I am from 80-year-old pecan giants in my grandmother’s country yard, trees who graciously gave me shade to play under and memories that could be kept no matter the seasons.

I am from 1989 roller skates raced in after school in elementary hallways and pink and white hula hoops balanced on little hips, rolled around necks and circled around skinny ankles,

I am from James and Gloria, from love that wanted to work and stay together but the words couldn’t hold tight to explain why they didn’t.

I am from Lena’s deep goodness and Lucille’s honey love,

From Essie Mae’s sugar-baby kisses, grandmamas and great aunts whose smiles and cheekbones keep speaking through me in adulthood and whose resilience caught my tears and made me feel that I was seen and known and beautiful and valuable and special because I belonged to them.

I am from black-eyed peas and collard greens enjoyed every New Year’s Day,

From peppermint sticks eaten near old southern gas heaters and Auntie’s candied carrot souffle.

I am from Gloria’s confidence that walked integration into Atlanta’s civilian divisions in the decade that followed Dr. King’s Dream,

And from James’ brilliance that fused wild creativity expeditiously, almost instinctively into my blood and bones.

I am from asymmetrical bangs cut into layers and crimped tresses that were so fly in ‘96,

From the moments that sit on the edge of perfect harmonies heard over Sony Discmans when you’re innocent enough to dream about everything,

I am from pens and paper that made poems who won statewide contests,

And faith in Him nurtured nearly 20 years that’s sustained me when I’m beautiful and kept me when I’m broken.

I am from my mother’s smile and my father’s eyes.

I am from red Georgia clay roads that I call home whose dust sweetly greets me like a southern melody.

I hold onto that dust. It brings me closer to myself than I realize as it gives me freedom to be willing to fly.