When Faith Is Critical

Seek Joy

Though no part of my life “ain’t been no crystal stair,” the pandemic has taught me more than any other years of adulthood, that there is very little I can control. I started to type that this time has taught me the only thing I can control is myself; but, the truth is, I’ve struggled with me, too. I’ve been reflecting a lot more than usual; and crying after not having really made time for that in a while; and feeling really grateful; and — if I get really real — feeling absolutely tired. Although I’m known to be a little wordy, I’m going to do my best to share a bit about the past 14-months which have been entirely too hard.

In March, my youngest child and I were on a call with my grandmother listening to a new-to-me but not-new-to-my-child tale of my grandmother’s experience as an adolescent sent south for the summer. Ashby and I were literally in tears as my grandmother not only shared details of the incidents that made her mother send a young Shirley on that trip in ’45 but also how threads created during that summer connected with her decision not to attend The March. Maybe I’ll write about that part of her life one day. For now, it’s just important to know that call with my grandmother was followed, too few weeks later, with calls updating us about her swift deterioration.

Over the next five months, Shirley would come close to death so many times that calls to inform my oldest child in Texas would include weighing the risks — return and risk more exposure to COVID or wait and risk not seeing her alive again. We correctly calculated, in late August, that Avey should just wait until the day there would be no more calls. That day came.

“Because I could not stop for death,” I spent the days immediately following the loss of the matriarch of our small family completing required tasks for work. I buried my emotions — as I’ve too often done — and drew a line through each item on the list. Even after the days I’d allotted for work were done, I found myself answering a call about a voluntary, professional task while dealing with business at the cemetery. And the professional tasks and personal hits kept coming.

There was the possibility that one of my adultren had a tumor. Then that child had major surgery.

There was major surgery for the other adultren. Then there was the possibility that child had lupus or leukemia.

Between the two, there was the death of a friend.

And throughout all of these things, there were the tasks I was assigned and the tasks I assigned myself. Truth be told, the self-selected assignments were an attempt to keep my feelings at bay. This was a successful strategy too many times in my life; but, the crises affecting my loved ones, the challenges of being a Black woman working in white spaces after “the reckoning” that seems to have turned into “the wondering,” and the pandemic that never ends has brought me to this time in which the busyness just isn’t proving an effective strategy anymore.

I’m not sure where my thoughts on any of these experiences are leading me. What I do know is that I’m struggling to maintain the belief that the trend of the last 14-months will soon come to an end. Instead, I’m sitting with Avey’s and Ashby’s ongoing health challenges with my heart attuned to Avey’s caution “to stay grounded; remain rigorous and committed to holding on to faith.” In the meantime, I look at my adultren — who are now 29 and 27 — and swear they were just toddling around. They weren’t. Instead, they’re adulting in ways that make me realize the absolutely wonderful human beings they are. I’m grateful to have been chosen to parent them — in a Khalil Gibran, “On Children,” kind of way. And the joy they bring, individually and together, keeps me going in times like these when faith is critical.

This blog post is part of the #31DaysIBPOC Blog Series, a month-long movement to feature the voices of indigenous and teachers of color as writers and scholars. Please CLICK HERE to read yesterday’s blog post by Jessyca Mathews (and be sure to check out the link at the end of each post to catch up on the rest of the blog series).