Keep Building Resilience Introverts

Sending love to all the introverts who are building resilience in these pandemic times in the midst of heightened Zoom calls and other ways of working and living now that have become our norm.

Yesterday, I had six video meetings for work, including one that was a 2.5 hour class on African American theology, and would have had a seventh meeting if I hadn’t moved it to next week. My introverted self was pushed but I also built ‘muscle’ from those moments. And I found ways to help myself recover energy between meetings and during meetings, like turning my video camera off when needed, so I didn’t have to ‘be on’ visually, which gave me time to rest. I also closed my eyes during breaks and covered them with the palms of my hands to help my eyes rest and my mind rest with a darker environment.

Also sending a special holla to the Enneagram type 5 personalities like me, those “Inquisitive Thinkers” who have the least amount of energy available to offer to others out of all the other personalities.

I know what it takes to show up, manage your energy and make sure you got enough in the tank to finish out each day in front of you. Keep leaning into these times to grow and build more resilience and strength.

I was amazed yesterday at how God continued to sustain me…and in other moments, even though it seems I’m almost out of juice in my caboose. I read one Christian reflection about the type 5 personality and that when one is struggling or fearful because you’re at the end of your energy reserves and you have no more to give, to ask Jesus Christ, the One with unlimited resources to help you. He is faithful to give to you out of His abundant and unlimited supply and can pour back into you all that you need.

Selah on that.

Photo by Raquel Santana on Unsplash.

Featured Photo by Danielle MacInnes on Unsplash.

Seasons

Lissen: evidence that healing is taking place in your life is when you can see old messages from past loves and birthday cards written from former friends and smile. Genuinely smile at those words and remember those times and receive those words for what they were then even though the relationship ended or the friendship came to a close.

So much about life is seasonal. Why would our human connections be exempt from seasons too?

As a gardener, I experience the power of seasons in tangible ways because of what I plant, cultivate, and harvest. Some things grow year-round and continue growing. I have a rosemary Hercules bush that started out as a baby plant more than three years ago. It continues to GROW, year-round, pushing past all the elements of the seasons central Florida throws its way…hot, arm-pits-of-Hades summers and some unexpected, frost touching cold winters. It goes with these seasons and it keeps GROWING. It anchors its roots in deep and it lives and thrives in season with me.

Other plants grow for three to four months, bear their fruit and produce (or not cause plants be finicky sometimes too if they don’t have what they need even though you try to support them) and then they give up the ghost and that season is over. My watermelons and tomatoes be like this sometimes.

Seasonal. When it’s good, it’s so good. And when the season is up, it’s done.
It took me a while before I understood in my later 30s the cycles of seasons and what they actually are when it comes to people. Some are destined to journey with me through decades because God designed our journeys this way.

And some will only intersect with me for a season. That season could be three years or it could be three months. Even if I wanted them to be with me longer. I was given…a season. And then…change opened a new door. Hmmm, well now. Perspective is everything.

And…letting go of someone, be it a relationship romantically or a friendship that has run it’s course, sometimes means going forward so you can become who you need to be. Seasons show me this.

Christmas Reflections

The mere fact that the birth of Jesus created the opportunity in time and space that those who would later believe in Him and place their faith in Him could and would be washed…pure as snow, as white as snow from their brokenness and their sin, is beyond a good thing. It’s heaven meeting earth in the most beautiful way. I am washed white as snow. No longer can the blemish of mistakes and willful error stain the soul, the conscious is forever freed from shame and guilt, even if the mind needs reminding that freedom is NOW. Jesus came to this earth to give LIFE. His birth ushered real LIFE into our world. How do you thank the Savior for such an indescribable gift?


With a surrendered life, lived in love to Him that tells others about His wondrous gift.

Featured Photo by Arnie Chou on Unsplash.

Thriving In The Midst of The Pandemic

I’m walking in my neighborhood more and taking in the sights, sounds, and humidity I feel. I enjoy my walks between 6:45 am and 8 am. During that time of the day, the air isn’t too hot yet with the rising warmth of these Orlando summers. I like these walks. They call me to a place of being more present with my body, my thoughts, and my prayers. I listen to podcasts and playlists on Spotify. I walk and chuckle, I walk and reflect.

I’m cultivating a lot of life in my garden, which is part of a community garden. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March, there was concern that gardeners would not be allowed back on property due to very stringent rules to keep coronavirus at bay. After some good convos and working things out like observing social distancing rules and bringing disinfectant to clean tools and other items we’ve touched while in the garden, we were given access to the garden.

In a time where much of what we all were used to doing and having as regular rhythms in our lives has been taken away or limited due to the pandemic, gardening for me is a very sweet constant. It’s something that pours life back into me as I pour life into my plants.

I have a front porch garden that I partly use to grow plants bigger and then transplant them into my two plots at the larger community garden. I also grow things that are easier to care for at home than in the garden. I have parsley, basil, mint, two watermelon plants that I’m getting hefty, five sunflower plants, and a Santa Fe grande pepper plant on my front porch.

I’ve beamed seeing little seeds I put into the soil, like sunflowers and watermelons, grow in my front porch garden into little baby plants that now are grown-up plants, healthy, strong, and vibrant. Y’all…I’ve even planted a papaya seed and it germinated and it became a papaya tree seedling! I AM GROWING A TREE Y’ALL!!!

In the community garden, I have three watermelon plants, a lemongrass plant, two tomato plants, a jalapeno plant, a cucumber plant, rosemary, and three sunflower plants growing. A lot of life is happening in these spaces. Seeing these plants grow steadily over the last two months shows me that life is happening even in the midst of a lot of uncertainty and loss due to COVID-19.

My garden is a comfort to my heart and a blessing to my soul.

Where Do Your Words Need To Be?

I’m preparing to submit an original first-person POV essay to a literary journal for black women writers. It’s been about four years since my last submission to a publication. Not that I haven’t been writing during that time. I have. But I haven’t submitted work to places that pulse with the heartbeat of my community and experience as an African American woman writer.

A collection of things can account for the delay in my submissions: the whirlwind of life, work, relationships, new responsibilities, travel, the ending of a romantic relationship, health challenges, new beginnings, putting life into my growth as a runner. Yeah, that’s enough to keep anybody delayed.

As I’ve matured emotionally, physically and mentally, I realize it’s very valuable to me to select places where my words actually need to be.

I don’t want to publish for the sake of being everywhere. I want my words to be in the places and spaces they are meant to be.

Four years ago when I submitted a piece to a website, the publication kindly rejected my work. Reflecting now on what I wrote, I see why it didn’t work for them. And in some ways what I wrote about was prescriptive than reflective and transparent of my own journey.

Ahhh.

I didn’t realize it then but I’ve learned the lesson now. The best type of writing is that which connects in vulnerability and humanity with readers. Yes, there is a place and time for prescriptive words and ‘how to’ lists. But sometimes people just wanna know that you’re human, just like them, and see that you struggle too and you’re trying to navigate your way through this crazy-maker called life, holding onto as many of your marbles as possible.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

There are some gems in that rejected submission four years ago that I want to revist now.

Maybe there’s a new place for these words with a stronger re-write applied. Maybe what I offered in that submission was only a half-completed work (I couldn’t see it then) and it needs to find the proper resolution that will fill it out more. Maybe I need to wrestle with the issues I discussed in the piece more and find out where I am with those questions and even the opinions and judgments I held. Was that piece to judge or was it to invite more human wrestling to help others see where they are in their relationships and identity?

I do feel that good writers consistently keep their readers in mind. We can write for ourselves and never publish, holding all those words to ourselves. But when we do publish, there’s an intention in that because we want to affect others. We want to connect with others, to show them that they are not alone and maybe, just maybe, my words can connect to your story in a way that brings life, laughter and maybe just a bit of healing.

As I sit with the gift of reflection, I’m learning that where I may have thought I wanted my words to be in the past actually isn’t where I want them to be now. Submitting my words to publications that fit my voice accurately is both honoring to myself and a measure of stewardship of my gift. And that’s not only okay, it’s very, very freeing.

Featured Photo by Oladimeji Odunsi on Unsplash.